Chapter Nineteen
Time had never crawled so slowly. Jason drove to the marquess’s home at neck-breaking speed. Pedestrians shouted curses and nearly dove to get out of the way; heavy carriages and carts pulled up short and maneuvered to one side as quickly as possible. It was a miracle they didn’t end up in a ditch.
Yet for Jasper it was still too slow. Damn, can’t my brother drive any faster? Every minute that passed brought Claire closer to danger and left his heart paralyzed with terror.
At last, the marquess’s mansion came into view. Jasper leaped from the phaeton as the horses slowed, taking the front stone steps two at a time. Grim-faced and determined, he stormed the front door, demanding to see Lord Dardington. Fortunately for the young footman, wide-eyed and alarmed at such agitated, unexpected behavior, the marquess was at home.
Not waiting to be escorted, Jasper, with his brother hot on his heels, raced to the marquess’s study. The sound of running feet echoed though the vast hallway as a footman valiantly tried to outdistance them, fearing he would be sacked if he did not properly announce the guests.
The door to the marquess’s study opened with a crash. Startled, Dardington glanced up from the paperwork he was reviewing.
“What the hell—”
“Claire is missing,” Jasper declared. “I think she was somehow tricked or coerced into getting into a carriage with Rebecca Manning.” Chest heaving, Jasper took a deep breath. “I cannot believe that Miss Manning would act alone. Dorchester must also be involved.”
A flash of surprise and concern crossed Lord Dardington’s handsome features. “What can I do to help?”
“We need information,” Jasper replied, his face hardening. “I need to contact the runners who are watching Dorchester. Immediately.”
“The men are instructed to alert me at once if they observe anything unusual or out of the ordinary. Barring that, they issue a weekly report.” The marquess unlocked the center drawer of his inlaid mahogany desk and pulled out a stack of papers.
Jasper took the papers and scanned them swiftly. “These are nearly a week old. When do you expect your next report?”
The marquess glanced at the mantel clock. “It should be here any minute. Bow Street prides itself on punctuality.”
The study remained tense with silence as the three men waited. Finally, the study door opened and a large, rather odd-looking man entered. Tall and broad shouldered, he was dressed in a cheaply tailored brown jacket and trousers. His face was half-covered by a bushy gray beard and mustache, and he moved with a slowness of manner that made Jasper grind his teeth.
“We are interested in anything you can tell us about the squire,” Lord Dardington demanded, forgoing any introductions.
The runner frowned thoughtfully. “I have my latest report right here. As always, I’ve put in everything that I thought was significant.”
Jasper snatched the papers and quickly scanned the newest report. “This is useless,” he exclaimed, throwing the pages to the floor. “We need to know where the squire is at this moment.”
The runner scratched his head. “I suspect he is still in Hyde Park, though he might have returned to his lodging when I was on my way here.”
Patience totally exhausted, Jasper sprang forward, grabbing the runner by the front of his jacket. “Why was this activity not reported immediately?”
The man sputtered and coughed, pushing ineffectively at the hands that held him so tightly. “’Tis not uncommon for the squire to meet his lady-love in the park. He seems to enjoy taking his pleasure in a more, um . . . unconventional manner. I’ve seen them there together numerous times. I didn’t think it was necessary to make special mention of it, since I included it in my weekly accounting.”
“His lady-love? Do you mean Miss Manning?” Jasper asked.
“Yes, that’s her. Miss Rebecca Manning.”
“Was she there today?” Dardington asked.
The runner glanced from Jasper to the marquess in confusion. “At the park?”
“Yes, man, at the park!” Jasper shouted, twisting his hands tighter on the lapels of the runner’s jacket and jerking him forward.
“Not that I saw.”
“Jasper, stop it,” Jason interrupted, pulling at his brother’s shoulder.
Struggling to get his fear and agitation under control, Jasper released the man and he staggered back a little.
“I can show you the spot, if you like,” the runner offered, his expression faintly wary.
“Let’s go,” Jasper exclaimed.
“Wait!” the marquess shouted. “We need weapons.”
Lord Dardington unlocked a wooden cabinet and withdrew several pistols. He passed them over to the twins, who shoved them into the waistband of their trousers. Once armed with the pistols, each man secured a knife in his boot. The marquess turned from the cabinet, paused, swung back around, reached in, and added a second gun to his arsenal.
