Lord Deverill's Secret (15 page)

“Very good, miss,” said Moll. “And a good thing, too,” she muttered. “The springs on that coach aren’t what they used to be.”

“Make sure the coach is ready when I need it,” said Cassandra to John.

“Don’t you worry, Miss Cassie. It’ll be ready,” said John.

Justin stood by the fireplace in his drawing-room, his hand in his waistcoat pocket. It was now two days since the picnic and his efforts to see Cassandra had been in vain. He had wanted to explain to her, to tell her the full story, but she would not give him the chance. There was more she had to know, and it might help to ease her pain.

He remembered how badly he had wanted to comfort her, on the seashore. He remembered how warm she had felt when he had put his hand on her shoulders. He had wanted to take her in his arms, but she had withdrawn from him, telling him she wanted to be alone.

And now she had refused to see him. He found he could not blame her. It had been his duty to chase Rupert, but he could not expect her to see it that way, because he had been the cause of her brother’s death.

He looked at the locket again. He had meant to return it to her after Rupert’s death. He had meant to give it to her again when he had discovered she was in Brighton, but he hadn’t been able to part with it. And now he knew he never would.

Cassandra finished sorting out the spare furniture and by the time Monday arrived she felt she could join Maria in a tour of Granmere Park with an easy conscience. Her work in Brighton was almost done. When she dressed, she did so more warmly than previously, wearing a long-sleeved gown and donning a pelisse instead of a short spencer. The weather had turned cooler, and it looked as though it might rain.

“I am looking forward to seeing Granmere Park,” said Maria, as they set out together, accompanied by Harry. “I hear it is wonderful.”

The carriage rolled through the streets of Brighton and then made its way out into the country, bowling through winding lanes. The fields and hedgerows were yellow and needed a downpour to restore their fresh, rich green.

After an hour of travelling they reached a massive set of gates and went in, arriving in front of a splendid Palladian villa soon afterwards. It glowed in the blue light as the sun shone down on it through heavy clouds. A terrace stretched in front of it, and steps led up to the door.

“Are you sure it’s all right for us to visit like this?” asked Cassandra.

“Positive,” said Maria. “Harry and I do it all the time. As long as the owners are not at home, they are happy for their house keepers to show people round. I have it on good authority that Lady Anne is visiting friends.”

The footman let down the step and they climbed out of the carriage, then went up the steps to the front door. The footman knocked. The door was opened by an elderly butler, and on stating their business he bade them welcome and sent for the house keeper.

Cassandra was relieved. It seemed that Maria was right about visits being commonplace.

The house keeper soon joined them in the imposing hall. She was a sensible looking woman, soberly dressed in a grey gown.

“It’s a splendid house,” said Maria.

“That it is,” said the house keeper. “I’ve seen many fine houses, but none to compare with Granmere Park. Lady Anne and her husband have done a great deal to improve it since they bought it a few years ago.”

“It is not their ancestral home?” asked Maria.

“No. Lady Anne fell in love with it, and her husband is always pleased to give her anything that will make her happy. The marble columns are some of the finest in the country,” said the house keeper, directing their attention to the finest feature of the hall.

Cassandra could well believe it. They were very impressive.

“The floor, too, is made of marble.”

The house keeper went on to point out the sweeping staircase and to comment on each of the works of art adorning the walls.

Having displayed the hall, she took them through into the morning-room, which was no less splendid. The proportions were elegant, and it was adorned with plasterwork. She then took them into the other principle rooms, leading them in to a huge gallery.

“This is part of the original house, which was built in Elizabethan times.”

“The house has been rebuilt then?” asked Maria.

“Yes. The first house was almost destroyed by a fire.”

“There are no portraits,” said Harry in surprise.

“No. Lady Anne has had the gallery remodelled and she is going to oversee the hanging of the family portraits personally when she returns.”

The house keeper proudly related the house’s history as she continued the tour, until at last she took them into the drawing-room, where the tour ended.

