Lady Vengeance (32 page)

Elinor’s chestnut locks had been heavily powdered and a touch of colour added in the form of a fine emerald aigrette that nestled amongst the curls. Emerald drops hung from her ears and a matching necklace was clasped about her neck, the brilliant colour enhancing the tiny green leaves embroidered upon her gown of gold-brocaded Italian silk. Gold lace ruffles trimmed the sleeves, a delicately painted fan hung from her wrist and matching shoes peeped out under the wide-hooped skirts, creating a picture of elegance that caused Lady Hartworth to utter a little cry of admiration when she caught sight of Elinor descending the stairs.

 ‘Magnificent!’ she cried, crossing the hall in her own lavishly embroidered silk robe. ‘What a pity Jonathan will not be there to see you!’

 ‘He is not coming with us to St. James’s? He said he might call here after dinner.’ Elinor tried to sound unconcerned but she had an uneasy feeling that Lady Hartworth was not fooled.

 ‘Well, if he does the servants will tell him where we have gone – unless you would like to dash off a little note for him?’

 Blushing, Elinor disclaimed any wish to contact the viscount and resolutely turned her thoughts to the evening ahead.

 The spring night was chill, yet the crowded reception rooms of the palace were warm and airless, and Elinor made great use of her fan as she walked beside Lady Hartworth.

 ‘Goodness, what a crush,’ murmured the countess from behind her own painted fan. ‘I can never understand why so many people wish to attend these affairs. Look, there’s Lord Thurleigh and his wife.’ She saw Lord Hartworth beckoning them and tapped Elinor’s arm, saying in quite a different tone, ‘Come my dear. Hartworth wants you to go with him – I think he is going to present you to the marquis.’

 Looking across the room at Lord Thurleigh, Elinor shivered. Even in such a public place she was afraid of the man.

 ‘Elinor?’

 The concern in Lady Hartworth’s voice gave her courage, and putting up her chin, Madame de Sange moved away from the countess and stepped up resolutely beside the earl, aware that Lord Thurleigh was observing their approach with an inscrutable stare.

 ‘Ah, my Lord Thurleigh – my lady.’ Lord Hartworth bowed low to the Marchioness. ‘May I present to you my young friend, Elinor de Sange?’

 The marquis gave the smallest of bows, his eyes ever watchful.

 ‘Your servant, Madame. You have but recently returned to London, I believe. Do you stay in Town?’

 Elinor dropped a curtsy, but did not give him her fingers to kiss.

 ‘I am for the moment residing with my Lord and Lady Hartworth. I consider myself fortunate to have found such friends here.’

 ‘Fortunate indeed,’ murmured the marquis, glancing across at the earl, who had engaged Lady Thurleigh in conversation. ‘Tell me, Madame. After such a long sojourn in France, do you now plan to make your home in your native country?’

 ‘I have yet to decide, my lord. There are certain – injustices – that need to be resolved.’

 ‘Indeed? In my opinion the only injustice is that such a beautiful woman as yourself should still be a widow.’ When she did not reply, he continued quietly, ‘Set your heart on Davenham, have you not, my dear? Perhaps I could help you there, describe to him the delights that await him…’

 A look of revulsion crossed Elinor’s face.

 ‘You sicken me!’ she muttered, turning away.

 Although she had not heard what was said, Lady Thurleigh had been observing Elinor closely while she talked to the marquis, responding mechanically to Lord Hartworth’s conversation. Now with a word she excused herself and stepped forward, smiling brightly and holding out her hand to Elinor.

 ‘What a pleasure it is to see you here, Madame de Sange! We have met upon occasion, but we have had no opportunity to converse. Pray, Madame, allow me a little of your time now – come and sit down with me for a few moments.’

 Startled, Elinor looked across at the earl for guidance. Lord Hartworth nodded slightly and she allowed herself to be borne away by the marchioness.

 ‘Such a delightful young woman,’ murmured the earl, watching the two ladies walk away together. ‘And with such an interesting history.’

 ‘Really?’ replied Lord Thurleigh politely, ‘I would not know.’

 ‘No, of course. Even you, my lord, are not omniscient. Did you know, for example, that Madame met your old friend Julian Poyntz upon his last fateful trip to Paris, and that he was kind enough to furnish her with a list of names that he considered she might find – ah – useful?’

 ‘Really?’ repeated the marquis, but this time the watchful look had returned to his grey eyes. The earl appeared not to notice and continued his almost casual discourse.