Then, looking more like a gang of pirates than a trio of English noblemen, they hurried out the door.
It was a horrible way to die.
The water of the lake was an uninviting, ominous presence—black, silent, and still. With nothing beneath her feet, it would quickly close over her head. She would fight valiantly to stay afloat, to gasp and sputter for breath, for life, but it would not matter. Eventually, her strength would fail, and she would sink slowly to a watery grave.
“A gunshot will be noisy and a knife blade messy,” Anne said. “This will be a far more dignified end.”
Claire felt the hard steel barrel of the pistol press into her back. Reluctantly, she took a small step forward. The edge of the water lapped against her slippers, soaking the silk and chilling her feet.
“Think of how Lord Fairhurst will suffer when my body is discovered,” Claire said, turning slightly to face her captor. “If you truly love him, you would spare him such pain.”
“I do not want him to suffer.” Anne’s plain face was remorseful. “He will feel distressed over the mysterious death of his wife because he honors his husbandly duties. But his heart will not be saddened. He does not love you. He did not choose you to be his wife. His twin brother did.”
Agitated, Anne shoved the barrel of the gun harder into Claire’s back. Claire advanced another small step. The water covered her ankles.
Her fingers dug into her palms as she tried to think of a topic of conversation that would keep Anne talking. “Lord Fairhurst is a determined man, with a persistent nature. He will not rest until he discovers who was responsible for my death. And he will see that they are punished.”
“I am counting on it.” Anne broke into a slight smile, and then pressed her hand over her heart. “He is a heroic man, who cannot abide leaving something this important unsolved. That is why I brought the squire out here. I needed a third body to complete the circle of violence and explain these deaths.
“I will shoot him and leave the pistol clutched in Rebecca’s hand. I will stab her and leave the knife in the squire’s fist. Once the bodies are discovered, there will be endless speculation as to the chain of events, but it must eventually be concluded that they somehow killed each other.”
Claire swallowed hard. “What about me?”
An ironic grin touched Anne’s lips. “Your body will be found in the lake, unbruised. No gunshot wounds, no knife wounds. There will be no clues as to how you got there, though, eventually, the coachman who drove you and my sister here today will come forward to tell what he knows.”
Claire gave a slow, confused shake of her head. “The coachman?”
“He is the cousin of my maid. I recommended that Rebecca use him several weeks ago when she needed a driver who would take her to her trysts with Dorchester, while remaining discreet. None of our servants would be so bold. Since then, the coachman has been ferrying her all about Town for her secret rendezvous.”
Even though she was clouded by fear, Claire had to concede it was a diabolically clever plan. The driver had only seen Rebecca and herself. He could truthfully say that he last saw both of them alive, walking into the forest off the gravel path where he left them.
“You will never be suspected of having any involvement,” Claire whispered in amazement.
“Exactly.” Anne’s chilling smile returned. “Our shared grief over the shocking and sudden deaths of our beloved family members will bring Lord Fairhurst closer to me. I will comfort him, and when he is ready to hear it, I shall confide my theories of these horrific events to him.
“Perhaps you were trying to escape, but lost your footing and fell in the water. Perhaps you were pushed or forced into the lake by Rebecca or the squire, or the both of them. Perhaps the squire dishonored you so completely that you took your own life rather than face the shame of what had occurred.”
“What if I refuse to go in the water?” Claire dared to ask, dismayed that her voice came out in a rusty croak.
Anne stared at her dumbly. “It will greatly distress Lord Fairhurst if you are found with a bullet through your chest.” She cocked the hammer of the pistol with a resounding click. “But I will do whatever is necessary to achieve my heart’s desire.”
Claire wet her lips. Her feet, completely submerged in the water, were numb. Anne was clearly mad, but unfortunately sane enough to carry out her plans.
Claire tried to imagine how Jasper would react to news of her death. Crushed was too minor an emotion. He would feel as she would if the situation were reversed—utterly devastated.
Claire remembered the kiss she had shared with him after breakfast that morning. She expected a warm, quick kiss, but his lips had clung to hers, and for the briefest of moments, she thought he was going to declare his love for her.
