Moon Cutters (20 page)

She hadn’t expected Lucy to take Sir James’s side. ‘I don’t feel like prowling all over the countryside to sketch flowers. Besides, Sir James promised me another riding lesson. You should learn to ride properly yourself.’

‘I can ride; I just prefer not to.’

‘You’ve been scared of horses since Pa was thrown and killed. Still, at least that big hairy dog likes you; that’s something, I suppose.’

Sir James said curtly, ‘There will be no riding lesson today, missy. I have to go into Poole on business. Is there anything you have need of?’

Lucy didn’t seem to notice his mood, or, if she did, she ignored it. ‘I need some more notebooks to complete my novelette. Forgive Miranda; she’s in one of her responsible elder sister moods, and she worries about things too much.’

His mouth softened and he seemed to make an effort. ‘Miranda must learn not to argue with her elders and betters. It’s an undesirable trait.’

One she might employ more often if it repelled his pursuit of her.

His eyes gazed into hers, slightly narrowed. How handsome and distinguished he was, she thought, and how calculating his expression. She knew then that she would never agree to marry him.

‘Am I forgiven, Miranda?’

She nodded, for she didn’t dare speak.

‘Good. Then that’s settled.’ He turned to Lucy. ‘How many notebooks do you require?’

‘At least six – that’s not too expensive, is it? You’re always so kind and generous but I don’t want to take advantage of your unselfish nature.’

‘My dear Miss Lucy, I’m sure my purse won’t mourn the cost of a few notebooks? You’re an industrious little creature, aren’t you? I must read this novelette of yours.’

‘But not until it’s finished, Sir James.’

‘Of course not.’ He turned to Miranda. ‘You do, of course, have the run of my estate. I just ask that you take the dog with you when you go out, since strangers have been seen.’

A grin crept across her face. ‘Caesar won’t allow me to go out without him. He’s appointed himself my guardian.’

‘Will you be long in town, Sir James?’ Lucy asked him as he was about to leave the room.

‘Most of the day, I imagine. Make sure you behave yourself, young lady. No more ghosts.’ He gave a short bark of laughter. ‘Apparently, the ladies were quite put about.’

‘How did you know it was me?’

Miranda avoided his eyes when he said, ‘I know everything that goes on in my home.’

‘You didn’t tell them it was me?’ Lucy said with some alarm.

‘Of course not. They’d never forgive you if they knew a chit of a girl had made a fool of them. Besides, it’s nice to have a bit of a mystery attached to the house. It stops guests from wandering around and sticking their noses into a man’s business if they think they might be in danger.’

‘Have you ever seen a ghost, Sir James?’

He looked startled by the notion. ‘I can’t say I have, Miss Lucy. Men’s logic is less prone to such fancies in my experience.’

‘If you did see one, what would you do?’

‘It’s a pointless exercise to speculate on something quite so nebulous, my dear.’ Then he laughed. ‘Don’t tell anyone, but were I to see anything remotely ghoulish, I’d probably run like the devil himself was after me. Now, I must away.’ He strode out to where his horse waited, mounted it and was soon hidden from their gaze as the mist closed round him.

Miranda slipped on her jacket and bonnet and prepared to follow. She was hoping Fletcher would be waiting at their meeting place, so she didn’t press Lucy to join her. She checked her basket, making sure her sketching block and pencils were there. Mrs Pridie had placed in it a large slice of pork pie wrapped in a cloth, two boiled eggs and a little pot containing mustard pickles. There was also some preserved pears and a spoon to eat them with. Water was plentiful and she could scoop it from the stream.

Reclining on a rug, Caesar watched her every movement and sprang to his feet when she headed for the door. He got there before she did, his tail wagging in anticipation.

Lucy had an air of impatience about her, and her eyes were secretive. ‘I’m going to get on with my writing while you’re out.’

The mist was beginning to thin and the plants were heavily dewed, while the grass was wet beneath her feet. As Miranda left, she looked back and saw her sister standing at the landing window. Lucy waved to her and she blew her a kiss.

The sun came to reveal a day that was fair, the hedgerows clothed in fresh green. Bluebells had begun to spear up through the earth. In a couple of weeks, the landscape would be multi-coloured with May blossoms – orchids, daisies, parsley and cowslips. She promised herself she’d pick some hawthorn blossom on the way home, so the perfume would fill the hall. May was a colourful month once it had settled in.

