Dickon was weary as he drove Guy’s travelling carriage into Porworthy. The lamps swung through the softly falling snow as he negotiated the narrow streets and corners, making for the Bell and Fox inn. The road had been cleared of snow, but the gardens and surrounding scenery were white. Sir Daniel Lavington’s burned mill rose starkly where a small river rushed down from Exmoor to lose itself in a thousand channels in the two miles of salt marsh that now separated the former port from the sea.
Christmas was much in evidence, from evergreens fixed to doors and windows to lighted candles and a proliferation of red ribbons, and as the carriage drew up in the yard of the inn, loud male singing could be heard in the crowded taproom. A large gathering of farmers and labourers was giving broad West Country voice to ‘God rest ye merry, gentlemen’, and the raucousness suggested a surfeit of beer and cider.
Hearing the carriage arrive, the landlord hurried out, wiping his hands on his brown leather apron. There was a sprig of holly in his coat lapel, and his round face was very red and shiny. He recognized the carriage and almost ran to open the door. ‘Why, Sir Guy, this is a very agreeable surprise! Welcome to the Bell and Fox!’ His breath was silvery in the bitter cold.
Guy alighted, wearing a black astrakhan-lined greatcoat. His top hat was tipped back on his rich hair, and he held an ebony cane topped with his family’s lion badge. ‘Good evening, George. I trust the rabble haven’t devoured all the food?’
‘Indeed not, sir. I can offer you a handsome haunch of venison, or—’
Guy smiled. ‘Not the whole haunch, just a hearty plateful with all the trimmings.’
‘And so you shall, Sir Guy. Will you be wanting to spend the night here?’
‘Possibly. Tell me, the fellow Topweather, what do you know of the circumstances?’
‘Topweather? Oh, you mean the body up by the signpost to Rendisbury church. Well, it’s believed to be the work of highwaymen. It seems he was lodging at Dulverford, but no one there knew anything about him. He hired an inn cob and set off for Lannermouth, but no one in Lannermouth seems to know anything. Nor did anyone here, yet he was found on the road between both places. I reckon some local lips are sealed, not in Dulverford, but here in either Lannermouth or Porworthy, because it’s highly unlikely he wasn’t seen in either place. It’s a mystery, and no mistake. Was that all you wished to ask me, Sir Guy?’ The man wanted to get back inside, not stay out in the bitter cold.
‘Not quite. I’m seeking a young lady who calls herself Tremoille or Alder.’
‘The names mean nothing to me, sir. Is she a lady lady, or a doubtful lady?’
Guy smiled again. ‘A lady lady.’ Unless one counted a rather demeaning lapse with a brawny blacksmith. ‘She’s dark-haired, small and delicate, and very beautiful. Her first name is Elizabeth, but she prefers to be called Beth.’
The landlord’s eyes changed. ‘Well now, not that I’ve seen her personally, but I’m told that a lady of that description and first name is about to be formally betrothed to Major Haldane of Haldane Hall.’
Guy was startled. ‘Holy Haldane is to take a wife? It would appear that miracles do happen. Can you tell me more?’
‘Well, yes, everyone’s talking about her, because she came from nowhere and has started whispers due to her antics with the major. Riding off alone with him to spend secret hours in Stone Valley, then letting him stay with her at the Dower House at Lannermouth. Folk have seen him leaving of a morning, and the shocked old biddies hereabouts have been clucking until they’re well nigh egg-bound.’
Guy remained surprised. ‘I’m amazed that Haldane has relinquished his principles to such a dismaying extent. One expects more of him, does one not?’ The landlord wasn’t sure whether to agree or not, then Guy went on, ‘You mentioned the Dower House?’
‘Yes, Sir Guy. At Lannermouth. She’s the new tenant.’
New tenant? Guy’s senses sharpened as he thought of Henry Topweather’s line of business. ‘How new?’ he asked.
‘She arrived there during the summer. June, July, somewhere thereabouts. Her surname’s Mannacott.’
Guy could have laughed out loud. Oh, Beth, Beth, if you’re going to the trouble of changing your name, at least choose one that doesn’t point such a very direct finger!
The landlord searched his face. ‘Is she the lady you seek?’