When he did not, Claire had almost broached the subject herself, but she stopped, telling herself that it was unnecessary to hear the words because she knew the truth. He did love her. He showed her his love many times each day, with his looks of affection, his acts of kindness and consideration, and his passionate physical desire that had become an almost compulsive need.
But now, with death facing her so starkly, so coldly, Claire deeply regretted not hearing the words fall from his lips. And she wished she had told him more often of her own feelings.
Dying young and with regrets. Was there anything more tragic?
In the distance, Claire heard an animal cry. It was such a sharp, distinctive sound that she wondered if it might be a signal. Was it possible that Jasper had found her?
“Take another step forward.”
“Miss Manning, please—”
“I will hear no pleas for mercy!” Anne screeched. She seemed lost in her anger for a moment; then she pulled the tattered edges of her dignity about her and became once again a proper English lady.
Intent on murder.
“Move forward.”
Claire’s stomach lurched, and she clenched her fist against her abdomen. She was not about to quietly go to her death, like a lamb to the slaughter. She had far too much to live for. But her options for escape seemed nonexistent. She could try to run, but she was certain Anne would shoot her at the first sign of escape.
She could try to overpower her captor, but again, at this close range, the risk of being shot was great. Her best chance of survival was to quietly, and without a fuss, slip into the lake. As darkness continued to fall, it might be possible to maneuver to shallow water and await rescue.
If only she knew how to swim!
The first few steps were not too hard. The ground beneath Claire’s feet was soft and slippery, but it held her weight. The water was icy cold, shocking Claire’s awareness, yet it helped to keep her senses on heightened alert.
She heard the animal sound again, this time closer. The water had reached her waist. When she moved, it lapped against her breasts. Her soggy skirts felt very heavy. Though she struggled to stand upright, they pulled her down, deeper into the water. Hurry, Jasper. Hurry.
Then suddenly, the ground beneath her disappeared. Claire gasped in fright, flaying her arms wildly as her feet struggled to find the bottom. But it was gone. The black waters of the lake closed over her head, and she sank down into the wet cold.
Terror invaded her very soul. She could not see; she could not breathe. Kicking her legs, she struggled to bring herself to the surface. The top of her head, then her eyes cleared the water, and Claire tilted her neck far back, exposing her nose and mouth to the blessed air.
Dragging in a breath, she looked up and saw the stars twinkling in the heavens. Night had truly fallen.
Her heart pounding with fear, Claire tried to remain calm. She floated for a few seconds; then she felt herself being dragged under the water. Holding her breath, she let herself sink down. She began thrashing her legs and arms to lift her body to the surface.
It worked. Again, her head broke above the water just long enough to catch a few lungfuls of precious air. As she sunk down for the third time, Claire felt a sharp pain in her side. Were there fish or toads or other water creatures lurking in these depths that could bite her?
The next time it took longer to reach the surface. Her legs felt as if there were heavy irons shackled to them; her arms and shoulders ached; her lungs were burning. She gulped, taking in a mouthful of water and very little air.
Coughing, choking, Claire felt herself go under again. The pain in her side sharpened. The air in her lungs was gone. She was fighting a losing battle. Her wet skirts hampered her movement; their heavy weight anchored her, making it impossible to paddle to a shallow depth.
Claire never doubted that Jasper was on his way to rescue her, but he would arrive too late. Anne had been too clever. This spot was too isolated to be easily found, and Anne would be long gone when the bodies were finally discovered.
Claire hoped Jason would be with her beloved. Though he did not realize it, Jasper would need his brother’s strength to survive this ordeal.
Claire focused her mind on her last memory of him leaving the breakfast room that morning with a smile of affection on his handsome face and her lips still tingling from the warmth of his kiss.
Forgive me, my love, for leaving you.
Her head began to throb, and she felt a thundering in her ears. Claire sunk deeper and deeper, but thoughts of Jasper spurred her to a last burst of energy. Using all her strength, she kicked her legs and pulled through the water with her arms, again and again and again. But when she lifted her face for a breath of air, there was only water.
It was a horrible way to die.
The Bow Street Runner, George Harris, led the three men to a little-known gravel path on the outer edges of Hyde Park.
“The squire usually instructs the carriage to leave him here,” he told the men, “and then he walks the rest of the way. Miss Manning does the same.”
“ ’Tis nearly dark and the forest is very dense,” the marquess commented. “Are you certain this is the right spot?”