It was a beautiful room. The arched windows stretched almost from floor to ceiling, giving magnificent views of the parkland beyond.

“These are some of the best views in the house,” she said. “From here you can see the lake.”

Cassandra, Maria and Harry admired the view.

“Is it possible to see the grounds?” asked Maria, looking out of the window. The sky was grey, but there was no rain.

“Of course. They were landscaped by Capability Brown, and they are a fine example of his work. I’ll arrange for one of the gardeners to guide you. There is a very fine walk round the lake.”

Cassandra and Harry expressed themselves pleased with the idea, and they were soon outside. Lawns ran away from the house, inviting the eye to follow them. Vistas were created between arrangements of trees, and the whole was spacious and pleasing to the eye.

“You’ll be wanting to see the lake,” said the gardener, when they had admired the trees and lawns.

“Yes, please,” said Maria.

The gardener led them down to the water. Maria walked slowly and, without realizing it, Cassandra moved ahead. Before long she had outstripped them entirely, and when she looked back she found that they were lost to view. Deciding she must wait for them to come into sight, she went over to the edge of the lake. It was grey, reflecting the lowering sky, and reeds grew around the edge.

A ripple broke the water, then another and another. It was starting to rain. Soft spots fell slowly to begin with, then became more frequent, until at last it was in danger of turning into a torrent. She was about to turn back when she saw a lodge by the water’s edge a little further on. The sky was darkening with every passing second, and at any minute the rain could come pelting down. If she tried to return to the house she would be soaked, so she ran towards the lodge and went in, shaking the water out of her eyes as she closed the door behind her.

By the look of it the lodge was used as a store. There were oars and fishing rods on the floor, together with nets and rowlocks. There were some shelves on the wall, with an assortment of clutter on them, and in the corner there was a rickety chair. She took out her handkerchief and dusted it, then sat down.

The rain came down heavily outside, bouncing on the roof. She wondered if Maria and Harry would head towards the lodge or whether they would go back to the house. As if in answer to her question, the door began to open.

“Isn’t this weather dreadful?” she said. And then stopped. For the person coming through the door was not Maria or Harry. It was Justin.

She sprang up in astonishment. “What are you doing here?”

“Cassandra.” He looked as astounded as she was. “I did not expect to see you here,” he said.

“I was visiting the house with Maria and Harry. We were touring the grounds when it came on to rain. Maria has a passion for old houses,” she explained.

“Ah. It’s a very fine house. My sister lives here. She has been away, but she will be returning later today. I have brought her hound back for her. I left him at the house and came down to the lake, but then I was caught in the rain.”

“I had not realized your sister lived here,” she said. “Maria did not tell me the name of the owners. But of course, that would not have let me know either.”

“No. My sister has married.”

An uncomfortable silence fell.

“I must go,” she said.

“It’s raining,” he said.

“I believe it’s stopping.”

“It’s falling as heavily as ever,” he said. “Cassandra—”

She cut him off. “I have to go.”

“No. Not until you’ve heard me out. I’ve been trying to see you, but your butler has kept insisting that you are not at home.”

“I have been busy.”

“But you are not busy now.”

“Lord Deverill—”

“Cassandra, I know you despise me but—”

“No. I don’t despise you.”

His mouth relaxed a little, and some of the tension left his large body.

“You don’t?”

“No.” Her eyes raised to meet his. “But I can’t stay,” she said.

“You have to. At least until you have heard what I have to say. You haven’t heard everything. There is more you need to know.”

“I don’t think I can stand any more,” she said in a low voice.

“It is better,” he said. “Things are not as bad as you think. I tried to tell you before, but you were too distressed. I tried to visit you to explain, but you wouldn’t see me. Now you must hear me out. You owe it to Rupert.”

“Very well,” she said reluctantly.

“Won’t you sit down?” he said.

