Chapter Twenty-Three

Three days later, they were in Alex’s study in the late afternoon. He didn’t quite know how he had dragged himself away from her and pretended life was continuing just as normal, but he had done. They’d made love as if their lives depended on it that first night – she’d insisted she was completely fine after the scare in the woods – and it was a far cry from the Prom Night debacle and it was as if he had finally come home. He still couldn’t quite believe it, but she was there, sitting on his desk, and turning the pistol around in her hands.

‘It’s the only thing left to do,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to do it again, but I have to.’

He caught one of her hands and kissed it. ‘No, you don’t. We might not like what we see.’

‘But we need to see it.’ She sighed and put the pistol down. ‘I’ll be okay if you’re there. I know I will.’

‘And do you have an inhaler with you?’

He was deadly serious and she lowered her eyes. ‘Yes.’

‘Good. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.’ The day after that awful attack, he’d brooked no arguments himself and driven her to the doctor’s. She had started to get a little breathless walking back up to the Hall with him and to be fair, she hadn’t offered much resistance: she knew herself it had to be done. He felt as if he’d won a very small victory but he was happier that she’d been seen by a professional. The thought of what could have happened under that tree would haunt him forever. He needed to know he had done the right thing for her that day.

She wrinkled her nose. ‘I know, but the asthma is too – London. I don’t want anything from then to spoil what we have up here and it does. It’ll be there forever now.’

‘And so will I, so there’s no need for either of us to worry, is there? We’ll deal with it if we have to.’

Elodie smiled at him. ‘Hopefully we won’t have to deal with it too frequently. She hopped off the desk ‘Shall we go now? I think I can walk there today.’

‘Are you sure?’ Jokingly, he got to his feet and scooped her up, cradling her in his arms.

She pounded on his shoulders with her fists. ‘I’m sure! Put me down!’

‘As you wish.’ He let her slide to her feet. Instead, he held out his hand. ‘Come on then. I’ll carry the pistol.’

Elodie shuddered. ‘You’re welcome to do so. But I’ll need it when we get there.’

‘Fair enough. Shall we head back past the stables? I ground myself by being on my horse, or, failing that, I’m happy to be near the stables – don’t look at me like that. Hughie is perfectly sweet and it’s a nice afternoon for a walk.’

‘It’s quiet, isn’t it?’ Elodie said, as they walked across the Faerie Bridge.

‘I decided that we’d only open for a half day – I cited unforeseen circumstances, which is a pretty good catch-all. It was busy earlier, when you were at Delilah’s.’

Elodie glanced down. She could see the pistol peeking out of his pocket and she couldn’t suppress a shudder. The image of that noose hanging from the tree would haunt her forever. She looked up and saw the woods approaching, rather too fast despite the fact they were on foot.

‘We’re doing the right thing, aren’t we?’

Alex squeezed her hand. ‘We are. Look, we’re almost there. As you keep telling me, they’re all shadows. We’ll do this and then do something really nice. How does champagne sound?’

Elodie laughed. ‘It sounds divine. Hopefully you can magic some up for us.’

‘The Green Dragon do a rather nice Moët & Chandon. You can buy it by the bottle, you know. Perhaps Bob might give us a discount.’

‘We were lucky to get the free glass of wine!’

‘Hey, don’t knock it. It’s quite possibly the first one he’s given away in years.’

They had reached the clearing and Elodie hesitated.

She moved closer to Alex and he put his arm around her. ‘We can leave it, you know. I don’t want you passing out again.’

‘No. Give me the pistol. Please. I’m feeling much stronger today. I know what I’m doing.’

‘If you’re sure. The first sign of anything amiss, though, and I’m coming after you to drag you back – no matter where you disappear to.’

Elodie looked at him in some surprise. He seemed quite fierce and it gave her little squiggles in her tummy. She knew, bizarrely, that he would defend her with his life if he had to.

‘Oh, Alex,’ she murmured. Then she took the pistol he offered her and closed her eyes, secure in the knowledge he was there to catch her if it all went horribly wrong.

They were back at the oak tree, and Ben’s noose was dangling. Georgiana was lying on the ground, her mother looming over her, pointing Jasper’s pistol at her chest.

‘Is this really what you want? Is this the only way to escape your shame?’ the Countess slurred. She pulled the trigger and Georgiana cringed into the ground, curling herself up into a protective little ball, wrapping her arms around her body, drawing her knees up to her stomach.

