Jessica, page 13
“Likely,” replied Nicholas, looking shrewdly at the horseman. “You must love her very much to come out of hiding like this on her account.”
“Even insects have feelings like loving, and conscience, and a sense of what’s right and wrong—mostly what’s right and wrong, that is.”
“Indeed.”
“Well, now you knows the truth on it. Jess haven’t done nothing she shouldn’t with me. What you does now is up to you.”
“Am I to thank you for this lecture on life?”
Jamie pushed his pistol into his belt. “You ought to. Ah, you ought to, right enough, but I reckon as you won’t.”
“And what do you intend to do with me now, Pike? Send me to the bottom of the lake with all flags flying? Or, as our American friends would say, hog-tie me and deposit me at the door of Applegarth?”
“No, Sir Nob. You’d be no use to her at the bottom of Henbury Lake. And if you’re going to Applegarth then you goes by your own power—that’d be only right. And if you crawled on your belly that’d be even more right, for you’ve done her wrong in this, Sir Nob.”
“So, I am to survive intact. How then do you propose keeping me silent concerning your presence here?”
“Oh, that be easy. Just stand slow like and come ashore. That’s right, nice and smooth, so’s my finger don’t get too itchy. Now then, Sir Nob Woodville, you just walk along that path over there, still nice and slow, for I reckon you knows how good a shot I am.”
Nicholas walked up the path that wound up the slope from the lake side. The ground was covered with bracken and small, silver birches, and the path was almost overgrown, so rarely was it used. They came into a small clearing where a ramshackle hut stood. It was used to store hurdles, and was damp and cool inside, for the hut stood beneath an oak tree whose spreading branches held off the sun and kept the ground moist even in summertime.
“My prison, I take it,” asked Nicholas.
“That’s right. Nice and lonely, it be, too. I reckon by the time you gets out of here, I shall be long gone, and safe to boot.”
“I’ll grant you the point, Pike. But my horse has surely not offended you, so pray set it loose that it will return to the stable at Woodville House.”
“Oh, no, I’m not that foolish neither. A riderless horse would have half the town out looking for you and that don’t suit my orders. I’ll take your horse, though, and it’ll be returned to you safe and sound. And if you’re not seen around in three days’ time, then you’ll be set free.”
“I trust my ingenuity will have got me out rather sooner than that.”
“Happen it’ll give you something to think about. Inside now.” Jamie drew the pistol again.
He stepped into the hut, brushing a cobweb that dragged across his face and clung stickily. He turned as Jamie dismounted and pushed the door to, lowering the heavy bar across.
Jamie mounted, maneuvering his horse close to the door. “Think on what you’ve been told, Sir Nob. If you don’t love her and don’t want her, that be one thing. But if you do and you thought I’d been lapping the cream first, that be quite another.”
“Thank you, Mr. Pike. And believe me, I say that from the bottom of my heart.”
Surprised, Jamie sat back in the saddle staring at the door. “Reckon nobs might have some sense after all,” he muttered, turning his horse to go back down the bracken path to the lake. There he took the reins of Nicholas’ horse and rode back across the fields skirting the town and moving swiftly down the steep lane to Cob Darnwell’s small cottage. Cob would see all was well with Sir Nob Woodville and his horse.
* * *
Tamsin drove poor old Jinks at a spanking pace all the way from Henbury, the dogcart sending up clouds of dust that marked her progress through the lanes. She halted the tired pony outside Applegarth and pushed open the door where Jessica and Rosamund stared at her in amazement.
“Tamsin? Whatever is it?” Jessica stood, startled.
“It be Sir Nicholas, Miss Jess. He’m vanished, like a puff of smoke. Early today he were seen on the road to Henbury Lake, but since then not a sign’s been seen. They’m out looking now.”
“But he’s a grown man, and if he sees fit to stay out, then surely....”
“Ah, but he had an important appointment with the magistrate in Henbury at five o’clock, and he didn’t keep it, and that don’t be like Sir Nicholas. A stickler, is that one.”
