The Charmer (56 page)

A few minutes later, Bessie
peeked around the door. "Mistress Cowdrey's here to see you."

"How pleasant," her
father said from his bed where he was propped against pillows. Susanna had
thought he was asleep.

She gave him a smile then picked
up her embroidery basket and followed Bessie out to the landing. "Mr. Holt
said no visitors. Not until he returns."

"Aye, but it's Mistress
Cowdrey. Surely he meant only men."

A shiver chilled Susanna's spine.
She put her basket down but picked up the small knife she used for snipping
threads. She tucked it up her sleeve. "Just in case," she said to a
wide-eyed Bessie.

"Oh, m'lady, you don't
think..." Bessie gave a small yelp then covered her mouth with her hand. "I'll
tell her to go."

"No, it's all right. I'll
talk to her." If she was the one trying to kill Susanna, then asking her
to leave might only serve to enrage her and put the servants at risk.

She reached the bottom of the
stairs and entered the great hall just as Margaret emerged from the parlor adjoining
it. She had her arms folded and her cloak draped over them, hiding her hands.
Susanna kept her distance. Bessie remained at her back. "You may go,"
Susanna said to her maid.

Bessie didn’t move.

"Margaret," Susanna said,
smoothly. "This is a surprise. What brings you to Stoneleigh?"

Margaret's eyes were unblinking,
yellow-green orbs. "My brother."

"Is everything all right?
He's not unwell, is he?"

"Don't play the simpleton
with me," she hissed.

The hairs on the back of Susanna's
neck rose. Behind her, Bessie drew in a sharp breath. "Bessie, go."
To Margaret, she said, "State your business then leave."

Margaret's upper lip lifted in a
sneer. "It feels good, doesn't it?"

"What does?"

"Being mistress in your own
house. You're even luckier than most. You are both master
and
mistress
here at Stoneleigh." Her mouth flattened, her eyes sharpened as her gaze
bored into Susanna. "Yet you want to take over Cowdrey Farm too."

"Uh, no. I don't. I'm not
going to marry your brother, if that's your fear. I don't love him."

"Love? Ha! Did you love
Phillip? Or your first husband?"

"I was...drawn to them.
Foolishly, as it turned out. They were not the best of husbands."

Margaret spluttered out a laugh
but it was harsh and cruel. "Perhaps if you'd been a better wife he would
have treated you with more kindness. Phillip was a true gentleman." Her
nostrils flared and the sheen of unshed tears covered her eyes. "He was a
good man and you ruined him with your willfulness and your disregard for
his
needs. I told him so. I warned him he was making a mistake choosing you over
me."

Good lord! No wonder Margaret was
so bitter. She had been in love with Phillip, but he had rejected her. "You
think you would have been a better wife to him? You are less biddable than me,
Margaret. Do not pretend otherwise."

"I would have changed for
Phillip's sake. I would have done whatever he needed of me. I would have been
the best wife to him. He still chose you."

"That is hardly my fault.
Many, many times I've wished he hadn't."

Margaret took a step forward. Her
eyes were slits from which she watched Susanna the way a feral cat watches a
mouse. "You lying
witch
. You set out to seduce him and you got what
you wanted."

"I did not—"

"I've
seen
you, Susanna.
The way you look at men with lustfulness, tempting them with your pretty face
and the sway of your hips. You lure them as a siren lures her victims with her
voice."

"Nonsense."

"You wanted to tie them to
you so you could take over their estates. That's why you killed them, isn't it?"

Susanna was prepared for the
accusation, but it still came as a shock. It took her a moment to gather her
wits.

"She never did such a
thing!" Bessie cried.

"Hush, it's all right,"
Susanna murmured.

"You tried to bend them to
your will," Margaret went on, "but they would not bend so you ended
their lives to earn your widow's portion."