There was a click. Then another click and the Countess shrieked in anger, tossing the pistol to the ground.

Georgiana sobbed in terror, then uncurled enough to grab the pistol herself. Trembling, she got to her feet, the world swimming, bile rising in her throat.

‘The safety catch,’ she managed. ‘Jasper always taught me to carry it safely.’ She fumbled with it, blinking away rising nausea and dizziness. ‘You don’t know what you’re doing Mama! Please. Stop it!’

The woman shouted something incomprehensible, and launched herself at her daughter like a wildcat, making another lunge for the pistol. Her fingertips connected with it as Georgiana screamed and tried to fend her off.

The nineteen-year-old, however, was stronger than the drunk woman, and she fought with everything she had. After all, she had nothing left to lose. Eventually Georgiana twisted the pistol around, wrenching it out of her mother’s grasp. There was more of a tussle, and the woman slapped Georgiana hard across the face, the welts already rising where the barrel had hit her before.

There was a bang and a starburst of light. The women froze for a moment, staring at each other; and then, Jane, Countess of Hartsford crumpled to the ground, a dark stain spreading across her breast as her daughter looked on in horror.

Georgiana began to shake and, not knowing what else she could possibly do, pointed the weapon towards her own heart. She closed her eyes and pulled.

There it was again; that empty click. And another one. Jasper’s amused voice, teaching her the rules of duelling, filtered into her mind: ‘My pistols have only one bullet. So if you duel and you miss – you’d better hope the other chap is more drunk than you and he misses as well. You could always claim to have deloped to save face though. I say, perhaps you and Lucy could consider a petticoat duel, instead of screeching at each other like banshees next time you argue. My pistols are always loaded, dear heart. Always available.’

Georgiana screamed in frustration, tears rolling down her face, and threw the pistol, with all her might, in the direction the locket had gone. It glinted in the starlight as it spun and turned gracefully against the backdrop of the moonlit woods and came to rest some distance away.

She groped behind her for the trunk of the oak and backed up to it, then slid down, too shocked to cry out or make any noise at all except for terrible, hitching gasps as she saw the carnage before her. ‘Oh, Ben. Ben!’ she managed. She looked up and saw the end of the noose swinging above her head.

She was lost.

She simply had nobody. Nothing. She was done for.

‘Oh, Ben!’

She raised her knees up and put her head between them as the darkened world began to swim in front of her eyes.

She was roused by a scuffling of hooves coming close to her. She raised her face and opened her eyes, ready to submit to whatever her father and his men would do to her. Anything would be better than the future she saw before her.

There was a soft whinny and a puff of breath that hung in the air for a moment before swirling away. A figure clothed in black sat on the broad back of a horse. The horse dipped its head and nudged her, almost as if it was encouraging her to her feet.

‘Damn poachers,’ the man said, his voice strong, deep and resonant, as bewitching as it always had been. ‘It is shameful how alike we all look in the dark.’

He sat on his horse, his eyes reflected the moonlight and his gaze told her how much he desired her, even after witnessing the scene before him. He moved the horse, thank God, so it blocked her mother’s body from Georgiana’s sight. The girl struggled to her feet, almost scared to breathe, and reached up.

Her hands shaking, she pulled the scarf from the lower half of his face and his gloved hand caught hers. He dipped his face to kiss her fingers, each finger in turn. ‘We have to go,’ was all he said.

‘He survived!’ Elodie opened her eyes. ‘Ben survived. It was a poacher. They hanged a poacher by mistake!’ She raised her hands to her face and felt her cheeks wet with tears. The metal of the pistol was chilly against her skin and she quickly moved it away from her face. ‘He came back for her.’

She looked at the weapon and handed it back to Alex with shaking hands, sure now that it had told her all it needed to. Georgiana’s memories had been strong, Ben’s face so handsome, his eyes so – blue. So midnight-blue, just like Alex’s.

‘Did he take her somewhere then?’ Alex’s own eyes were round with hope and – yes – relief. ‘When he came back?’

‘I don’t know. I didn’t see. But he came on his horse for her after she—’ Elodie paused and bit her lip, looking towards the grave. ‘You should know that Georgiana shot her mother. In self-defence. Accidentally.’

‘That was the Countess?’ Alex seemed horrified. He pointed with the gun, unthinkingly, at the grave. ‘That skeleton? Good God.’

