Laura dressed slowly for church the next morning, hoping that by delaying her departure she would avoid encountering Augustine and her mother, who had already announced that they intended driving to Langford alone. Augustine had made a great fuss earlier about discovering a wonderfully complimentary bunch of greenery outside her door. Lime, hawthorn, and pear, she had cried delightedly, although her pleasure was dampened a little by Laura’s silence concerning her own leaves. That Augustine had placed the leaves outside her own door too, Laura had no doubt, and she wished now that she had had the forethought to find a twig of gorse to lay at Augustine’s door. Yes, that would have been a sweet revenge, for gorse would suggest that the occupant of the room was of doubtful character. However, she had not thought of it in time and Augustine’s spite had gone woefully unchallenged.
Kitty dressed her mistress in silence. The maid had discovered a telltale elder leaf by the window, and on looking out had seen the discarded branches far below. Elder and walnut. The maid said nothing, for she knew well enough the meaning of those particular trees. The elder condemned Laura, and the walnut proclaimed her a whore. Kitty’s hands shook, for she had that very morning heard from Betsy May Jenkins, Miss Townsend’s maid, the rumors about Lady Grenville and Dr. Tregarron. And it was true that they spent a lot of time together, and that they were very friendly, but Kitty did not believe that her mistress was unfaithful to Sir Nicholas, and she had firmly told Betsy May as much. Betsy May refused to speak to her now.
The rumor had not fallen on stony ground entirely, however, for there were many servants at King’s Cliff who had reason to fear that the changes planned for the estate would mean the loss of their livelihoods, and those servants had little reason to like Laura or to wish to protect her good name. Kitty had not worked for Laura for long, but in that short time she had come to love her sad, beautiful mistress, and it made the little maid unhappy to think that someone had been unkind enough to place those leaves at her door.
Laura’s thoughts at that moment were not of the leaves, however, for although they had not been forgotten, they were of secondary importance. Today was so very crucial, and the tasks to be accomplished and ordeals to be got through seemed legion. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror. She had chosen to wear the same clothes she had worn on leaving the Hotel Contarini, her caped lilac wool pelisse and green satin bonnet. On the first day of March she had commenced her visit to Venice, and on the first day of April she had left again. Now it was the first day of May, two months exactly since she had first met Nicholas Grenville. Oh, how very, very much had happened to her life in that short, fateful period. The guidebook lay before her on the dressing table, and she picked it up. The pressed flowers fell out and Kitty immediately retrieved them.
“How lovely they are, my lady.”
“Yes.”
“I know flowers, for my father is a gardener, but I don’t recognize these.”
“The red ones are anemones, the pink ones wild cyclamen.”
“Why have you kept them?”
Laura gazed at the flowers. “Sir Nicholas bought me a posy of the anemones in Venice, and the cyclamen I carried when I married him.”
Kitty glanced sadly at her before carefully replacing the flowers in the guidebook. Laura stood, picking up her prayerbook.
“Kitty, what is the meaning of walnut as far as May birchers are concerned?”
“I don’t really like to say, my lady.” Kitty flushed uncomfortably.
“Tell me, for I wish to know.”
“They are only left outside a woman’s door, my lady, and they accuse her of—of being a harlot.”
Laura flinched. “I see.”
“No one takes any notice of it,” said Kitty, but she knew that she did not sound at all convincing. People did take notice of what the birchers said, and there was no getting away from that fact.
Laura managed a thin smile before leaving the room. Oh, Augustine had done her unpleasant work very well indeed, but at least she wouldn’t have the satisfaction of knowing how deep her action had struck into Laura’s defenses.
She hurried along to Nicholas’s room, wanting to see him before she left, and praying that Augustine had already departed for church. Daniel was there, putting the final touches to a fresh dressing on the wound. As yet the laudanum still pervaded Nicholas, and there was little change in him. The pain was dulled, but so were his senses, and his voice still lacked any strength. He looked up at Daniel as he worked deftly with the bandages. “I shall be glad when this operation is done, my friend.”
“And so will I, my friend.”
“Damned quack.”
Daniel grinned. “That remark will cost you dearly when I present my fees.”
“Damned expensive quack.” Nicholas’s eyes moved slowly to Laura, and he smiled a little as he recognized the clothes she wore. “Venice,” he murmured, raising his hand a little. She took it, and returned the smile.
“Do I look well enough for Langford church?” she asked.
“Too good.”
Daniel straightened. “There, you are tidy for the rest of the day, Nicholas. Be prepared for a great deal of pain when the laudanum leaves you, but I do not feel able to approach this operation in any other way.”
Nicholas nodded. “I know.”
“By this time tomorrow it will all be over.”
“Keep a steady hand, quack, or I swear I’ll return to haunt you.”
