Night Fire (16 page)

Burke heard Dorcas speak again, but she'd lowered her voice and he couldn't make out her words. Slowly, he pulled the door closed and walked back downstairs to his study. He sat in a very old wing chair in front of the Corona marble fireplace and stared at the empty grate.

 

Burke had dinner brought to the master bedchamber that evening. He and Arielle ate companionably until she said in a tentative voice that was striving to sound strong and sure, “I should like to move into my own bedchamber. It is not proper that I stay in here.”

“Why not?”

“A husband and wife don't share the same bedchamber. It simply isn't done.”

“Do you not wish to begin a new fashion, my dear? Husbands and wives who want to sleep in each other's arms should share—”

“No.” She looked with misery at the remaining peas on her plate.

He said very gently, “Arielle, don't speak of this again. This is our bedchamber. We are husband and wife, and we will sleep together every night.”

Arielle ate the rest of her peas. They were fresh and she said, “Does the Abbey have its own garden?”

“Yes. If you're interested, I'm certain Mrs. Pepperall would be delighted to show you everything. You are mistress here, you know. You can do anything you wish.”

Arielle took a thoughtful bite of her partridge. It was excellent, tender and spiced just right. So he was giving her permission to do anything she wished. She didn't believe him. She had been Lady Rendel for too long to believe that. Every servant toadied to the master, not the mistress. Any and every servant would quickly betray the mistress if the master wished it.

Burke said very casually, “Shall we invite your half brother, Evan Goddis, to visit? Perhaps to dinner? I've never met him.”

Her fork clattered to her plate. “No. That is, he and I are not close. Indeed, I didn't even know him until after my father died. Then he became my guardian.”

Burke merely nodded. Her dislike was healthy and he wasn't about to discourage it. If she'd cringed when he'd mentioned Evan Goddis's name, he would have proof that the man had hurt her and he would have ridden to Leslie Farm like an enraged bull. He buttered a thick slice of bread, saying, “Didn't you have a stepson, Arielle? Etienne something?”

He was studying her beneath half-closed lids. Her reaction was clear enough: The pallor, the dilated eyes, the small quivers that shook her hands. This man had done something to her. Burke watched her carefully set her fork down. “Yes,” she said at last, and her voice was smooth, calm. “His name is Etienne DuPons. He is Paisley's illegitimate son. His mother was French and he took her name. I trust he is far away from the area now.”

“No, as a matter of fact, he isn't. I suppose you knew he was staying at Leslie Farm?”

“How do you know of that?”

“Whatever concerns you now concerns me. Don't forget that, Arielle. Did you know?”

“Yes, I knew. I just hoped he would be gone by now. I don't like him.”

“Why? Was he threatening your position at Rendel Hall?”

She laughed, a harsh, grating sound. And she kept laughing, almost hysterically. Once she regained control, she lay back against her pillows and closed her eyes.

So, Burke thought, DuPons had done something to her. Had her husband given her to his son? “You never had children during your marriage.”

“No.”

“Were you ever pregnant?”

“No.”

Burke was thinking that his train of thought was a bit melodramatic. But it could have happened like that. Old Cochrane could have been sterile, after all. If he had been unable to sire a child, could he possibly have forced Arielle to have sex with his son to get her pregnant? No, it was absurd.

“Would you like some tea, Arielle?”

She sighed and nodded. “You have no more questions?”

“Not for the moment. Tell you what, my dear. Why don't we play piquet? Then a long night's sleep for you.” And, he thought as he fetched two decks of playing cards, a hellish night for me.

It wasn't as bad as he feared it would be. He'd forgotten that the bed was so damned immense. Lying on his side, he would have to reach out his arm to even touch her side. He lay naked, his sex hard, and he forced himself not to move.

