Amanda Scott (41 page)

She said, “Yes, that’s right. Please, I must ask this. Is that boat owned by someone who might be known as Lord M?”

The woman hesitated, but then, drawing a long breath, as if she were making up her mind, she looked up, right at Anne, and said, “That’s right, my lady. They call him Lord M, or just
his lordship,
as if he were the only lordship walking the earth.”

Anne swallowed hard, wishing now that she could drop the whole conversation, but she had to ask one more question. “Is it Lord Michael, Mrs. Flowers, who owns the
Folly?
Answer me quickly, if you please, for His Grace will be coming back any minute now, and he must not be a party to this conversation.”

Mrs. Flowers glanced up the hill as if she expected to see him then and there, then said, “I cannot give you a plain answer, ma’am, for I do not know. I can tell you there are any number of people hereabouts who believe that he is, but I’ve never actually seen Lord M, and from what I am given to understand, he wears a mask whenever he is on the boat. He visits the
Folly
only late at night, in general, and the girls don’t rightfully know him. Not one amongst them would recognize him if she walked bang into him in the center of the village in broad daylight.”

“But I’m told Lord Michael has visited the
Folly
in broad daylight, and spoken with at least two of the women there.”

“That’s as may be. I didn’t say they don’t know Lord Michael, for they do. I just said they don’t know the identity of Lord M, and that’s true enough, but I can tell you, they are terrified of him, and with good reason, I’m afraid.”

“What can you mean?”

“I didn’t like to tell poor Jane any more about her sister than what I did, but the plain fact is that Molly were beaten to death, my lady, and by what I hear, it were Lord M who killed her. No one dared speak to the authorities, and ’tis said she were buried somewheres far from here. She knew something she didn’t ought to know, they say, and he meant only to teach her to keep a still tongue. Well, he did that, I expect, but if you was thinking of trying to expose him, ma’am—not that you would, I daresay, if he should chance to be your own husband. Still and all, I’ll tell you to your head that you’d best not do it.”

The horror Anne expected to feel did not materialize, and she wondered if she had become emotionally numb. Surely, she ought to feel horror at the thought that Michael might have murdered some poor innocent maidservant. But her imagination boggled and would not accept the thought. Looking up the hill, she saw Andrew coming toward them, and was spurred to ask one last question. “Please, ma’am, do you know nothing more specific to tell me about this mysterious Lord M? Is he tall, short, thin, heavy—You must know something to help me.”

Mrs. Flowers, too, had seen Andrew. She began to shake her head, then stopped, saying, “He is tall with broad shoulders and a lordly bearing, ma’am, but that don’t help you at all, I know, for it’s the spit of Lord Michael that I’m describing. I have seen him from a distance, of course, though I’ve never spoken with him. And that’s the one thing that might help, for they do say as Lord M’s voice is one a woman never forgets. Like a cat’s purr, they do say. Creepy, is what I’d call it, but if it is his lordship, my lady, pray have a care to yourself. Ah, there you are, Your Grace,” she added in quite a different tone. “How very kind of you, sir, to bring me a blanket. I declare, I’ve begun to feel like a block of ice, for it’s turned quite chilly.”

The chill racing up and down Anne’s spine had nothing to do with the approaching storm, however. How many times, she wondered, had she been reminded of a cat’s purr when she heard Michael speak? She could not seem to think, however, nor did she have the liberty to do so, for Andrew’s attitude was as prickly as before, and she had to gather her wits to deal with him.

Knowing, regardless of Mrs. Flowers’s warning, that she would not rest until she had confronted Michael, she still had to exert patience to deal with Andrew, and she gave thanks for all the practice she had received in keeping her temper while dealing with her brothers and sisters over the years.

Andrew draped the blanket carefully around Mrs. Flowers, taking care not to add its weight to the injured limb. He said, “I got this from one of the village women, Fiona. She wanted to return with me to assist you to her cottage, where she said she would look after you more properly, but I told her you wanted privacy. Nonetheless, with the storm approaching, as I believe it is, we ought to think about finding you some shelter soon, and the woman does seem respectable.”

Before Mrs. Flowers could reply, Anne said firmly, “I want to discuss with you just what is to be done about all this, sir. Mrs. Flowers will no doubt excuse you for a few moments if you will just step over here with me.”