The runner nodded. “I’ve been here enough times, though never this late at night.”
“Can you lead us to the area where they rendezvous, Harris?” Jasper asked, his face hopeful.
The runner nodded again.
Intent on keeping a fast pace without making too much noise, Jasper barely noticed his surroundings as they tromped, in single file, through the thick woods. When they broke clear of the trees, Harris hesitated.
Impatient with the delay, Jasper strode toward the runner. Jason grasped his brother’s arm, halting him, and pointed toward the clearing. “Is that Claire?”
Jasper squinted in the darkness, barely making out the silhouette of a lone woman standing on the perimeter of a large lake.
“I don’t think so. Claire is taller. Maybe it’s Rebecca.”
“Do you see anyone else in the vicinity?” the marquess asked as he withdrew one of the pistols from his waistband and came to stand beside the brothers.
“No.”
“This is the place,” Harris declared as he joined them. “They usually carry on their activities in the open area of the meadow, but I don’t see them.”
“We’ve spotted a woman near the lake,” the marquess said. “She can’t be here alone. I’ll circle around one side and Harris will circle around the other, while you and Jason question this mysterious female.”
“No weapons,” Jasper commanded as his twin extracted a pistol. “Whoever this is, we don’t want to scare her. Besides, in this darkness, a stray bullet could easily strike the wrong person.”
Jason agreed. Side by side, the brothers strode across the clearing, a sliver of moonlight illuminating the way.
As they drew near, Jasper’s muscles tensed, ready for . . . anything.
The woman did not hear their approach. She stood with her back toward them, shrouded in a gloomy shadow as clouds passed over the moon. Yet, when they drew close enough, Jasper realized he knew her. He halted, stunned.
“Good God, ’tis Anne Manning,” he whispered to his brother. “What the bloody hell is she doing here?”
“Could she also be involved with the squire?”
Jasper’s face contorted in a grimace. “I find that nearly impossible to believe. Yet, thus far, nothing has made sense.”
The sound of their voices must have alerted her to their presence, for she turned in their direction. The clouds drifted and the moonlight shone clear. Anne Manning’s face was a portrait of shock.
Yet she recovered swiftly. “Gentlemen, my goodness, you startled me.” Though she spoke to both men, her gaze remained locked on Lord Fairhurst.
“Are you alone?” Jasper demanded.
“Yes.” A tear slipped from beneath Miss Manning’s lashes and fell down her cheek. She did not wipe it away. “How clever of you to have found me. I have been so frightened. I was out riding late this afternoon when my mare was spooked by a rabbit. When she reared in surprise, I was thrown. Fortunately, I was not badly injured, though my mount cantered away and left me stranded. I assumed help would be sent once the horse was captured. Is there a large party searching for me?”
Neither man answered. Though she seemed genuine, there were too many peculiar circumstances to accept it as truth.
“You were riding alone in this rather desolate area when you were unseated?” Jasper asked. “Where was your groom?”
“I sent him home.” Miss Manning looked down. “I know ’tis not entirely proper, but I find this section of the park so peaceful, so serene. I often ride here alone because it reminds me of the country.”
“You come here often, yet how strange that you are not dressed for riding,” Jason commented wryly.
Miss Manning gave a prim sniff, but she offered no explanation. Unease settled in Jasper’s chest as Harris and the marquess emerged from the cover of darkness.
“I think you’ll be interested in seeing what I’ve discovered, my lord,” the runner proclaimed. “Miss Rebecca Manning is lying in the thick grass on the opposite side of the lake. She’s breathing, but despite my best efforts, I could not rouse her.”
“And I have I found the squire,” the marquess announced. “He’s out cold and all trussed up like a Christmas goose.”
“Claire?” Jasper asked.
Both men shook their heads. Jasper took a menacing step forward. “It seems that you have quite a bit of explaining to do, Miss Manning.” All pretense of civility vanished. “Where is Claire? What have you done with her?”
“I have no idea what you are talking about, my lord. I have not seen Lady Fairhurst since Lord Jordan’s ball, three nights ago.”
“You’re lying.” Jasper grabbed Anne by the shoulders and squeezed tightly. “Where is she?”
“I told you. I do not know. Please, you must—”
“There!” Jason shouted. “In the middle of the lake! Something is moving!”