‘I believe so, George.’ Guy paused. It was still early in the evening, and now that he’d run his quarry to ground at last, he wanted to confront her at the earliest moment. ‘Is Rendisbury Hill open to carriages?’
‘Yes, sir, since this morning.’
‘Well, you’ve heartened my appetite considerably, and the prospect of venison begins to make my mouth water. I’ll take a room, but after eating I intend to drive on to Lannermouth. I must speak to Miss Mannacott without delay.’
‘You won’t find her at the Dower House tonight, Sir Guy. She and Mr Haldane are having a grand betrothal ball at the hall. Most of local society has been invited.’
‘I know one notable name that will have been omitted,’ Guy murmured. ‘Well, it’s only five miles from here to Lannermouth, and a mile further to the hall. The sooner you place the feast before me, the sooner I can get there. Have my room made ready now, for I will need to change into more suitable attire if I’m to go to the hall tonight. Oh, and I need a good rider to take an urgent message to Greylake Castle.’
At that moment the gathering in the taproom commenced the same carol again.
God rest ye merry, gentlemen, let nothing ye dismay,
Remember Christ our Saviour was born on Christmas Day;
To save us all from Satan’s power when we have gone astray.
Oh, tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy;
O – oh, ti – idings of co – omfort and joy.
As Guy went in to dine at the Bell and Fox, Beth was preparing to leave the Dower House in her ball gown and warm, fur-lined mantle. She wore long white gloves, and the ring with the Haldane diamond, and was now so nervous and trembling she hadn’t been able to eat a thing since midday. ‘Is my hair as it should be?’ she asked again.
Mrs Cobbett looked at her fondly. ‘You’re as pretty as a picture. Listen to me now, Molly and I may not be fancy lady’s-maids, but we’ve made you look exactly like that engraving in the journal. In fact your hair looks even better because of those rosebuds Mr Landry sent from the hall, so have done with the worrying.’
Molly, standing just behind the housekeeper, nodded eagerly. ‘Miss Beth, I’d give anything to step out looking as you do right now.’
Beth smiled at her. ‘Thank you, Molly, but I’m so anxious about tonight.’
‘Don’t be,’ Mrs Cobbett said, ‘for it will all come right in the end.’
Beth looked at her. ‘What does that mean? That it will be awful first?’
The housekeeper smoothed her apron against the plain folds of her woollen gown. ‘I won’t pretend I’m happy about this engagement, but—’
‘Why?’ Beth interposed. ‘What is wrong with me marrying Mr Landry?’
‘Apart from you not knowing him long enough for a grasshopper to grow legs? I don’t know, and that’s the truth,’ Mrs Cobbett confessed. ‘Oh, don’t look at me like that, for I’m not saying it for effect. I just have this feeling. First that crow tapped on the window; then the milk froze over; then—’
‘What on earth is the relevance of a crow and a pail of milk?’ Beth cried.
‘Such things must be heeded, Miss Beth. They’re portents, and I know they’re connected to your betrothal. You’ll know great happiness in the end, but it will be a long and difficult path before you get there.’
Beth was unsettled. ‘There’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there?’ A thought struck her. ‘Is it anything to do with Carrie Markham?’
‘Carrie? Why do you ask that?’
‘I don’t know really, except that she tried to tell me something, but didn’t have time. Well, no, that’s not strictly true, she wouldn’t say it in front of Katie.’
‘Oh, take no notice of that.’
Beth studied her. Mrs Cobbett, whom she had always trusted, had an inkling at least of what Carrie might have wanted to say. ‘Mrs C, is there a good reason why I should not marry Mr Landry?’
‘Do you love him?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘There isn’t anyone else in your heart?’ The housekeeper watched as Beth lowered her eyes. ‘Miss Beth?’
‘No, there isn’t anyone.’ Liar!
‘If that’s so, Miss Beth, I know of no good reason why you shouldn’t become Mrs Haldane. Love – true love – must always come first. Now then,’ – Mrs Cobbett bustled to the front door – ‘if you tarry here much longer, poor Billy and the horses will freeze to death. You go to the ball, like that Cinderella, and you get your prince.’ She smiled at Beth. ‘Go on, my dear, and look them all in the eye. It’s your birthday and your betrothal day, and you’ve hooked the greatest catch in all of Devon, so make sure of him.’
