A Perfect Likeness (34 page)

“There’s still time.”

“For what? Oh, Sebastian, I wish you would forget her.”

“I’ll never forget her, I knew that the moment I first saw her portrait.”

“She isn’t worthy.”

“But she is, Petra. You’re very wrong about her.”

“I’ve tried my hardest to be friendly toward her, but each time she has dealt me a monumental snub. I’m not accustomed to being treated like that, and I fail to see why you are so enamored of her.”

“ ‘Enamored’ is not the word, Petra. It sounds too trivial. I love her, and I’ve done so since that first night I received her father’s letter. Dammit, I fell in love with a portrait, and then I fell in love even more with the woman herself. It was a perfect likeness of my perfect bride.”

He paused for a moment, gazing at nothing in particular. “Before her I was dissatisfied with my life, Petra. I didn’t wish to go on the way I was because my existence was empty and useless. I wanted a wife, but I wanted to love her and be loved in return, I little thought as I came home from the theater that night in April that I would see the woman I was seeking in a little portrait. How could I admit to you that I had fallen in love with her? And if I could not admit it to you, I could admit it even less to her, but I wanted to, dear God I wanted to.” He smiled a little. “She’s the one for me, and I will not give up until she’s my wife. If she does not come here soon, I will go to Polwithiel to look for her, Felix or no Felix.”

“She will not be at Polwithiel.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“She was dressed to travel when I last saw her, her things packed and her maid waiting. She won’t be at Polwithiel, and she won’t come here. You are a fool to think she will come to you. She believes too many things that are wrong.”

“Is that why you neglected to tell her I wanted her because I loved her?”

She met his gaze. “Yes, because I think she will destroy your happiness. I hesitated before making my decision, because I knew I should not interfere, but I love you, you are my dearest friend, and I could not be party to bringing her into your life. She will stop at nothing to pretend she is innocent, she even said that
you
were the one to change the plans tonight—you and I both know that she sent word that she wished to attend the ball after all! No doubt she still had hopes of snapping Felix up. How you can still love her after all she’s done, I really don’t know.”

Sebastian was staring at her “She told you
I’d
changed the plans?”

“Yes.”

Slowly he got up. “What if she was telling the truth?”

“She wasn’t, was she?” replied Petra a little acidly.

“I think she was.”

“I don’t even begin to understand you.”

“I can’t swear that
she
sent the message here, can I? Any more than she can swear
I
sent word to her.”

Petra took a deep breath. “I suppose you are about to say you believe all that nonsense she’s been telling you about the letters, the exchanged miniature, the so-called attack by the lurcher, and the imaginary figure in a cloak! Dear Lord, I believe her imagination is as lively and preposterous as her father’s, for he invented the wretched pledge in the first place!”

“The pledge was fact.”

“Oh, come now—”

“It was fact, Petra,” he repeated. “I discussed the matter with my father’s solicitor and he confirmed that the pledge had been made but that my father then had second thoughts and had all proof destroyed. So you see, Leon St. Charles didn’t
invent
anything, he was telling the truth all along. Just as I know his daughter is now.”

“But, Sebastian, the whole story is too fabulous, it is straight from a Gothic novel!”

“At the water party she really spoke her mind to me, and she meant every word she said. Someone has been trying to ruin the match—that much is becoming more and more obvious-—but she’s wrong to think that person is you. Whoever it is has been working very hard to stop the marriage, but I did not realize how very real it has all been until you said just now that Bryony said I had changed the plans.”

He paused for a moment, putting down his glass. “She needed me so very much tonight, Petra, but I doubted her, and she knows that I did. When Felix confronted me and defied me to ask anyone at the ball if she had danced with him and kissed him, I said that he was certain of his ground. She heard what he said, and I knew that she did, but I would not even look at her. I ignored her, and I used you. I deliberately made it appear as if I had lied about you, and I did so to hurt her as much as I thought she had hurt me. It was a cruel thing to do, Petra, as I knew when I saw her run from the conservatory after the duel. I fought for her, I made Felix confess his lies, but I did not grant her one gentle look. Can you blame her for behaving as she did toward you afterward?”