“But why all the fuss? And you’ve driven poor Jinks nearly into the ground. Look at him out there, poor thing.”
“Well, I just thought ... I just thought that maybe you’d like to know, seeing as how you’re in love with him.”
“I will correct you there, Tamsin, for I have no wish to know anything at all concerning Sir Nicholas. Not anymore.”
“On account of he’ve not been out here?”
“That. And other things.”
“Well, that be up to you.”
“That’s right.”
Rosamund looked at Jessica. “I have been so wrapped up in my own happiness that I have not seen how unhappy you are, Jess. I’m sorry for my thoughtlessness.”
“It’s no fault of yours, Rosamund. Besides, it is all over and done with now.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“And neither do I,” said Tamsin, untying her bonnet.
Jessica sat down and picked up her embroidery again. “And how are matters with you and Francis now?” she asked, defying either woman to pursue the matter of Nicholas Woodville.
Tamsin sighed heavily and went out to unharness the pony. Rosamund took the novel she had been reading and closed it.
“We went to see the vicar of St. Mary’s today. He will not marry us. Lady Amelia has seen to that. The Woodville family have been patrons of the church for centuries, it seems, and he will not risk losing them to St. Jude’s over in Rendlecombe. She was there, standing at Philip’s grave. She was smiling a little and we knew that she guessed how our interview with the vicar had gone. Oh, I hate that woman. I hate her more than I ever thought possible. She tries to keep Philip alive, you know. She wants me to behave like a sweet, swooning widow for the rest of my life, and for his good name to be perpetuated. Good name! The man was so wicked, I suspect even the doors of Hell hesitated before letting him in.”
“Rosamund! Don’t say that, for I knew him only as good.”
“He was evil.”
“Surely not, for I swear if he were that bad even I would have noticed. You exaggerate because you hated him.”
Rosamund ran her fingers over the spine of the book. “Did you know that she won’t let anyone into his room at the big house? Each night she goes in before retiring and turns backs the coverlets as if he were going to sleep there that night. She even lights the oil lamp and leaves it burning; replenishing the oil when it runs low, and trimming the wick. It’s so very horrible. It’s obscene. And then she sits in that churchyard staring at his tomb, putting fresh flowers there and kneeling, herself, to draw out any weeds that have the audacity to flourish. There is something very wrong with such behavior.”
Jessica shuddered. “She loved him. She cannot help how she behaves now.”
“She’s like a great, loathsome spider sitting in the middle of a web, watching everything and planning how to strike down the next unfortunate fly.”
“I will agree to that description.”
Tamsin came in and went to make a pot of tea. “Cob Danwell will be here shortly. I saw him in Henbury and he said as how at high tide, him and some others be going to the bay to raise the lobster pots. Should be a good catch. I telled him as how we’d like one—for allowing him and his poaching cronies to use Applegarth to come and go by.”
“And he agreed?”
“Oh, aye, and why not? Nice bit of lobster’d go down a treat, I reckon. Shouldn’t be long now. ‘Twas high tide half an hour since.”
Jessica looked in the direction of the sea. Had Jamie caught the merchantman?
Tamsin went to the shelf to take down the tea caddy and exclaimed with annoyance. “There! I went and forgot that there Mr. Slade’s book after all. ‘Tis still here, all neatly packed and sealing-waxed, and I’ve been and come back.”
“I’ll take it tomorrow,” said Rosamund, “for Francis is taking me into Henbury on the way to Padbury.”
“Padbury?”
“The Varangian family have been patrons of Padbury Church for years, so we must go there if we hope to be married.”
“And Francis says no more about his troubles?”
“I think, at last, he knows that I want him no matter what his circumstances are. Anyway, he has said no more about it, but I can tell how worried he is, all the same. He won’t tell me anything.”
“Perhaps it is not as serious as you imagine,” said Jessica, hoping she sounded convincing.
“Perhaps.” Rosamund sighed, opening her book again.