Fletcher was waiting for her, his smile warm. Somewhere inside her was a matching glow. When he held out his arms to her, she began to run, jumping from tussock to tussock until she flung herself into his arms. He twirled her round, then set her on her feet and kissed her.

‘It was hell being so near you last night and not be able to touch you,’ he said, running a finger around the curves of her upper lip until it was sensitized beyond bearing. She caught his hand and kissed his palm.

‘Your uncle knows I see you. He said he could tell by the way we acted towards each other.’

‘His way of thinking is to throw a hook into the pond and see what he can catch.’

‘Then I think I may have given us away. We had a falling-out this morning.’

‘If he’s in the right sort of mood, he enjoys a good argument.’

‘I accused him of harbouring an intention to kill you.’

Fletcher gave a slow whistle. ‘He wouldn’t have liked that. What was his reaction?’

‘He denied it. He said you were his only kin and he’d never harm you.’ She hugged him tight. ‘I was scared that he would. He has nothing to gain by killing you.’

‘Except for Monksfoot Abbey. As you pointed out, I might be his only kin, but that applies both ways. He’s my only kin, too, and is now heir to an estate he’s always coveted.’

‘You mean he might kill you to get the Abbey?’

Fletcher looked troubled. ‘What’s more, he’s set his heart on a wife, one young enough to breed from, and one I’ve singled out for the same purpose.’ He gave her a faint smile when she blushed. ‘It makes for an interesting situation where we can’t really trust each other. Promise me you won’t marry my uncle, whatever the circumstances.’

‘I can’t imagine any circumstance that would make me do that now. But you must remember that he’s been so good to Lucy and me, Fletcher. I owe it to him to be honest about this.’

‘Just remember your debt to him doesn’t cover an obligation to become his wife.’ Taking her gently by the shoulders, he gazed into her eyes. ‘You don’t love him, do you, Miranda? I must know where I stand, because you could quite easily become an unwitting pawn in the game.’

‘How can I, when I’m in love with you? This isn’t a game to me, and I have no intention of playing you off against each other.’

‘Then that’s all I need to know. Will you wed me? I’ll get a special licence in a week or two, and we can get the reverend to listen to our vows.’

‘Yes, Fletcher, I’ll marry you.’

‘And in the meantime, if you and Lucy ever feel the need to find a place of safety, you can come to Monksfoot … especially if my uncle starts behaving erratically.’

‘Erratically?’

‘If you feel uneasy in his presence or threatened by him, or if he starts muttering to himself. I’ll leave word with my housekeeper to admit you any time. Now, what do you have in your basket? It smells delicious.’

‘Pork pie.’

‘Nancy was always a good cook.’

They seated themselves on the grass, and she laughed when Caesar came to sit with them, pretending not to be interested in the contents of the basket. ‘I can see this slice of pie is going to have to stretch a long way. Luckily, I ate a big breakfast.’

While they were eating, she asked, ‘Did you talk to your staff about the damage done to your uncle’s property?’

‘I talked to Tom Pepper, who’s my foreman. He said he knows nothing about it, but he’ll question the staff. I’m inclined to believe he’s telling the truth.’

‘Considering the relationship you have with your uncle, who else could have done it?’

He shrugged. ‘It could have been anyone who used that right of way through my uncle’s land. Many people use it, besides my workers, though I admit that they would be the most likely suspects. Then there are traders, gypsies, soldiers and customs officers.’

‘Surely you don’t suspect Simon Bailey?’

‘He and his men were in the area.’

‘But why would he?’

‘To make it appear as though I was responsible for the deed. But, then, my uncle could have arranged the whole thing, and for the same purpose.’

She gazed at him, grinning. ‘I think my head is about to start aching from all the intrigue.’

‘Then I ought to kiss it better.’ His lips were a soft caress against her forehead … then her mouth … then the sensitive skin inside of her wrist, before his palms slid up over her breasts.

She allowed that liberty because she needed to know that he wanted her as much as she wanted him, and as she had no mother to advise her now, she must trust her own judgement in this matter.

And her judgement let her down, for the more she allowed him, the more she wanted, until her body took over with its own needs and his touch knew exactly where she needed it.

He gazed down at her, his eyes dark with the passion he felt. ‘Do you want us to stop, my love?’

