Lord Satan (3 page)

Libbetty voiced her doubts. “Really, Francis, if one person
wished to kill another, tampering with the stone and trusting that he would
fall from the parapet would be an exceedingly stupid way to do it. How could
Lord Neil know his nephew would go up there? If anyone did go there, it would
more likely be one of the servants.”

Francis said, “I understand he suggested it—Lord Neil that
is. It rained earlier that day, and he claimed the ground would be muddy,
suggesting his feet—Cauldreigh’s I mean—would become muddy and lead to a
renewal of his fever.”

“What moonshine. Even if he suggested the roof, how could
he ensure the dizzy spell, or the loose stone? As a plan of murder, it leaves
as much to chance as the hope of his lordship’s dying in the Peninsula … ”
Libbetty stopped, inadvertently pulling on the reins so the mare also halted.
She remembered many people’s belief that Lord Neil had purchased Cauldreigh’s
army commission and allowed his deployment to the Peninsula for just such a
purpose.

Francis leaped upon Libbetty’s sudden doubts. “Aha! And
maybe that’s just what Lord Neil wanted, send him up there and leave the rest
to chance, just as in the war. If he’s killed—Cauldreigh that is—he can
persuade himself he has nothing on his conscience—I mean Lord Neil—if he even
has a conscience, which I doubt. He cannot be charged with murder either, or
at least it is highly unlikely. It’s quite perfect.”

Libbetty looked to Tom and Edwina for help, but their
expressions showed her they did not agree with her. They had obviously
convinced themselves of Lord Neil’s guilt. Edwina was still enthralled by the
thought of capturing Cauldreigh’s interest.

With Tom, perhaps it only lent some excitement to his daily
routine of studying Greek every morning before he was allowed to go out.

If only Libbetty could be so easily convinced. She kept
seeing Lord Neil’s dark eyes as he explained Cauldreigh’s illness to her
father. “Well, it wasn’t so perfect if it did not work.” Despite her
ineffectual arguments, the rumors were likely true. Her throat burned.

Tom and Francis raced ahead of the girls. Libbetty was
forced to a slower pace to provide escort for Edwina, a cautious horsewoman.

A bright sun shone, but the ground felt springy underfoot
from recent rains. Libbetty breathed in the softly perfumed air, letting it
wash away the taint of their discussion. Masses of plum and pear blossoms lent
their delicate tints of greenish white and snow white to the flat landscape.
It looked like a good crop of fruit would bless the village this harvest
season.

Edwina wore a new habit of a deep cherry color, set off with
a dashing hat styled like a hussar’s. “I wonder where the aunt who reared him
is now?” the older girl said, bringing up the subject Libbetty thought laid to
rest. “She should not sit tamely by while her sister’s son is done to death.”

“Lord Cauldreigh is a man now, not a little boy. Presumably
he is capable of taking care of himself,” Libbetty countered.

“But he has been ill. What if he did not suspect his uncle
previously, and now is too weak to escape? Perhaps Lord Neil is even giving
him some weakening drug.”

Libbetty looked at her in dismay. Such a thought had not
occurred to her, but it was possible. Perhaps Lord Neil had even given him a
drug before sending him up on the parapet. Her heartbeat slowed as she
pictured Lord Cauldreigh, lying helpless in his bed.

“I am going to take action to save Lord Cauldreigh’s life,”
said Edwina with an uncharacteristic tone of resolution.

“What are you going to do?”

“I do not know as yet. I am trying to think of a plan.
Will you help me, Libbetty?”

Fixed with the penetrating gaze from those brown eyes,
Libbetty’s own path became clear. She would not help Edwina to trap the
Marquess, but she would determine the truth, and then take whatever action that
warranted. It would not be easy; she had no idea how to proceed.

And what if someone was trying to kill the poor young man?
The bright day seemed suddenly to grow more shadowed, and she shivered.

The following day, Libbetty set out to call upon her
friend. Tom had taken Concobhar, “to shake out the cobwebs in his brain” from
studying, as he put it, leaving Libbetty to walk to the Hogwoods’.

