Cut to the Quick (8 page)

“I just need advice. I’m very confused. Is it worse to marry Mr. Fontclair when he doesn’t want me, or refuse to marry him and ler his family be hurt in some way I don’t understand?”

“What about your own happiness? Does that count for so little?” She blushed again and hung her head, letting her sidecurls veil her face. “I only want to do what’s best for him."

Ah, he thought, so that’s how it is. “Does he have any idea how lucky he really is?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, does he know how you feel about him?”

“No. I don’t think so. I wish I could say I kept it from him out of pride. I know it’s not proper for the girl to let her feelings show, when the man hasn’t declared his. But really, it’s mainly that I don’t want to make a bad situation worse. He’d feel so guilty if he knew. He’s kind, Mr. Kestrel. He’d hate to feel he was hurting me.

“I fell in love with him the day he asked me to marry him. He made such a mess of it, you can’t think. How could he help it? Imagine proposing to a girl you’d never met before, because her father was threatening to do something bad to your family if you didn’t! My heart went out to him. When he said he couldn’t tell me what hold Papa had over his family, I said I’d try to find out myself, and I’d do everything I could to convince Papa to give it up. And he said, 'Do you think you can?’ with such a look of hope in his eyes! There was nothing he wanted so much as to be spared having to marry me. And all the time I was thinking, If only you really wanted me for your wife, how happy I should be!

“I told him I’d become engaged to him, in order to placate Papa for the time being. But I’m determined to find out how he’s threatening the Fontclairs, and to stop him somehow. But what if I fail, Mr. Kestrel? The wedding is only a few weeks away. What if I haven’t been able to make Papa see reason by then? If I marry Mr.

Fontclair, he'll be saddled with a wife he never wanted, one he— he's probably ashamed of. But if I don’t marry him, he’ll be miserable, too. He pleaded with me to accept him; he said I had the honour of his family in my hands. So it seems that, whether I marry him or not, I can only make him unhappy. And that’s hard, Mr. Kestrel—that’s very hard!—when his happiness means more to me than anything in the world!”

There was a long pause. Julian faced facts. He was not going to be dragged into other people’s business. He was going to plunge in headfirst. “What are we going to do about this tangle?”

“We?” she echoed hopefully.

“I thought I’d apply for the position of knight-errant. References available upon request.”

“You are kind.”

“Let’s just say I’m intrigued—also a little appalled. Miss Craddock, I think you’re right: the first thing to do is find out what hold your father has over the Fontclairs. At least then you’ll be able to gauge how badly he could harm them if the marriage doesn’t come off. And if he really is ashamed to let you know what he’s about, perhaps he’ll be driven to drop the whole business, once you’ve caught him out.”

“That’s very sensible, Mr. Kestrel, and I agree with you. But I’ve tried to find out, and no one will tell me.”

“Then we’ll have to find out without being told.” He pondered. “Do you know why your father was dismissed from the Fontclairs’ service?”

“I didn’t know he was dismissed. All he told me was that he worked at Bellegarde for a few years, then went to London. Do you think that’s why he’s so bitter against the Fontclairs?”

“I think it might have something to do with it. The little I’ve heard suggests he had a falling out with Lady Tarleton.”

“Is that important, do you think?”

“Well, there are two possibilities. Either your father acquired some power over the Fontclairs years ago, when he was in their service, or it came to him recently. Tell me, did he have any contact with the Fontclairs after he left Bellegarde? Might they have given him money, or some other kind of assistance?”

“Oh, no, I don’t think so. When he first came to London, he was very poor, and he had to work hard for a long time before he had the money to go into business for himself.”

“Then it isn’t likely he had any power over the Fontclairs in those days.” Probably, Julian reflected, they had not given him another thought after he left Bellegarde. That fit with Guy’s account of how bewildered they all were when Craddock turned up again. Or was his return really a surprise to everyone? Lady Tarleton had been so horrified to hear of it, Guy said. Could it be that, for her, it was a long-dreaded event finally coming to pass?

He asked, “Has your father any family or friends left in the neighbourhood—anyone we could talk to about his relationship with the Fontclairs?”

“He hasn’t any family except me. And I don’t know of any friends he has from the days when he worked at Bellegarde.”

