Sir Kenelm was still clad in pantaloons and shirt, though he had stripped off his neckcloth and changed his shoes for slippers. He had sent Venner to bed. Now he stood in his dressing room, holding a branch of candles, hesitating before the door connecting to Joanna's rooms. As her husband he had every right to visit her whenever he chose, but in their situation, she might regard it as an unwelcome intrusion. Then he thought he heard the sound of a sob, and all hesitancy fled. He opened the door, took a couple of swift strides across the empty dressing room, and entered the bedroom.
Joanna was standing beside the bed, where the covers had been drawn back. Only a single candle stood on the table beside the bed, and her face was in shadow, but as he moved swiftly forward his own candles showed tears in her eyes and a shocked expression on her face.
He deposited the candlestick on another table and went towards her.
'Joanna, what in the world is the matter?'
He saw she was clutching something in her hand, and gently forced her to show it to him. For a few moments he was puzzled, it was only scraps of some material. Then he recognised the broken pieces of whalebone as the ribs of a fan, and recalled Joanna's gift to Amelia. Was this the same fan?
'Is this the present you gave Amelia?'
Joanna seemed unable to reply, but she did not resist when he took the pieces from her and laid them on the bed. He was not mistaken. It was Amelia's fan. Then he saw several more pieces lying on the sheet, and pulled the covers further back. It was obvious the fan had been put into the bed deliberately.
Joanna sighed, and at last spoke. Her voice trembled.
'They hate me so much! I was wrong to marry you as I did. It should never have happened. Your children cannot bear the notion of a step-mother. I must go away, and then they will forget and you can all be comfortable again.'
He pushed the fan remnants aside and sat on the bed, pulling Joanna to sit beside him.
'If you truly cannot bear it here, then I will not force you to stay. But if you go, I will come with you. You are my wife, I am responsible for your well-being, and if you cannot be happy at Rock Castle, then we will go elsewhere. I have other houses, where we can escape Amelia's silly hatred.'
She shook her head. 'By no means. You are much too kind to me. But you must not leave your children. Perhaps, if you would permit it, I could live in one of these houses? I have nowhere else to go, but I could stay there while I applied for some position as a governess. I would use my own name, not yours, no one need know we were ever married, so you would not be made to look foolish, with such a wife.'
He shook her, turning her as she sat beside him.
'You are the foolish one. I married you, and even though it is an unconventional marriage, I still have obligations towards you. As you do towards me.'
She looked up at him, puzzled. 'How can I?'
'I need you, as hostess, and chaperone when our new governess arrives. Your friend, remember. How would she feel if she came and found you had left? Amelia is just a child, and together we will make her understand these silly, nasty tricks of hers will not force you to leave. She must not be allowed to win, and I need you,' he repeated. 'Be strong, my dear.'
She gave a watery smile and sniffed.
'I am so sorry, but I was shocked by such behaviour from a child. I cannot take you away from your children, though, can I?'
'No. In the meantime, I have another gift for you, which I did not wish to give to you earlier. Wait here and I will fetch it.'
A moment later he was back, and handed Joanna a guitar. She took it, her hands trembling, and the tears he had thought stemmed fell faster than before.
'I – you – oh, how could you?'
He took it away from her and put it on the bed, then pulled her to her feet and clasped her to him so that she buried her face in his shirt.
'Don't you want it? I sent to London for it. Is it not the right sort? I know nothing about guitars, I had to depend on a friend to purchase one for me.'
She struggled to stem her tears, and looked up at him as she stood in the circle of his arms.
'It's perfect, and I am such an ungrateful wretch, to think of leaving you when you need me and are so very generous to me. I will do better. I will try to make Amelia tolerate me, even if she does not love me.'