‘Do you still want to give her a decent burial?’ Elodie screwed her face up angrily, debating whether the drunk old harridan deserved a decent burial or not. ‘She was absolutely vile to her daughter, although much of it was the drink talking. She was clearly insane – I suppose her only redeeming quality was that she seemed to love Jasper! I hope she’s burning in Hell, right now.’

‘It all makes sense with the forensics; in her forties, with children. Shot in the chest.’ Alex shivered. ‘I completely agree with you about burning in Hell. I’d light the flames myself; place my pet demon on 24-7 watch if I could. But at the end of the day, she’s a Kerridge. She had three Kerridge children. One of them was Georgiana. I suspect the answer is yes, she’ll get a decent burial – eventually.’ Alex frowned and tucked the pistol in his waistband again. ‘But my God they were an awful pair of parents. Bloody hell. I wonder who the Earl paid to have Jane’s name engraved on the pointy gravestone!’

‘I don’t even want to know.’ Elodie shook her head. ‘That’s one thing that can stay a secret. And I don’t think I want to share the circumstances of that shooting with the forensics people.’

‘Exactly.’ Alex held his hand out to her and puffed out a breath. ‘It would be a bit awkward to explain how we knew all of that to people of science. I think we deserve that champagne now. Agreed?’

‘Absolutely.’

Elodie held out her hand in response, and he tugged her towards him. ‘This way.’

‘Oh I’m so pleased I saw that! They deserved a happy ending, they really did.’ She allowed herself to be guided by him, even if it did, ultimately, mean going around by the stables. She was so relieved to have seen Ben come and rescue Georgiana, that she felt quite light-headed. There was no way she was going to look back at the Countess’s makeshift grave though; that was something altogether different, and Elodie didn’t know exactly how long it would be before she came back to this little crossroads.

She shivered and was gratified to feel Alex’s arm come around her, and at last she felt safe.

They walked back along the other side of the River Hartsford, until they reached a little waterfall. There was a small wooden bridge over the water and Alex ushered her across it. From there, the path wound its way through the kitchen garden and the ornate iron gates onto the big lawns up by the stables.

‘Oh, look! The marquee’s up!’ Elodie laughed. ‘Have you been practising with it for the Country House Weekend? It’s not going to be until next year, you know.’

Alex looked at the flapping canvas. ‘The poor old thing needed cleaning up a bit. It’s been stuffed in the squash courts for ten years. I got some of the staff to help me with it yesterday afternoon.’

‘Is it that marquee?’ Elodie paused. ‘Seriously? The one from the Prom? I didn’t realise that was the one Cassie meant.’

‘The very same. It looks a bit tatty, doesn’t it?’ Alex started walking towards it, frowning. ‘I don’t know if it can be used for the Country House event, to be honest. It’s dropping to pieces.’ He indicated a panel which had come loose from the metal frame. Even from here, Elodie could see the stitching was loose and the twine was flapping just as much as the panels were.

She giggled. ‘It’s rather dreadful, isn’t it?’

‘It’s better close up,’ Alex replied with a grin. ‘Come on. Let’s go and you can see what I mean. I’ll call in on Hughie as well. I might take him for a ride tonight. I’ll tell him when I go in and he’ll be happy. I can zone out a little when I’m out with him. Avoid thinking of Jane and her grisly end.’

‘You might get the reputation for being the ghostly highwayman. Think of that!’

‘I don’t know if I believe in him.’ Alex smiled. ‘It’s a nice story – probably put about by the villagers when the servants’ gossip reached them about Ben. They weren’t to know he escaped.’

‘I really do hope they escaped! I didn’t see beyond her pulling his mask off. I heard Blaze in the woods though, if you remember? Maybe there’s a grain of truth in it after all.’

‘And maybe the finish of their tale is a story for another day. It’s a better way to end a love story though – swept away by a dashing highwayman who’d die for you.’ He nodded to the stables. ‘Hughie could waddle fast if I asked him to, if you want to recreate that one?’

‘Not today, thanks.’

Alex laughed and guided Elodie around to the front of the marquee. The door was open, tied back by what looked like a Christmas garland wound through with twinkling fairy lights.

‘Interesting use of festive decorations,’ Elodie commented, pointing at them. ‘Did you find a box with the marquee?’