“There are always the servants. Servants know everything to the purpose about their employers* lives. That’s what comes of living cheek by jowl with people who don’t credit you with having ears or intellects.”

“Could we question them without their getting suspicious?” “Not possibly. But my valet could. He’s very discreet. He could charm information from them without their having any idea what he was about.”

“If you trust him, Mr. Kestrel, I’m prepared to trust him, too. I can’t thank you enough for helping me this way. I think Mr. Fontclair is very lucky to have a friend like you.”

“I hope you won’t make the mistake of thinking I’m doing all this for Hugh Fontclair.”

She smiled her shy smile, and the colour mounted in her cheeks. Hugh appeared in the doorway. “Here you are, Kestrel—”

Miss Craddock got flustered. Kestrel smiled in an owlish sort of way. Hugh had a feeling he was intruding, and broke off in some confusion.

“Are you ready to go?” asked Julian.

“Oh, yes, that’s why I came looking for you. Miss Craddock, I’m taking Mr. Kestrel on a tour of the estate. You’re welcome to come if you like.”

He never failed in his courtesy toward her, she thought—that formal courtesy that made her feel like the merest chance acquaintance. “That’s very good of you, Mr. Fontclair, but I'm going on a botany outing with your sisters and Miss Pritchard."

“Oh." Hugh tried to hide his relief. He always felt so awkward around Miss Craddock. He could not imagine what he would have talked to her about for so long. “I hope you enjoy yourself."

“Thank you," she said in a small voice. She turned to Julian, her face brightening. “I’ve so enjoyed talking with you, Mr. Kestrel.”

“The pleasure was all on my side.”

“Oh, no.”

“The greater part of it, then. Because in London you must meet scores of fellows like me every day of the week. We abound in the West End like ants on an anthill. But you—you’re something unique. If nothing else, you’ve blasted the popular myth that charm can’t exist with sincerity.”

Hugh coughed. “If you’re ready to go now, Mr. Kestrel."

Julian went with him. And not a moment too soon, said a warning voice in his head. You must be mad, flirting with the girl like that under her bridegroom’s nose! I don’t care if she looked as if she needed it. How many scrapes were you proposing to get into in one fortnight’s visit?

He went up to his room to put on his riding boots. They had been splashed with mud at the horse fair, and he had given them to Dipper to be cleaned. Dipper had them ready for him, polished to their usual mirrorlike shine. All part of Dipper’s daily routine— nothing out of the ordinary there. Indeed, as Julian said afterward, there was nothing unusual anywhere in his room when he left it. He went downstairs and out to the carriage court, where Hugh and a groom were waiting with the horses.

TThere’s nothing to be concerned about, Hugh kept telling himself. In fact, it’s very jolly that Kestrel and Miss Craddock are getting on so well. If he pays her a compliment or two, what harm is there in that? Those sorts of little gallantries don’t mean anything; in London, Kestrel probably hands them about like visiting cards. / know that—but does Miss Craddock? She’s a bit naive and unworldly. She might take him too seriously. What if she developed a tendre for him? Lord, it's really too much to expect of a fellow, that he should have to marry a girl who not only doesn’t care a straw for him, but has fallen over head and ears in love with his best man!

But there’s no reason to think that will happen. Miss Craddock is a sensible, strong-minded girl—look how hard she’s tried to talk her father out of this marriage. I wonder if she’ll try even harder now? Well, it would be all to the good if she did. Then we’d be out of this coil, and if she and Kestrel wanted to fall in love, they could, without impugning my honour in any way. I do have to think about my honour, even if my heart isn’t engaged.

A brisk ride in fine weather did much to restore Hugh’s spirits. He showed Julian the model farms Sir Robert took such pride in. They stopped at a public house in Alderton, where Hugh traded greetings with villagers home from the horse fair. He took Julian round the Fontclairs’ park, with its winding lanes, idyllic groves,

and pools draped round with willows. Here and there were man-made curiosities: a Chinese footbridge, a topiary castle, a Roman Temple of Mars.

“Is that Colonel Fontclair?” asked Julian, catching sight of a rider some distance away.

“It looks like Uncle Geoffrey,” Hugh agreed.

“He seems in a tearing hurry.”