Beth hugged her suddenly. ‘Thank you, Mrs C. And thank you too, Molly.’ With that she went out into the swirling snow, where Billy waited to help her into the carriage. He waited until she was seated before raising the rung and closing the door. Moments later the vehicle jerked forward to make its way down the drive toward the bridge over the roaring spate of the Lanner.
Beth sat back, her gloved hands plunged into her white fur muff, her toes against an earthenware jar filled with hot water. Her breath was misty as she looked out at the trees and lighted cottage windows of Lannermouth before Billy urged the team for the steep climb to Haldane. Was she doing the right thing? Was it honourable to marry Landry when she loved Guy so very much? The questions rang through her head as they had done since she’d accepted Landry’s proposal. She had to remind herself that she’d been truthful with him, and he was under no illusions. But was she? Was she wearing blinkers, and thus failing to see what a mess she might be making for herself? Then she felt the proximity of the high moor, invisible and mysterious in the darkness, and suddenly found new resolve.
As the carriage turned between the lantern-hung gates of Haldane Hall, she glanced up at the stone cockatrices, but the light didn’t reach them. There seemed to be hundreds of variegated lamps across the park, and every window of the house was brightly illuminated. She saw that a throng of fine carriages had already arrived.
Carrie watched Beth’s carriage drive past, and then lowered the curtain to turn back into the little parlour of the lodge. She moved with difficulty, feeling so weak she had to support herself on the table in order to reach her chair. Katie had fallen asleep in another chair, with Pompey curled up in her arms, and a low fire burned in the hearth. Carrie eased herself down and then leaned back exhaustedly. Her breathing was harsh, and her cheeks the colour of wax. She knew she had not long left. Another carriage drove past, and she closed her eyes. This was a bad night’s work. She should have told Miss Mannacott the truth when she had the chance. Tears welled from beneath her blue-veined lids. But it wasn’t too late. Only the altar and a wedding band would do that.
Beneath his astrakhan-lined greatcoat Guy was finely attired in a black, corded-silk coat and cream silk breeches that might have been sewn upon his person. There was a top hat on his head and kid gloves on his hands as he emerged from the inn to find it was still snowing, although not so heavily that it would make the road impassable. His shirt was adorned with a great deal of costly lace, his cream satin waistcoat was a masterpiece of elegant quilting, and his simple neck cloth sported a discreet solitaire emerald. He found Dickon waiting with a fresh team hitched to the carriage. ‘Right, Dickon, I want you to make all haste for Haldane Hall.’
The coachman gaped, both at his master’s formal attire and the instruction. ‘The hall, Sir Guy?’ He’d heard about the betrothal ball when in the inn kitchens.
‘Is there a problem, Dickon?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Good, because I have some ill-advised betrothal celebrations to ruin.’ Guy climbed in and the coachman flicked the reins. The fresh horses managed a smart pace for the long, winding climb toward Lannermouth, past the signpost where Henry Topweather’s body had been found, and then on across the cliff-top moor toward the dangerous descent of Rendisbury Hill.
*
Beth’s carriage halted at the entrance to the hall, and those guests arriving at the same time realized who she was as a footman came to open the door and assist her down. Snowflakes brushed her face as she stepped on to the carpet of ivy leaves and rose petals that had been strewn on the portico steps. She could hear a ländler playing in the ballroom, and there were so many lanterns, lamps and candles that the house was dazzling. As she went slowly up the steps toward the vestibule, a gentleman’s silhouette was caught momentarily in the doorway, and then he stepped forward. It was Landry. He wore a tight, black velvet coat embroidered with jet, and white silk breeches, stockings and black patent shoes. The top buttons of his white satin waistcoat were undone, allowing the rich frills of his shirt to spill out as plentifully as they did from his cuffs. His neck cloth, crisp, white and perfect, was tied in a suitably elaborate knot, upon which nestled a lavish ruby star. Smiling, he came down the steps to greet her, and she removed her warm hands from the muff to slip them into his. ‘Welcome, Beth. This hall and its master are your willing slaves.’