The weather had turned chilly, and Libbetty bundled up in
her shabby old Melton cloak and sturdy boots. A weak sun shone, unable to
combat the brisk wind. She hurried to escape the gusts that blew her along,
her hood pulled up around her face. Branches rustled furiously in the
shrubbery enclosing the lane.

Libbetty wished she could avoid discussing the rescue of
Lord Cauldreigh with Edwina. The thought she might end up helping her entrap
him gave Libbetty a stomachache However, if danger threatened Lord Cauldreigh,
it was her Christian obligation to discover the truth and save him.

But if Cauldreigh truly were in danger, it had to be from
his uncle. Her pace slowed as she pictured Lord Neil at church. Those mocking
charcoal eyes, the quirk at the corner of his mouth—oh, she had memorized his
features too well. Heat crept into her face. Instinctively hiding the blush,
even though no one was around, she ducked her head and dashed forward.

A fast-moving barrier suddenly blocked her path. Libbetty
stumbled back and fell, landing on her backside with a thump that drove the
breath from her body. She sat, staring upward, too shocked at first to suck
breath into her compressed lungs.

The great black horse danced above her, hooves inches away
from her face. Lord Neil backed him a safe distance away and leaped from the
saddle to bend over her.

“Miss Bishop, are you all right?” His voice shook.
Stunned, she gazed at his face, the furrows on his forehead, the worried
expression in his eyes…the pinpoints of light that appeared in the blackness
surrounding him. Her air-starved body slumped, and then fought to draw a
breath.

Lord Neil yanked her to her feet and clapped her hard on the
back. With a whoop she drew in great gobs of precious air, then gasped and
coughed.

The blows on her back stopped, but his hands still grasped
her shoulders, and he spoke soft, meaningless words, until her breathing
returned to normal.

Once she had recovered, he scowled. “Good God, don’t you
watch where you are going? You should have heard my horse approaching half a
mile away.”

“No.” Her voice came out whispery and hoarse. “I was
thinking…” Remembering whom she had been thinking of, her face ignited.

“I see.” He smirked. He knew. She wished she could
disappear. Abruptly his hands dropped away from her shoulders, as if her heat
had burned him.

She felt very cold.

“Are you sure you will be all right now?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m fine.” She shivered, drawing her cloak more
closely about her.

“Then, I’ll be on my way.” With a final, searching look at
her, he remounted and rode away.

Libbetty stood still, watching him as long as the winding
lane permitted. She shook, and chills shot through her. Her lungs ached and
her throat felt raw. She still could feel the heated imprint of his hands in
the places he had touched her.

She couldn’t face Edwina today.

She turned toward home.

The burning in her shoulders lent a sensation of Lord Neil’s
presence. Her teeth chattered, and she could not draw enough warmth into
herself.

She had not appeared in a very good light, nearly crashing
into Lord Neil’s horse through her inattention, falling so gracelessly, and
having the breath knocked out of her. Heat rushed into her face again.

*

“It’s monstrous unfair,” Miss Sybille Bassett said in her
soft voice as she sipped tea in the Bishops’ drawing room. “Everyone prefers
to think we have a murderer in our midst. Lord Neil has never taken any action
to justify such belief, beyond letting his nephew go fight in the Peninsula.
By that same measure, there must be countless parents, uncles and grandparents
who wish their young men dead.”

Miss Bassett and her sister were the daughters of a retired
iron manufacturer. Sybille, the older of the two, was about twenty-five and
would have been attractive save for severe smallpox scars which marred her
face.

“Would any young man wish to go back to war when he has
fought, seen its horrors, is wounded and ill?” Libbetty asked.

“Many young men are eager to go fight a war.” Miss
Bassett’s eyes flashed emerald and the matching green feathers in her bonnet
bobbed.

“But also, many believe Lord Neil intended his nephew to
fall from the castle walls,” Libbetty protested.

“Did I tell you Papa gave me a puppy?” Miss Irene Bassett’s
piping voice put in, her eyes wide.

Miss Irene was a few years older than Libbetty, but the
younger Bassett sister gave the impression of a pretty child with blonde hair
and blue eyes. She talked in a childish lisp about subjects of more interest
to a girl of ten or twelve years of age than a young lady.