“I expect he's just out for exercise. He rides much better than he walks, so he looks to riding to keep himself in form.”

The sky was clouding over as they reached the Chase, a tract of dense forest land just north of Bellegarde. The wind rose, and the air felt heavy with unshed rain. Hugh and Julian returned to the house. It was nearly six o'clock—time to dress for dinner, which was at seven.

Julian went upstairs, but Hugh lingered in the great hall, frowning over a crack in one of his boots. He was balancing precariously on one foot, trying to look at the other, when Miss Craddock came down the grand staircase. She ran over to him eagerly.

She looked so pleased to see him, he was taken aback. She had never looked pleased to see him before. She had never seemed to feel anything about him, except regret at the wrong her father was doing him. He was oddly flattered, and a little bit thrilled. “Good afternoon,” he said, almost shyly. “I hope you enjoyed your outing.” “Yes, very much, thank you.” She looked beyond and around him. “Isn’t Mr. Kestrel with you?”

Hugh gaped at her, then said very coolly, “No, he’s not, as it happens. I think he went upstairs.”

“I did want to speak to him!” She bit her lip. “It will just have to wait till after dinner. I'd better go and dress. Thank you, anyway.” She smiled distractedly and went back upstairs.

Well, really! thought Hugh. He's certainly gotten far with her in one afternoon! How she can be so brazen?—lurking about for him, waiting to pounce on him as soon as he gets in the door! And I would have expected better of Kestrel. This kind of thing makes one wonder if he can really be a gentleman. She looks different since she met him. She smiles as though she really means it. Dash it, she’s sweet and—and unspoiled, and she deserves better than to be

trifled with by a worldly fellow like Kestrel. Though she ought to know better than to go all starry-eyed over a man, just because he dresses well and makes pretty speeches. I didn’t think she was so shallow.

He went to his room to dress, his thoughts still in a tumult. When he got there, he stared disconsolately at his reflection in the pier glass. He thought he had never looked so countrified, unkempt, and awkward in all his life.

*

The first strange thing Julian found on reaching his room was that the door was locked. He knocked, but no one answered. He was just thinking he would have to find a servant to let him in, when he saw the key lying on the hall table. Curious. He shrugged and unlocked the door.

He took one step into the room, and stopped. Piled neatly on a shieldback chair were a woman’s shawl, bonnet, reticule, and gloves. He stared, then looked swiftly around the room. His eyes came to •rest on the bed.

There was a young woman lying there, fully dressed, with the bedclothes pulled up almost to her shoulders. Her red-gold hair was half undone and spread on the pillow. Her head was turned away from him. She appeared to be asleep.

He stood blinking at her for a moment or two. Then he closed the door behind him and went over to the bed.

*

Sir Robert and Lady Fontclair were in the conservatory. She was sewing, and he was reading aloud:

“All Nature is but art, unknown to thee;

All chance, direction, which thou canst not see;

All discord
_y
harmony not understood—”

Julian appeared in the doorway. Lady Fontclair looked up from her needlework and smiled. “Mr. Kestrel, good evening. We were just talking about you and Hugh—wondering if you'd come back yet, and hoping you wouldn't be caught in the rain/'

She glanced out through the glass walls at the dark clouds massing in the sky. Wind whirled through the terrace garden, beating at the flowers and bending back the crowns of trees.

“No, we escaped the storm." In a manner of speaking, he thought grimly. "I’m sorry to intrude, but I need to speak with you, Sir Robert—on a matter of business."

"As you wish. But since we're dining in an hour, and none of us has dressed, do you think it might wait till after dinner?"

"I think it would be better if we spoke now. I'm sorry."

Lady Fontclairs eyes darkened with concern. She was shrewder than her husband, Julian thought. She knew, even from the little he had said, that something was gravely wrong.

Sir Robert rose. Just then a fierce gust of wind flung open the French windows leading to the terrace. "Those windows are always blowing open," said Lady Fontclair. "We really ought to change them so that they open out rather than in."

She would have closed them, but Sir Robert said, "Don’t get up, my dear, I'll do it." He bolted the windows to keep them secure, and he and Julian went out.

"Is this strictly a matter of business?" Sir Robert asked. "Because if it is, I suggest we go to my office."