 ‘Yes. Madame has given the list to me for safe keeping, and I have taken precautions to look after it. You may not credit it, my dear sir, but while I was at Hart Chase we were visited by house-breakers! Can you imagine?’

 ‘Oh? Did you lose anything of value?’

 ‘Nothing of any great importance.’

 ‘I think, my lord, that you should consider yourself fortunate that no one suffered any hurt,’ drawled Lord Thurleigh. ‘I understand these ruffians can be very violent.’

 The earl appeared to consider the matter.

 ‘No,’ he said at last, ‘I think in this case it is the villains who should consider themselves fortunate, for although I have every confidence that I shall eventually bring them to justice by working within the law, if harm had been done to any persons living under my protection, I fear I should have been compelled to take matters into my own hands to avenge them.’

 ‘You are so sure of catching these – villains?’ asked Thurleigh, his lip curling.

 ‘Oh yes,’ murmured my lord, ‘I am even now arranging the matter.’

 With a smile and tiny bow, the earl turned and sauntered away, leaving the marquis scowling over their conversation.

 ‘Considering everything, a most successful evening.’ Lord Hartworth allowed himself a slight smile as he leaned back against the luxuriously padded interior of the coach that carried the party away from St James’s. ‘I think our dear friend Guy Morellon understands that he must move soon, or not at all.’

 ‘He did not look at all pleased after you had spoken to him,’ remarked the countess, ‘and I quite feared that some plot was being hatched when Lady Thurleigh walked off with Elinor. My dear, whatever did she wish to say to you?’

 ‘Nothing to the point,’ returned Elinor, puzzled. ‘She asked me a little of my childhood, and if I had been happy, but all the time she seemed very nervous, and kept glancing towards her husband, as if she expected him to come over and drag her away. I confess I was a little surprised that he did not do so, after he had finished speaking with you, my lord, but instead he disappeared into the crowd, looking murderous.’

 ‘Yes, I observed that,’ remarked the earl. ‘He immediately sought out Lord Thomas… I wonder?’ he paused, then turned his attention back to Elinor. ‘And Lady Thurleigh said nothing suspicious? She did not try to arrange a meeting, or ask you to call upon her?’

 ‘No, for I was very much on my guard, as you can imagine, but she did not seem to wish me harm. Quite the reverse, in fact. She was quite concerned that I should be properly attended at all times. I found it very strange, for Lady Thurleigh has been described to me as a very different creature.’

 ‘Perhaps the marquis put her up to it. I can imagine that he would be relieved to see his wife spending so much time talking with another woman – it is more usual for her to be arranging an assignation with a gentleman,’ observed the countess drily.

 ‘You do not care much for the lady, my sweet?’ murmured the earl.

 ‘Emphatically I do not!’ came his wife’s swift retort. ‘The woman has the soul of a strumpet. I should not wish a son of mine to have such a wife, although in Guy Morellon’s case it is no better than he deserves.’

 She broke off as the carriage drew to a halt outside the earl’s town house and the ladies had scarcely reached the hall and shaken out their full skirts before they were informed that Lord Davenham awaited them in the morning room. Without waiting to take off her wrap Lady Hartworth led the way, greeting her son with a motherly kiss and demanding to know why he had not joined them at the reception.

 ‘There was no time, Mama. I arrived here only minutes before you. And you are aware, dear ma’am, those receptions are not my style. How was it? Crowded as usual?’

 ‘It was a sad crush.’ My lady sighed. ‘Too many people for comfort. I wonder why we make so much effort to dress for these Court functions? It is far too crowded to display a gown to advantage.’

 ‘Well, there is ample space here, Mama, and I will say you look splendid – both of you,’ he added, smiling at Elinor.

 ‘What did you learn tonight, Jonathan?’ asked the earl, following the ladies into the room and closing the door.

 ‘My man discovered that Thurleigh’s people are in constant readiness to leave Town at a moment’s notice. As you know, that is nothing out of the ordinary for the marquis, but this time his good lady must be ready to leave with him, and that
has
set the household by the ears.’

 ‘I can well imagine it,’ smiled the earl. ‘We must watch him carefully. I don’t want him to slip through our fingers. By the bye, what do you know of Lord Evelyn Thomas?’

 The viscount shrugged.