Chapter 23
Jessica sat writing a list for Tamsin to take to Miss Brendon’s haberdashery. “Do you think yellow ribbon, or cream for the sprigged muslin gown?”
“Don’t rightly know, Miss Jess. Happen yellow, though.”
“Yellow it is. And some of that Brussels lace I saw in her window last week.”
“I wonder if they’ve found Sir Nicholas yet.”
“He only went missing yesterday afternoon. I still think it foolish to send out searchers like that. Perhaps he has a mistress he chose to visit.”
“Do you believe that?”
“I would believe anything of Sir Nicholas Woodville, Tamsin. Anything at all. There, that is the list complete. And tell her I won’t have any lace if it’s at the end of the bolt, for she’s tried that before and I’ve found the pin marks.”
“Right. I’ll not be long, Miss Jess. Though, on reflection, perhaps I’ll go on the wagonette, for ‘tis market day. I wants to see Dolly Dowdeswell, for I hear as how Cluffo was caught up Bristol way. Jamie Pike got away, though. That young hosebird do have a charmed life, I reckon. Would you mind if’n I visited her?”
“Of course not. By the way, how is Harry Parr now?”
“Happen he’s well enough. The great curmudgeon, he sent me a bunch of roses from his garden.”
“That great curmudgeon could have done nothing at all, and would that have pleased you?”
“No, reckon not. He’m a good man, is Harry.”
“And he obviously thinks you’re not so bad either.” Jessica smiled at Tamsin’s pink face. “Listen, there is the wagonette now.”
“I’ll be back on it sometime this afternoon then.”
“Good-bye.”
“Good-bye, Miss Jess.”
Jessica watched Tamsin hurry out to wave down the wagonette. When it had gone she turned and her glance fell upon Mr. Slade’s book again. She sighed. Rosamund had forgotten it, and now Tamsin had gone, too, and the cursed book still remained firmly upon her shelf.
Out in the orchard Nipper began to bark. He was tied by a long piece of rope to a tree trunk, for Tamsin had bought some chickens that were in a small run next to the stables. She had tied the cross puppy to keep him from worrying the birds—”And there you’m going to stay, young Nipper, lessen you scares my fowls. And when you shows as you can behave yourself like a proper young gentleman, then you can come off the rope, but not until then.”
Jessica looked from the window to where the agitated pup was straining and jumping, and she saw the reason for his clamor. The Woodville landau was driving slowly into Applegarth, its perfectly matched team of chestnuts driven by Harry Parr. Inside the closed carriage sat Lady Amelia.
With a sinking heart, Jessica waited for the knock upon the door. She heard the tap-tapping of the old lady’s stick and then the pearl handle was struck once against the yellow door, a peremptory sound that grated on Jessica.
She opened the door and looked coldly at Lady Amelia. “Good day, my lady.”
“Miss Durleigh.”
I shall not ask you in, thought Jessica, staying where she was and waiting.
“Your manners are as appalling as your morals, Miss Durleigh, for you surely do not wish Parr to hear what we have to say.”
“Please come in, my lady.”
Lady Amelia looked around the kitchen, scraping her toe on the freshly-raddled floor and sniffing as she viewed the row of hoggins and the strings of onions hanging from the beams. “How charming,” she murmured, and Jessica took a long breath to quell her anger.
“And how may I help you, Lady Amelia?”
“In two ways.” The old lady’s shrewd little eyes were taking note of everything, as if she sought something in particular.
Suddenly Jessica guessed one of the reasons for the visit. “You are actually wondering if Sir Nicholas is here with me!” She laughed.
Lady Amelia’s wrinkled face went pale with anger and then two spots of color shone on her cheeks. “I cannot see your reason for such uproarious laughter.”
“Can’t you? Well, perhaps that does not surprise me. But let me assure you, madam, that no one by the name of Woodville is welcome here. You and your son are almost equally abhorrent, but perhaps you have the edge.”
