Night Fire (20 page)

“Is that true? You had excellent taste even as a young girl.”

“Now I am not so certain that I like light-haired men even if they look like bronzed gods, which Alec does.”

“Ho, have I just been insulted?”

“And his eyes are such a bright, clear blue, don't you think, Burke? Like a Viking, a Viking chief, of course.”

“His eyes are much like yours, Arielle.”

“Mine are boring. I think I much prefer deep brown eyes, like yours. Much more intelligent, you know.”

He hugged her. “Let's go downstairs for a while. Unless you need to rest?”

“Oh, no, I feel fine.”

Arielle led him to the small room where she'd met Knight that morning. In a careless voice that didn't fool Burke for an instant, she said, “I very much like this room, Burke. May I use it?”

“I don't know,” he said slowly, looking around him. “I think I should like to add it to my collection. I really only have the library and the estate room. I believe I should like to have this one as well. It is more open than the others. The view is more pleasing. Yes, I shall take this one.”

She'd started to nod when she remembered Knight's words. What she intended to come out smartly emerged as woefully diffident. “Do you think perhaps that you could change your mind?”

“Why should I? It's my house, and you don't really have anything to say about what I want to do. No, you can't ever come into this room again. I forbid it.”

“But—but that isn't fair.”

“Isn't this my house?”

“It's my house too. Isn't it?”

“So you think you're the mistress here, do you?”

She gnawed on her lower lip. “Well, yes, perhaps I think I am.”

“More definite, Arielle. Try again.”

She raised her chin. “I am mistress here.”

“So what? What rights does that give you?”

“The house and servants are my responsibility. I like this room and I want to use it. You don't need another room.” She paused, pleased, until she saw him frowning ferociously. “If you wouldn't mind terribly.”

He leaned down and kissed her hard and quick on her closed lips. “I don't mind, you silly widgeon. Even if I did mind, it wouldn't matter. You could even boot me out of the estate room if it pleased you.”

She could only stare at him. He'd done this just to make her stand up for herself? “I don't understand you,” she said, and her voice was an odd mixture of wistfulness and uncertainty.

“I don't despair,” he said lightly. “Come along now. Let's go for a walk. Perhaps I can even convince you to kiss me underneath the magnolia tree yon.”

She gave him a quick look, then lowered her eyes. “I shall think about it,” she said, and her voice was teasing.

He wanted to shout, to kick his heels together, perhaps even to burst into song.

It was a chaste, quite shy kiss beneath the beautiful thick magnolia, but it was a kiss. And it was offered freely.

 

“Miss Nesta is the same, or perhaps more so,” Dorcas said as she helped Arielle into her evening gown.

“What do you mean?” Arielle asked.

“I mean that she isn't happy. Not with him, she isn't.”

“Baron Sherard? Why shouldn't she be?”

Dorcas shrugged. It was a sign that the old woman had no intention of answering and couldn't be made to.

“Sit down and let me arrange your hair.”

Arielle sat. Dorcas worked quickly, parting her hair into thick sections, then braiding them loosely. As she wrapped the braids in a circle atop Arielle's head, she said, “I saw your riding jacket and the blouse. He finally beat you.”

Arielle met her eyes in the mirror.

“I knew it was a matter of time. He tried to take you, to force you, didn't he, and you resisted him. You said when he did we would leave. But where will we go? Your sister isn't in Boston any longer. You don't have any money, do you? Does he give you any money?”

“Burke didn't touch me, Dorcas. It was Evan. He caught me alone by Bunberry Lake. Burke saved me.”

To her surprise, Dorcas merely grunted, a particularly noxious sound. “He will do the same, just wait and see.”

But suddenly Arielle knew he wouldn't. She couldn't say just how she knew he wouldn't, she just
knew
.

Dorcas was dusting her face lightly with powder when Burke came into her bedchamber through the adjoining door. He was carrying a narrow velvet box.

“You've done well,” he said to Dorcas. “Her hair is beautiful. You may leave now.”

“I will see that Miss Nesta is all right,” said Dorcas and left the room.

Arielle eyed the box. Her eyes were sparkling, but he saw that she was trying to act only mildly interested in an effort to control her excitement. He felt the shaft of pain in his gut.

“It is yours,” he said abruptly, thrusting it into her hands. “It belonged to my mother and to her mother before her. If you don't like the setting, we will have it redone.”

