An Aria Writ In Blood (The Underwood Mysteries Book 4) (13 page)

“Very well, Mr. Underwood, I accept your apology – on the understanding that no more prevarication is to take place in this house.  And that Trentham Lovell reports to me within the next forty eight hours.”

“You have my word upon it.  Now, for heaven’s sake, eat!  I abhor cold fish.”

Mr. Grantley barely restrained himself from remarking that Underwood appeared to be living with one. 

*

Upstairs Luisa, sitting in a strange bedroom alone, pushed the tray of food away without tasting it.  A tear rolled down her cheek and with a shaking hand she brushed it away, “Oh Pietro, my Pietro,” she whispered, “What am I going to do now?”

It was beginning to grow dark outside and she dimly realized that if she was going to do anything, this was the moment to do it.  With a suddenly resolute expression on her face, she opened the bedroom door, listened for a moment to make sure she was unobserved, then began to walk quietly down the stairs.

*

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

(“Si Post Fata Venit Gloria Non Propero” – If one must die to be recognized, I can wait)

After his initial bout of bad temper, Grantley seemed to settle.  Perhaps it was the exceptionally good food, but more likely it was the exceptionally good wine.  All the gentlemen at the table slowly mellowed and so it was doubly shocking when the door unexpectedly burst open and the little maid servant who had served Underwood tea earlier in the kitchen thrust herself into their presence, “Oh sir, Mr. Underwood, sir, come quickly!  I’ve just seen Lady Luisa outside in the street, walking towards the sea.”

“And what, my dear child, is wrong with that, pray tell?” asked Underwood calmly, “Perhaps she wants a breath of air.  The poor woman has scarcely been out of the door since we arrived in Brighton.”

“But, sir, she is in her night gown and has no shoes to her feet!  She didn’t look right, either, she was all…” Underwood was never destined to find out what Luisa was “all”.  The mention of a lack of shoes was enough to convince him that something was indeed very wrong with Lady Luisa.  He was out of the door before another word was spoken.

At first he could see very little, but as his eyes grew accustomed to the dusk he could just make out the ghostly figure, some considerable distance away from him, and growing steadily smaller.  He began to run, vaguely aware that there was the sound of other footsteps behind him, but not bothering to wait for whosoever it was who followed.

Luisa was already wading into the sea when he caught up with her.  Her nightdress billowed up around her like one of those novel silken balloons, which occasionally took off from the London parks, a peril not only to the aeronauts who were carried in them, but also to the crowds of excited onlookers below.  Underwood wondered why he was thinking of such trivial and unimportant matters when the woman before him was already waist deep in seawater.  Without further preamble he flung his coat down upon the pebbly shore and standing first on one leg and then on the other, he dragged off his boots.  The fact that he was able to do so ought to have told him just how panic-stricken he really was, for it was usually an extended tussle with Toby which freed his feet from his hessians.

The water struck icy cold as he began to follow her, calling her name softly, so as not to frighten her into even more dramatic action.  At first she seemed not to hear him but ploughed determinedly on.  Though the sea was relatively calm, there were still waves and the deeper they waded the stronger the pull Underwood felt on his legs.  He was just feeling that he could not take another step without being dragged under when his groping hand caught her arm, “Luisa, my dear, come back to the house, you must be frozen.”  His words were stoic enough, considering his underlying and rapidly rising terror.

Briefly she seemed to be listening to him and he knew a moment of intense relief, before all hope was dashed.  She began to struggle against him, “Leave me!  Let me go!  I want to die; I want to be with my Pietro!  You have no right to stop me!”

He wanted to reason with her but her flailing arms meant that he took a face full of water, depriving him, for a moment, of the ability to breathe, let alone speak.  Despite all that, he clung grimly onto her arm and began to walk steadily, if painfully slowly, backwards, dragging her unwillingly with him.  The waves were washing over both of them now and Luisa gurgled as her hysterical speech was cut brutally short by the icy water entering her throat.