As for Arielle, she stared toward the dark ceiling. What to do? she wondered for the dozenth time. All those questions of his. It was impossible that he would know anything, surely. Then, suddenly, she saw him. She closed her eyes, but his image remained stark and real in her mind. As was his habit since their marriage, he'd very calmly begun stripping off his clothes even as he was speaking to her of the most mundane topics. And she'd looked at him, pointedly, until she regained her senses and turned her back to him. The flames had framed him and he'd looked like a golden god, all lean and strong and beautifully formed. But he was a man, and all that lean strength could hurt.

“Arielle?” he'd said earlier, before getting into bed.

She hadn't wanted to, but she turned to face him. He was still quite naked and he was smiling at her. His sex was thrust outward. “Can I fetch you anything before I come to bed?”

“A dressing gown for yourself.”

He chuckled. She watched him as he walked to the branch of candles on the table beside her side of the bed. He efficiently doused them.

The room was dark and she heard him climb into the bed, felt it give under his weight. “Please,” she whispered, “please don't make me do—”

“I won't,” he'd said.

She listened now to his deep, even breathing. She jumped when he said mildly, “I am going to kiss you now, wife. Just a little kiss, nothing to alarm you. Don't struggle or leap out of bed, all right?”

“I don't want you to.”

“Sorry, but I don't give a good damn what you want at the moment.”

He rolled over, and even though he wasn't touching her, she could feel the heat from him. She felt his fingertips touch her chin, her throat. “The first and only time I've ever kissed you, I was equal parts enraged and feeling smashed by life. I was rough with you. I won't be now. Hold still.”

She felt his warm breath on her cheek, felt her chin held in the palm of his hand so she couldn't jerk away from him. Then she felt his mouth pressing ever so lightly on hers. “Very nice,” he said against her closed lips. “Part your lips just a bit, Arielle. It is your duty to kiss properly.”

She did. She was afraid not to. He was speaking calmly, gently, but she couldn't allow herself to be drawn in. She wouldn't allow it. She felt his tongue sliding over her bottom lip, then between her parted lips.

“This is even nicer,” he said into her mouth. “No, don't draw away. I'm not hurting you.” He was quiet then, his kiss deepening.

“You're so frozen and hurt,” he said, once he'd left her mouth.

She could see his outline, his face just above hers. She wished he wouldn't speak like this. It terrified her.

“You have a beautiful body, Arielle. No, don't poker up on me. I took care of you all the time you were ill. I think I know your body as well as I do my own. I didn't rape you, did I? And I could have. I could now if I wished to.”

“Then you don't wish to,” she said, “because if you did you would. You're a man and you don't care if—”

“Hush. Kiss me again and then let's get some sleep.” This time he eased his tongue deeper into her mouth. He wondered vaguely if she would bite him. She didn't. Perversely, he wished she would. Then he would be certain that she wasn't terrified that he would whip her for doing it. He enjoyed kissing her immensely. It hurt, but it also felt wonderful. “Great strides,” he said, gently kissed the tip of her nose, and rolled away from her.

“Sleep well, sweetheart.”

Arielle turned very slightly to see him beside her. He was already sleeping. She remembered then that he'd spent so many years in the army and supposed that as a soldier he'd had to catch his sleep whenever it was possible to do so. He began to snore, and despite herself, she smiled.

Arielle wasn't smiling the following morning.

“S
he'll be all right, Arielle,” Burke said to his wife as he led her to a chair. “I promise.” He rubbed her cold hands, standing in front of her. “Just stay here, all right? That's good.”

Arielle stared up at him. “But, Burke, she was—”

“Yes, I know,” he said quickly. “I'll take care of it.”

Arielle watched the sobbing Mellie, an upstairs maid, being led from the room by Mrs. Pepperall. The girl had a blanket covering her, for her clothing had nearly been ripped off. She walked, Arielle thought blankly, as if she were an old woman. Tibbens, the laundress who had found her, was saying to Burke, her deep voice hoarse with concern, “I wasn't in time, milord. He moved away too fast. I wasn't in time.”

