On a Desert Shore (17 page)

“You don't believe that of Marina.”

“No,” he admitted, “but it is wise to be cautious. Don't worry. Chase will uncover the truth.”

She seemed unimpressed with this response. “
We
must help him. You're right. I would be better off at home, but how can I turn my back on John? You do remember all he did for me—for Lewis?”

Buckler concealed his frustration. Evenly, he said, “There is no
we
in this inquiry, Penelope. A murderer is at large. All the more reason for you and Lewis to remove from this house tonight. Chase expects it of you. I assured him you wouldn't make difficulties.”

“And I won't,” she replied, her face shuttering. “Tomorrow after the funeral will be soon enough. I understand you. The culprit is one of them. One of the family.”

“Whom do you suspect?”

“I don't know. Mr. Honeycutt seems eager to leap to his cousin's defense. Do you trust him?”

“No.”

“His sister? What a piece of work she is. Perhaps you as an unsuspecting gentleman cannot discern the spite behind her treatment of Marina, but I was conscious of it from the first. She both envies and hates the girl, Edward. That Mr. Tallboys is left Marina's guardian, I understand, but he doesn't approve of her either. And did you see how Mrs. Yates retreated from her in the courtroom? Not much love there, as Marina herself told everyone. Oh, I admired her in that moment. She is so young and friendless, but she spoke out on her own behalf.”

“Don't you see that Lewis has become too involved with Miss Garrod? Aside from any danger we might have to fear, he'll only be hurt. Take him home tonight, Penelope. If you ask him, he'll go.”

Her gaze drifted to the open window. “He won't. He's every bit as determined to stay as you are that he should go.” She paused, turning inward. “Don't you think I've been worrying and planning how to make a place for Lewis in the world? I curse my father sometimes for his sublime indifference, his selfishness. He leaves his infant son to fend for himself, never reveals his existence to a soul, and makes no attempt to contact him.” She jumped to her feet and took several agitated steps across the floor.

“Your father was wrong.” Buckler followed her and grasped her by the shoulders. “None of that matters right now, Penelope.”

It was as though she hadn't heard him. “Then there is Jeremy. I don't know where he is or if he might ever decide to return to us. Nor do I want him. I don't think I could ever live in the same house with him again. I won't have Sarah disappointed.” Finally, she looked fully at him, her eyes hard and bright. “I haven't told you about my father's letter. He is anxious that Sarah and I remove to Sicily. Well, I won't go.”

“Penelope—”

“No, Edward. You want to help me, and I respect your opinion. But I must do what I feel is right. This is not the first time you have tried to direct my conduct, and it won't wash. If we were wed—”

His control broke, and he pulled her closer. He was kissing her, and the blood was roaring in his ears. She melted under his hands until at length she raised her head to look at him, a glint of humor in her eyes. “That's all very well, sir, but can alter nothing.”

He laughed and released her. “Even though I love you, Penelope?”

“You don't fight fair, Edward,” she told him as she smoothed her hair and tried to quiet her quickened breathing. “You deprive me of my weapons.”

“I fight for you, always.” He paused, knowing what he was about to say would cut her deep, yet he must say it: “Sarah needs you. You can't take the risk.”

Her face went white, first with distress, then with anger. Before she could answer him, the door to the summerhouse opened.

Chapter Seventeen

Lewis and Marina stepped over the threshold. Lewis observed his sister's startled expression and stiffened in response. Damn it—it needed only that, thought Buckler, exasperated. A time or two recently he'd fancied Lewis had begun to question his relationship with Penelope, though he hadn't, so far, asserted any brotherly rights. As the boy came forward, looking down his nose at them from his greater height, his newfound maturity was evident. Penelope was right about the determination; there was a pugnacious tilt to his chin.

Lewis said to his sister, “There you are. We've been looking for you. Mrs. Yates said you'd come in this direction.”

Hiding her embarrassment, Penelope answered him casually. “We were taking the evening air and happened upon this lovely summerhouse. Miss Garrod, is it wise for you to be out without your guard? Mr. Chase was most insistent that you be protected.”

Marina Garrod stood close to Lewis. She was garbed in a fresh black gown and a pair of delicate sandals, her hair confined in a dark braid that snaked down her back and twitched as she moved. She pointed at the door, where one of the constables trailed on her heels. “Don't worry, Mrs. Wolfe. He's there. I would escape him if I could.”