Underwood could feel his strength beginning to fail.  She had all the power of a mad determination on her side and he was not only having to fight her, but the water too.  When his foot suddenly slipped from under him he found himself dragging her beneath the surface of the water.  The now familiar feeling of fear and horror swept over him as the water rushed past his eyes and ears and his mouth filled with the choking, swirling brine.  Was this how it was to end?  His last thoughts were of Verity and Horatia and suddenly he found himself kicking against the pull of the waves.  His head broke free and he gasped gratefully at the cold night air.  To his amazement he still retained his hold on the now passive Luisa and with renewed vigour he hoisted himself to his feet, pulling her up into his arms, astounded to find that they were actually in shallower water.  The action of the waves had evidently – and thankfully -pushed them back towards the shore. 

He found Grantley beside him, his strong hands helping him to keep his feet as he staggered beneath the weight of the sodden woman, “Thank God, Underwood!  It seemed an eternity you were thrashing about with her and I could not reach you, as my damned boots had filled with water.”

“Should … should … have taken … them … off!” gasped Underwood, with a note of triumph.  It was not until later that it occurred to him that it was probably due to his own foresight in removing his boots that he and Luisa had survived.  If he had plunged into the deeper water still wearing them, he would have drowned not only himself, but Luisa too.

“Let me take her,” said Grantley, and Underwood gladly relinquished his burden, before falling to his knees in the shallows, drawing in painful breaths, in between coughing up sea water.

Grantley carried Luisa back to the house, whilst the Earl and Francis stumbled down the shore to find and aid Underwood.

Once in the house, the Constable looked wildly about him, wondering where to take his burden and what to do with her.  She was limp in his arms, certainly not dead, but completely insensible.  After a moment he got his bearings and remembered which door led to the parlour.  This he opened and carried her in, before laying her on a settee.

With a shock he realized that the delicate lawn of her night dress had been rendered entirely transparent by the water and he could see every curve and line of her body – a body which was every bit as delectable as he had been imagining since the first moment he had been forced into her company.  He closed his eyes for an instant as though in pain, then scanned the room, hoping to find something with which to cover her.  There was nothing, so he removed his own coat and laid it gently over her.  As he did so, her eyes fluttered open and seeing him; she looked both startled and fearful.  His heart contracted, agonised that she should always view him with such obvious horror.

“My Lady, there is no need to be afraid,” he said softly, sinking onto one knee at the side of the sofa.

“Why didn’t you let me die?” she whispered, her eyes searching his face, as though trying to see and understand what his motive had been in saving her.

“You have Mr. Underwood to thank for your deliverance, madam.”  He was not sure whether he told her because it was true, or because he did not want her to think it was he who had thwarted her desires.

“I wanted to drown,” she said, “Suddenly there did not seem any other way out of this coil.”

“Luisa, dying may be a solution, but it is a remarkably unsatisfactory one,” he said kindly.

She looked into his eyes, “You called me Luisa,” she said after a long, breathless pause.  His gaze never left hers, even when the sounds behind him told him that the rest of the party had now arrived back at the house, “Forgive me, my Lady.” 

Francis appeared in the doorway, “How is she, Grantley?  She has suffered no ill-effects, I trust?”

“I do not think so.  She is only very cold.  Do you think she should have a hot bath?”

“An excellent notion.  I’ll tell William to give the orders.  Underwood should also have one.  He’s soaked to the skin, poor fellow.  What about you?  Did you get very wet?”

“No, I’m alright.  I barely went deeper than my thighs.  It was Underwood who was the hero of the hour.”

When Francis had gone away again, Luisa made as if to rise from the sofa, but he hastily stopped her, “Keep my coat over you, my Lady.”

“Why?”

“You’ll catch a chill.  I’ll carry you upstairs.”

“I can walk.”

“I’ve no doubt you can, but you have had a nasty experience and I think I should carry you.”

As always, when faced with a stronger will than her own, Luisa acquiesced gracefully and he lifted her with ease, only too aware that the icy water dripping off her hair was running over his wrist, and that despite the overwhelming smell of salt water, there was also her own unmistakable aroma assailing his nostrils, sweet and warm, reminding him of drowsy heat, summer fields, lavender…

                He felt he could not reach her room soon enough, but he did not want the time she was in his arms to end.  What a fool he was!  He tried to control his emotions, but all he could think was that but for that chance encounter with a maid and Underwood’s quick actions, he might now be carrying her lifeless body.  Be damned to convention, he had to say something to her.