He watched her slowly open the box. She gasped as she stared at the incredible array of diamonds and sapphires. “Oh, it is too beautiful. I've never seen anything to compare with it. Oh, God, Burke—no, no, I can't accept it. What if I lost it or broke it or—” She pressed it back into his hand.

“Then I should have to replace it for you.”

She stared at him, perplexed. “Let me put it on you.” He fastened the clasp and gazed at her in the mirror. She looked mesmerized by her own image, her eyes glittering.

“The sapphires are brilliant, but not as brilliant as your eyes.” His hands were touching her shoulders lightly. She could but stare at herself, mute. Never had she worn anything of such beauty. She remembered the emerald bracelet Paisley had insisted she wear once, remembered again how the bracelet had fallen off and he'd beaten her. She knew that the clasp had been defective and she knew that he'd known, deliberately waiting, hoping the bracelet would fall off. But Burke wasn't like that.

“Thank you, Burke.” She lifted her hand and placed it over his. But then she thought: What will he want for it? What will he demand?

Burke saw the shifting expressions and wondered at them.

Arielle enjoyed herself thoroughly that evening. Cook had outdone himself, serving his specialties of roast lamb and rump of beef a la jardiniere. The raspberry-and-currant tarts melted in every mouth they entered. Arielle knew she was being too quiet, not at all a perfect hostess, but her guests were all in tearing spirits and vying with one another for the most attention. It was amusing, and she was quite content to sit back and listen to the rapid-fire barbs.

Even Nesta had recovered her color and laughed at the jests flying back and forth between Burke, Knight, and Alec. And Percy was in fine fettle, too. The major topic of conversation was the ton in London and all its incalculable vagaries. Every so often, Arielle was aware of Burke looking at her intently from the head of the long table. Her fingers consciously went to her necklace around her throat. Was he regretting giving it to her? Well, if he did, he would simply take it back. She would take great pains to see that nothing happened to it.

In the midst of all the hilarity, Arielle felt a lump of unhappiness settle in her throat. She swallowed convulsively. She wanted the necklace. She didn't want him to take it back. She didn't want to have to worry about it. But the necklace wasn't the point, not really. She didn't know what was.

She became aware that Lannie was clearing her throat and nodding toward her. Burke was smiling. “We won't be long, my dear,” he said. She rose quickly, not waiting for a footman to assist her. “We will be in the drawing room,” she said, turned, and left.

Nesta and Lannie were soon in a very detailed maternal discussion. Arielle listened with but half an ear until Lannie inquired after Nesta's health.

“Oh, I am all right,” Nesta said in her sweet voice. “The crossing was difficult, what with my nausea and all that, but it wasn't too bad. Alec was very solicitous.”

“I hope so,” said Arielle. “He is the one responsible, after all.”

Lannie looked a bit taken aback, then she laughed. “That is certainly the truth. Do you wish for a boy?”

“Certainly. It is what Alec wants, you see.”

“Not even Alec can control that,” said Arielle. “I think you should have a little girl, Nesta.”

Nesta grinned even as she shook her head. “Perhaps another child can be a girl. But this first one must be a boy.”

She sounded tremendously serious, and Arielle frowned. “But what does it matter? Lannie has Virgie and Poppet. I wouldn't want either of them to have been boys. They're darling and perfect just as they are.”

“Montrose wasn't all that pleased with them, Arielle,” Lannie said. “It is odd about men in that regard. It seems that their part in the entire situation must be made even bigger, even more important, thus this demand for a boy.”

“And, of course, our laws,” Arielle said. “They hardly favor girls. How I should like to see a lady inherit an earldom.”

“But surely you have done quite well for yourself,” Nesta said. “Wed very young to a rich man who left you all his wealth, then wed again very soon to another one.”

“What little Lord Rendel left, Nesta, is long gone,” Arielle told her. “Indeed, I understand that everything, the house included, will be sold shortly.”

“Oh, dear, I'm sorry,” said Nesta. “I had no idea.”

“Neither did I,” said Lannie, sitting forward in her chair.

Arielle decided on the truth. Why not? “Nor did I. You see, my first husband's solicitor and steward robbed the estate, even mortgaged the house and all the land, and left England when I made it known that I wanted to sell out and leave England as well. So no, Nesta, there was nothing left of his so-called wealth. Had I come to you in Boston, it would have been with only a hundred pounds in my pocket.”

“But you met Burke,” Nesta said.

“Yes, I did.”

