Authors: Rebecca King
Tags: #romance, #thriller, #historical fiction, #historical romance, #mysteries, #romantic fiction, #romantic adventure, #historical mysteries
“So why
call on me? If you have spent everything you have been given then
you are a stupid, foolish man who deserves everything he gets out
of life.” She glanced around them and held her arms out. “If you
have driven yourself to this then you deserve to live here and you
can damned well stay here and rot, Julian Pendlebury, because I
shall never help you get out.”
“If it
doesn’t concern her then why write to her demanding her help?”
Patty demanded before Lizzie could storm out of the
room.
“I got
arrested for your murder, Lizzie,” Julian spat. “How in the hell
could I be held responsible for that? As far as I can see, you are
alive and well.”
He
stared at her bronzed complexion and the rosy glow to her cheeks
that she had developed while being away. She looked utterly
beautiful and, although he would never admit it, he could
appreciate why McArthur was devastated about losing her. Still, she
had been a thorn in his side since he was a young boy and he was
going to be glad to see the back of her.
“You
need to tell the authorities that you are alive and prove to them
that you are, well, you. Then they will release me.”
“I had
to sign the register to get in here. They will know I am not dead.”
Lizzie could see no reason why she should go to such lengths for
him before he had not only made her a few promises, but backed them
up with actions too.
“They
need proof that you are alive, Lizzie. You need to go to see
magistrate Hampton in person. Signing a register in someone’s name
doesn’t provide the authorities with the proof they will need to
release me.” He nodded toward the guard to indicate that ‘them’
meant the people in authority. “Tell Hampton who you are. Take him
to Pendlebury House and get the staff there to verify who you are.
Take him to McArthur, the solicitor, anyone. Just get me the hell
out of here,” he demanded.
“Why
should I?” Lizzie challenged. “You have done nothing for me. In
fact, if it was left to you I should be in a ditch by now. I owe
you nothing and shall do no such thing to secure your release. If
anyone wants to know whether I am alive then they can come and see
me. If they don’t then you shall remain here.”
“Lizzie,” Julian sighed.
“I don’t
care what you have been up to. Sort yourself out, Julian, just like
I have had to. Spending your entire fortune you inherited is your
problem not mine.” Her mind raced as she tried to decide what to
do. She had hoped to gain some money off her step-brother in
payment for securing her help but if the coffers were empty then he
had nothing to pay her with. “What have you done with Bristledown
Priory?”
It hurt
to even speak of the house where she had grown up. It had been her
home before she had been orphaned by a fire that had taken her
father’s life. She longed to be able to see it again. That thought
set her to consider an entirely different future and she sat back
in her seat while she contemplated whether he was likely to agree
to what she was about to suggest.
“It’s
still there,” Julian warned darkly. “Nobody will buy it in the
state it is in and I don’t have the money to repair it.”
“So you
have done nothing with it?” She knew he hadn’t but needed him to
confirm it.
“It will
take a small fortune to put right and I don’t like the bloody place
as it is. Why should I go to the time and trouble of repairing it?
I inherited the bloody albatross when your mother passed. It can
rot for all I care.”
Lizzie
snorted disparagingly. She suspected that the only reason Julian
didn’t like the estate was because it was too far away from a
gaming house but wisely kept her thoughts to herself. It wouldn’t
do to antagonise Julian too much too soon. No, she understood now
that the best way to deal with Julian was to think like
him.
“So are
you going to help me, or not?”
Ignoring
his question, Lizzie leaned forward and braced her elbows on the
table, carefully ignoring it when it wobbled alarmingly. “Who
informed the authorities that I was dead?”
“That
blasted lover of yours. He came around the morning after you left
and threatened me. When I told him I didn’t know where you were, he
told me to find you or he would have me arrested.”
He
sighed and ran his hands wearily down his face. At the time, he had
considered being in prison to be the answer to his problems.
However, several days in this place had cured him of that misnomer.
Now, he desperately wanted out; and would gladly face whatever was
waiting for him on the outside rather than spend another day in
this soulless mausoleum.
“Ben
told the authorities you had killed me?”
“The
staff reported they had heard us arguing the night before you left.
I told them you had walked out and hadn’t died but nobody believed
me.”
Julian
didn’t add that he had been arrested having been found mumbling,
still half-drunk, about dead bodies and rivers. By the time he had
sobered up his fate had already been sealed. No matter how much he
had protested his innocence, nobody was willing to believe
him.
“Your
lover convinced the magistrate I was guilty so I was put in here on
suspicion of your murder.” Julian pointed across the table at her.
“You are still alive, sister of mine, so get your rear end to the
magistrate and tell him.”
Lizzie’s
heart lurched at the thought of Ben being worried so much about her
whereabouts that he felt driven to go to the magistrate. She felt
guilty now that she hadn’t at least written to him as soon as she
had reached Derbyshire, but she really hadn’t expected him to care
that much. She was stunned, shocked, elated, yet at the same time
quietly horrified. It was wonderfully exhilarating to think that he
might care enough about her to try to see her the morning after the
ball, but that joy also brought with it a bitter pang of regret.
Regret at what might have been if she hadn’t left Pendlebury House
just before dawn and had instead waited just a few more hours until
Ben appeared. Her life might have been entirely different by now
but then she might never have met Patty, who had been more of a
family to her in a few short weeks than Julian had been in several
long years.
“They
want to foreclose on Pendlebury House,” Julian declared coldly
after several long moments of tense silence.
“Who?”
Lizzie asked with a frown.
“I
borrowed money off the bank and used Pendlebury as security. They
want the house because I cannot pay the debt off.”