He hugged her close, and he knew that if he wanted it, he could make love to her. He did want it, he confessed ruefully. Her body felt so soft and compliant in his arms, and he drank in the scent of her, the perfume she used, the hint of lavender from her soap, and just the essence of Joanna. Why had he laid down such stupid conditions for their marriage? Because, an inner voice reminded him, she would never have agreed to anything else. And if he now took advantage of her emotions, of her gratitude, she would have good cause to despise him. Was it simply that, since he had dismissed Selina, he had not held a woman in his arms, made love to one? Would any willing woman do? The notion appalled him and he stepped back quickly, pushing Joanna away from him. She was not any woman, she was Joanna.
'Go to bed now,' he said gently. 'I will talk to my daughter in the morning, when Henry and his family have gone. But keep your guitar safely out of Amelia's sight for the time being, until she can be trusted not to ruin that too!'
He picked up the branch of candles and turned away. It was too tempting to stay.
'And tomorrow, you shall play for me.'
*
It was the middle of the morning and the big travelling carriage and post chaise had been brought round to the front door. Trunks were being lashed to the roof while smaller bundles went inside. Albinia was in the hall, being swathed in shawls ready for the journey home, when Sally came running down the stairs, followed by Harry's governess.
'Sir Kenelm, we can't find the children!'
'What do you mean?'
'They have been complaining they haven't been permitted to explore the ruins of the old castle,' the governess said, breathing heavily. 'I thought Harry was gathering together his toys.'
'And the twins were helping him, they said,' Sally cut in. 'They are not upstairs, we have searched everywhere.'
'Henry, Matthew? Come, they might hurt themselves.'
Without a further word Sir Kenelm went swiftly towards the side door which was nearest to the old ruins. Henry, casting a harassed glance at his wife, who was moaning and being supported by her maid, abruptly consigned her to the care of the maid and governess, and followed his brother. Matthew had already gone.
Joanna, deciding Albinia had plenty of support and would not welcome hers, snatched up a shawl and wrapping it round her as she went, followed the brothers. She had not yet explored the ruins, it had been too cold, and she wondered at the hardiness of the children. Then she decided it had been Harry's last opportunity on this visit, and that had spurred them on.
The entrance to the ruins was through a small gate in the stable yard wall. It was open, and as Joanna went through she could see the two boys, perched precariously on top of a broken wall, the highest that was left of the old keep. George was kneeling at what looked like the end of the wall, where there was a sheer drop behind him, for the adjoining wall had collapsed completely. He was shouting at Harry, who was sitting astride the wall in front of him, and Joanna could hear him telling his cousin to go back, it was the only way.
Harry was obviously petrified with fright and unable to move. As Joanna drew closer she could see his eyes were closed, he was rocking backwards and forwards, and was white with terror. He might fall at any minute.
'Fetch a ladder,' Sir Kenelm ordered, and one of the grooms ran to obey the order.
'Matthew, you're the tallest, you can best reach him when the ladder comes. I'm going up to hold him.'
Henry protested it was his responsibility, Harry was his son, but Sir Kenelm ignored him and was beginning to clamber up the scattered rubble which had clearly been the route the boys had taken, and which had allowed them to gain the summit of the wall.
Joanna watched, her hands clenched at her sides. The wall was so high, more than twice the height of a man. She was feeling light headed, for it had been dawn before she dropped into a weary doze. He was so very kind to her, and if anything happened to him, if he should fall and be injured, or even killed, she would be devastated, far more so than she had by her father's death.
As she watched she became conscious of screams, and realised they were not, as she had first thought, coming from the boys, but from somewhere to her right. She suddenly recalled Amelia, who was also missing. Had the girl fallen, and was lying unseen somewhere?
She began to clamber over the heaps of stones. There was a gap in the wall that way, and when she reached it she could see what looked like a series of old rooms, probably once used as store rooms, or even cells, for they were below ground level. A broken staircase led down to them. Most of the rooms had no doors, but one, she saw, had a wooden door, and as she drew closer she could see it was secured by a stout iron bar sitting in brackets to either side. The screams were coming from behind the door.