“That I am quite prepared to believe.” Daniel glanced at his fob watch. “I fear it is time to go and weather Tobias Claverton.”
“Thank God I’m ill,” murmured Nicholas with some feeling.
Laura put his hand gently back on the coverlet, and left with Daniel. She glanced sideways at him as they descended the sweeping staircase. He looked very handsome in a dark gray coat and pale gray trousers. His taste was impeccable, from his blue brocade waistcoat and frilled shirt to his formal cravat, which was very excellent and complicated. He looked every inch a gentleman of fashion and quality, and was most certainly a man to turn many a woman’s head. She wondered how many fronds of willow had been placed at his door this year.
Hawkins flung the doors open for them and they stepped out beneath the portico. May garlands had been put on the outside of the doors, and their gaily colored ribbons fluttered in the light breeze. The garlands were composed of the brightest spring flowers, cowslips, wallflowers, tulips, and even some early roses that had been found blooming in a sheltered part of the walled garden.
Daniel looked at the garlands. “Miss Townsend was vastly pleased with the birchers work during the night.”
“She birched all by herself,” retorted Laura acidly.
A landau waited at the foot of the steps, and Daniel handed her in, sitting next to her. As the carriage drew away, however, Laura’s apprehensions returned, for this would be the first time she had ventured away from King’s Cliff land, the first time she would have to face neighboring landowners and the people of Langford, none of whom would view her with any friendliness.
Daniel drew her hand through his arm reassuringly. “Be easy now, for none of them will dare to actually bite you.”
She smiled. “No, but they will certainly scrutinize me from head to toe.”
“If they do they will find only perfection.” He paused a moment. “Laura, I am afraid that I have to tell you of a slight obstacle in the way of our obtaining the jewels on our return from church.”
“Difficulty?” she asked quickly, “What is it?”
“Only that unfortunately for us, Miss Townsend’s garrulous maid, Betsy May Jenkins, is not to depart at the same time as her mistress, but will leave later. It could be that the wretched girl will remain in her mistress’s rooms and that will make it very difficult for us to remove the jewels without being discovered. The last thing we want is publicity concerning our actions, for the more stealthily we achieve our aims, the better.”
“Wouldn’t it be even better to wait until the maid has gone too?”
“Time is of the essence, Laura, for we do not know the duration of the earl’s stay in Taunton. Everything should be over and done with before he returns, for that way he will not be able to do anything about it. In my opinion Charles Dodswell must be well on his way to Bath by tonight.”
Tonight. Fleetingly she thought of the operation, and the dangers to which Nicholas would be exposed.
Daniel read her thoughts. “Everything will be all right, Laura, I promise you.”
“You can only promise to do what you can, Daniel; you cannot promise to keep him safe.” She looked at him. “What are you going to do about the maid?” she asked, returning to the previous subject.
“Ah, well, I have thought of a way of occupying her time.”
“Daniel Tregarron!”
“Oh, not personally,” he protested with a laugh. “I had rather thought that Henderson was the man for the task.”
“Henderson?”
“He may not be an oil painting, Laura, but as Nicholas’s valet he is a fellow of some importance belowstairs. A good many of the maids would be only too pleased to lord it over the others by walking out with him. Anyway, Henderson has undertaken to do what he can to distract young Betsy May while we remove the jewels.”
The landau turned out of the King’s Cliff gates and drove east toward Langford. The Somerset hills rolled down to the flat valley where the River Parrett cut through them from Sedgemoor. The river flowed westward toward the sea, wending its way across the marsh, and Langford town nestled on its banks, the main street stretching up the gentle slope toward the tall spire of the church, crowning the hilltop. The river was wide and shallow at this point, and it was spanned by an impressive stone bridge with four arches.
The coach descended toward the bridge, and Daniel frowned. “This fool of a coachman goes too fast.” The landau swayed alarmingly over the bridge and Laura caught a fleeting glimpse of the long, green weeds waving to and fro in the clear water, and then the wheels were on cobbles as the team strained up the hill toward the church. Laura could hear the bell ringing as it summoned everyone to morning service, but there was another, more jarring sound, which vied with the bell.
“What is that?”
“May horns. Cow horns, to be precise.”
“What a dreadful noise.”
“It is the children; they always blow the horns on May morning. It is a tradition in Langford. They start at daybreak and go on all day, if they have the wind, which they usually do.”
She smiled, gazing out of the window at the passing houses. There were May garlands on most of the doors, and sometimes she saw evidence of the May birchers activities. The church stood at the side of a square, in the center of which stood the maypole, painted in red and white stripes like a barber’s pole. Ribbons twined with spring flowers hung from it in readiness for the dancing, but as yet there was no one by it, for it seemed that most of the township was gathered by the church gates, waiting for their first glimpse of the already notorious Lady Grenville.
