Midnight at Mallyncourt (25 page)

“You're dressed for dinner,” Edward remarked lazily. “Is it so late? I had no idea.”

“It would appear you had other things on your mind,” she said acidly.

“Yes,” he said. He gave my shoulders an affectionate squeeze. “Jenny and I have been making plans. We're going for an outing tomorrow. She wants to see the old Roman fort. I've decided to take her there.”

He seemed almost to be taunting her with the words. I had the curious impression the two of them were enacting some private drama that had begun much earlier, perhaps when they had quarreled out in the back lawn. Vanessa smiled a very tight smile.

“How perfectly delightful,” she said.

“We're taking a picnic lunch,” Edward continued. “We plan to be gone most of the day.”

“Picnics were never my sort of thing.”

“I should think not,” he said mockingly.

“If you'll excuse me—”

She swept on past us. Edward chuckled quietly, dropping his arm from my shoulders. He turned around, watching her until she passed into the hall leading to the front of the house, and when he turned back to me his eyes were filled with wry amusement. A faint smile played on his lips. There had been much more to that little scene than met the eye. I was certain of it now. Edward shook his head, amused.

“Poor Vanessa,” he remarked. “She hasn't been at all herself since Prince departed so abruptly. It must have rankled to see the two of us so chummy when she's been left high and dry. Extremely frustrating for her, I should think.”

“You were taunting her,” I accused.

“Was I indeed?”

“I—I saw the two of you on the back lawn yesterday.”

“Oh?” he inquired dryly.

“She was livid, berating you furiously. You—obviously you'd said or done something that outraged her.”

“Vanessa,” he replied, “is a consummate bitch. We needn't be concerned about her. Come, we'll both have to hurry if we intend to be down for dinner on time.”

His hand gripping my elbow loosely, Edward led me up the steps and into the long gallery above. He seemed hardly aware of me now, a preoccupied look in his eyes. The potent sensuality he had displayed a few minutes earlier might never have been, but I knew it would be back full force tomorrow. I prayed for the strength to resist it.

Chapter Thirteen

T
HE SKY
was a pale, pale gray, almost white, mottled with faint blue-gray clouds sent scurrying across the surface by a brisk wind. I had learned to read the weather in this part of the country, and I feared we would have a storm before the day was over, but Edward had insisted on our going to the ruins just the same. Despite the rather ominous signs, it was warm today, extremely warm, and I hadn't even brought a wrap. I wore a light jade-green muslin frock printed with miniscule emerald flowers and tiny black leaves, the square-cut neckline modestly low, the puffed sleeves dropping just off the shoulders. My glossy auburn locks tossed and tumbled in the wind as we rode down the lane in the open carriage.

The coachman perched on the front seat, clicking the reins to urge the grays on at a spanking pace, and, beside me, Edward sat silently, his profile stony. Deeply immersed in his own thoughts, his manner grim, he hadn't said a word since we left the house. It was as though this were an unpleasant obligation he was being forced to fulfill, something he would much prefer not to do. Under the circumstances, I found his attitude surprising, to say the least, but I was also relieved. The sensual, romantic Edward Baker of yesterday might have been a figment of my imagination. He was like a stranger, remote, hardly aware of my presence as the carriage rumbled along.

This morning he had been crisp, snapping instructions to the servants, having the carriage brought round, the picnic basket placed in it, and he had ignored me then, too, handing me into the carriage without a word, his blue eyes frosty. I told him I would just as soon not go. “We're going,” he retorted, and that was that. I wondered what had happened to put him in such a foul mood. He seemed to seethe with suppressed anger.
Had
something happened, something I didn't know about? Edward had gone to his study immediately after dinner last night. Restless, worried, plagued by doubts and apprehension, I had been unable to sleep, and I had heard him coming to his room at two thirty in the morning. He hadn't had a good night, either, but that was hardly enough to explain the stony silence, the grim expression on his face as he sat beside me in the carriage.