Good lord! Did she truly believe
such madness? "If that were the case, I would have already accepted your
brother's offer of marriage. He is the most docile of them all and Cowdrey Farm
extensive. If I wanted a husband I could manipulate, I would choose Walter. But
I have not."

Susanna didn't see the hand
coming until too late. The slap stung and sent her stumbling into the wall.
Bessie steadied her and angled herself between Susanna and Margaret, but
Susanna set her aside with a gentle nudge. Margaret's direct gaze looked
straight past the maid as if she wasn't there.

"Fetch Hendricks and
Cook," Susanna said quietly to the maid.

"I'm not leaving you with
her."

"You have to. Go. Now."

Bessie rushed off, glancing over
her shoulder until she reached the end of the hall and had to turn the corner.
Susanna let the handle of her knife drop down into her palm.

"My brother would be perfect
for your needs," Margaret said, her words twisted with bitterness,
"except for one thing. He has me." She tapped her chest. "
I
would not let you get the better of him.
I
would not let you overrun
Cowdrey Farm with your ridiculous orange trees and your wanton ways. It's
my
place as much as his and you know that. You
know
you can't control Walter
while I'm there, that's why you've rejected him thus far. But I know your kind.
You bewitch men to the point where they're soon begging and will do anything to
have you. Walter is on the verge of marrying me off because of you. Me! His
beloved sister, the mistress of Cowdrey Farm. The one who spent years
experimenting with new techniques, planting different crops, striking deals
with merchants as far as London. I am the reason for Cowdrey Farm's success,
not him, and you will not take it away from me with your simpering prettiness and
whoring. I'm not going to marry. I am not leaving. Ever."

Susanna let the insults roll off
her. Margaret had bottled up her anger for so long, she needed to let it escape.
Perhaps this outpouring would help her. Perhaps she would not try to kill
Susanna after all.

"The farmer Walter has been
meeting with in the village...is that who he wants you to wed?"

"His lands are half the size
of Cowdrey. I'll not accept him, and you will not force Walter on the
matter."

"I've rejected Walter time
and again," Susanna said. She had to keep using logic, keep Margaret
thinking and not acting on violent impulse. "Why would I change my mind
now?"

"He's not a complete fool,
my brother. He's been slowly thwarting your plans for financial freedom to make
you need him more. I admire him for his fortitude and cleverness, if not his
tastes in women."

"You mean by tricking me
into thinking I'd written to London shopkeepers when I hadn't?"

"That is the final touch,
and a deft one, but there were others. Withholding his men so that you couldn't
make repairs on Stoneleigh, not giving you the tools necessary for such tasks
or giving you faulty ones. He made sure you suffered setback after setback and
that they were costly ones."

It was a relief to hear the
admission, just as much as it had been when Orlando told her about the merchants.
Susanna had always thought the delayed repairs on Stoneleigh were in some way
her fault, but now she knew they were not and it lightened her heart.

"I can assure you," she
said, "that you have just made marrying Walter even less appealing. I
certainly won't wed him now."

Margaret stepped closer to
Susanna, backing her into the wall. "Yet he will persist and persist and
persist because that's the sort of fool he is."

"Then confront
him
,
not me."

"Oh I will. But first, I
have something to take care of. Something I've wanted to do in a very long
time." Before the last words were out of her mouth, she lunged. The cloak
fell away and the blade Susanna suspected she'd hidden all along thrust up.

Susanna darted aside, lost her
balance and fell. The knife struck the wood paneling behind her. She called out
to alert her staff. Footsteps came running. Her name was shouted from somewhere
deeper in the house. Margaret heard them too. She pulled the knife out of the
wall and struck before Susanna could regain her balance.

The blade sliced through the
forearm Susanna put up to shield herself. She screamed. White hot pain tore up
her arm. She scuttled across the wooden floor on her rear, kicking at
Margaret's feet and feeling for the handle of her own knife.

Her back smacked against another
wall. Trapped.