Petra slowly lowered her eyes. “No, I suppose I can’t,” she conceded quietly; then
she looked up. “Do you think Felix is the one who has been trying to stop the match?”

“No, I considered him but I have to cross his name off. He did nothing until I took that money from him at the card tables in town the last time we were there. He had already perceived the truth, that I was marrying her because I loved her—we are not first cousins for nothing, you know—and he decided to try to seduce her in order to have his revenge. He has not come out of this smelling of roses, but he is not the one behind all these other matters.”

“It strikes me as the hand of a woman, Sebastian—and heaven knows, you have left enough disappointed ladies in your wake.” She got up suddenly.  “I’ve just thought of something! I was right when I linked the accident with that book by Lady Anthea Fairfax!”

“What do you mean?”

“I borrowed the book from someone, Sebastian-—from Delphine.”

He stared at her. “It cannot be—”

“I’ve said all along that that business with Toby Lampeter was a ruse, an attempt to make you jealous. She’s always wanted you, Sebastian, and she
is
Felix’s sister: she’d stop at nothing to have her own way. She was with Bryony in the woods this afternoon, and when you sent her away, I’ll warrant she crept back and overheard everything you said. That would explain the false messages tonight. She sent one to you and then probably delivered the other in person to Bryony.”

At that moment they both heard someone hammering urgently on the front doors. Sebastian hurried through the echoing vestibule and flung open the doors, but it was not Bryony he saw standing there, it was Tom Penmarrion.

Tom snatched off his top hat, turning it anxiously in his hands. “You must come quickly, Sir Sebastian, it’s Miss Bryony ...”

Sebastian seized him by the lapel, almost lifting him from his feet in spite of his immense size. “If she’s come to any harm—!”

“Sh-she’s gone to meet someone alone at the folly, sir. Her maid came to waken me in the carriage!”

“Carriage? Explain yourself!”

“I’ve come from the Royal Charles, Sir Sebastian. Miss Bryony is staying there tonight before going on to Falmouth in the morning. She’s going back to Ireland, sir.”

Slowly Sebastian released him. “I was sent a message from the duke that she would be coming here.”

“Lady Delphine said the duke had changed his mind, Sir Sebastian.”

Delphine! Sebastian glanced past the anxious coachman at the weary horse he’d ridden at the gallop all the way from the inn. He turned to Petra. “Have someone saddle my horse immediately.”

She nodded and hurried away. Sebastian drew Tom inside. “Rest awhile and then go back to the inn and tell Miss Bryony’s maid that I will go to the folly immediately. How long ago did she leave?”

“I’d say about half an hour, sir, but she took the roadway, If you go round by the lake—”

“I know.”

Petra brought the horse around herself, and as she handed the reins to Sebastian, she put her hand on his for a moment. “I’ve been so wrong about her, and I willingly admit it. Bring her back safely, Sebastian.”

He raised her hand fleetingly to his lips and then was mounted, turning his horse swiftly toward the lake and riding away into the mist. She could hear the hoofbeats drumming on the grass.

Everything was very still as Bryony slowly led her horse the final few yards to the folly. The mist was thick all around, although far above there was a translucent glow which told of the increasing dawn. The light was gray, and everything was without color as she tethered her horse to a furze bush at the foot of the tower.

She glanced around then at the damp rocks and soaking grass. There was hardly a sound, with only the gentle surge of the tide at the base of the cliff to disturb the silence. Her pulse was racing and she felt very cold. It would be easy now to run away, to flee from a final confrontation.

She listened, sensitive to every small sound, from the scuffling of some small animal among the bushes, to the distant bell of a fog-bound ship on the estuary. Then something made her glance at the steps leading down to the folly door. The brambles which had crept so thickly everywhere had been pulled away, and the way to the door was clear.

Slowly she went down the steps, putting a hesitant hand on the heavy wood, and it moved very slightly at her touch. The door was open! Her breath caught nervously, and she glanced behind as if she would see Petra standing there, but there was only the swirling mist, obscuring everything. Something made her push on the door again, more firmly this time, and with a loud groan it swung slowly back on its rusty hinges, revealing a yawning blackness beyond.