‘There were two boxes, actually.’ Alex pulled her gently in behind him. ‘And candles and all sorts. I’m going to use them in the Christmas Room this year. I’m doing lunch for everyone. You’re invited.’

‘Why, thank you. I shall have to check my diary,’ she teased, knowing full well that wild horses wouldn’t keep her away from him one minute more than was absolutely necessary.

‘Here we go. Oh, look. Champagne. How novel.’ He stood to one side and bowed extremely gracefully, sweeping his arm out to the side. ‘Please – take a seat. Bob doesn’t do a discount, by the way.’

‘Alex!’ She blinked and gazed around at the interior of the marquee. There was a picnic table in the middle of it, flanked by two canvas chairs. A magnum of champagne stood proud of a bucket on the table and two champagne flutes were placed beside it. There were chunky candles of all sizes around the interior of the marquee, and strings and strings of Christmas lights. ‘They’re all blue and white! It looks like the inside of a glacier. How beautiful …’

‘Yes. There were some red and green ones too, but when I put them all in, they looked like a migraine. And I didn’t light the candles as I thought the place might ignite and I wasn’t sure how your asthma would cope with it.’ He shrugged and put his hands in his pockets. He looked around. ‘It doesn’t look too bad though, does it?’ He glanced at her, shyly. ‘I could light the candles if you wanted.’

Elodie nodded. ‘Yes. Yes, please. I’m willing to take the chance. I’ve got my inhaler after all.’

He nodded and headed off to the first set of candles. A cigarette-lighter or something flared as he touched the wicks. The candles were beeswax, honey-scented. He moved onto the next set, and the next, and so on, coming full circle to her side again. She hadn’t moved an inch; she had been too absorbed watching him; watching him concentrate as he lit them all, the flames flickering and highlighting the shadows on his face. Alex had always had amazing cheekbones and they showed sharp in the candlelight.

‘Is that okay?’ A frown flitted across his face. ‘Tell me if it gets too much.’

Elodie just shook her head, entranced. ‘Perfect. It’s perfect. Thank you.’

‘May I lead you to a chair, my lady? And perhaps offer you a glass of champagne?’

The teasing was there again and Elodie smiled. ‘Definitely.’ She held her arm out primly and he took her to the canvas chairs and settled her in one.

He took the seat opposite and uncorked the champagne, then poured two glasses. ‘Cheers,’ he said. ‘To Ben and Georgiana and their happy ever after.’

‘Cheers.’ She raised her glass and took a sip. The champagne was cold and bubbly and very dry – just as she liked it best. ‘Thank you. What a lovely surprise. A super end to the day.’

‘It’s not quite the end.’ He frowned and put his glass on the table. ‘I’ve got one more thing to say.’ He leaned over the table and caught her by her shoulders. His eyes burned into hers, no storms, no doubts, no nothing – just deep blue honesty. ‘Listen. When I let you get married, right in front of me, my whole body wanted to jump out of the pew and shout at you. I wanted to beg you to stay here, with me.’

‘Alex …’

Then he loosened his grip and straightened up, slid out of the chair and knelt down in front of her, and took her hands again. ‘It’s true what I told you the other night, I meant every word of it. And now I want to tell you again that I love you. And more than that, I want to marry you. I’ve wasted ten years without you by my side and it was too long. I’ve missed you. So please, will you be my wife?’

She looked down at him, shocked. Then she gently worked his grip free and laid her hands on his shoulders, drawing him towards her. She ran her hands gently down his arms, feeling the muscles beneath his shirt and the warmth of him. She took his hands in hers and raised them to her lips, not taking her eyes off him. He dipped his head down and brought her palms to his face, pressing them to his cheeks.

Elodie closed her eyes and lowered her own face. ‘If I’d known any of what you said the other night, I would have come straight back. You need to know that too. I hate the fact we’ve lost ten years. I absolutely hate it.’

She opened her eyes and he looked up at her; his eyes had that spark in them again – a spark she now recognised as desire and undeniable, unquestionable, unbreakable love. ‘So is that a yes?’ he asked quietly.

‘Yes. It’s a yes. I love you, Alex. And I can’t think of anything nicer than marrying you.’ She leaned down and their faces were at the same level again.

The spark in his eyes flared and they found each other’s lips in the gap between them.

‘I love you, Elodie Bright,’ he murmured as they drew apart.

‘I love you too, Alex Aldrich.’

And that was the last thing either one of them said for quite some time.