Joanna managed to lift the bar aside and she pulled open the door. She was almost knocked off her feet as Amelia, still screaming and sobbing hysterically, threw herself onto her and buried her face in Joanna's neck.
'Hush, now, it's all right! Were you locked in? But you are safe now, you're out of it, and will soon be back in the house, in your room, with Nanny.'
Amelia continued to weep, but she was quieter now, the screams had ceased, and Joanna heard the occasional word through the sobs.
'Harry... said girls couldn't climb... rats... hate dark... pushed me... horrid boys.'
'Those horrid boys have got themselves trapped, they couldn't climb down, they were too frightened, and someone has had to climb up after them and rescue them,' Joanna said calmly, and at last Amelia looked up.
Joanna turned round. She could see Sir Kenelm seated astride the top of the wall, holding Harry and talking to him, while George was being lifted onto the ladder, the top of which was just visible the far side of the wall.
Amelia gave a wobbly laugh through her sobs.
'They're stuck? Good! It serves them right for locking me in. I hate the dark, and being shut in.'
Joanna felt her shudder, and pulled her closer. Then Amelia appeared to recognise her, and gave her a startled glance before pulling away.
'You! I didn't know.'
'Never mind. Come,' Joanna said, 'we had better go back, or they will be wondering where you are as soon as the boys are down.'
She took Amelia's hand to help her scramble across the fallen stones, but when they were back on the solid ground she felt the child pulling away and released her. The girl watched Harry, who was still being held by Sir Kenelm, then looked at George being guided down the ladder by Matthew.
'Silly boys,' she muttered. 'They can't climb, but I could have done!'
'Yes, but they have had a big fright, so don't gloat,' Joanna said. 'I suggest you go inside now, you are very cold, and you don't want to be ill.'
Amelia did not look at her, but she turned and went towards the stable yard, to be met by Sally who began to scold her as she led her back towards the house. Joanna grinned. No doubt she would have to endure scoldings from Nanny too, and her father. Perhaps the child would feel chastened for once.
Joanna breathed a sigh of relief as George reached the ground. She went across to him and gave him the same advice as she'd given Amelia.
'And you had better apologise to her for locking her in that dark place.'
George glared. 'She's a coward, frightened of the dark, or rats.'
'Then you ought to have known better than to tease her. It was not the action of a gentleman.'
'It was Harry's idea.'
'If you tell tales of other boys once you get to school, you will lose all your friends,' she warned him. 'I taught in a school, and I saw this happen. Now go inside and get warm. And change your breeches,' she called after him. 'You have torn a big hole in them.'
She tried not to laugh as he craned round to see the damage, and when he saw the big rent which exposed his skin, he blushed fierily and ran as fast as he could towards the house, clutching at the dangling piece of cloth as he went.
She turned her attention back to Sir Kenelm. He had managed to pass Harry to Matthew, but the child was still too terrified to climb down the ladder by himself, so Matthew slung him across one shoulder and, with just the use of one hand, climbed precariously down. Once on the ground he handed the boy to Henry, who nodded his thanks and carried his son back towards the house.
Joanna watched as Sir Kenelm, rejecting the ladder, saying it might slip since he was so far away from it, rose to his feet and turned to walk back along the wall. She gasped in horror. Surely he would fall! Then she found Matthew beside her while the grooms were removing the ladder.
'Don't worry, he's as sure footed as a cat. He was always climbing in these ruins when we were boys, and it was always Henry and me getting stuck and needing rescue.'
Joanna wasn't listening. She held her breath until Sir Kenelm was back on the ground, and then, ashamed of her terror, turned and almost ran back to the house. She needed to see what was happening there.
*
Albinia was prostrate, lying on the sopha in the drawing room, clutching her vinaigrette in one hand and a glass of hartshorn in the other, while her maid fluttered a fan and Harry's governess moaned excuses while she tried to chafe her hands, a proceeding somewhat hindered by the items clutched in those hands.