“It has the softest fur. Papa says I may take it with me
when it gets bigger, with a rope around its neck so it doesn’t run away.” Miss
Irene hugged an imaginary creature to herself and rocked. “Right now it is so
little, and I hold it like this.”

*

As the first step in their rescue of Lord Cauldreigh,
Libbetty had suggested that go for walks upon Cauldreigh land in an effort to
see the young marquess.

Edwina vetoed that plan and suggested that they ride
instead. “Several pleasant paths within the borders provide an excuse if
needed. Perhaps we may discover the state of Lord Cauldreigh’s health, and
gain an acquaintance with him should his health permit him to go outdoors,”
Edwina had said. “I do not think any penalties would be imposed upon young
ladies caught trespassing.

Libbetty had not even given a thought to trespassing. She,
her brothers, and Alonso had often traipsed through the Cauldreigh woods in
their younger days. The old gamekeeper that had watched over the woods had
died not long after the old marquess and no one had replaced him. The woods
had become overgrown and a perfect site for their games of Robin Hood or King
Arthur.

When Edwina offered the loan of a horse from the Hogwood
stable, Libbetty would not turn down an opportunity to ride. She too seldom
had access to Tom’s horse Concobhar.

The day of their first excursion Edwina arrived with a groom
who led a horse for Libbetty to ride in case Tom took Concobhar. Once arriving
at the manse, Edwina dismissed the company of Zack, the groom. “Stay here and
await our return.”

Once she and Libbetty had started out, she explained, “Servants
are such gossips, you know. I don’t want him talking to others about where we
ride.”

The young ladies set out straightaway for Cauldreigh land,
meeting Sybille Bassett by chance shortly after starting from the vicarage.
The iron manufacturer’s daughter rode a handsome gray hunter, with her groom
some distance back. Libbetty thought Miss Bassett made an attractive picture
in a stylish forest green habit.

“Where are you riding?” Miss Bassett asked.

“No place in particular,” Edwina said discouragingly. “In
fact, I developed a headache and we were about to go back home.” She turned
her horse about, away from the older woman.

Hurt flashed across Sybille’s scarred face. For a moment
Libbetty halted, undecided whether to follow Edwina or offer comfort to Miss
Bassett. Miss Bassett herself decided the matter. “Good day, Miss Bishop,”
she said crisply, riding away.

Libbetty hurried to catch up to Edwina, an easy matter given
her slow pace. “Edwina! You should not have slighted Miss Bassett. I am sure
you hurt her feelings.”

The other girl shrugged. “What else could I have done? Her
groom was there and you know how servants gossip. Besides, can you picture her
helping us save Lord Cauldreigh? She undoubtedly would ruin everything.”

“You don’t know that. I don’t think she has many friends.”

“Of course I feel sorry for her, Libbetty.” Edwina’s face
twisted with distress. “If you like, we shall invite her to ride with us after
we save Lord Cauldreigh. But his welfare, indeed his very life, is at stake.
We must keep our goal in mind.”

At the edge of the woods, the girls sat their horses, gazing
at Cauldreigh Castle. From here, it looked desolate, a medieval ruin. A place
where an enchanted prince might be held prisoner.

“How are we ever to meet Lord Cauldreigh?” Edwina frowned.
“If he does not leave The Castle, it is hopeless.”

“I am sure he will come out sooner or later.” Libbetty
spoke in a bracing tone.

Edwina turned her horse about. “What if he doesn’t? What
shall we do, Libbetty?” Her voice quavered. “Mama will never stop harassing
me until I have become acquainted with Lord Cauldreigh.” A sob broke from
her. She made a pitiful picture, slumped in the saddle, tears shining in her
eyes.

Libbetty urged her horse forward. “Don’t give up hope. We
shall keep riding in the woods and trust he’ll appear. Although, I believe we
must find a way into The Castle.”

“I could not do such a thing.” Edwina’s face went white.
“What if we were caught?”

Libbetty took a deep breath, a picture forming in her mind
of encountering Lord Neil inside The Castle. The vision of those near-black
eyes glaring at her almost made her give up the idea.

She steeled her resolve. “No one else seems willing to try
to save Lord Cauldreigh’s life. We cannot sit by and make no attempt to help
him.”