“Why are
you telling me this?” Lizzie snapped. “Do you think I care what
happens to you or Pendlebury House?”
“I tried
to find you,” Julian said, ignoring her question. “I found out from
the coaching office on the outskirts of town that you had purchased
a ticket to Derbyshire. One of the maids vaguely remembered your
face. She couldn’t be definite it had been you, but it was the best
clue I had. I could vaguely recall you had a relation somewhere
around there but I couldn’t remember which one and didn’t have an
address,” Julian countered. “I had to go to your second or third
cousin in Kent, Lizzie, to get an address. It took me weeks and
weeks because I had to travel to Kent to locate the blasted man,
all because you couldn’t be bothered to tell me where you were
going.”
“You
told me to get out of the house because I was a disgrace,” Lizzie
shouted. “You told me you had no interest in what I did, or where I
went.”
“That
reminds me,” he countered thoughtfully. “You stole some money of
mine. I want it back.”
“Ha! You
owe me that, and more, in payment of all of the items of my
mother’s you have stolen from that house and sold to pay for your
whoring,” Lizzie challenged. “While we are on the subject, given
that you need my help, I will go to the magistrate and prove who I
am to secure your release. However, in return, I want something
from you.”
Julian
looked her square in the eye. She knew he wanted to tell her to go
to Hell, but instead he merely looked at her
challengingly.
“What?”
“I want
Bristledown Priory signed over to me. Tell me where to find the
deeds of ownership and I will arrange for the solicitor to draw up
the transfer papers. Meantime, I will get him to confirm to the
magistrate who I am. I have known Broghampton for several years. He
dealt with my mother’s estate upon her death and will vouch for me.
However, I will ensure that you remain in here until you sign
Bristledown over. You clearly don’t want the place, but I
do.”
“It’s a
wreck,” Julian snorted.
“I don’t
care.”
“You can
have it,” Julian snapped, prepared to do anything to secure his
release.
He
studied Lizzie for a moment, inwardly rather impressed by her
ruthlessness. He had always considered her to be a soft and gentle
woman who was weak and somewhat easily led. To see this new side of
her shocked him. If he was honest, it brought forth a new hint of
respect for her that he hadn’t expected to feel, and he was a
little perturbed by it. Up until that moment she had always been
the rather pesky younger step-sister he had always resented. Now,
he rather admired her dignified strength. “You have changed,
Lizzie. At one time you would never have even thought about being
so devious. I don’t know what has happened to you. Maybe Derbyshire
hasn’t been all that good for you after all.”
“Ha!”
Patty snapped. “She has done far better being with me, Pendlebury,
so I caution you to watch what you say.”
“You
happened to me, Julian. You and your self-centred ways have
impacted on my life enough. I will gladly remove myself from your
life once and for all. However, given everything you have taken
from me, I am going to make sure that you fulfil your obligations
as the head of this family seeing as you seem to have forgotten
them. Give me Bristledown and I will get you out of
here.”
“Fine,”
he agreed without thinking. “Consider it a deal.”
Lizzie
frowned at just how easy that had been but straightened her
shoulders with an air of satisfaction.
Julian
suddenly looked almost conciliatory. “Just listen for a moment.
What I have to tell you next really does involve you.”
“I know.
People think I am dead,” Lizzie snapped impatiently. Strangely, she
began to suspect that he had yet to drop the worst of the
news.
“No.”
Julian shook his head. “It is more than that.” He dropped his voice
to a low murmur and leaned closer.
“How?”
Her voice, although quiet, still echoed around the small room. She
stared at him then looked at her aunt who pursed her lips and shook
her head. She had no idea what this was all about either but then
having spent several years living in Derbyshire, Lizzie really
didn’t expect her to.
“If you
have borrowed money in my name I swear, with everything that I
have, that I shall see you imprisoned for it.”
“I am in
prison,” Julian snorted. “What else can you do?”
Lizzie
had to concede that he had a point. She couldn’t envisage anything
worse than having to live in the cesspit they were currently
sitting in, but refused to back down.
“I can
make sure that whatever crime you have committed is added to your
list of misdemeanours and you will spend even longer in this back
end of nowhere.”
“I
haven’t committed a crime,” Julian reported flatly. “Well, not
another crime in any case.” He flicked a furtive glance toward the
guard. “What I have to tell you involves your ownership of
Pendlebury.”
“I don’t
own Pendlebury House. You do,” she declared quietly. She didn’t
care what scheme he had cooked up while she had been away, she
wasn’t going to get dragged into it.
Julian
coughed and shifted in his seat. He was clearly uncomfortable about
something but, whether that was from having to break the news to
her, or her possible reaction, she wasn’t entirely sure. She knew
that he was guilty of something; he always used to squirm like that
when he told lies as a child.
“You
part-own Pendlebury,” Julian declared suddenly, studying the
battered surface of the table closely while he waited for her
reaction.
“No, I
don’t,” Lizzie countered automatically. If she did, this was the
first time she had heard of it.
“Father
left half of it to you in his will. I am – was – your guardian,
Lizzie, until you came of age. I was to look after Pendlebury until
you reached one and twenty, or got married. Then I was to either
pay you the equivalent market value for your half, or sell my half
to your husband. We were young at the time the will was written.”
He snorted and shook his head. “It appears that my darling father
wanted to please your mother and agreed to put Pendlebury in both
of our names. Neither you, nor her, inherited anything from your
father’s estate after his death. I don’t see why my father felt the
need to provide for you, but he did. You had a pot of money given
to you, and half of Pendlebury, but with a stipulation that you
would receive both only upon reaching a certain age.”