“Orders, miss,” said the man.

“Take yourself off,” cried Marina. “I have something to say to Mr. Buckler and Mrs. Wolfe in private.” She made an imperious gesture. “I can scarcely stir without that man.”

Buckler addressed the constable. “Why don't you withdraw to those trees over there? We'll leave the door ajar so that you can keep Miss Garrod in sight. Will that suit?”

“Yes, sir,” said the man, withdrawing.

“Won't you sit down, ma'am?” said Buckler to Marina.

After she had consented, somewhat grudgingly, to take a seat, they waited until the constable was out of earshot. Then Buckler said, “Where is Mr. Chase? He should hear this too.”

“He's coming,” said Lewis. “We just saw him on the terrace.”

Marina spoke. “Before he arrives, I must thank you for your assistance at the inquest today, Mr. Buckler.”

“I'm not at all certain I did you any lasting good.”

She studied him, and Buckler was sure Penelope was wrong to consider her little more than a child; Marina Garrod had a presence rare in someone her age. He couldn't account for it, but perhaps she'd been refined, made stronger and brighter, by her unhappy life. “No, you did me good,” she said at last, “and I hope you can do something more for me. I want you and Mr. Chase to advise me.” As if on cue, they heard Chase's voice calling a remark to the constables and his footsteps crossing the gravel.

“We are at your service, Miss Garrod,” said Buckler.

“I know you are.”

“Glad you've realized that,” said Chase who had entered at that moment. He frowned at Marina, nodded at Buckler, ignored Lewis, and cast a searching stare at Penelope. He stood at the other end of the table, a little apart from the group. This was Chase at his most forbidding: he was as tall as Lewis and twice as sure of himself. He was also laconic and resolute and fuming with irritation. His recent improvement in dress had vanished to be replaced by a half-buttoned waistcoat and dusty boots.

Marina didn't flinch. “My one wish is that my father's murderer be discovered. I can have neither peace nor safety until then.”

“So you want my help?” said Chase.

“Exactly, sir.” She smiled at him and went on in a strangely blithe tone. “I already told you I had a longing to learn more of my mother. No one would say a word to me on the subject. My father would tell me I was to consider myself an English girl and must forget all about her. I couldn't do that.”

“I imagine that would be difficult,” said Buckler, feeling awkward. He saw that Lewis leaned over the back of her chair and suddenly understood the bond that had formed between them. Both were love children. Both had been motherless with mothers who could not be mentioned in polite company. Both had strained relationships with the family left to them, though Lewis had been lucky in his sister at least.

Marina spoke. “You understand me, don't you, Mr. Chase? You've met her—you've met Joanna. For years I kept quiet and did as I was told. I learned my lessons and studied to please my family. I knew none of them liked me, not really. But I wasn't afraid of them. No one bothered me until my father started planning my grand London season and talking day and night of my marriage. That's when it started.”

“The malice,” said Penelope. “It was intended to ruin your chances at fulfilling your father's dearest wish. The feathers and the rest of the superstitions were to make you seem irrational and foreign, as if you didn't belong and couldn't play your part as your father's heiress. The trickster aimed to revive the stories about your mother being an Obeah woman.”

“More than that, Mrs. Wolfe,” said Marina. “I was to figure as mad enough to believe I could follow in her footsteps. English Obeah to get revenge on those I fancied had been unkind to me.”

“Why then did you play into their hands by expressing an interest in botany and Jamaican culture?” said Chase.

“I knew you'd ask me that.” She sought reassurance from Lewis, who had sat down at her side. Not seeming to like Chase's confrontational tone, he clasped Marina's hand.

“Well?”

“I hated them, Mr. Chase. It was the only way I could punish them—by flaunting my past. I found that necklace on my pillow one evening. It was intended to frighten me, but I wore it and refused to remove it. I watched them all. I would ask my questions and see how they reacted.”

Chase seemed unsurprised by this answer. Suddenly he grinned down at her, pulled up a chair opposite hers, and said, “Good girl.” As Marina flushed with pleasure, he added, “Which of them is your enemy, Miss Garrod? You must have some idea. Or is it all of them? A conspiracy to defraud you of your inheritance?”