‘No … I want to be yours in every way, Fletcher. I want to die in your arms.’

He was pressed against her, member rigid, and she could hardly wait. Pulling the flap of his trousers down, she took him between her hands when he sprang free.

Giving a groan, he stilled her hands and whispered, ‘I can’t … ruin you.’

‘Yes … you can. I want you to be yours completely.’

‘No, my love. I’ll satisfy what I’ve made you feel, and I’ll teach you to satisfy what you’ve woken in me. But I won’t take your innocence completely until we’re man and wife.’

And that itself was a revelation on that long afternoon of delight.

Back at the house, Lucy had made her way down the steps to the cellars. She had taken a lantern and stopped to light it from another illuminating the stairs. Placing it on the table, she looked around her. The walls were lime-washed, but displayed an occasional patch of mould where damp had invaded. Racks of bottles were neatly displayed, and kegs of brandy lay in their cradles or stood on end. There was a wooden table, pails and crates of bottles, stoppers and labels. There was another door, but it was locked.

It was disappointing really. Lucy didn’t know what she’d expected … and the whereabouts of Sir James’s legendary dispensary was a disappointment, because she’d convinced herself it was in the cellars.’

Just as she turned back, she heard two men talking from behind the far door. She placed her ear against the panel.

‘The master wants the cellars cleared next Saturday, when he’s entertaining. There’s a big consignment coming in. Every man and his dog will be at the party. That tea can go to the merchant’s agent while the party’s going on. Give it to that skinny stable lad to take; tell him it’s seaweed fertilizer. He hasn’t got any relatives and he doesn’t know anything, so it doesn’t matter if he’s caught. And that keg of over-proof spirit can be mixed with water and decanted into bottles before the end of the week.’

Smugglers! A thrill ran through Lucy and she took a hasty step backwards, gasping when she knocked a funnel to the ground with a metallic clatter.

‘What was that?’

‘A rat, I expect, unless that big old python is on the prowl.’

The other man gave an uncertain laugh. ‘He wouldn’t be this far from his lair. John Whittle told me the master threw a couple of live rabbits in there yesterday. He said he heard them jumping about for a while, knocking things over in a bit of a panic.’

‘He takes venom from the adders to add to medicine, I heard. An odd pastime, if you ask me.’

‘Aye, well, best you keep your thoughts on it to yourself. Besides, the master makes tales up to scare people and keep them out of the cellars. I’ve been working for him for nigh on fifteen years, and I’ve never set eyes on a python. I reckon it’s a rumour.’

A chill ran through Lucy and she shuddered at the thought of Sir James keeping adders in his cellars! But what was a python?

‘Pass me the key, Rudd; I’ll take a look. It might be one of the servants helping themselves to a bottle of brandy.’

Turning, Lucy fled, imagining an army of adders hanging off her skirt, their poisonous fangs within an inch of her calves. She gained the hall and, heart thumping, closed the door behind her. Then she remembered she’d left the lamp down there. There was nothing she could do about it now. She sprinted up the stairs two at a time and safely reached her bedroom without being observed.

It took a couple of minutes for her breathing to become normal. Taking up a pencil, she flicked open her notebook and busied herself with writing. Before too long, Mrs Pridie knocked at the door. ‘I’ve brought you some refreshment, Miss Lucy.’

‘Thank you; I am a bit thirsty. I’ve been getting on with my novel. Sir James said he wants to read it when I’ve finished. It’s about a woman called Ruby Johnson, who is killed by a man who stole her baby … and she comes back to haunt him and get her revenge.’

Pridie smiled. ‘Goodness, it sounds quite dramatic.’

‘It is. Sometimes Ruby Johnson gets in my head and I can see her clearly, as though she’s alive and I’m standing inside her.’

‘That must be uncomfortable.’ Sounding uninterested, as most people did when she began to chatter about her novel, and probably because she couldn’t read very well, Mrs Pridie gazed around the room. ‘Hasn’t Miss Jarvis returned yet?’

‘I haven’t seen her, but I haven’t looked. Her coat and bonnet would be on the hallstand if she had. You know what Miranda is like; she forgets the time of day. Cook put some food in her basket in case she gets hungry, and she has Caesar with her, so she won’t come to any harm. I wish one of the dogs liked me. Perhaps I’ll get a kitten from somewhere. They’re such sweet little creatures.’