They entered the magnificently decorated vestibule, where Christmas greenery vied with elaborate arrangements of hothouse flowers, and when a footman had relieved Beth of her mantle and muff, Landry conducted her slowly toward the steps that descended to the ballroom. On the way they ran the gauntlet of numerous guests. Fearful of a known face, Beth was nervously aware of introductions, greetings and whispers. There was so much to take in, so many questions to answer, doubters to reform and disapprovers to charm. Notoriety attached to her name, and reflected in the eyes of those who regarded her. They all wanted to find fault with Landry Haldane’s bride-to-be, and she had to show them they were wrong. But were they wrong? Her secrets were shocking, and made her very unsuitable indeed. She felt as if her past were a heavy sack over her shoulder, weighing her down and reminding her that she was wrong to have accepted Landry. But no one else could see the burden; no one else knew her or could even begin to imagine how much she had to hide.
At last they reached the top of the white marble steps and could look down at the glittering and noisy white-and-gold ballroom. The music of the fashionable London orchestra was barely audible above the chattering, laughter and thunder of dancing feet on the marble floor. Golden scrolls and exquisite plasterwork panels adorned the walls, and the ceiling was brilliantly painted with Greek gods and goddesses. Dazzling crystal chandeliers shimmered in the haze of smoke from cigars and fireplaces, and the delicious smell of the cold buffet drifted from the supper room. Footmen in crimson and gold bore trays of champagne and lime cup, and the floral arrangements were so abundant and outstanding that the ball might have been taking place in Paradise itself.
The steward’s staff rang out and she was announced. People strained for their first glimpse of scandalous Miss Mannacott, and Beth felt like a specimen under a microscope. She smiled nervously at Landry. ‘Please let’s go down and mingle.’ He didn’t hesitate, and they soon joined the main floor, where she was able to deal with only a few people at a time. She was introduced to more new faces. There was squat, ugly Sir Daniel Lavington, tall, forbidding Lady Bettersden, a gentlemen she only recalled as a Justice of the Peace from Barnstaple, Dr Carter of Porworthy, two elderly sisters whose looks and voices reminded her irresistibly of turkeys, and many, many more. Name after name went in her right ear and immediately out of the left again. She would never be able to remember everyone. But of one thing she was thankful, there were no old acquaintances.
She and Landry led the ball in a waltz, earning a ripple of congratulatory applause, and then they parted to dance with others. An hour or more passed before they partnered each other again, this time in another ländler, but then something at the side of the ballroom caught Landry’s attention. ‘What’s afoot over there, I wonder?’ He nodded toward Dr Carter, who had been urgently approached by a footman. The doctor’s smile faded and he hastened out of the ballroom. ‘No doubt some baby has had the poor taste to arrive early,’ Landry murmured, as he and Beth continued to dance.
But then, as the ländler ended, the ball was brought to a startled halt by the steward’s staff striking the floor to announce a very late arrival. His voice rang out. ‘Sir Guy Valmer!’ Beth’s blood chilled, and she whirled about to see Guy standing at the top of the steps, playing idly with the rich lace at his cuff. He looked superb, and commanded everyone’s attention as he surveyed the scene with an air of ennui. For Beth there was suddenly no sound at all, except the anxious rhythm of her heart. Nothing and no one else mattered, just him, and in those breathless seconds she knew she was wrong to marry Landry. The only difference between her feelings for Landry and those she’d known for Jake was the sexual attraction exerted by Landry, but the agony in her heart due to just looking at Guy was something extraordinary. Apprehension swept icily over her, yet at the same time desire scorched her flesh. His eyes suddenly came to rest upon her, and expectation quivered unnervingly between her legs. Her breasts became so sensitive that she could feel the flimsy material of her bodice against her nipples, and her mouth ran dry; it was a moment of such utter self-knowledge that she could have laughed or wept, because she knew he was her nemesis.
He descended the steps to approach Landry and her, and the ballroom parted before him like the Red Sea. His grey eyes were vaguely amused as he ignored Beth and addressed Landry. ‘Ah, Haldane, I believe my invitation must have been mislaid, but here I am at last.’ His voice stroked Beth like a lover, but still he didn’t look at her, and she couldn’t look away from his fingers as they continued to toy with the lace. Here was sensuality and sexual fascination on a scale that she could barely credit. He did not have to look at her to enslave her, and yet, did he care? Did he even see her in that way? She could not tell from his impassive face.