Burke spoke in his most soothing voice to Tibbens. After a moment she continued, her voice more steady. “I heard her screaming and ran toward the sound. He'd just, well, finished with Mellie when I saw him. He was fastening his breeches, standing over her, you know. When he saw me he ran toward the woods.”

“You didn't recognize him?”

Tibbens shook her head. “He wasn't particularly tall or short. Just a man, my lord. Maybe on the heavy side. He was wearing a hood over his head. Poor little Mellie doesn't know who he is either.”

After getting as complete a description of the man as possible, Burke dismissed her. He instructed Cerlew to get a dozen or so men together for a search. He walked back to Arielle and came down on his haunches in front of her. He took her hands in his. Of all the things to happen, and here at Ravensworth.

“I must leave now, Arielle. We are going to look for the man who hurt Mellie.”

“He raped her,” she said, her voice hard. “That is much more than hurt.”

“Yes, it is. When we get him, he will be punished.”

“By whom?”

That made him pause a moment. “There must be laws, very stiff punishments, for rape.”

She looked at him remotely. “A man can do anything he pleases to his wife. I would think that a man can do just as he pleases to any woman, except perhaps kill her. Men have made the laws, after all. Why would they want to punish each other for what they consider to be their right?”

He said nothing, for he had a horrible suspicion she was right. He rose, lightly touched his fingertips to her pale cheek, and left her.

There was no trace of the man except for a small square of dark brown wool snagged on a low branch of a maple tree some twenty yards from where Mellie had been raped.

Burke rode to Sir Edward Pottenham's manor house, situated just three miles east of Ravensworth Abbey. Sir Edward was a garrulous old man, fascinated by butterflies, and it took all Burke's verbal facility to avoid seeing Sir Edward's colorfully gruesome collection. He did, however, accept a brandy.

“Now, my boy, what brings you here? I fancy it isn't just for chitchat.”

And Burke told him.

“Oh, dear,” said Sir Edward when Burke had finished. “No idea who the man is, then?”

“No, but we did find this small square of wool. He probably ripped his coat when he was running toward the woods. We're fortunate to have this much. If Tibbens hadn't come so quickly, he very likely would have gotten away without a trace.”

“Yes, probably,” said Sir Edward. “Well, it's a pity, to be sure. We will hope the girl isn't with child. No man would marry her. A pity.”

Burke heard Arielle's words in his mind. He heard himself say, “If I catch the man, what will happen to him?”

Sir Edward guffawed. “Well, if he isn't married, we'd force him to wed the girl.”

“He raped her. He forced her against her will. He hurt her. I sincerely doubt she'd want him for a husband.”

“Ah, well, just a girl's hysterics, my lord, probably because she got caught at it. The man is most certainly her lover, you know. That, or she was encouraging him, teasing him, I daresay. You know how these girls are. Butter wouldn't melt in their mouths until they're caught. I'll wager you fifty pounds the girl knows him.” He laughed and slapped Burke on the back. “Now she knows him even better, huh? More brandy, my boy?”

It isn't right, Burke was thinking as he rode back to Ravensworth Abbey. What if it were Arielle who'd been raped? A lady, as opposed to a serving girl? No, it wasn't fair or right, or just.

But it was the way things were. He prayed the girl wasn't pregnant. He went from cynicism to shock when Mrs. Pepperall asked to see him privately upon his arrival to the Abbey.

“How is Mellie?” he asked.

“She is fine, given the circumstances. It's not about her that I wished to see you, my lord.” Mrs. Pepperall paused a moment, then pressed on. “Her ladyship is resting now. And she is—well, she's so young and unworldly, despite her being a married lady. She isn't strong yet, and I feel, my lord, that it is best handled by a man in any case.”

“What, Mrs. Pepperall?”

“Mellie, of course. She must be dismissed, naturally. We can't have this sort of girl here. It would be a horrible example to all the other girls.”

Burke stared at her. She was completely serious.

“Shall I dismiss her, my lord?”

“Where is she now, Mrs. Pepperall?”

“In her bed.”