“My Lady, I have to have your promise you will not try anything of this sort again.”

“And if I will not give it?”

“Then I will live my life in torment!” he said huskily, then added hastily, “You must see that your safety is in my hands.  I have a duty to perform and you are not making it any easier.”

They arrived at the room that had been assigned to her, since her own room was no longer in use and she gestured to him to take her in, “This is my room now.”

He carried her over the threshold, then laid her on the bed, before bowing and taking his leave of her.  As he reached the door she called him back.  He turned and to his horror she was holding his coat out to him, “You forgot your coat, sir.”

He went back to the side of the bed and took the garment from her hand, his eyes never leaving her face, though the effort nearly killed him, “Thank you.”

After he had gone, she glanced down at herself and for the first time realized what had caused him such embarrassment.  She flushed rosily, but laughter, albeit slightly hysterical, bubbled from her lips, “Poor Mr. Grantley,” she murmured.  But suddenly she was utterly relieved that Mr. Underwood had dragged her from the sea and she began to shake with a reaction to the cold and shock of the past hour.

*

Downstairs Grantley found the Earl and Francis with Jeremy in the dining room, liberally partaking of brandy whilst the ex-soldier cursed his inability to take part in anything exciting which happened, “God dammit, if I have to hear one more story second hand I shall wheel myself into the sea.  To hell with the man who invented stairs and steps.”

“I’m sorry, my friend, but we really did not have time to carry you outside.  I promise that next time we will make sure you are with us.”  Francis tried to placate him, but changed the subject with evident relief when the Constable appeared, “My dear Mr. Grantley, you really should get out of those wet breeches.  Would you like to borrow something of mine?”

“No, thank you, doctor.  I should be on my way.  With your permission, sir,” he added to the Earl, “I will call again tomorrow to see how Mr. Underwood and the lady are?”

“Certainly, Grantley.  And thank you for your assistance this evening.  Luisa and her child are all I have left of Peter now, I cannot tell you how I dreaded a tragic outcome to all this.”

“I know it, sir.  Good night.”

Underwood, newly bathed and garbed in his dressing gown, joined them presently and found a sober gathering.

“Has Grantley gone?” he asked.

“Yes, but he will be back in the morning.”

“I imagine he will.  Now, all we need to find out is if this display of Luisa’s was the prompting of a guilty conscience, or the true despair of a bereaved wife.”

“Which do you think it is?” asked the Earl diffidently.

“If I were a superstitious man, I might have an answer for that,” answered Underwood thoughtfully.

“What the devil is that supposed to mean?” demanded Jeremy.

“I shall explain,” said Underwood, infuriatingly calm, “I assume, sir, that Lady Luisa is a Catholic?”

“As a matter of fact she is – it was not least of the barriers to Peter marrying her.”

“Then I would hazard a guess that she did not murder her husband, and that he did not commit suicide.”

“How the devil do you come to that conclusion?” asked an incredulous Francis.

“Simple.  In the Catholic faith, suicide is a mortal sin, barring the perpetrator from heaven.”

“And?”

“And murder is also a mortal sin, with a similar punishment.”

“We know all that, but what has it to do with anything?”

“When Luisa was trying to escape from my clutches she cried that she wanted to join Peter.  In her creed, if either of them had committed a mortal sin, that reunion would not be possible.  She knows who killed him.”

“Then why does she not speak?”

“You may be sure she has a very good reason, my dear William.  I just hope it is a reason we can all condone when the truth is finally revealed.”

“You speak no comfort to me, Underwood,” said the Earl wearily, “I fear the future more than I can say.”

There was not a word any of them could say to ease his pain, for they all feared the same as he.  Trentham stood in the shadow of the gallows and they all knew it.

*

The next morning found Underwood suffering from a slight chill, which he immediately began to cosset with breakfast in bed and a dose of laudanum.