Blaze Wyndham (45 page)

She nodded. “If your uncle Henry had been as you,
monseigneur
, what he could not have done! What we would not have had! Alas, he was but a dreamer and a fool. I comprehend your words,
monseigneur
, and I will obey.”

“Practical old bitch,” remarked Nicholas Kingsley when they had locked her behind a stout door of solid oak and returned to the earl’s library. “I doubt she’ll shed any tears for Henriette. Do you think she really is the girl’s grandmother?”

“Probably. Her mother’s mother, for Henriette showed us a miniature of my uncle Henry and her mother. Now that I think back on it, there is a pronounced resemblance between the old lady and Henriette’s mother.”

The two men waited for Lord Morgan to come to them and tell them that the French girl was dead. While they waited, they played chess, and got just a little drunk with Anthony’s good red burgundy. Suddenly the door opened, and Blaze stepped into the room.

“Nick! Why did no one tell me that you were here? Is everything all right at Kirkwood?”

“Just came to play a little chess and have a friendly drink with Tony,” Lord Kingsley said.

“How is my sister?”

“Blythe is in excellent health. Having babies agrees with her,” he told her.

Blaze laughed. God bless men, she thought. For them it is all so simple. “And how is our new nephew?” she inquired.

Edmund John Kingsley had been born on the twenty-fifth day of February, and named after his late uncle, the Earl of Langford.

“Were it not for Edmund’s kindness and generosity,” Blythe had declared, “I should have never had a dowry, but worse, I should have never met my Nicholas!”

“My dear,” her husband had responded gallantly, “I would have had you without a dowry.”

“The young fellow is doing quite well,” answered Lord Kingsley in reply to Blaze’s question. He was enormously proud of his daughter and two sons.

“Then having gained all your news, Nick, I shall leave you both to your game, and that fine French burgundy. Tony, where is Henriette? I have not seen her since Delight left this morning.”

“I saw Cecile just as Nick arrived, and she mentioned that my cousin had a headache and would spend her afternoon resting.”

“Henriette always manages to disappear or become indisposed when there is work to be done,” grumbled Blaze. “I doubt she was so fine a lady at the French court as she would have us believe. Your mother and I could have used her help with the linens, but no matter. She will only whine and fuss if I arouse her, so she is best left to her bed.”

“Do not tire yourself, my angel,” Tony cautioned her.

“I will not,” she promised him, and smiling at them both, she departed, closing the door behind her.

“You do not think she will change her mind and go to fetch your cousin, do you?” Nicholas Kingsley asked nervously.

“Nay,” said Anthony. “Henriette does cause a great to-do when asked to do what she considers menial chores. Blaze has no patience with her, and is actually happy for the excuse to leave her in peace.”

They continued their game, to be interrupted a half-hour later when Lord Morgan entered the library, quickly shutting the door firmly behind him. The two younger men looked up questioningly.

“She is quite dead,” said Robert Morgan. “To be certain, when her breathing stopped, I pricked her sharply on the bare sole of her foot, but she moved not. God, how she curst us after you left, and in the foulest language that I have ever heard. Then she seemed to accept her fate, and spoke not again. I think the silence was worse. I untied her before I left her bedchamber, and burnt the ropes in the fireplace. Then I placed a coverlet over her so she would look more natural. I was frankly quite afraid to touch her lest I draw some of the poison to myself,” he finished.

“Let the old woman risk the handling of her for her burial,” said Anthony.

The other men nodded, and then Lord Morgan said, “I must get back across the river, gentlemen. There is at least an hour of daylight left to me, and with the moon tonight my way will be quite clear. I had best get home and reassure Delight that her sister is all right. Her state of mind is very fragile right now.”

“Do you still intend to match her with the Irish lad?” Tony asked.

“I think so. Once Delight is assured that her attempt on Blaze’s life came to naught,
and
I can tell her that no one else knows but the three of us,
and
that you, Anthony, forgive her, I believe that her recovery will be guaranteed. The Irish suitor will be a good diversion for her. I am almost certain now that I will make the match unless the lad turns out to be feebleminded or cruel. I believe it is best if Delight’s married life be far from you and Blaze, Anthony. It will not be easy for her to look on you both for some time without feeling some sort of guilt. The farther away she is, the easier it will be for her to forget all of this; the less chance she will have of constantly confronting her guilt; and there will be more opportunity for her to heal herself.”

“You are a wise father, Rob,” said Anthony, and the two men embraced one another. Then the earl moved to touch one of the beautiful linenfold panels that made up his library’s wall, and the wall swung open, to his two companions’ great surprise. “This passage will take you down to the boat quay without being seen,” he said. “I think it best you use it today.”

Lord Kingsley and Lord Morgan nodded, and without another word, went through into the passage, each holding lighted tapers that they had taken from the sconces on the wall. The earl quickly closed the hidden door behind them, and going to the windows that overlooked the river, he watched until several minutes later he saw his brother-in-law’s barge pull away from the landing and make for his own on the opposite shore. Anthony Wyndham turned and hurried back up the stairs of his house to the unused tower room where they had earlier incarcerated the old Frenchwoman. Unlocking the door, he motioned her out into the hallway. Together they descended back down to the level upon which the family bedchambers were located, and entered into Henriette’s room.

The French girl lay upon the bed, deceptively innocent-looking in death. Her eyes were open wide and sightless. The earl dug deep into his doublet and brought forth two copper coins, which the old woman placed upon her granddaughter’s eyelids as she drew them closed. There was not a mark upon the already stiffening body, and Henriette’s death appeared to be a natural one. Cecile drew her granddaughter’s arms down, and crossed them over the girl’s breasts.