The gentlemen were laughing when they entered the drawing room. Burke immediately sought out his wife. He said nothing, merely took her hand in his and sat beside her. Percy went to stand by Lannie at the pianoforte. Alec leaned down and kissed Nesta's cheek. Again Knight found himself the lone man. He smiled and shook his head. “This is a strange feeling,” he said to no one in particular.

“Hie yourself to the altar, Knight. Then you won't find yourself ignored at dinner parties,” Burke said, grinning.

It was nearly eleven o'clock when Alec said, “It is time for Nesta to find her bed. It is late, you know.”

All the guests dispersed shortly thereafter, and Arielle followed Burke to his bedchamber. She stood in the middle of the room, wondering what she was to do. The Oriental screen had been removed that morning for repairs. She just stood there, knowing she was being a fool, but unable to simply walk into the other room.

Burke finished lighting the logs in the fireplace. He rose and stretched, leaning his shoulders against the mantelpiece, staring at her intently. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Oh, yes, very much.”

“I'm glad. Now, Arielle, take off your clothes. All of them.”

S
he stared at him, unwilling to understand his words. She'd been so happy, so relaxed, and now—

His voice grew sharper. “Are you having difficulty with your hearing, Arielle? I said to take off your clothes. I want to see you naked.”

Paisley's orders, Paisley's words
. Her fingers fluttered to the top button of her gown. She felt the smooth silk, felt the ribbed thread that framed the buttonholes. She saw the buttons parting, saw herself naked and helpless. Her hands dropped to her sides. “I don't understand why you're doing this. You were so nice to me—”

“You think that since I am nice to you I will forgo my pleasures?” He straightened to his full height and took a step toward her.

She made a small, frightened sound, deep in her throat, and her fingers raced to unfasten the long row of buttons.

“After you're naked, I think I want to see you on your knees. Perhaps you will take me in your mouth tonight, as you did that evening in the stable. I remember that you were quite well trained.”

She stopped and her hands fisted over her breasts. She looked at him, at his set face, his cold eyes. The events of the day careened through her mind. She was shaking her head at his words, at what she was thinking, feeling. “Why are you doing this?”

“Your little whisper isn't tremendously affecting, Arielle. Are you going to do as I tell you, or shall I get the riding crop?”

She watched him stride to the far side of the bedchamber, open a drawer in the armoire, and pull out a riding crop. She stared dumbly at it.

“No,” she said. “No.”

“No what?”

He was slapping the riding crop against his palm.

“You won't hit me.”

“Won't hit you? Whyever would you believe that I wouldn't hit you? All men are the same, Arielle. We all enjoy hurting those unable to defend themselves; we positively relish humiliating our wives, giving them pain. Surely you know that.”

“No, no, you're not like that.”

His gaze was intent as he took several steps toward her, the riding crop still slapping rhythmically against his palm.

She didn't move. She wasn't looking at the riding crop, only at his face. “You're not like that,” she repeated, with more conviction. She sounded as if she really believed what she was saying, not merely hoping it was true.

“You believe that, do you?”

“Yes, I do. You're not that kind of man, Burke.”

“Take off your clothes, Arielle.”

“No, I shan't. I won't let you shame me like that.”

“You will defy me? Disobey me?”

“Yes, if that is what I'm doing.”

He walked up to her and took her chin between two long fingers. She did not draw back. He lifted her face. “I can beat you whenever I wish. I can draw blood. I can make Evan Goddis's little mark on your back appear like nothing at all. I can make you do whatever I want.”

“Yes, you can.” She drew a deep breath. “But you won't. You love me.”

“You believe that? I'm a man, Arielle. Don't you believe all men to be deceitful bastards, cruel and sadistic animals?”

She never looked away from his face. “Not you.”

“Well,” he said, looking down at her pale face, “what do I have here? A wife who finally believes in me? A wife who finally trusts me?”

Her eyes darkened, dilated, the pupils black. It was fascinating to watch. Her voice was shaking as she said, “You've done it on purpose.”

“What have I done on purpose?”

“Since we've been married,” she said slowly, “you've done all of it on purpose.”

“What? Can't you answer sensibly?”

“You've pushed me and pushed me and pushed me until—”

“Until you pushed back?”

“Yes.”

“And what happened when you did, Arielle?”

“Nothing, because you won't hurt me. You would never have hurt me, despite what you threatened.”

“Fancy that,” he said and smiled at her.