“I don't know who it is. It often seemed my father didn't trust them either. It's been worse lately. They stop talking whenever I enter a room.”

“They all have motive,” said Buckler, “depending on the terms of the will. Did Mr. Garrod ever mention to you how he intended to leave matters?”

She shook her head. “He wouldn't have discussed that with me, but I know he changed his mind frequently. He used to summon Ned to his study to hint at the current plan. By the next week, it was on to something else. Ned used to get so wild with him, but my father said he deserved this treatment because he kept exceeding his allowance. I must go back before they miss me.”

Buckler heard the rustle of her gown as she moved toward the door, but then she turned back, as if some fresh worry had struck her. “You heard I was born into slavery? Is…is the position of a manumitted person in any jeopardy should she be accused of a crime?”

He was puzzled. “You mean the manumission itself?”

“I just wondered if I could ever be deported back to Jamaica.”

“How should that be, Miss Garrod? You're a free woman with the papers to prove it. At all events, Lord Mansfield's decision in the Somersett case made it clear that slavery cannot exist in England. Even if you did not have these papers, having set foot on English soil, you can't be forced back into bondage.”

“I thought so,” she said gravely. “Still it was as well to be certain.”

Buckler hesitated, then said, “I hope you'll forgive my frankness, ma'am, but there's a law that limits the amount individuals of mixed race can inherit to two thousand pounds in Jamaican currency. I understand this law is likely to soon be overturned.” He was human enough to enjoy Chase's raised eyebrows but explained, “I've been browsing in Mr. Garrod's library.”

“I've heard my father speak of this law,” said Marina. “He's had many consultations with his lawyers on the subject. But he said I'd received something called a privilege grant that made everything all right. As if I'd been worried about it!”

Everyone looked at her blankly except Buckler, who said, “Miss Garrod's circumstances are not unusual among the Jamaican planters. The privilege grant bestows most of the rights of an English citizen. One can also obtain an exemption from the inheritance statute. The inheritance exemption is rare and difficult to obtain.”

“No doubt Mr. Garrod managed it,” said Chase dryly. “Illegitimacy is no bar?”

“None.” Buckler glanced at Lewis.

Marina said, “My father was always so worried about challenges to his will. He used to say that the John Crow vultures would pick his carcass clean as soon as he died. He wanted to be sure I would not be taken advantage of.”

Buckler wished more than anything to reassure her, but he owed her the truth. “You haven't yet reached your majority, ma'am. You are entirely subject to the will of your guardians.”

“That I was aware of.” She flipped her braid over her shoulder with quick impatience. “Aside from that, I am entitled to the rights of an English citizen? The right of property and inheritance? The right to a defense when accused? The right to liberty once exonerated?”

Buckler bowed. “I devoutly hope so. Else we would all find England a barbarous land indeed.”

Silence fell among them, as she looked into Buckler's face, her lips trembling a little as she tried to repress her emotion. A noise made them look toward the door to find the constable peering in. Before Marina could berate him, Buckler said, “Lewis, Chase and I will convey your sister back to the house. Why don't you take Miss Garrod?”

“Yes, sir.” His eyes went to his sister. “Are you coming soon?”

She nodded. “I need to speak to you anyway. Edward and I have been talking about our removal after the funeral tomorrow. We have overstayed our welcome.”

“No,” said Lewis and Marina in unison.

“Lewis,” said Penelope, “I feel as you do, but it's best…I had no thought to be away from Sarah for more than a few days.”

“You must go home, Penelope. But I cannot, not yet. I won't do it. I'll take a room at the pub if necessary.”

Marina Garrod looked at the floor. “I understand that you miss your little girl, Mrs. Wolfe, but may I ask you to leave Mr. Durant with me for a few days more? His company is of great value to me at present.”

Lewis said, “Don't be a little fool, Marina. Of course, I'm staying. Penelope, you go, and I'll return to London in a few days.”

“I'm not leaving you,” Penelope protested.

Buckler made an inarticulate sound, and Chase said, “This is all very pretty, but I have a murderer to catch. Miss Garrod, will you trust me to protect you?” He held out his hands to her, a hint of vulnerability showing in his face.

Marina raised her eyes to meet the keen gaze and gave his hands a firm squeeze. “Yes, I will, Mr. Chase.”