I turned my attention to the countryside. We had come a long way from Mallyncourt, and although there were low gray stone walls on either side of the lane, the rolling fields beyond were unplanted, covered with dark emerald-green grass. There were hills and slopes rising like dark green mounds on the horizon, divided into sections by the gray walls, and when I saw the flocks of sheep in the distance I realized that this was grazing land. The wind grew brisker. The sky, it seemed, was already a darker gray, and the clouds were massing together, scuttling across the sky and causing deep blue-black shadows to scuttle across the fields, making the green darker, making patchy, moving patterns. There was a distant rumble. Thunder? Hardly a suitable day for a picnic, I thought wryly, but Edward must have his way. He always did.

Always? No. Today he wasn't going to have his way. Today he was going to experience his first failure.

Yesterday, when he had come out of the house to meet me as I returned from my walk, Edward had made it quite clear why he wanted the two of us to spend the day together, alone, away from Mallyncourt. The visit to the ruins was merely an excuse. He intended to convince me that I loved him. He intended to employ all his considerable masculine charms, convinced seduction would be a simple matter. This morning seduction seemed the last thing on his mind. Rarely had he been so cool, so stern. I was glad. That would make it all the easier for me to stand firm.

There was another distant rumble. The noise broke into my revery and brought me back to the reality of here and now. Silky auburn waves sprayed across my face. I brushed them back. The sky, now, was the color of slate, and the wind seemed stronger than ever. The countryside was like one of the new impressionist paintings, all done in varying shades of green and grays, slate gray sky, dark green hills, darker black-green patches where ominous shadows moved, low gray walls intersecting the green, everything beginning to blur in the misty light. The clouds, blue-gray before, were gradually changing to an ashy black.

“It's going to storm, Edward,” I said. “We'd better turn back.”

“The storm may hold off for hours,” he said dryly. “Besides, there's shelter at the ruins.”

“It's madness to think of a picnic on a day like this.”

“Relax, Jennifer. A little bad weather shouldn't disturb you.”

“It's grown much worse since we left. I think we should—”

“I told you to relax,” he said crisply.

I sat back against the padded leather seat, irritated, almost hoping we were caught in a deluge. It would serve him right. The grays skittered nervously down the narrow dirt-brown lane, made uneasy by the weather, and finally the driver brought them to a halt. Edward climbed out of the carriage and reached for my hand. I alighted, stumbling against him. Edward took the picnic basket from the floor of the carriage and stood back. The driver turned around to face us, looking uncertain.

“Come back for us at three,” Edward ordered.

“Yes, Sir, but—uh—Sir, the weather—”

“You have your instructions, man! Obey them!”

The driver clicked the reins. The carriage pulled away and, making a difficult turn on the narrow road, headed back in the direction from which we had come. Directly behind us, there was a small gate in the low gray wall. Beyond there was a wide, flat field that gradually began to slope up to the crest of a hill that loomed high on the horizon, the climb becoming steeper and steeper as it neared the top. Clusters of trees grew on the crest of the hill, looking like mere sprigs from this distance, and I could see broken blocks of gray-brown forming ragged squares, barely visible from where we stood.

“It's a long climb,” Edward said, holding the gate open, “at least half a mile to the top. There's part of an old Roman wall on the other side of the crest, then a sheer drop to the valley below. Good site for a fort, ideally located.”

“I suppose so,” I replied, not at all enthusiastic.

We crossed the field and began to trudge up the slope. A worn footpath wound about the side of the slope, and it was easy going at first, becoming more and more difficult the higher we got. Gripping the handle of the picnic basket in one hand, Edward strode along at a brisk, athletic pace a little distance ahead of me, not at all bothered by the climb, but I soon found myself short of breath. The wind tore at my hair and sent skirt and petticoats spinning and flapping. I paused, hand against my breast. Edward turned and looked down at me with a faint smile flickering at one corner of his mouth. He wore shiny black boots, close-fitting black trousers and a loose white silk shirt with full-gathered sleeves ballooning at the wrists. A long black cloak was fastened about his shoulders, and it fluttered like demonic wings behind him, crackling in the wind. His hair whipped about his head, waving like short blond banners, and his blue eyes were filled with a kind of detached amusement as he regarded me.

“What's taking you so long?” he inquired in a lazy drawl.

