Joan Wolf (16 page)

“I wasn’t being insulting,” she replied indignantly. “I was giving Lady Dartmouth a compliment.” She looked back at Laura. “Do you hunt?”

“I adore to hunt.”

“How perfectly splendid,” said Lady Wymondham with a flashing smile. “Come on up to the house with me while I feed the baby, and then we can take a ride together if you like. The boys will give Robin one of their ponies.”

“I should love that,” said Laura sincerely.

* * * *

Laura and Mark remained at Cheney Manor for the rest of May and all of June, and during that time Laura had no accidents. For the first time in months she and Mark were able to live a normal life. But always there, nagging at the back of her mind, was the unanswered question:

Who?

She and Mark discussed it until they were sick of the subject, but neither of them came up with any answers. It was a mystery that put a tiny rent in the fabric of their happiness, but it could not rip it apart. They were too much in love to be really disturbed.

Mark had lost a good deal of the fine-drawn look he had acquired during the months of their ordeal. The atmosphere at Cheney Manor was peaceful; there was none of the tenseness and suspicion that had haunted him at Castle Dartmouth.

The friendship of David Wymondham was also very good for him, Laura thought to herself one night, as they were sitting in the drawing room after dinner playing chess. David was so calm, so even-tempered, so patient and gentle. It was impossible to be anything but relaxed in his company.

 She looked at the top of Mark’s head as he bent over the board. The top of his hair had bleached out again in the sun. He had taken to riding out with the Wymondham racing string in the morning, and the exercise had been good for him. Jane and David had proved surprisingly tolerant of Mark’s mediocre horsemanship. The Wymondhams, in fact, were rather in awe of Mark’s intelligence and accepted in him lapses they wouldn’t have dreamed of condoning in anyone less superior.

 If only, Laura thought to herself with something like anguish, if only we
knew.

* * * *

Toward the end of June, when matters still lay unresolved, Laura did something she wouldn’t have dreamed of doing a month ago. She told Jane about her accidents.

The two women had taken the children—four Wrexhams and Robin—on a picnic down to the river. The three boys were fishing, Jane’s four-year-old daughter, Mary, was happily lying on her stomach building a house with sticks she had collected, and eight-month-old Matthew was asleep on the blanket. “I never asked you, Laura,” Jane said, “but why did you and Mark come to live at Cheney Manor? David says Castle Dartmouth is famous for its beauty.”

Laura hesitated, looked into Jane’s beautiful proud face, and told her. When she finished, Jane pulled her knees up, rested her chin on them, and stared at Laura wonderingly. “Do you know,” she asked, “the same kind of thing once happened to us?”

“What!” said Laura, astonished.

“Yes. I’ve never told a soul, but David’s cousin once made several tries at killing him. It was while David was still living at Heathfield, before his father found him.”

The story of David’s lost-heir upbringing was familiar to Laura by now. “David’s cousin Julian came to Heathfield on a visit—he wanted to marry me, can you believe it?” Jane looked scornful, and Laura smiled. “Well, Julian took one look at David, who is very like his father, and realized who he must be. Julian, you must know, was next in line for the title and the money—
if
Lord Wymondham’s only son remained lost. So he tried to kill David by arranging ‘accidents.’ “

Laura shivered. “How did you stop him?”

“At first, like you, we had no idea who it was who was attacking David. When he wasn’t successful, he had to come out into the open. He and David got into a fight and Julian fell off a cliff. It was a very satisfactory conclusion to our problem.”

“Yes, I can see that,” Laura replied a little dryly. “But, Jane, we have no idea
who
this is. He has not come out into the open, you see.”

“That’s because it isn’t necessary for him to really kill you,” Jane said calmly. “He only wants to make life hell for Mark.”

“Yes, but
why?”
Laura almost wailed.

“Mark has done something to him, obviously. He has taken something this saboteur wanted, I should think. Has Mark evicted any tenants or anything like that?”

“Of course not,” Laura said indignantly.

There was silence while Jane thought, her brow puckered. “Do you know, Laura,” she said slowly, “I shouldn’t be surprised if this goes back to Caroline’s death.”

Laura stared at her, an arrested expression on her face. “What do you mean?”