He looked rebellious, but Mrs. Flowers said gently, “Do go, Your Grace. I shall be glad to lean back and close my eyes for a few moments, and it would not do if I were to do so with you standing there, wanting to talk to me.”

“Well, if you are quite sure …”

“Go along now.”

He grimaced and turned with obvious reluctance to accompany Anne. She did not go far, for she did not want to leave Mrs. Flowers unattended, but once they were distant enough that she knew Andrew would not worry about being overheard, she said, “Now, Andrew, we must talk plainly about this business, and I am no doubt going to say things that you will not like to hear, but I want you to listen to me, and I hope you will not simply dismiss what I say.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” he said gruffly.

“Look at me, Andrew.” She kept her voice gentle, resisting the urge to touch him as she would have touched Stephen, just to remind him that she cared for him. “If you cannot look me straight in the eye, and talk to me, you cannot have very much faith in the rightness of your position, my dear.”

He looked at her then, his eyes glittering. “I suppose you are going to tell me what a fool I am.”

“I do not think you are a fool. I think you are frustrated and angry, and I think you acted impulsively and unwisely, but I also think you are sensible enough to know by now that a marriage between you and Mrs. Flowers is quite out of the question. She knows that if you do not.”

“I suppose you threatened her with all manner of things, and now she means to abandon me like …” He turned away, and she knew he was fighting his tears.

“Andrew, I did not threaten her. She already knew she could not marry you, but neither of you will be abandoned, I promise you. What you offered seemed so much like a dream to her that she was carried away a little, or I think she would never have agreed to it. And if you are honest, my dear, I think you know that you would never have suggested such a course if you had not been so very angry with your uncle, and so determined to be free of his discipline. One day you will meet a lady who will make you an excellent duchess. Of that I have no doubt. But until then, you must do all you can to become the best duke you can be, so that she will not be disappointed.”

“But I am not allowed to be a duke. He treats me as if I were younger than Sylvie.”

“He is still learning, too,” Anne reminded him. “He has not been a guardian any longer than you have been a duke, after all. But he is making an effort, Andrew, and you must do the same. You must both learn to be more tolerant of each other.”

“He w-will m-murder me for this,” Andrew said, his voice catching on a sob.

Repressing a shiver at his untimely choice of words, Anne said steadily, “I will not let him do any such uncivil thing. Indeed, if you will help me, I think perhaps we can settle this without troubling him much about it at all.”

“How? He will know the instant he returns to the Priory that everyone is gone, and he will soon enough learn why.”

“Well, he may not return until late, you know, but if he should get back before we do, I’ll try to think of something to tell him. It occurs to me that if we can all get home before it grows quite dark—which fortunately does not happen until nearly nine o’clock at this time of year—it will not be so bad as you think. Here come the others now. Gracious, a good many others,” she added, seeing that Lady Hermione and Lord Ashby had apparently collected an entourage.

The reason was soon explained. When he reached them, Lord Ashby said heartily, “The wagon is coming along now, they tell me, which means we shall no doubt see it within the hour, but the storm is marching right along, too, and I cannot say I like the looks of those clouds moving toward us. Thought we’d best find shelter, don’t you know, and several of these good folks have offered to house us till the worst is past.”

“Good gracious,” Anne exclaimed, dismayed, “surely you do not mean for us to remain here, sir!”

“Don’t see why we shouldn’t,” he replied. “I must say, I expected Andrew to kick up a riot and rumpus, but not you, my dear. Surely you are not too nice in your notions to accept hospitality from these kind people, and I’m assured there is an excellent public house in the village, where the host puts up his own ale from an ancient and highly respected receipt. I mean to try that just as soon as the lads get here and can look after the
Great Britain.”

Aware of her audience, Anne said carefully, “Even if we do stay until the storm passes, sir, how do you intend to get us all back to the house afterward?”

“Why—” He broke off in consternation. “By Jove, if I didn’t forget we’ve got my curricle. Can’t take but two, maybe three at a pinch. Daresay we’ll have to find a coach of some sort, and that might not be so easy here in Bamford.” He looked around, as if he expected a coach to appear out of thin air.

One helpful man said he thought the public house owner might lend them the old coach he kept in his stable for when he and his family visited his wife’s parents in Tilney.