She stood in the entrance now. Inside it was ice cold. “Is anyone there?”

There-there-there ... her own voice echoed back at her.

Behind her she suddenly heard her horse shift nervously, and even as she began to move back, sensing imminent danger, someone pushed her. With a scream she pitched forward down some unseen steps into the darkness, falling heavily upon the unyielding floor. There was dust in her mouth, and her hands were grazed, and she lay there for a moment, too terrified to move.

Then slowly she scrambled to her feet, backing away until she was pressed against the wall opposite the door. Something moved in the entrance, a shadowy figure outlined against the gray light beyond. It was a cloaked figure, its face hidden by a hood.

Bryony’s mouth was dry and her eyes wide with fear, for she felt trapped now, and in no position to fend for herself. The figure halted, slowly raising its hands to push back the hood. Bryony’s lips parted with shock, for she saw not Petra’s red hair, but Delphine’s golden silk turban!

“Delphine!”

“But of course, for who else knew you would be at the Royal Charles?” Delphine’s voice was cold, almost detached.

“I thought you were my friend.”

“I’ve never been your friend, I’ve despised you from the first moment I heard your name.”

“Why? I’ve done nothing to you!”

“You were to marry Sebastian. That was enough.”

Bryony stared at her. “You love him?”

“Yes. And I will have him.”

“It was you all along? You who came into my room in Falmouth, you who changed the miniature in my reticule and—’’

“Yes. And how easy it was to incriminate and confuse you. You did not question that I happened to be in Falmouth at that very time, you didn’t even make any effort to establish if the writing on that letter was indeed Petra’s. I was one step ahead of you all the time, Bryony St. Charles. I made it my business to find out about you, I sent someone I trusted over to Ireland, I found out about you and Mr. Anthony Carmichael, and I wrote that letter to Felix. I even managed to persuade you to dance that first night, and when everyone came in, you didn’t for one moment stop to think that I had engineered it all deliberately. I had only to look apologetic and you believed me.

When I drew attention to the changed miniature and went so far as to read aloud the inscription, you still did not realize that
I
had put it there. I even managed to destroy that letter which was supposed to have been written by Petra, for I knew that if you showed it to my mother, which at that very moment seemed a little too likely, then she would know straightaway that the writing was not Petra’s. The other letters could be left—she would not know if the writing was Carmichael’s or not.”

“You set the lurcher onto the horse, didn’t you?”

“Not personally, I am not that much of a fool, for Sebastian or the groom could have seen me, but I paid someone very handsomely to do the job for me.”

“Why did you go that far?”

“I didn’t want you to be alone at Tremont with Sebastian and Petra. Petra has never been your enemy, and you might have realized it—you might even have seen a sample of her writing. She writes so very many letters. I had to stop you, and so I did. I knew my horse was treacherous, that was why I begged the favor of you. You were so very obliging.”

“And if I’d been killed?”

“You would at least have been out of the way. You’ve turned his head, Bryony, and you cannot be forgiven for that.”

“Turned his head?”

Delphine gave a mirthless laugh. “Dear God, haven’t you even realized that yet? He loves you, you fool, he’s loved you since first he saw your portrait, but he thinks you dislike him. That was why he persisted with the match in spite of everything I did, and that was why he would not ever tell you his real reason.”

Bryony stared at her. “What do you intend to do now?” she whispered.

“I intend to see to it that you ... disappear.” She said the last word very lightly, a cold smile on her lips. “Once I close this door, no one will know where you are.”

Delphine began to raise her hood again. “I’ll tell them all that you decided to go on secretly to Falmouth rather than face the scandal you’d caused, and they’ll all believe me, for they know I’m your friend. And when you’re forgotten, as if you had never been, then Sebastian will turn to me. He’ll be mine, as he was always meant to be.”

At that moment they both heard Sebastian calling. “Bryony? Bryony, are you there?”