Landry was cold toward him. ‘You imagine you were invited?’
Such rudeness made Beth look at him in astonishment.
Guy, on the other hand, could not have been more amiable and charming ‘Come now, Haldane, put aside neighbourly feuds and introduce me to your intended.’
Landry’s face was a dull red, but feeling the eyes of the ballroom, he choked back his fury. ‘Beth, may I present Sir Guy Valmer of Greylake? Greylake, my fiancée, Miss Mannacott.’
Guy was the hated master of Greylake? Beth was startled, but Guy was smooth and unruffled. ‘I’m honoured to make your acquaintance, Miss, er, Mannacott,’ he said, extending a white-gloved hand. She hesitated and then allowed him to draw her fingers to his lips, although he was careful not to actually kiss them. Their eyes met for a moment, hers wide and apprehensive, his cool and calculating, and then he turned to Landry again. ‘A prize indeed, Haldane, I envy you.’
‘Envy? From you?’ Landry could not have been more scathing, but he caught the eye of the leader of the orchestra and gestured to him to play again. A waltz struck up, and gradually the ball resumed, although everyone continued to observe the man who’d brought the occasion to a halt in the first place.
Guy raised an eyebrow at Landry. ‘Do I perceive from your manner and tone that you’re in a miff with me about something?’
Beth watched him as he played with Landry. He was like a cat with a mouse, and she knew that Landry would never best him. Guy Valmer’s armour had no chinks, nor did the man himself. He might have been fashioned from marble and given the gift of life, so perfect, sensuous and unassailable was he.
Landry rose to the bait. ‘Miff hardly begins to describe my opinion of you, Greylake. You have far too much game, yet Bradfield trots here like a docile pony to complain that poachers cross my land to get to yours.’
‘Game?’ Guy’s lips twitched a little. ‘My dear fellow, I provide amply for my people, allowing them what they need, but I see no reason to provide for yours as well. That, Haldane, is your responsibility.’
‘I am not beholden to poachers!’ Landry snapped.
‘So your keepers have orders to shoot on sight, which means that your poachers invade my woods instead. All they need is food in their bellies, so please change your draconian rules.’
Beth was shocked. Landry had instructed his keepers to shoot poachers? She remembered the visit to Haldane of Guy’s agent, Bradfield, who had quite clearly not believed Landry’s protestations of innocent outrage. She found it hard to believe Landry would be so harsh, and yet there had been other matters which revealed him not to be quite what he ought to be….
Landry flushed, and Guy’s smile broadened. ‘This disagreement should not be permitted to blight Miss Mannacott’s evening, so I will make immediate amends by requesting her to honour me with this dance. Miss Mannacott?’ He held out a hand.
She looked to Landry for guidance, but he was too angry and turned his head away, leaving the decision to her. Provoked, she accepted Guy’s hand and allowed him to sweep her into the throng of dancers. For Beth, Guy was the only thing in sharp focus, because the chandeliers became a brilliant blur, and the other couples a whirling rainbow of colour and jewels. She felt alone with him. If you dance at midwinter you’ll need many lights to show the way. She needed no lights with Guy Valmer, for his very presence illuminated her darkness.
‘So, we meet again, Miss Tremoille. Or is it Miss Alder? Ah, no, it’s Miss Mannacott now, isn’t it?’
From somewhere she found the spirit to fence with him. ‘Please call me Beth; after all, I feel we know each other well enough now.’
‘Do we?’ Two small words, uttered so softly they could hardly be heard in the ballroom; uttered so softly they were like his breath upon her cheek. She was at his mercy, as was her heart.
She managed to answer. ‘Don’t you think so?’
‘One question begets another?’ He smiled. ‘Very well, let me ask another still. Did you enjoy the visit of the late Henry Topweather?’ When she didn’t reply, he continued, ‘Did you perchance despatch him as you did your stepmother’s courier?’
‘I confess to stealing the money, but had no hand in Joshua’s death!’
‘So, there have been two suspicious deaths which are connected with you, but you had nothing to do with either? Oh, dear, you’re suddenly the colour of chalk. Are you about to swoon away? I do hope not, for I would have to pick you up and carry you, which Holy Haldane would not like.’