She resumed her place on the seat, and he stood before her. He ran his hands through his wet hair. Then he said, “That night…the night of Rupert’s death…you know that he was a traitor and that I was chasing him. You know that he confessed his guilt to you, but what you don’t know is that he did everything in his power to undo the harm he had done. When he fell, when he knew that he was dying, he told me he was glad I had caught him. He had never meant things to go so far. He had been drawn in, gradually to begin with, and then more and more deeply, until he had not known how to get out. He told me that he bitterly repented what he had done, and he offered me the names of the other men involved in the treachery, in exchange…” His voice caught, then he continued. “In exchange for my promise to help you, should you need it.”

“Ah. So that is why you made the promise.”

“Yes.”

“And did you catch the other traitors?” she asked.

“I did. All except one. Rupert didn’t know the name of the man who had organized them.”

“Then he is still at large.”

“He is. What is worse, I think he—or she—suspects you know something, and that is why you have been attacked.”

She looked at the floor. There was a pool of water round her feet, and she remembered Moll’s tirade when she had returned from the picnic with wet feet. She moved them to the side, putting them on dry boards.

She sat thinking, then said, “It doesn’t make sense. If the ringleader wanted me dead, why did he not try to kill me before?”

“Because you were buried on your country estate, where you were no threat to anyone. But then you came to Brighton. Even worse, you started talking to Rupert’s friends about a letter in which he had said he had done something terrible. I tried to persuade you to abandon the quest but, when you refused, I warned his friends so that they would not let anything slip. I made sure you found them very easily so that you could speak to them as quickly as possible and then abandon the subject.”

She folded her arms around herself. She was cold.

He sat down beside her, and she did not move away.

“I did not want to tell you all this,” he said. “I wanted to protect you without you knowing it. But you guessed too much, and then it was better that you knew everything. I’m sorry,” he said. “I wish I could have spared you.”

She gave a deep sigh.

“It is not your fault. I loved my brother deeply, but he was always weak. If we had not lost our fortune then I’m sure he would not have turned traitor, but he felt it hard. He wanted the life of a gentleman, but my father’s investments failed and we were reduced to living within straitened means. It meant Rupert could not go to university with his friends. He could not have all the things he had grown up wanting. That is why he went to Brighton, I’m sure. It is cheaper to cut a figure here than in London, and he was always fond of luxurious living. If he was offered money, and an easy way to get it, I don’t think he would have asked too many questions. I don’t believe he would have betrayed his country knowingly, at least not to begin with, but if someone had asked him to carry messages and offered him a great deal of money for doing so, he would have been too deeply involved to draw back.”

“Yes, that was the way of it. He did not know what he was doing at first. He was approached by a man named Carstairs—one of the men I caught on the night of Rupert’s death—and asked to invite certain men to his next carouse. It was a simple enough thing to do, and he was offered a large sum of money for doing it. He knew he was doing something wrong, because he would not have been offered such a large sum of money otherwise, but he thought he was providing a safe meeting house for smugglers. He did not know he was entertaining traitors. It was not until later that he discovered what he was doing, and by then he was too deeply involved to get out. They would have killed him if he’d tried.” He looked her in the eye. “Do you resent me for it? Your brother’s death?”

“No. I did to begin with, but you couldn’t know he would fall from his horse. You had to stop him and those he worked for. If not, Napoleon could have invaded. And in a way I am grateful to you. You protected his name after his death. You could have revealed his treachery, but you didn’t. You made sure he had a dignified funeral.”

His eyes lost their harrowed look, and he relaxed. Until that moment she had not realized how tense he had always been when near her. Now, finally, she understood why.

“Did you really think I would hate you for it?” she said softly.

“Yes, I did.”

“And…and that mattered to you?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yes, it did.”

He turned towards her. He lifted his hand as though he was going to touch her, but then he let it fall.

“Cassandra, I want you to go back to your estate,” he said. “You’re in danger whilst you remain in Brighton. If you had suffered one accident, it would have been suspicious, but you have suffered two, and I am sure someone is trying to take your life.”