She grabbed the riding crop and flung it across the room. “You and your damned prop.”

He laughed, a rich, deep sound. He couldn't contain himself. He caught her about her waist and lifted her high. She stared down at him, grabbing his upper arms.

“Now all I've got to do is fatten you up. And then—”

“Then what?”

“Why, I'll have perfection in a wife, that's what.”

“Being that you're already perfect, of course, it is only fair that your wife swim in the same pond?”

“A charming metaphor. Yes, we shall swim together.” He lowered her to her feet but still held her close against him.

She rested her cheek against his shoulder and wrapped her arms about his waist. “You've scared me so very much.”

His arms tightened about her. “Will you forgive me?”

“I don't know. I still—”

“You wonder if sometime in the misty future I will turn on you? I won't. I want you to be happy, Arielle. I want you to be happy with me.”

She sighed deeply, and he wondered what she was thinking.

“Let's go to bed, all right? And no, you don't have to take your clothes off in front of me unless you want to. And no, you don't have to even kiss me unless you want to. And yes, you can dress and undress behind that ugly screen once it's mended.”

He kissed her softly on her closed mouth and stepped back. He began humming, a particularly graphic ditty popular in the army some three years before. He undressed, neatly folding his clothing, as was his wont. He didn't look at her.

Arielle watched him. Then she smiled. She took off her own clothes and fetched herself a nightgown from the armoire. As she was tying the ribbons at her throat, she noticed he was watching her. He was simply standing there, naked and lean and powerful, and she looked away, but not immediately this time.

He stretched, the orange fire behind him creating planes and shadows on his body. “I'm gong to bed,” he said. “Come when you wish.” He lay on his back, the covers pulled to his chest. She climbed in beside him.

“If you would like, Arielle,” he said, not turning to face her, “you may give me a good-night kiss.”

She did. It was a bit more enthusiastic than the one beneath the magnolia tree.

 

George Cerlew, a young man of immense sincerity and regular and conscientious habits, stepped into the estate room and was relieved that the earl was there.

“My lord.”

“Yes, George? You have more interminable work for me?” Burke saw that his steward was nearly trembling with excitement.

“No, my lord. That man, Ollie Trunk, he wants to speak to you. He said it was urgent.”

Burke rose from his chair. “Get him immediately.”

Ollie Trunk was looking smug. “I got 'im, milord,” he said without preamble. “The little bastid what did in that poor little girl.”

“Who was it?”

“One of the stable lads. Arnold is his name.”

“Good God,” Burke said. “Are you certain, man? Why, Arnold has been here at least six years. He's conscientious, quiet, and—” Burke stopped, shaking his head.

“'E was braggin' about it, the stupid sod,” Ollie said with disgust. “Braggin'! I'd matched up the bit of cloth you'd found, milord, with one of Arnold's coats. It matched, perfect. So I got 'im drunk over at the Duck and Drake in Nutley, and off 'e went with 'is braggin', about 'ow all the girls couldn't keep their 'ands off 'im, damned dumb cove.”

“We have a problem here, gentlemen,” Burke said to George and Ollie.

“I don't see—” George began, only to be cut off by Ollie.

“'Tis obvious as the wart on your nose, if you 'ad one. 'Ow could Arnold get into the Abbey to do away with the girl?”

“He raped her but he didn't kill her,” Burke said, more to himself than to the other men. He cursed softly and fluently, earning himself a bit more respect from Ollie.

“That's the way of it, milord.” He shrugged. “'Course, it could 'ave been an accident after all.”

“No, I think not. Good work, Ollie. I must give this some thought. I wish you to remain, all right?”

“You're the bloke what's payin' me to sniff,” said Ollie.

“Keep sniffing,” said Burke. “Concentrate on all the people who live here. Have Joshua and Geordie go with you, Ollie, and fetch Arnold here to me. Now. I will deal with him.”

Burke had given thought to what he would do when the man who'd raped Mellie was discovered. He felt calm and coldly furious. When Alec Carrick came into the estate room, he said, “You can stay if you wish. But here is what is going to happen.”

When he'd finished, Alec said in some astonishment, “My God. And I'd remembered the English countryside as being rather a bore. This is incredible. I will help you if you will allow me to. Any man who would do such a thing deserves everything he gets.”

That sentiment, Burke thought, would most certainly please his wife.

By the time Arnold, one arm held by Ollie, the other by Joshua, entered the estate room, Knight had joined Burke and Alec.