“Quite the sharp-tongued miss, aren’t we? Well, I shall do my utmost to wipe the smile from your face, Miss Durleigh. I was informed my daughter-in-law had been seen on the Padbury road with Varangian this morning. I conclude that they intend marrying there, now that Henbury will have nothing to do with them. I will not have it, Miss Durleigh. She will not marry another man.”
“And how will you prevent it? She is a free agent.”
“Is she? Well, perhaps she is, Miss Durleigh, but Varangian is not. Oh, I don’t mean he has a wife secreted away somewhere. I mean that his life is not his to do with as he pleases. And I mean to see that he remembers the fact.”
“I don’t understand.”
The old lady smiled, drawing her gloved fingers along a shelf and glancing at the dark kid to see if there was dust. “Do you not? Well, that does not matter. What does matter is that you are continuing to give her shelter and I do not like that. She is Philip’s wife.”
“Widow.”
“She is still his, no matter what, and I will not suffer her to behave so irreverently. She must return to Woodville House.”
“I will not force her.”
“Then I will ruin Varangian.”
Jessica stared, her mind racing. “How?”
“It lies in my power, that should suffice.”
The note! Surely it could only be that. “I begin to see clearly, Lady Amelia, from where Philip got his more unpleasant side. So, you now intend carrying on where he left the reins dangling?”
“Varangian holds his estates illegally, Miss Durleigh, so it is only right that he should pay for the pleasure.”
“Is that how you see it? That Francis should pay blood money to you and your dead son? If you are so concerned with the right and wrong of Francis’ tenure of the estates, why then did you not send the note to Ireland, to seek out any relatives of the dead man, O’Connor?”
“You know that much do you?”
“I know enough to find myself thoroughly revolted by you and by what I now know of Philip.”
The old woman flushed angrily. “I do not care how you feel, Miss Durleigh, for I am intent upon destroying this affair of Rosamund’s. And believe me, I will use all the irons in the fire in order to do so. Philip’s name shall be protected and his memory cherished. I am determined, and I shall succeed, even if it means turning Varangian from his lands.”
“And what is my part to be in this grand plan?”
“Turn Rosamund out.”
“She will go to Francis.”
“No. For he, by then, will know that the price of Varangian is the casting off of Rosamund Woodville. She is a Woodville now, Miss Durleigh, and she will always remain so.”
“You are quite mad. Evil and mad. And if I tell Nicholas what you are doing?” She was prepared to try any path through this maze.
“Nicholas would not listen to you, and besides, no one appears to know where he is.”
“You do not seem particularly concerned about him.”
“He is his own master.” Lady Amelia turned, her hand on the door. “There is just one last thing, Miss Durleigh. I have yet another desire in all this. Francis Varangian will also lose his estates if you do not sell this property to me. I am prepared to offer you a fair price. But I must have you out of Henbury, for you are a reminder to the world that my son kept a mistress. That he was driven by his love for you into forgetting his wife and his obligations.”
“How quaint a picture you paint of Philip, Lady Amelia, I had no idea you were so accomplished an artist. So deftly do you use the brush it is impossible to see the flaws on the canvas.”
“There will be no flaws when I am finished, Miss Durleigh. No flaws at all. Philip will be as he was before he met you.”
“He will be as you wish to see him.”
“My terms are stated. You must leave Applegarth, and Rosamund must return to Woodville House. That way, Francis Varangian keeps his fortune. Otherwise, I will destroy him. You will not lose by complying, for with the price I give you, you may purchase a property in an area more suited to you.”
“I cannot sell. I must stay here for two years.”
“I can buy it from you, Miss Durleigh. Have no fear of that, for the will was specific. The Woodville family could purchase the property from you. I would have done so earlier, but Nicholas would not agree. I do not think he will prevent the sale this time, though, for he has recovered from his momentary lapse of sanity where you are concerned. But Philip shall rise unstained from all this, madam, and make no mistake about it. He knew that Rosamund loved Varangian, you know, that’s why he did it.”
“Did what?”