“You go ahead,” I said acidly. “I'll catch up.”

There was a frightening noise. I was horrified to see three huge brown and white cows cantering around the slope toward me. The horror must have registered on my face. Edward chuckled. I hurried up the path to join him as the cows continued on their way, lowing threateningly. Edward took my arm, pulling me up to his level. The cows glowered at us belligerently and lumbered rapidly on across the side of the slope.

“All this land belongs to a chap name of MacLean,” Edward explained. “His farmhouse is a little further on, beyond that cluster of trees on the left. He keeps cows.”

“Will—will there be more?”

“Probably. They frequently graze among the ruins.”

“Wonderful,” I said petulantly.

Strangely enough, my petulance seemed to restore Edward's good humor, or at least it caused that earlier grimness to disappear. We climbed on up to the top, moving at a far more leisurely pace now. Although rocky, the crest of the hill was mercifully flat, perhaps an acre across. The trees that had looked like sprigs from below were oaks, quite large, lifting heavy boughs overhead. The ruins spread out at our feet, enormous, crumbling brownish blocks sinking into the ground in spots, half walls remaining in other places. A labyrinth of connected square holes, ten feet in diameter, formed a kind of basement. This, I knew, would have served as a heating system for the now nonexistent rooms above. There would have been vents opening into each room through which the steam of a central fire would rise and warm the whole building.

“Careful,” Edward warned. “One could easily have an accident.”

“They're fascinating,” I cried, all else forgotten. “Look, that must have been the bath—”

“Undoubtedly.”

“And over there—the graneries. This—why, this must have been the barracks. Look, that part over there is still standing, ceiling and all. It must have been one of the corner towers—”

“You're quite knowledgeable, it seems.”

“Can't you just see them in their shining breastplates and plumed helmets, reigning like haughty lords over the downtrodden natives? They were quite militant, you know, the early Romans, I mean. Look, over there in front of those trees. That would have been the parade grounds—”

Edward was quite tolerant of my effusive remarks, setting the basket down and following me around the ruins like a patient parent indulging his child. I couldn't help my enthusiasm. The ruins were indeed fascinating, and I wanted to see each stone, explore each room. Skirting around the deep square holes, climbing over tumbled walls, we walked from one end of the fort to the other while I tried to reconstruct each chamber in my imagination. The wind didn't bother me now, and I paid no attention to the darkening sky or the clouds that gathered in ponderous black masses. The light had grown dimmer, and the air seemed to be tinged with a light purple tint as at twilight. The ruins were grayish-brown, streaked with dark gold and rust-colored stains, and the grass here on top was dry and stiff, greenish-brown. A solitary cow ambled leisurely along the crest, the bell hanging around its neck clattering. It paused to stare at us curiously, then mooed defiantly and ambled on out of sight beyond the trees.

Almost an hour passed. Satisfied now that I had explored the ruins as thoroughly as it would be possible, I was ready to examine the old ruined wall running along the edge of the crest. Somewhat wearily, Edward suggested we eat first as it was after noon now and both of us had worked up quite an appetite. I agreed, and, taking the basket, spread the tablecloth out on the grass near one corner of the ruins. The wind had died down now, completely. Everything was still, silent, as though the elements were poised on the verge of chaos. The clouds hung heavy, ponderous black masses that seemed to sag down with their own weight, and the dark gray sky was smeared with purple. It was going to storm, no question about it, but perhaps it would continue to hold off until we got back to the house.

Cook had done herself proud with the picnic lunch. There was crisply fried chicken, cold and meaty, and various sandwiches, hunks of cheese, boiled eggs, a large, dusty bottle of amber colored wine and, for dessert, tiny brown cakes thick with raisins and nuts. Pouring wine into two sparkling crystal glasses, Edward admitted that he had chosen it himself, bringing it up from the cellar this morning. It was a light wine, delicious with the chicken, not at all inebriating. We sat on the tablecloth with the basket between us, and as we ate four cows strolled past the ruins, one of them stopping a few feet away to regard us with an inquiring stare. I was a bit nervous until it finally went away, and Edward chuckled, refilling my glass with wine.