Flinging Miss Manning aside, Jasper eyed the water. Jason was right. Something of substantial size was floating just beneath the surface in the middle of the lake. A body?
“Claire,” Jasper whispered in horror.
“It could just be a tree branch,” the marquess warned.
But Jasper was not listening. He had already ripped off his jacket and was struggling to remove his boots. The moment they were gone, he sprinted to the water and dove beneath the surface.
Total darkness engulfed him. With long, smooth strokes he swam forward, but his searching hands found nothing but lily pads. Jasper’s stomach hardened into a knot. He broke the surface and turned frantically in a circle, straining for a glimpse of what he believed was his wife.
“Wait, Jasper!” his brother yelled from the bank. “You are creating too many waves and ripples. Stay as still as you can for a minute.”
Obediently, Jasper treaded water, his breath coming in harsh gasps.
“I see it!” Jason shouted. “Directly to your left, about fifty yards.”
Following his brother’s commands, Jasper swam to the spot and dove. Arms spread wide, he blindly reached out until his hand struck something large and solid. In an instant, he knew it was a body. Claire.
Summoning all his strength, he yanked her to the surface. Her stillness frightened him, but he wasted no time swimming to shore with his precious burden. As he neared the bank, Jason jumped in, boots and all, and helped carry Claire to dry land.
“She’s not breathing and her heartbeat is very faint,” Jason declared in a worried voice. “I think she’s swallowed a great amount of water.”
Jasper stumbled out of the lake and rushed to his wife’s side. Turning her carefully onto her stomach, he applied pressure to her lower back. Nothing happened.
Frantically, he moved his hands higher and tried again. With steadfast determination, he repeated the process over and over. “Breathe, damn it. Breathe.”
Finally, Claire moaned, her body convulsed, and she expelled a significant amount of water. It was the most joyous sound Jasper had ever heard.
He lifted her into a sitting position and cradled her tenderly in his arms. She began coughing and shivering each time she drew a shuddering breath. Jason removed his dry jacket and handed it to his brother. Jasper quickly wrapped it around Claire. Then his fingers skimmed over her face, shoulders, and arms.
“Are you hurt?” he asked urgently.
Teeth chattering, body shivering, Claire pressed her face against Jasper’s wet chest. She moved her head until she could hear the beat of his heart, closing her eyes in relief. She was safe.
“I prayed you would come,” she croaked.
Jasper eased her damp hair back from her face and pressed his lips to her forehead. “I was nearly out of my mind fearing I would not arrive in time. Thank God one of the servants saw Rebecca’s coach, or else we would have had no clues at all.”
Claire shuddered. “This has been a hellish nightmare. Miss Manning is frightfully unbalanced. We always thought it was the squire who might be a threat, but it has been Anne who has been watching me, stalking me, waiting for the chance to get rid of me.”
“I blame myself,” Jasper muttered. “I handled the—”
A woman screamed. They turned and saw one of the Manning sisters launch herself in attack at the other. The momentum sent both women tumbling to the ground. There was a sickening thud when they landed, one on top of the other.
“My God!” Jasper exclaimed.
Claire tried to stand, but the aftermath of shock had left her weak at the knees. She clung to her husband’s arm, and he helped her to her feet.
“Rebecca’s been stabbed,” Jason declared, as he knelt beside the women. “When she regained her senses, Harris brought her here, but at the sight of her sister she became enraged and attacked.”
Clutching her side, Rebecca, sitting atop her sister, made a feeble attempt to rise, then slumped forward. Her body remained completely still.
“Will she recover?” Jasper asked.
“She is bleeding rather profusely.” Jason pulled Rebecca off Anne and laid her carefully in the grass. “Do you have a handkerchief?”
Jasper removed a soggy piece of linen from his pocket and silently handed it to his brother. Claire did the same. Jason tied them together, and then added his own monogrammed handkerchief, forming a small tourniquet, which he affixed around the wound. “She needs immediate care. Dardington has gone for help. He should arrive shortly.”
“What about Anne?” Claire asked.
Harris bent to examine the body. Anne was on her back, staring up at the moon with unseeing eyes. She looked mildly surprised.
“There’s no need to rush for help for this one,” the runner replied. “Her neck is broken.”