“But it wasn't her fault. The man raped her.”

“That's what Tibbens said,” Mrs. Pepperall said, and she actually sniffed.

“I have no reason to disbelieve her. The girl was a victim. You saw her clothes, nearly ripped apart. She was in no way to blame for what happened to her. Has Dr. Brody been to see her?”

Mrs. Pepperall looked affronted at that. “Certainly not, my lord. Whatever for?”

Burke looked the older woman straight in her outraged eyes. “He might have harmed her internally. He might have ripped her. Have Dr. Brody fetched immediately.”

Mrs. Pepperall just looked at him. All of this was so silly. “If he does, this—this outrage will be all over East Grinstead by nightfall.”

“Excellent. Perhaps we will learn the identity of the man who raped Mellie. Incidentally, tell Dr. Brody I wish to speak to him after he's seen to Mellie.”

“Yes, my lord,” said Mrs. Pepperall.

“Another thing. Mellie won't be let go. I will say it just once, Mrs. Pepperall. The rape wasn't her fault. You are not to blame her. You are not to allow any of the other servants to abuse her or blame her. I will speak to Montague. He will speak to the menservants.”

“You could have knocked me down with a breath,” Mrs. Pepperall said a few minutes later to Montague. “Can you imagine that little slut staying here after what she did? It's absurd, that's what it is.”

Montague said nothing. He wasn't certain if it was absurd or not. He knew only that the earl was furious. He was also afraid that the man who had raped Mellie was one of the footmen. He spoke to the men and warned them roundly. There were snickers and lewd comments from Charlie, the second footman, a brawny lad from Wendicoe in western Ireland, and Montague told him to mind his own affairs and leave the girl alone. He added for good measure that his lordship had said anyone bothering the girl would get the boot on the spot. Charlie stopped snickering. Montague gave him a long look.

Burke was on the point of going upstairs to see Arielle when Dr. Brody followed Montague into the estate room. Mark Brody was a slender young man with a pallid complexion and fierce blue eyes. He was only a couple of years Burke's senior and had been in the area for the past three years. He lived in West Heald with his mother. Burke liked him.

Burke shook the man's hand. “A long time, Mark.”

“Yes, indeed. Welcome home, Burke. Congratulations on your marriage to Lady Rendel. A lovely young lady.”

After a few minutes of amenities, Mark Brody said, “I examined the girl, Mellie. The man who did this in fact injured her internally. I'm not certain whether or not she was a virgin, but she was quite small and the man was brutal.”

“Mellie should have been a virgin. She is only fifteen years old.”

“Not so very young in the country, Burke. In any case, I got the bleeding stopped. She's very weak from the loss of blood, but she's a healthy girl. She will survive this. Did you catch the man responsible?”

Burke shook his head, then said quietly, “Do you think he should be punished for what he did?”

“I would say yes only because I saw the girl. She didn't encourage him. She was brutalized. No human being should be treated like that without adequate retribution for the one responsible.”

“Well, that is something at least,” Burke said. “You will come back to check on her?”

“Certainly.” Dr. Brody took his leave and Burke headed upstairs.

Arielle wasn't in bed. She was dressed in a pale blue silk gown and seated by the window. Her hair was in a braided coronet about her head. She looked lovely, too thin, and sad.

“Hello,” he said, leaned down, and lightly kissed her cheek.

She flinched only slightly. He was pleased. “Mellie will be all right. I spoke to Dr. Brody.” He wasn't about to tell her any of the rest of it.

“That is a relief,” she said. She looked up at him. “It is an awful thing, Burke.”

“Yes, I know.”

“To be helpless, weaker than someone else—no, weaker than half the human beings on the earth. It is a fearful thing.”

He clasped her about her shoulders and lifted her from the chair. “I know,” he repeated and pulled her against him. He gently pressed her cheek against his shoulder. “I will find the man, sweetheart. And I will punish him.” Surprisingly, he meant what he said. There would be no punishment for the man under the law. So he, Burke, would have to be judge and jury. He was, after all, responsible for everyone living on Ravensworth land. He'd failed here, and it was his duty to set things right.