“You said there were ugly rumors going round then too. That’s odd, you know. One would think one’s reaction to a man whose wife had killed herself would be sympathy. It sounds as if your saboteur was at work even then.”

“I never thought of that,” Laura said slowly.

“Was Caroline having an affair with someone else?” Jane asked bluntly.

Light blue-green eyes met Laura’s dark smoky gaze. There was a pause. “I don’t think it was an affair,” Laura said, “but she was in love with someone else before they married.”

Jane looked grimly triumphant. “I should look there,” she advised. “Someone blames Mark for her death and is out to make him pay.”

Chapter Twenty-one

Laura shared Jane’s thoughts with Mark, and though, upon reflection, he was inclined to agree that she might be right, they were still no closer to a solution to the mystery.

 “I have no idea who Caroline’s lover was,” he told Laura again. “And I think we’re safe in assuming it was all over after we married. Men did not call on Caroline when she lived at Castle Dartmouth. If someone had, I would have heard about it from my father. He was confined to the house, and nothing escaped him.”

“Perhaps when we go up to London we might hear something,” Laura murmured.

Mark looked bleak. “God, Laura, I wish I hadn’t got to go to London.” The King was to be formally crowned as George IV on July 19, and Mark, as one of the peers of the realm, had been summoned to attend. His head lifted suddenly, an arrested expression on his face. “Just one moment. What do you mean, when ‘we’ go up to London? You are staying right here where you’ll be safe.”

Laura put down her hairbrush and turned to look at him. It was eleven o’clock at night and they were both in her room, Laura at her dressing table and Mark lounging in a comfortable chintz-covered chair. “I am not staying here,” she said calmly. “I’m coming with you.”

“No.” His face took on what Laura had christened its “captain’s look.” “I won’t permit it.”

“Listen, darling”—she got up and went over to sit on his lap—”don’t you see what a perfect opportunity the coronation gives us for showing our solidarity to the world? If the saboteur”— Laura had adopted Jane’s phraseology—”sees that I am going to stick with you no matter what, he may simply give up trying.”

“Or he may decide to really make an effort and kill you. No, Laura. We can’t take the chance.”

“I am willing to chance it.”

“Well, I’m not.” She was sitting upright on his lap and now he pulled her down so her cheek was against his shoulder. “You’re the most precious thing I’ve got,” he murmured into her hair. “I’m not risking
you.”

“It wouldn’t be a risk, Mark,” she argued into his shoulder, feeling at a distinct disadvantage in her present position.

“Yes, it would.”

“No, only listen!” She pushed against his chest and sat up again. “I talked it all over with Jane this afternoon. She and David have to go to the coronation as well, and she’s invited us to stay with them at Hawkhurst House, their town residence. It’s outside London, in its own park on the Thames, so I should be quite safe there surrounded by the Wymondham servants. And when I go out, Jane has promised she will stick to me like a plaster. And we’ll use only their carriages and horses.” Laura paused, a little breathless from her rush of words. “Oh, darling, do say yes.”

He looked gravely for a long minute into her eyes. Then he smiled a little and touched her cheek with the tip of his finger. “Laura ...” he began very gently, and she knew he was going to refuse.

“And there is another reason I should like to go to London, quite apart from this business of our saboteur,” she added hastily.

“What is that?”

“I should like to consult Dr. Danbury.” She leaned a little forward and gently kissed him on the mouth. I’m going to have a baby. Mark.”

“A baby...” He looked suddenly very alarmed. “Are you all right? Why do you want to see a London doctor?”

Laura was feeling perfectly splendid, but she bit her lip a little and said too heartily, “Oh, I’m just fine, darling. But this man is very well-known, and I thought ...” She allowed her voice to trail off artistically.

“Of course you must see this Danbury,” Mark said instantly. “Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?”

Laura leaned against him and closed her eyes. She felt quite guilty about alarming him like this, but it was his own fault for being so stubborn, she thought defiantly. He held her close and she whispered, “Aren’t you pleased about the baby?”

“I am because I know how much you want one. But if it’s going to make you ill, I won’t be pleased at all.” His lips touched the silky skin of her temple.