A great many fashionable carriages had been drawn up along the wall of the churchyard, and Laura recognized both Augustine’s barouche and the Earl of Langford’s landau.
Daniel squeezed Laura’s finger briefly. “Courage,” he murmured. The carriage lurched to a standstill and as the footman flung open the doors, the sound of the bell and the more distant droning of the May horns leaped in. She distinctly heard the buzz of interest pass through the gathered crowd as Daniel climbed down, but she did not see the glances that were exchanged. It was true then, the glances said, about Lady Grenville and Doctor Tregarron….
Daniel held his hand out to her, but uncertainty seized her, making her hesitate. He reached in then to take her hand firmly, and so she climbed down. The sunlight was very bright after the enclosed carriage, and she did not glance around at anyone. If she had, she would have seen a sea of unfriendly faces, for in their view she was an adventuress—a meddling, interfering temptress whose activities threatened their future and whose morals were already proved to be virtually nonexistent by her immediate commencement of a passionate affair with Daniel Tregarron.
The gathering remained silent as she and Daniel passed beneath the lych-gate and walked up the cinder path beneath the overhanging yew trees toward the church.
The church was crowded, and everyone turned as one as they entered. After the dazzling sunlight, the church was as dark as the landau had been, the only brightness coming from the magnificent stained-glass window behind the altar. There were flowers everywhere, filling the musty air with their perfume, and golden vessels shone on the altar. A tall, jeweled cross rose in the center, glittering beautifully in the rainbow light from the window behind, and Laura kept her eyes on that cross as she and Daniel walked down the aisle toward the second of the two Grenville pews, the first of which was already occupied by James Grenville.
Whispers spread through the congregation, and she knew that her cheeks were flaming as Daniel opened the low door to the pew and handed her inside. Augustine and her mother were already in their allotted places, but they moved still farther away along the wooden seat as Laura knelt to pray, thus ensuring that there was a suitably noticeable gap between their persons and those of Lady Grenville and her paramour. Augustine smiled with great satisfaction as she glanced around and saw the raised hands and fans, behind which the whispering condemnation went on. Yes, it had been such a simple exercise on her part, merely a matter of dropping a word in the ear of the likes of Betsy May Jenkins, and already the whole of Langford and the surrounding area was aware of what was apparently going on between Laura and Daniel Tregarron. Laura herself gave no hint that the rumors could be true, but one only had to look at the doctor’s warm eyes to know that he would bed the new mistress of King’s Cliff if he could. The smile still played around Augustine’s perfect lips, for soon the rumor would be imparted to Nicholas himself, and that would see an end to any faint hope Laura may have had of retaining her empty marriage.
James Grenville sat stiffly in his pew across the aisle. He glanced neither to the right nor to the left, his plump hands clasping the carved ivory handle of his cane, and behind him, in her pew, the Countess of Bawton, influential and domineering matriarch of the family to which the Reverend Tobias Claverton was proud to belong, raised her quizzing glass to survey Laura closely. The Countess of Bawton resembled a crow, for she always wore black, her nose protruded in a way that unfortunately recalled a beak, and her voice when she spoke was deep and croaking. Now her lips were purged sourly and disapproval registered in every fiber of her bony body as she lowered the quizzing glass and sniffed audibly.
At that moment the service began, and Tobias, in his flowing vestments, announced the first hymn. His sermon was up to his usual dismal and lengthy standard, for he seemed quite incapable of choosing an interesting text. When he had been preaching for an hour, almost the entire congregation was shifting uncomfortably, and only the Countess of Bawton remained motionless, her attention fully on her blundering kinsman. But everyone’s attention was caught when suddenly they heard him mention Laura by name.
“And may I take this opportunity to welcome among us Lady Grenville, wife of our dear Sir Nicholas, who we so recently thought lost to us forever after a dastardly attack upon his life in a foreign land. We all pray constantly for his recovery.” The vicar’s eyes slid uncertainly toward the Earl of Langford, for everyone knew that that was the last thing he would pray for! “A-and now to happier things,” he went on, “May God send His blessings upon our dear Princess Charlotte, our future queen, and her new husband, Prince Leopold. May He grant them long and fruitful lives, and much happiness. And may God grant too that the forthcoming nuptials between Princess Mary, sister of our beloved Prince Regent, and the Duke of Gl—”
Abruptly Tobias fell silent, and a ripple of amusement passed through the congregation, for everyone knew of the bitter rift between the Duke of Gloucester and the Earl of Langford. James Grenville scowled blackly at the unfortunate preacher, whose nervous glance went beyond him to the Countess of Bawton, whose face was similarly black, but for another reason. Her nostrils flared and she tapped her cane once upon the stone-flagged floor, commanding her relative to continue or it would be the worse for him.