'He's had a fright, but he's unharmed,' Henry said for the third, or was it the fourth time, Sir Kenelm wondered. Albinia took not the slightest notice.
'My baby! My poor child! Where is he? Why isn't he with me, where I can take care of him?'
'He's with Sally. She is changing his clothes, where he made them dirty and tore them,' Joanna said. 'They had to unpack the trunk to find some.'
At that moment a chastened Harry entered the room, or, to be more accurate, Sir Kenelm thought with an inward smile, was dragged in by Sally who hung determinedly onto his hand. Albinia struggled to sit up, dropped the smelling salts and glass of hartshorn, and held out her arms to him.
'Come to me!' she uttered in theatrical accents.
'Not if you're going to weep all over me,' the child muttered, and turned towards his father. 'Sally says I must say sorry,' he said. 'So I am. It was my fault, I wanted to see the ruins, I've never been allowed in them before, and it was my last chance.'
'And final one,' Sir Kenelm said. 'Not only did you put yourself and George in danger of falling, you locked poor Amelia in a dark hole. That was not the action of a gentleman, so I hope you improve before you grow up.'
'How dare you!' This was Albinia. 'You have no right to chastise my son! Henry, let us go at once. Where is the carriage? Harry shall come in the chaise with me. Where is my cloak? And surely I had more shawls? I shall die of cold.'
Henry shrugged and gave Sir Kenelm a rueful, apologetic glance.
'I'd best get her home as soon as may be,' he said quietly, and began to gather up the shawls Albinia had scattered about her when she had been carried into the drawing room. Eventually, swathed in them and her cloak and with several rugs piled around her, she was settled in the chaise, and calling to Harry to hasten and get in beside her.
Harry did not want to ride in the chaise, and Sir Kenelm had some sympathy with him. He would doubtless be subjected to complaints and maternal worry for the entire journey. He was forcibly lifted in and Henry climbed in after him.
'Thank you, Joanna, for putting up with us,' he said quietly. 'Kenelm, I'll ride over in a day or so. I'm ashamed of my family.'
The chaise drove off, and the rest of the party, in the travelling carriage, followed. Matthew went towards the stables, planning to ride out. Sir Kenelm sighed and took Joanna's arm as they went back into the house.
'First I need a large brandy. Would you like some?'
Joanna shook her head. 'I have never tasted it, but perhaps some Madeira? I grew to like that in Portugal, even though I was not supposed to have any.'
They went into the library and he poured out the drinks. They sat companionably either side the fire. He was recalling the previous night, when he had held Joanna in his arms. That made him recall the broken fan, and he sighed.
'I must go and talk to Amelia,' he said. 'She must be made to apologise for spoiling your gift to her. And then, will you play your guitar for me?'
'Don't be too hard on her,' Joanna said. 'She had a big fright, locked in that horrid room. Perhaps that was punishment enough.'
He shook his head. 'You are much too tolerant. What did I do to find such an admirable wife?'
She blushed and hid her face as she sipped the Madeira wine..
'I'm sorry I was so silly, last night,' she said softly. 'Of course I don't wish to leave, and Amelia will come to accept me in time. I was too shocked to think what I was saying. I'll fetch the guitar.'
*
'Have you arranged for me to see him?' Miss Busby demanded of her brother. It was several days after Christmas, almost the New Year, and she was growing impatient at the delay.
Enoch gave her an angry look. He had always resented her superior attitude, due to her seniority, but now she was beginning to treat him like a lackey, giving him orders.
'This afternoon, at four,' he said curtly.
'About time. And how about the second man the Intelligencer mentioned, as sometimes being his accomplice?'
'His suspected accomplice, and they dain't give a name, so how do yer expect me to find him?' Enoch snapped.
'Maybe Thomas will tell us.'