“Will you promise me not to stir from Jane’s side?” His voice sounded tense. She put her arms around his neck. “I promise.” He sat holding her quietly for what seemed a very long time. “You ought to go to bed, love,” he said at last. “It’s important for you to get enough rest.”

“Mm,” she murmured. “Come with me?”

“Are you feeling well enough?” His voice was so husky, so deeply tender. She trembled a little and thought she would really regret her deception about her health if he was going to be afraid to make love to her.

“I told you I’m fine. It’s ... it’s in the morning that I feel sick.”

“In the morning. Well, isn’t that convenient,” he said, and now there was a thread of amusement in his voice. He stood up with her in his arms and began walking across the room. “Convenient for whom?” she asked.

“For me,” he answered, and laid her on the bed.

* * * *

The Wymondhams came to Cheney Manor for dinner the following day, and over the meal the four of them discussed their proposed London visit.

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your invitation,” Mark told Jane. “I would not trust Laura’s safety at Cheney House.”

 “I’ll be delighted to have her company,” Jane replied. “I hate London. Every fool in the world congregates there. But Hawkhurst House is nice. There are some splendid pictures.”

“I haven’t spent as much time in London in my whole life as I have this year,” David grumbled. “I was stuck there from August through November at that ridiculous trial of the Queen’s.”

“He missed some of the hunting season,” Jane put in. “Imagine!”

Mark grinned. “It boggles the mind,” he said.

David chuckled. “Every other day I would get an indignant note from Jane. ‘When are you coming home? The master told me they had a perfectly splendid run yesterday. Why don’t you tell Prinny to take care of his wife by himself?’“

“Well, it was bad enough
I
wasn’t hunting,” Jane said. “I was expecting Matthew in December. Poor Mr. Denton was wretched. He’s the master,” she explained as an afterthought.

“Without the Wymondhams, the whole hunt falls apart, you see,” David said gravely.

Jane shot him a look and snorted eloquently. Both David and Mark laughed.

“I must say, I’m glad I missed that show of Prinny’s,” Mark said sympathetically to David. “It must have been a regular horror.”

“It was. All one could do was try not to listen. Of course she wasn’t innocent, but, my God, Prinny’s reputation is hardly saintly.
It
was all extremely distasteful. If Jane hadn’t been enceinte, we would have left the country and gone to Italy for a few months.”

Dinner came to an end and the two ladies correctly withdrew, leaving the gentlemen to their port. Even before the door closed behind them, they could hear the two male voices in easy conversation.       Mark and David really weren’t alike at all, Laura reflected as she and Jane went into the drawing room, yet they had become very good friends.

‘They’ll be there forever,” Jane said, unconsciously echoing Laura’s thought. “David adores talking to Mark. He says it makes him think.”

Laura smiled and sat down across from her friend. It was impossible to believe that Jane was twenty-eight and had four children, she thought as she regarded the lovely face across from her. And speaking of children ... “I’m going to have a baby,” Laura said. “Isn’t that marvelous?”

Jane didn’t look at all surprised. In her experience, babies tended to come along with monotonous regularity. “Oh, dear,” she said. “You won’t be able to hunt this winter.”

There was a stunned silence, and then Laura began to laugh. Jane regarded her in genuine puzzlement. “What is so funny?”

“You are,” Laura told her. “As far as you’re concerned, the entire world revolves around the hunting season.”

Jane flashed a smile. “I suppose I do sound like that sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

“Well, I actually don’t mind being enceinte and missing the hunting season once in a while,” Jane confessed. “It gives me more time to paint. And when I consider that I’ve missed only four seasons in eleven years of marriage, I suppose I can’t complain.”

She leaned forward and spoke very seriously. “The secret, Laura, is to nurse your children for as long as possible. It’s the best way to ensure you don’t become enceinte again too quickly. I’ve always nursed mine until they were enormous.”

“But doesn’t that bring on another problem?” Laura asked. “I mean, doesn’t David object?”

“Object? Why on earth should he object? The children positively thrive.”

Laura flushed a little. “I don’t mean that. I mean, it’s an awfully long time not to make love.”

Jane looked astonished. “Not to make love? I didn’t mean you didn’t conceive because your husband didn’t come near you. It’s something to do with the milk, I think.”