Tobias cleared his throat miserably, for whatever he said now he would offend one of them, and better the earl than the dear countess. “Between Princess Mary and the Duke of Gloucester,” he continued, “who is so soon to be a guest of the Countess of Bawton and who will, I earnestly hope, be a worshiper at this very church during his stay.”
The countess sat back with great satisfaction at the stir of interest that went through the church. James Grenville’s fury was evident as he turned to glower at her, but she ignored him. The Duke of Gloucester was a prize infinitely superior to James Grenville, Earl of Langford, for the dear duke was a prince of the royal blood, cousin of the Prince Regent. James Grenville was just a Grenville, and thus of little consequence when set beside her illustrious visitor.
Daniel smothered a smile as he witnessed the various silent exchanges, and for his pains received a look from the earl that would have annihilated a lesser man. Daniel merely returned the glance, allowing his mirth to show openly then, which infuriated James Grenville all the more. Snatching up his top hat, gloves, and cane, he stomped from the church, leaving a ripple of chatter behind, and the unfortunate Tobias to stare, openmouthed.
But if there was little love lost between the countess and the earl, that certainly did not mean that the countess would either accept or approve of Laura in any way whatever, and that much was made quite clear as they left the church afterward. Tobias made a further blunder by choosing to engage Laura and Daniel in conversation by the porch, thus affording everyone the chance of snubbing them as they passed. Not a word was uttered, skirts were flicked aside, heads averted, as the entire congregation filed out. Laura remained miserably where she was, her eyes downcast, her hand on Daniel’s arm, as Tobias Claverton stumbled from pleasantry to pleasantry, all the time wishing the ground would open up and swallow him—or them.
Augustine and her mother had already left by the time Laura and Daniel at last escaped from the vicar. They had added to the insults by deliberately sweeping out without a word, and they had not glanced at the other occupants of their pew throughout the service. Their disapproval could only be noted.
The gathering of Langford people was still by the lych-gate as Daniel and Laura left the churchyard, and now for the first time she looked around at them all. Their unfriendly eyes looked back and she saw the accusation there. She saw in particular the Tibdale brothers, the poachers of the marsh, now resplendent in their best clothes, their faces pink and scrubbed, their shirts neat and ironed. As she looked, one of them spat contemptuously on the ground before turning to walk away.
Daniel helped Laura into the carriage and then climbed in himself. As the door closed, the children in the crowd began to blow their May horns, and the discordant sound jeered and mocked as they ran after the moving carriage, following it down the long street toward the bridge. Laura hardly heard them, however, for now her thoughts moved on to what must be done on their return to King’s Cliff—the carrying out of their plan to relieve James Grenville of control of the house and the estate. She closed her eyes nervously, and Daniel took her hand, drawing it soothingly to his lips as he mistook the gesture for reaction to what had happened at the church.
“Don’t let them hurt you,” he said gently, “for they are not worth your pain.” But then his attention was snatched away as the coachman put his team at the bridge again, coming dangerously close to touching the wheels against the stone parapet.
Angrily Daniel lowered the window and leaned out, his words snatched by the wind as the carriage sped up the hill. “You damned fool! You almost feather-edged men!”
“I’m sorry, Dr. Tregarron, I didn’t mean—”
“You’re paid to drive this damned drag, not to aim and fire it!”
“Yes, Dr. Tregarron.”
Daniel sat back again, looking anxiously at Laura. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
The carriage drove on toward King’s Cliff, and she swallowed as it turned in through the gates. Her stomach was beginning to churn now, for there was so much that could go wrong. At the very least Nicholas could be caused anxiety…. Her hands were ice cold.
Now Daniel knew the reason for her pallor. “Soon it will all be over,” he said gently. “The operation, the sale of the jewels, the ending of the threat from the moneylender.”
She managed a smile, but her heart was not in it. At the door of the house, however, something happened to restore a little of her shaky confidence and depressed spirits.
A gardener stood there, his hat removed and held against his chest as he shyly approached her. “My lady?”
“Yes?” She thought he looked a little familiar.
“My name is Roberts, Frank Roberts.”
“Kitty’s father?” She smiled at him.
From behind his back he drew an enormous bunch of red and yellow tulips which he held out to her. “From my own garden, my lady, to say thank you for your kindness to my daughter.”
Her eyes shone with pleasure as she accepted the flowers. “Why, thank you.”
“They aren’t much, and they certain sure aren’t a match for your beauty, Lady Grenville, but I grew them myself and I’m proud of them. I hope you don’t mind me being so bold.”
She smiled. “I don’t mind at all; in fact I’m very pleased to be given such a beautiful bouquet. Thank you.”
He bowed and then hurried away down the steps, his boots crunching on the gravel drive.
Daniel glanced at her. “He’s right, you know.”
“About what?”
“They aren’t a match for your beauty.”