‘Don’t call him that.’
‘No? Look at him, Beth, did you ever see such a petulant fellow? He practically gave your hand to me for this waltz.’
She flushed, because that was exactly how she’d felt.
‘Ha, I see you agree. Haldane isn’t quite the angel he likes to pretend.’
Feet of clay, she thought, and immediately felt disloyal. ‘Stop playing with me like this, for I can’t bear it. If you mean to have me arrested, please tell me!’
‘Arrested? My dear Beth, that isn’t my purpose at all, far from it. What I want from you is your hand in marriage.’
She halted, staring at him in astonishment. ‘Marriage?’ she repeated faintly.
‘Unless you would prefer imprisonment for theft?’
‘You wish to commit social suicide by marrying a woman you believe is guilty of two murders and theft? That’s hardly sensible, Sir Guy.’
Admiration glimmered in his grey eyes. ‘You have great spirit, Beth, but you aren’t a social disaster, unless one counts your indiscretions with Mannacott. I may know of your links to Joshua’s death and that of Topweather, but no one else does. Nor do they know how light-fingered you were with your stepmother’s hoard, and believe me, your notoriety because of Haldane will soon be a thing of the past. So you see, you’ll be perfectly acceptable as Lady Valmer. Therefore my proposal, and implied threat, remain the same.’ The waltz came to an end, and he bowed to her. ‘I don’t intend to leave just yet, so please take time to think about it. But I do demand your decision tonight. One thing you have to realize is that you are not going to marry Haldane.’ He indicated the diamond glittering on her white-gloved finger. ‘Return that showy piece of paste, Beth, for it’s even more vulgar than the gaudy ruby star Haldane has been tasteless enough to wear tonight. So, Beth, it’s me, or gaol, and I imagine I am marginally preferable.’ With that he turned and walked into the throng.
Beth was fixed to the spot with shock, until she realized how many curious eyes were upon her, at which she caught up her skirts to return to Landry. She walked in what she hoped was a carefree manner, and made sure there was a smile on her lips, if not in her eyes. Marry Guy? It was the last thing she’d expected. Why did he want her? What possible reason could he have for going to such lengths? Her mind darted in all directions at once. It’s me, or gaol, and I imagine I am marginally preferable. What could she do? What should she do? Defy him? But was marriage to Guy such a vile prospect? She would be denying her own soul if she said it was. On seeing him tonight, she’d reached an epiphany, finally realizing how disastrous a second-best marriage to Landry would be. Now Guy offered marriage. It was something she could never have dreamed of, and now that it was before her, it was something she wanted. There was no doubt in her mind – or body – that becoming Sir Guy Valmer’s wife was what she wanted. And yet … it would be marriage solely on his terms, and she had no idea how he really felt or what he thought. Clearly he had a very compelling reason for choosing her, but that reason did not touch upon love or desire. She was an instrument, for a purpose as yet unknown.
As she approached Landry, she saw that he was deep in conversation with Dr Carter, whose rosy cheeks suggested he’d had to go out in the cold for whatever emergency had called him away. Now both he and Landry looked grave, and she could tell that Guy’s unwanted intrusion had been temporarily forgotten. Landry turned as if to hurry away, but the doctor shook his head and restrained him. She read the doctor’s lips. It will do no good. What would do no good? What had happened? Her steps quickened and the two men broke off, the doctor in embarrassment, Landry in confusion. She looked from one to the other. ‘Is something wrong?’ she asked.
The doctor cleared his throat awkwardly, but Landry answered. ‘It’s Carrie, she has taken a sudden turn for the worse. Doctor Carter does not think she will see the dawn.’
Beth was dismayed. ‘Oh, no. What of Katie? Is there anything I can do?’
Doctor Carter glanced enquiringly at Landry, who nodded. ‘Speak as you wish, Doctor, for Miss Mannacott is aware of the truth.’
‘I see. Well, Miss Mannacott, I have just attended to Miss Markham, not that there is anything I can do, except make her as comfortable as possible with laudanum, which she refuses to take until she has spoken to you.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes. She is greatly distressed about Katie, and I believe needs to hear from you that the child will be cherished here at the hall.’