Claire let out a jagged gasp. Pressing her hand to her mouth, she turned away from the corpse. “May God have mercy on her soul.”
“The magistrate is going to have a hell of a time trying to sort all of this out,” Harris commented. “And he will have plenty of questions for you and Lady Fairhurst.”
“Tell him we shall speak with him tomorrow.” Jasper tightened his protective hold, and Claire leaned gratefully into his strength. “I am taking my wife home.”
Claire let out a small sigh as she luxuriated in the moist heat that enveloped her tired, aching body. After her harrowing ordeal in the lake, she thought she would fear all but the smallest amounts of water, but soaking in this oversized tub had been nothing but pleasure. Especially since she was sharing her bath with her husband.
“Are you getting sleepy?”
The sound of Jasper’s deep voice drifted through the room. Claire tilted her head back until it rested upon his shoulder. “I am almost too tired to be sleepy.”
Jasper picked up a small square of linen, dipped it in the water, and ran it languidly over Claire’s shoulders and breasts. “We’ll stay until the water cools.”
Claire nodded. She was simply too relaxed to move. Sitting between his legs in the hard cradle of his body, she could clearly feel his arousal firmly pressing against the small of her back. It gave her an oddly sensual feeling of comfort.
“So Anne Manning actually believed I would turn to her if you were gone?” Jasper asked as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss on Claire’s temple.
“She did. My death was the only way for her to achieve her goal, which was to be with you.”
Claire felt Jasper shudder. He reached out and stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. “I thought Rebecca was involved because I handled our breakup so poorly and I believed her to be under the squire’s influence. I never suspected Anne.”
“Neither did anyone else.” Claire ran her fingers lazily over Jasper’s arm, which was resting on the side of the tub. She liked feeling the crisp texture of his hair and the solid muscle beneath. “What happened to the squire?”
“Though she was badly wounded, Rebecca became hysterical when she saw him. She started shouting and accusing him of all manner of degradation. The squire pretended to ignore her, but all who witnessed the display could see he was badly shaken.
“I suspect he shall leave London as soon as he can make the arrangements, though I believe news of his downfall will eventually reach Wiltshire. Once it does, he will no longer be considered a man of influence. I doubt any of the good folk in your village will have anything to do with him. In all likelihood, he will be forced out of the community in disgrace.”
“We shall make sure of it,” Claire insisted. “Then this nightmare will truly be over.”
“I deeply regret not arriving sooner.” Jasper’s arms squeezed her harder, gathering her even closer, as though he would never let her go. “I have never before suffered such agonized worry for another person in my life. Each time I think of you struggling in that lake, it makes me shudder.”
“I was terrified,” Claire admitted. “Not so much of death, but of knowing that I would never again see you or hold you or have a chance to tell you how much I love you.”
Claire shifted sideways and glanced up at Jasper’s face. “I also deeply regretted never hearing from your lips the truth about your feelings for me.”
He looked at her uncertainly, giving no indication of what he was feeling. Claire gnawed at the inside of her cheek, trying to contain her rising sense of discomfort.
Had she been wrong? Was he still determined to contain all of his passion? Did he intend to continue to enforce a rigid control of all his emotions? Was tonight’s rescue only a reflection of his sense of husbandly duty and obligation?
“I bought you a ring,” he blurted out.
“A ring? But I already have a wedding ring.”
“I know. It’s just—” Jasper shook his head and muttered beneath his breath. “I am making a muddle of this.”
Claire inhaled and exhaled slowly. “Just speak the truth.”
Jasper took her face between his hands. Claire’s heart sped up. She saw a tremor pass across his shoulders as if he had taken a chill.
“I love you, Claire,” Jasper said. “My heart is yours. My soul is yours. Hell, my very life is yours. And I pray that for the rest of our lives you will never cease looking at me with something special glowing in your eyes.”
Claire responded with a watery smile. A tear trickled from the outside of her eye and fell over her cheek. Jasper’s thumb brushed across the wet path.
“Oh, my love,” Claire whispered. “I shall always feel this way about you.”
She leaned into his arms and gloried in the comforting familiarity. This was not only a man she loved, this was a man she needed. Claire lifted her head expectantly and their lips met in a gentle, loving kiss that spoke of a lifetime of possibilities.