“Take that damned hellish garment off her and burn it now,” said Anthony. “I would be certain that it is destroyed.”

Silently the old woman ripped the gown from the dead girl and dumped it on the smoldering red coals. The silk immediately caught fire, and within minutes was burnt to black ashes.

“You will prepare her for her burial,” said the earl. “I want no one else touching the body.”

Cecile nodded. “She can hurt no one now,
monseigneur
. Once absorbed into her system through her skin, the poison is harmless to everyone but its victim.”

He watched her as she wrapped Henriette in another chamber robe, and then he said, “I am going back down to my library, Cecile. In five minutes you will come screaming from this chamber to announce my cousin’s death. Play your part well, old woman, and after Henriette is buried amongst the other Wyndhams with an honor she neither had nor deserves, you will find yourself on your way back to France with your gold, and able to live out your wretched life quite comfortably. Do you understand me, or shall I say it in French?”

Cecile smiled, baring half-toothed gums. “I understand, my lord earl, quite well, for my English has improved immeasurably during my stay here. It is not necessary to speak my own tongue to me. I will play my part well. My daughter, her husband, and my grandchild are all dead. I have no one left but myself to care for me. My lord earl’s gold will give me a little cottage in Brittany, and I shall not go hungry even in the hard times.”

Anthony left the old woman, and returned to his library to await her display. As he seated himself by the fire, the tension of the last hours drained from his body, and for a moment he felt quite weak. He had come so close to losing Blaze that the knowledge of it caused him a sharp physical pain deep in his chest. Only Delight’s true and real love for her sister, and the decency that Robert Morgan and his wife had taught her, surfacing at the last moment, had saved his wife. Had saved their unborn child. He had come so close to losing them both, but Blaze would never know. She must never know the depths to which her unfortunate younger sister had been driven. She must never know that there were women such as Henriette in the world, wreaking their havoc in their selfish quest for that which they did not deserve.

How sad they were, those women, and men too, who did not realize that family was all. That without family there was nothing. No love. No friendships. No security of knowing that you were not really alone. No meaning to life. No reason for going forward. A person might want to be alone sometimes, thought Anthony Wyndham, but how good a thing it was when such a time passed to be able to walk into one’s own hall to be greeted by those who loved you. The Henriettes of this world did not understand that and sought for other riches, but family was the greatest wealth of all.

But for a twist of fate he might have lost his, and Anthony Wyndham silently thanked God that he had not. It was at that moment that a piercing shriek of anguish rang throughout his house, and rising from his chair, the earl prepared himself to be surprised and shocked by the news he would shortly hear.

L
ord Morgan reached Ashby in midevening, to find his wife anxiously awaiting him. “Where is Delight?” he asked her.

“What is the matter?” Rosemary Morgan demanded. “Delight arrived, greeted me wanly, and then locked herself in her room. She will not speak with me, nor would she join the family for the evening meal. Vanora was heartbroken, for she has so looked forward to Delight’s return.”

“Let me speak with Delight first, my dear, and then I will reassure you, I promise. Everything is all right. You must trust me,” he soothed her.

Lady Morgan nodded, and waved her husband up the staircase to their daughter’s room.

“Delight, it is Papa. Everything is all right. Let me in, for I must speak with you.” He stood in the dark silence of the upper hall, and then to his deep relief he heard the lock turning in the door, which then swung open.

“Blaze?”
Delight rasped.

Lord Morgan gently pushed his daughter back into her bedchamber and closed the door behind them. “Sit down, Delight,” he ordered her, and she sat upon her bed. “Blaze is fine. She will never know what happened, nor your part in it.”

“Does Anthony know?”

“Aye, and Nick Kingsley too.”

“Ohh, God! I shall never be able to face either of them again,” moaned Delight, stricken.

“Tony forgives you, Delight. He understands that you were driven half-mad by your deep love for him. Nicholas understands too. Both of these men know the depths to which love can drive one. This was not your fault, Delight. Not really. You have not the capacity for evil that Mademoiselle Henriette had. It was she who encouraged you to your wickedness. You were like soft clay in her evil hands, and she used you for her own purposes.”

“Oh, no, Papa! Henriette is my friend. She had nothing to gain by Blaze’s death. I was the one who had everything to gain!” Delight protested.

“Listen to me, child,” said Lord Morgan. “Henriette Wyndham led you like a lamb to the slaughter. She planned for you to take the blame for the murder of your sister, and then she intended luring Tony into marriage. She did not, I suspect, know when she came from France that he was in love with Blaze, and would marry her. She planned to marry him herself, and when she found him with a loved wife, she plotted to use you to gain her own ends. She will not trouble you any longer, however, for she is dead. Put this all from your mind, my child, and concentrate upon rebuilding your own life.”

“Henriette is dead?” Delight looked shocked. “Papa! What happened ?”

“The Frenchwoman was an evil creature, Delight. She could not be left alive lest she attempt once again to harm Blaze and her unborn child. Do you understand that?”

Delight nodded. “But how?”

“The nightrail,” he said quietly. “It is a secret you must share with Tony, Nick, and myself.”

Delight was very pale. “So then,” she said, “it is truly over. I will pray for Henriette.”

“Aye, you should,” he agreed with her. “She was a wicked woman for one so very young. Your forgiveness and prayers may help her. Now, Delight, go to sleep. It has been a long and terrible day for us all.”

“Not yet, Papa. Tell me of the Irish lord and his son. I need something of my own to think upon lest my memories arise to assail me.”