‘But, I’ve already assured her—’ Beth broke off and nodded. ‘Yes, of course I’ll go to her. If I can offer consolation, I’ll do so gladly. I’ll go now.’
‘I’ll accompany you,’ Landry said immediately.
The doctor shook his head again. ‘No, sir. Miss Markham is most insistent that it should be Miss Mannacott alone, and I think that under the circumstances her wishes should be paramount.’
Landry gave in, but reluctantly, and contented himself with insisting that Beth take one of the footmen with her, to ensure her safety in the snow and darkness. She hurried away rather guiltily, aware of seizing upon Carrie’s deathbed request as an excuse to postpone temporarily having to confront anything else. She despised herself for having reached such a point, knowing she ought to be distraught about the hurt she was about to deal Landry, just as she ought to have felt remorse for deserting Jake. She had a conscience about both men, yes, but her heart and soul told her she was right. A sense of destiny was upon her now, and that destiny was Sir Guy Valmer.
Guy had adjourned to Landry’s library, which was as brightly illuminated as the rest of the house but blessedly deserted. He helped himself to a glass of cognac, and then went to the desk, flicked back his coattails and took a seat. Selecting a sheet of fine writing paper, he commenced a brief note to Jane Welland. I have the missing will and the missing heiress, so Valmer House and its lands are as good as mine. He smiled at the use of the house’s original name. Jane, having been devastated by the beginning of the sentence, would be goaded by the sly sting in the tail. He continued to write. Tell your husband what you will, but be warned that he is bound to learn that your fine dowry is no more. Be assured that our next meeting will be in a court of law. Valmer. He recalled his meeting with Jane, at the time of buying Lancelot. It would be most agreeable to see her face when she received this little billet-doux. And Welland’s, for that matter. Rowan’s reaction he already knew, although to be sure the advent of a mysterious new lady love would appear to be occupying that young man’s thoughts to the exclusion of all else. Or so it seemed from the hasty note that had arrived at Park Lane at the very moment he, Guy, was setting off for the West Country. Rowan was in love, but was curiously coy about the young lady’s identity. Pray God she wasn’t a dairymaid … or someone else’s wife.
After sanding the note, Guy was about to hold a stick of red sealing wax to the candle on the desk, when he thought again. Would it be more prudent to have Beth’s acceptance first? One should never tempt Providence. Not that he was in any doubt about her response, because she had no real alternative. His confidence was such that he’d already despatched a Bell and Fox messenger to Greylake, with instructions that his late mother’s rooms were to be made ready for Miss Tremoille. Further, he’d halted at the Dower House on the way here and instructed a thunderstruck Mrs Cobbett to pack her mistress’s belongings, as Miss Beth would be leaving for Greylake before the night was out. Now he could even ape virtue by telling himself he was saving Beth from the unspeakable fate of marriage to Holy Haldane, a man whose exterior charm and self-crowned halo disguised a mealy-mouthed toad.
Guy smiled wryly. Given his confidence hitherto, why falter about sealing this note to Jane Welland? Providence could not be tempted now. He held wax and candle together above the folded letter, and enjoyed the way the molten wax formed a little pool that only awaited his signet ring. ‘Well, Jane, we will soon face each other before the law’s majesty, and with Beth and Esmond Tremoille’s last will in my grasp, victory is bound to be mine.’ He relished taking on the new Lady Welland, because Jane was a formidable woman and tricky adversary. Even now, with the odds stacked against her, he was sure she would fight him with everything in her power.
The footman’s lantern jolted as he and Beth hurried toward the lodge, where a single small light shone at an upper window. Behind them was the dazzling brilliance of the hall, and all the lamps in the park. The night air was bitterly cold, and Beth shivered in spite of her mantle and muff.
At last they reached the lodge and, after removing her mantle and muff, Beth went upstairs, to find Carrie lying in bed, having just taken an infusion of honey and dried hyssop that had been prepared by a woman from the village. The woman, plump and swarthy, dressed in black, hurried out as Beth entered. Katie was asleep in her room across the tiny landing, and knew nothing of what was happening. Carrie’s fair hair had been brushed neatly and spread upon the pillow, and her face was ghostly, the unnatural flush having faded from her cheeks and the brightness from her hollow eyes. ‘Forgive me, Miss Mannacott, but I must speak with you.’ Her voice was feeble, and there was a rattle in her lungs.