 ‘Very little, save that he is now a Lord of the Bedchamber and Thurleigh has struck up an acquaintance with him. They have a common taste in gambling hells.’

 ‘A strange alliance,’ mused the earl, ‘especially as Thomas was Cumberland’s protégé. I think we should look more carefully at that young man.’

 ‘But what of Thurleigh?’ cried the countess impatiently, ‘Surely you should lay your suspicions before the King’s ministers, my lord. You alone cannot expect to thwart his wicked plans!’

 ‘The marquis is a powerful man, my dear. I need proof of his treachery before I dare go to the King.’

 ‘And the ruby would have provided it,’ muttered Elinor, ‘had I not let it go!’

 Lord Davenham came across the room to take her hands.

 ‘You must not blame yourself for that, Elinor. In fact, I have a plan, and if it works, the marquis
can
be arrested for treason.’

 She looked up at him hopefully.

 ‘Poyntz’s list?’

 He shook his head.

 ‘That merely confirms that five men met together all those years ago, but they could have been meeting for any reason – to agree to a plan of support for the King, for example. No, what we need is a written statement from the only other man mentioned on that list who is still alive. Bishop Furminger.’

 ‘Will he confess, do you think?’ murmured Lord Hartworth. The fellow lives in fear of Guy Morellon.’

 ‘Oh I think I know a way to make him tell us what he knows,’ Davenham smiled, turning his gaze towards Elinor. ‘But I shall need your help, Madame de Sange.’

* * * *

 The viscount called at Hartworth House at an unseasonably early hour the following morning, and he was pleasantly surprised to find Elinor ready and waiting for him. She could not have had more than a few hours’ sleep, yet he thought she looked more beautiful than ever in a simply-cut bronze walking dress with a serviceable cloak thrown over her arm. It was a bright, sunny morning and they made good time to the village of Islington, arriving at Bishop Furminger’s hired residence just as that gentleman finished his substantial breakfast. A servant carried the news of their arrival to the little parlour, then silently gathered up the breakfast dishes onto a tray as his master studied the viscount’s card.

 ‘Davenham. I don’t think I know the gentleman….’

 ‘But you will see me, all the same.’

 The bishop looked up in surprise to see that Lord Davenham had followed the footman into the room, at his side a tall lady wrapped from head to toe in a black domino. He dismissed his servant and smiled benignly upon the visitors. Doubtless a pair of star-crossed lovers wishing to be married at once – a common story!

 ‘Well now, what can I do for you? You must excuse me, ma’am, if I do not get up.’ He waved at his bandaged foot. ‘A touch of gout, you know! Pray be seated, both of you, and tell me how I can help you.’

 ‘I think we prefer to stand.’ The viscount’s response was cool. ‘We will not stay long. Our business concerns the Marquis of Thurleigh.’

 The reverend gentleman’s smile froze. He said cautiously, ‘I know very little of my lord Thurleigh. In fact I have not seen him for quite some time.’

 ‘But you know he is a supporter of the gentleman over the water.’

 ‘I – I have no idea what you mean, sir! I think it would be best if you were to leave…’ the bishop’s hand reached out for the bell-pull, but dropped again as the lady spoke for the first time.

 ‘Can it have slipped your mind, sir, that you were one of a small group of traitors who were waiting to join Charles Stuart in ‘forty-five? If he had not turned back at Derby, you would have marched with him to London.’ She had pushed back her hood before speaking, and the bishop stared in horror at Elinor de Sange. The years had changed her from a pretty child to a beautiful woman, but there could be no mistaking the rich chestnut hair or the green eyes that now glittered as they stared at him. ‘I see you remember me, Bishop Furminger.’

 He licked his dry lips.

 ‘My child, I was haunted by your face for months after that night – I could not forget! But I was powerless to help you,’ he cried in anguished tones. ‘Thurleigh would have destroyed me!’

 ‘Now you shall help us destroy him,’ said Davenham. ‘You will denounce him as a traitor.’

 ‘Thurleigh will kill me if I do that!’

 ‘And
I
shall kill you if you do not!

 Furminger shrank back in his chair as Elinor drew an evil-looking knife from the folds of her cloak. He managed a shaky laugh.

 ‘You mean to frighten me, Madame, but it will not work. You would not harm me.’

 ‘I shouldn’t be too sure of that, Furminger,’ put in the viscount. ‘Consider for a moment: Poyntz is dead. So too are Rowsell and Boreland.’