“I won't have this, my lord!” Arnold shouted as he was shoved into a chair. “This scum here, well, he's making it all up. It ain't true, none of it.”

“Is that so?”

“This is 'is jacket, milord,” said Ollie. “And the piece of cloth found near the girl.”

“I fear it is a perfect match, Arnold,” Burke said.

“It weren't rape!” Arnold shouted. “It weren't. Little Mellie, well, she and me, we've played here and there, me plowing her for a good long time now, mainly at the gazebo. She was just mad at me, that's all.”

“Why, then, Arnold, were you wearing a mask?”

“I told you, she were mad at me. I didn't want her to go blabbin' it around that I was the one who done it. Somebody might've listened to the little trollop.”

“Arnold, Mellie was fifteen years old.”

“So? She and me, we've been fucking for over a year now. Hot little bit, that Mellie.”

“You raped her. You forced her against her will. No one harms a woman or a girl who is under my protection. Now, do you want to know what is gong to be done with you?”

“Nothin'! I don't deserve nothin'! She was just a little slut, that's all.” Arnold saw the murderous rage in the earl's eyes. Suddenly he jerked away from Joshua, sent his elbow into Ollie's stomach, and dashed toward the estate room door. He jerked it open and fell into the hall at Arielle's feet.

“Arnold! What is wrong? Why are you here in the house?”

The men erupted from the estate room. For several minutes there was utter pandemonium.

When Arnold was again securely held by Joshua and Ollie, Burke said, “Take him back into the estate room and keep him there.” He waited until all the men had left before he said to Arielle, “Arnold raped Mellie. Ollie discovered the truth.”

“Oh, no. Did he kill her as well?”

“I'm not certain,” he said. “Go along now, Arielle. I will finish with Arnold.”

“What will you do?”

Burke grinned. “Arnold, my dear girl, is going to become a proud sailor in our Majesty's Navy. For a term not less than five years.”

“But that doesn't sound bad, not really.”

“It is hell, worse than hell. It is a better punishment than Newgate. Trust me.”

Arielle stayed outside the estate room door, listening. Suddenly she heard Arnold's yell and knew that Burke had told him. Well, it served him right. Her step was lighter, but niggling at the back of her mind was still the question of whether or not Arnold had murdered Mellie.

The question was answered late that afternoon. Burke told Arielle to remain when Ollie asked to see him again. They were in her favorite room. Arielle was telling him how she wished to redecorate it.

“It's over, milord,” Ollie announced.

“What's over exactly, Ollie?”

Ollie looked sideways at Arielle, and Burke said quickly, “You can speak in front of my wife. Out with it, man.”

“I found the key, milord. Rusty and old, but it works on the small door to the servants' stairs.”

Burke felt as if a great weight had been taken from his shoulders. “Where?”

“In the stable, near the tack room. Arnold, naturally, says 'e knows nothing about it, but the lad's crazy if'e don't deny it.”

“Yes,” said Burke.

“It's over,” said Arielle. She stuck out her hand to Ollie Trunk, who stared at it as if it were a snake to bite him. “Thank you so much. You are an excellent detective, sir.”

To Burke's delight, Ollie blushed. “Well, now, your ladyship, it's just that I—yes, good I am. Now, there's thing to do, milord. I can still take old Arnold over to this Cap'n Mortimer so's 'e can be a good sailor. But as it appears 'e might have croaked the girl, do you want 'im 'ere?”

Burke was silent for several moments. Finally he said, “No. We have no real proof that he murdered Mellie. The key wasn't in his things, it was simply in the stable, where anyone could have seen it and used it. It is, of course, probable that Arnold did kill her because she threatened to tell everyone he raped her, but we'll let the Navy keep him from now on.”

Burke handed Ollie the letter he'd written to Adrien Mortimer, the toughest captain to sail under England's flag. He shook Ollie's hand. “My thanks also,” he said.

“It's over,” Arielle said again. She turned to her husband and found herself smiling shyly up at him. “Did I tell you today that I think you're wonderful?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “Not today.”

“Perhaps I shall.” She laughed. “It is teatime, sir, and our guests will wish to know what has happened.”

Arnold and his fate were discussed over tea, then over dinner.

Alec Carrick said, “A pity that the war between America and England is nearly resolved. We could have had the Americans impress this Arnold into their navy. That would have cooled all unacceptable instincts in him.”