He lightly stroked his hands up and down Arielle's back. “Most men wouldn't consider doing that,” he said. Most women, too, he thought, remembering Mrs. Pepperall's words. Both she and Sir Edward Pottenham readily blamed the woman, not the man; blamed the victim, not the rapist. How would he himself have reacted if he hadn't been so completely sensitized by Arielle? Indeed, if Arielle hadn't been abused, would she still feel so strongly? He prayed his reaction would have been exactly the same.

Later that afternoon, Burke and Arielle went to the west lawn, where the small gazebo stood, a frothy structure built by Burke's grandfather. He imagined the gazebo had been the spot for many trysts. Still was, probably. Perhaps soon he could seduce Arielle here, Burke thought. That would be nice, very nice.

The sun was low in the west, the air redolent with the scents of freshly scythed summer grass. The slight breeze was warm and Burke felt good. He watched Arielle raise her face to the sun.

He fetched a blanket from the gazebo and spread it beneath a sprawling-branched oak tree. They sat in companionable silence. But she tired so easily. Eventually Arielle ended up with her head on Burke's lap. She stared at the shafts of sunlight through the leaves. “This is beautiful. Nothing bad could happen here.”

“I wouldn't let it,” he said and leaned back against the trunk. “Are you comfortable?”

“Hmm.”

He thought she'd fallen asleep, until she said suddenly, “It is difficult to take this waiting, Burke. It seems interminable to me.”

“We'll catch the man, Arielle. I told Cerlew to hire a Bow Street Runner. I understand from military friends that those fellows are more tenacious than lice in the hills of Portugal.”

“That's not what I meant.”

Her voice sounded dull, emotionless. Very gently, he said, “What, then, is difficult? What are you waiting for?”

“For you to demand that I see to your needs. Are you waiting until you're certain I am well?”

“Why do you bring it up? You make me think you want me to act against you.”

“I have become a realist. I simply would like you to tell me when to prepare myself. Not knowing when you will—”

Perhaps she did want him to act against her. Then she could escape him, a brute, with a clear conscience. Well, she would be in for a surprise. He picked a loose tendril of her hair and wrapped it around his fingers. “Your hair is very soft.” He let his fingertips trail lightly over her throat. She was so smooth and white.

“I find our situation somewhat strange, Arielle. Here we are, lying at our ease on a blanket, the picture of two perfectly relaxed, happy people, and you are asking me when I intend to begin abusing you and when I shall insist that you begin to service me. It jolts the picture, you could say.”

“When can we go to Boston?” she asked, ignoring his words.

“I told you. When the war is finally over. Also, even though Cerlew is a most scrupulous fellow, it wouldn't be fair of me to simply pick up and leave. There are many decisions to be made about the estate. We could leave in the early fall, perhaps. But we will wait until it is safe. I hear that peace talks are gong well. It shouldn't be too much longer.”

“But Baron Sherard and Nesta are English and they live there.”

“Yes, but we don't, and I won't take any chances with your safety.”

Arielle had nothing to say to that. He was a complicated man, and slippery. Just when she thought she understood him, he changed like a shadow hand against a window shade. He was concerned about her safety, yet he had abducted her. It was all very confusing. She felt fatigue pulling at her. She hated this weakness, this proof of her body's betrayal.

When Burke looked down he saw that she was asleep. He smiled and touched his fingertips to her slightly parted lips. So soft. He decided to take her to London when she regained her strength. He wanted to take her everywhere and introduce her to all his friends. His sister would remember Arielle with fondness—at least he hoped so. And Lannie. He must find out when she was planning on returning to Ravensworth. Although he wanted to have Arielle all to himself, it didn't occur to him to ask Lannie to remain at his sister's. Burke thought about his last night in London, the night before he had left to kidnap his bride. He'd dined with Knight at his town house.