“Well, perhaps we may ask Francis and Tom to help us. I
would not be so frightened with them accompanying us.”

“No, we cannot ask them, Edwina.”

“Why not?”

Libbetty shook her head. “You can see why not.”

“Well, I do not.”

“Francis is all talk. I don’t believe he can be counted on
if we run into difficulty. We would more likely come to grief with his help
than by ourselves.”

In fact, Tom had once or twice attempted to invite Francis
to take part in some game or rig with the other boys and Libbetty, and he had
always backed out at the last minute. Libbetty rather doubted Edwina was made
of sterner stuff than Francis, but she claimed to wish to help Lord Cauldreigh.

Edwina’s silence tacitly admitted the truth about Francis’s
character. “Well, what about Tom?” she said finally.

“Surely you know why we cannot ask him.” Edwina’s blank
face annoyed Libbetty. “He has a tendre for you. You cannot ask him to help
you in your efforts to attach another man.”

“Really, Libbetty, you refine too much on Tom’s feelings.
He merely has a case of calf-love. He will fall out of love again.”

“Perhaps he will. But in the meantime it would hurt him if
you used him in that way, and I won’t participate in it.”

“How do you propose we sneak into The Castle?” Edwina’s
voice had an edge, as if she had taken offense at Libbetty’s words. Well, so
be it. Libbetty must do her all to protect Tom.

“I’ll think of something… . Wait! Maybe I can think of
a way.”

Edwina relaxed at Libbetty’s renewed enthusiasm. “What do
you have planned?”

“No, I am not going to tell you yet. My plan involves
another person who may refuse to participate. If so, it is better that you not
know,” Libbetty said, forcing a patient tone into her voice and suppressing her
exasperation with Edwina.

She and Edwina neared the vicarage, putting an end to
Edwina’s attempts to wring details of Libbetty’s plan from her.

The sound of thundering hoof beats broke into Libbetty’s
thoughts, and she looked up to see Tom spurring Concobhar toward them, a huge
grin on his face. “Libbetty!” he shouted.

Francis followed, his face also alight with animation,
unusual for him.

“Guess what?” Tom burst out, pulling Concobhar to a halt
before Libbetty. The chestnut danced nervously. “Rose Farm has its new
tenant, and you cannot imagine who it is.”

Recent renovations to Rose Farm had caused considerable
speculation in Peasebotham. The farm, a few miles from town, had stood empty
during the seven years since Libbetty’s father had been appointed to the living
in Peasebotham, and had fallen into disrepair. The laborers and craftsmen
hired to set the farm to rights in recent days seemed not to know anything
about the new owner.

Libbetty had sensed uneasiness among the villagers when they
discussed Rose Farm. With a curiosity she had expected would never be
satisfied, she wondered whether a tragic event connected with the place accounted
for its abandonment.

“It’s a woman named Mrs. Whitelow,” Tom continued knowingly.

Libbetty glanced at Edwina, who gazed back at her with a
puzzled frown. “What of it, Tom?” Libbetty asked. Was Mrs. Whitelow some
beautiful young woman?

“She is the widow of a wealthy American merchant,” he went
on, stretching out the suspense.

“Tom,” Francis said, “I don’t think we ought to tell the
girls.” His forelock flopped onto his face, concealing his eyes, as he ducked
his head. Francis’ horse reflected his rider’s discomfiture, sidestepping
uneasily.

“Really, Francis, you cannot rouse our curiosity like that
and leave us without satisfying it,” exclaimed Edwina. She pinched her lips
together.

Nearly at the same time, Tom said, “They will come to hear
of it sooner or later, and you told the girls of the old scandal in the first
place.”

“I think I ought not to have,” the older boy said. “It’s
not at all the thing.”

Libbetty tried to pluck from her memory some scandal of
which Francis might have spoken, but could think of nothing. A fly buzzed
around her, and her horse flicked its tail.

Teasing her with a hint, Tom said, “Mrs. Whitelow’s maiden
name was Maude Rose.”

“Oh!” Edwina blushed.

“So, Rose Farm was named for a person, not a flower,”
Libbetty said.