‘There is nothing to forgive, Miss Markham.’ Beth sat on the edge of the bed in her exquisite green silk gown with its silver threads and tiny pearls.
Carrie gazed at her. ‘You’re so beautiful, I can see why he loves you, but you’ve danced at midwinter, and can never light the darkness that will haunt you now.’
Beth gave a sad smile. ‘I know that, Miss Markham. I discovered it earlier tonight.’ When the man I really love danced my darkness away.
‘I have to tell you something, Miss Mannacott, something so important that I’m breaking my word to a dear friend by telling you. Mr Landry is Katie’s father, but I’m not her mother. Miss Harriet is Katie’s mother, Miss Mannacott, and apart from you and me, there’s no one else in the world that knows it.’
Beth stared at her.
‘She went with him once, that’s all, and then he went away to his regiment. Miss Harriet and I were always friends, we played together as children, and so she told me when she knew she was with child. I arranged for us both to stay with my aunt in Taunton, where Katie was born. We stayed there for months on end, and when we returned to Haldane we said the child was mine. It could have been, you see, because Mr Landry and I had shared a bed. My reputation didn’t matter, for it was well known that I’d been his mistress, but Miss Harriet’s reputation was spared. It’s the way we both wanted it at the time. I loved him then as I love him now, and by being Katie’s mother I was assured of his attention and kindness, if not his presence in my bed. Miss Harriet loves him too, but knows he doesn’t love her.’ Carrie closed her eyes for a moment, exhausted by the effort of speaking, but then struggled again. ‘Do not think badly of him, Miss Mannacott, for he knows nothing of this.’
Beth lowered her eyes. Whether he knew it or not, the story did not reflect well upon his conduct. He’d put Harriet’s reputation at risk when he lay with her, and on his own admission had been relieved when she didn’t mention it afterward. Any man of true honour would have married her. Someone like Harriet warranted a gentleman’s protection, not his casual indifference. Landry did not always behave nobly, a fact she, Beth, had contrived to ignore until now, but could no more. After everything else that had happened tonight, this was almost too much. Again she tried to assemble her thoughts in the face of circumstances beyond her control. It was easy to imagine what Harriet had gone through at the time, being with child out of wedlock, and Landry far away with his regiment. Fear of ruin was a terrible force, and ruined she most definitely would have been. And all because Landry Haldane had been less than a gentleman.
Carrie continued, ‘All was well while I had my health, but now that I’m dying I can’t let this go on. You may have stolen his heart, but it is Miss Harriet he should wed. She has always refused to tell him the truth because she felt it would force him to do the honourable thing.’
‘You are right to tell me, Miss Markham, and I am sure that when he learns the truth, Mr Haldane will wish to rectify matters.’ He won’t wish to, he’ll simply have no choice. But as she thought this, Beth knew this revelation was her own salvation too. Even if Guy had not come to the hall tonight, learning what she now had, she would not have been able to proceed with the betrothal. She would have had to remove Landry’s ring. Return that showy piece of paste, Beth.
‘Miss Mannacott? I know I ruin your life, but—’
Beth halted the words. ‘No, Miss Markham, you don’t ruin anything, rather have you confirmed something that I had already decided. Mr Haldane and I are not suited, and if I had not been so blinkered and foolish of late, I would have known it sooner.’
There were tears of relief on Carrie’s cheeks. ‘I have not been kind to you, Miss Mannacott, yet you are kind to me. I’m ashamed.’
‘Don’t be. Please.’ Beth squeezed Carrie’s hand. ‘Would you like me to let Miss Bellamy know you’ve told me? Perhaps when she realizes I will not marry Mr Haldane anyway, she will see where her duty lies. I will tell Mr Landry for the same reason.’
‘Would you do that? They must marry, Miss Mannacott. For Katie’s sake. When I’m gone, that child will need her true parents. I know that their marrying now will not make her legitimate, but it’s the next best thing.’
‘I agree.’ Beth thought of Landry, so unaware of the great upheaval that was about to change his life. But, like her, he must face the consequences of past actions. They both had feet of clay.