'Pigs might fly! Would you give up anyone that'd helped yer? Might as well admit ter cheating.'
She shrugged. 'I suppose so. Four, then.'
'I'll expect you then.'
He left before she could demand he return and escort her to his house. She was capable of finding a hack or hiring a gig, and she appeared to have plenty of money.
It had taken much of the money she had given him to persuade the reporter on the Intelligencer to reveal Captain Thomas's address, and more to convince the Captain that it would be worth his while meeting this unknown woman. Only when he had mentioned that Miss Busby had been employed by Sir Kenelm Childe had the Captain shown any interest. He might, Enoch reflected, have spent the money to better advantage if he had used it for buying ale in as many inns and taverns as he could, and if he had never found the Captain he would not now be having to welcome the man to his home. Dora had not been pleased, and said she would refuse to provide any tea or cakes, so if he wanted those he would have to arrange them for himself. He did not mind. He had a bottle of geneva, which he knew Emmy did not like, so he and this Captain could share it.
Emmy was early, the Captain late, and Emmy was pacing angrily about his small parlour, accusing him of deceiving her, when there was a thunderous knock on the door. The Captain came in, gave Miss Busby a scowling look, and slumped down in a chair opposite her. He was a large man, his hair was too long, and the scar on his cheek where he had been branded was still livid, the edges puckered.
'Well, why have I been dragged here?'
'I know who captured you and left you tied up,' she said. 'I believe you never saw those men?'
'Only at a distance, driving towards me in a gig of some sort. If I'd had any notion of what they intended, I'd not have been taken by surprise, even if the odds were agin me.'
'So you don't know who they were?'
'If I knew who it was, you can be sure I wouldn't be wasting my time here, listening to you.'
'If you don't wish for my help, go!'
'How can you know anything? Or help?' he asked, taking the glass of geneva Enoch held out to him and beginning to drink.
'Well, you thought, and so did everyone else, that the "C" branded on your cheek meant you had cheated at cards,' Miss Busby said quietly.
'I never did! I'm no card sharp, and if anyone says that, they lie!'
She smiled. 'I did not say it. In truth, I have a different theory.'
He sneered at her, drained his glass, and held it out to Enoch to be refilled.
'What can you know about it?'
Miss Busby frowned, but continued.
'You were accused of cheating a certain Captain Frazer – '
'He lied!'
'Pray stop interrupting and listen to what I am saying!'
The Captain shrugged, and took a large gulp of the geneva. Enoch, by now eager to discover what game his sister was playing, refilled the glass again.
'Get on with it, then.'
She bridled at his tone, but took a deep breath and continued.
'He was ruined, and he killed himself, leaving his daughter destitute. Soon afterwards she married Sir Kenelm Childe.'
'What has that to do with me?'
'She blamed you for her father's death. No doubt her husband does too. His name begins with a "C", so perhaps he was leaving his mark on you when he branded you, as a reminder.'
The Captain stared at her in amazement.
'That's crazy,' he said. 'Why should he care?'
'Because the silly man is besotted with her. Why else should he wed her, as soon as he saw her? They hadn't met before, I'm certain.'
'How do you know they weren't betrothed?'
'I knew. I lived in the same house, remember, when I was their children's governess.'
'That don't mean much. From what I know the nobs don't mix with governesses, think they're beneath 'em.'
She flushed with anger. 'You are impertinent! But I will ignore it. Did you see the men who abducted you? How many of them were there?'
'I never saw them properly. As soon as they got close they pulled up hoods and put on masks,' he said slowly, and his hands clenched into fists at the recollection.
'Where did it happen?'
'As I was driving back from Skipton.'
'The road through Ilkley?'
'Yes, over the moors.'
'Close to where Sir Kenelm's house is. Do you want to have your revenge on him? That branding must have been painful. As painful as a bullet wound. And you will never get rid of it, it can't be cured as a bullet wound can. Do you want to know how I can help you get your revenge?'
*