“The very thing,” Lord Ashby said, “and we’ll want a driver, too, I expect. Won’t want to fret about returning mine host’s coach to Bamford.” He started to turn away, evidently in the belief that everything had been decided.

Anne said, “I beg your pardon, sir, but I don’t think it would be wise for us all to remain here longer than absolutely necessary. The sooner Andrew gets back to the house, the better, you must agree.”

“Only if he gets back before Michael learns of this latest start of his,” Lord Ashby snapped.

“In point of fact, my lord, I am in something of the same fix,” she said calmly. “He will not be pleased to find me away from home either, and in view of his displeasure the last time I left the house with you and Lady Hermione, I think I had better get home now as quickly as I can, and take Andrew with me.”

“But, look here, you left Michael a note, did you not?”

“Well, no,” Anne confessed, “I didn’t.”

“The devil you say! Next, by Jove, you’ll be telling me that you and that brat want to steal my curricle.”

“Well, yes,” Anne said, “we do.”

L
ORD ASHBY BECAME SO
choleric at the thought that first his balloon had been commandeered, and now his curricle was to be wrested from him, that his face took on an unhealthy color. He sputtered and tugged at his side whiskers. His angry gaze swept from Anne to Andrew to Lady Hermione, where it came to rest.

“You,” he said accusingly, “are to blame for all of this.”

“Am I, indeed?” she responded placidly.

“Yes, by Jove, and if it’s the last thing I do, woman, I’ll make you sorry you were ever born.”

“Very well, if that is how you feel, I expect you ought to have your say, Ashby, but before you do, I suggest that we remove Mrs. Flowers to a cottage where she can be made more comfortable until we are able to transport her home. Moreover, I can think of no good reason for dear Anne or young Upminster to wait upon our convenience before departing. His Grace is quite capable of driving that team and looking after her, you know.”

“Are you compounding all your other iniquities by suggesting that Andrew drive Michael’s best team all the way back to the Priory?” Lord Ashby asked in a tone of outrage.

“Why not? It is not even ten miles from Bamford, I daresay, and I am persuaded that he can easily manage that team. Can you not, Andrew?”

“Certainly I can,” he replied, straightening and raising his chin. Then, with a glance at Anne, he added in a less confident tone, “But I am not altogether sure it would be wise for me to do so under the present circumstances.”

“Poppycock.”

“Oh, yes, poppycock,” echoed Lord Ashby in a sarcastic tone. “By Jove, I daresay Michael will be just delighted to see you drive that team again, lad. Go right ahead, with my blessing.”

Andrew flushed, but Anne said instantly, “Thank you, sir, we shall take every care, I assure you, and we will leave at once, if you don’t mind. Although the storm seems to have slowed its progress somewhat, I’d as lief get home without being drenched. Are you quite certain, ma’am,” she added, turning to Lady Hermione, “that we are but ten miles from Upminster Priory?”

“No more than that, at all events,” Lady Hermione said, watching Lord Ashby, who was still having difficulty containing his wrath. “You get along now, the pair of you. You’ll be quite safe with the lad, Anne dear, and in the meantime,” she added on a more provocative note, “I will do my possible to see that Ashby here don’t explode or try to seduce poor Mrs. Flowers.”

“Hermione! By Jove, woman, you and I are going to have a long talk, and I’ll wager you won’t enjoy a word of it. It’s time and more that someone took you in hand, by God, and I’m just the man to do it.”

“Are you, Ashby? To be sure, you are the one who is always telling me I ought to stop giving unwanted advice to people and exert myself to
do
something instead, but the moment I actually follow your advice, you see what comes of it. You have been shouting at me and carrying on like a wicked Russian ever since you arrived, and no m-matter what I s-say or d-do—”

“Here now, Hermie, you ain’t crying! Dashed if I ever knew such a wench. Look at all these people gawking at you. Hermie, I say, Hermie, I didn’t mean it …”

Obeying the emphatic gesture Lady Hermione made behind her back, Anne grabbed Andrew by the arm, bade a hasty and low-voiced farewell to Mrs. Flowers, and made good her escape. When they reached the clearing where Lord Ashby had left his curricle, she took advantage of the comparative privacy to say, “Andrew, I hope you really can manage these horses, for even as tired as they must still be, I don’t trust my skill with them at all.”