Margaret stood over her, knife
raised, cold fury glinting in her eyes.

"Susanna!" Orlando. The
desperate cry ripped from his throat as he took in the scene. But he was at the
other end of the large room. Too far.

He ran, blade in hand, fierce
determination etched into every line on his face.

But he would not reach them in
time.

With a shrill cry, Margaret
plunged. Susanna struck upward with her own knife at the same time. It caught
Margaret in the chest just below her shoulder, not close enough or deep enough
to strike her heart.

Yet Margaret's eyes widened in
shock. Her grip loosened on her blade's handle, dropping it. She fell forward
as her hands scrabbled at her back. Orlando was there now and he caught her
before she could fall on Susanna. He lowered Margaret to the ground. A knife
protruded from her back. Blood oozed from the wound.

"Susanna!" Orlando
picked her up and drew her to his chest. It pounded furiously, matching the
beat of her own. "Susanna." He held her against him as he inspected
her injured arm. It hurt like the devil but the cut wasn't deep and had already
stopped bleeding. "I couldn't get to you," he muttered into her hair.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left you. I shouldn't
have—" A shudder cut him short and he never finished the sentence.

"I'm all right, Orlando. Is
she...?"

"Yes."

Susanna closed her eyes and wept
into his chest. He settled on the floor and cradled her in his lap. She was
vaguely aware of others surrounding them, covering Margaret's body, wrapping
something around Susanna's injured arm, but she lost track of time and place. It
became just her and Orlando, his hands lightly skimming her, checking for other
injuries, his lips pressed to her forehead and the pulse of life throbbing in
her veins.

She didn't want the moment to
end.

"What in God's name happened
here?" The voice belonged to Jeffrey, and it shattered Susanna's cocoon.
She extricated herself from Orlando although he kept hold of her hand as they
both rose.

Jeffrey and Monk stood at the far
end of the great hall. Cook, Bessie and Hendricks hovered nearby, looking
uncertain and anxious.

"Who's under there?"
Monk asked, nodding at the blanket.

"Margaret Cowdrey,"
Orlando said.

Monk merely nodded while Jeffrey
went white. "Margaret? What happened to her?"

"I killed her," Orlando
said.

Jeffrey took a small step back
and hid partially behind Monk.

"She was going to kill
me," Susanna said, showing him her injured arm. It had stopped bleeding, but
it still hurt. Some of Widow Dawson's salve should soothe it.

"Aye," Hendricks said.
"Mr. Holt saved her." He gave Orlando a firm nod.

"Dear God," Jeffrey muttered.
He must have realized he was in no danger because he crossed the length of the
hall and lifted the edge of the blanket. He pressed the back of his wrist to
his mouth and nose. "Where's Farley? I need to speak to your father,
Susanna, and find out what really happened."

"Father wasn't here. He's
asleep and knows nothing of this. We'll tell you what happened." She did,
leaving nothing out.

"Can anyone confirm your
story?" Jeffrey asked.

Susanna stretched out her arms,
indicating Orlando, her staff. "All of them can. You doubt me,
Jeffrey?"

"No, no," he said
quickly. "But as justice of the peace, it's my duty to gather all the
facts, and not from Mr. Holt himself but an independent witness."

"We can vouch for what
occurred here," Cook said. "Saw it with our own eyes, we did. All of
us."

Jeffrey turned his back on her.
"Anyone of
standing
, Susanna? Or is it just yourself? Because I'm
not sure your account is all that independent since you clearly...like the killer."

"Jeffrey, you are being
ridiculous. Margaret Cowdrey came at me with that knife there." She
pointed to Margaret's weapon.

Monk came up behind Jeffrey,
fists at his sides, his level gaze on Orlando. Orlando appeared still, calm,
but she could feel the ripple of pent-up emotion in their linked hands. He let
go and dread filled her.

"Susanna," Jeffrey said
on a huff, oblivious to Orlando's dangerous mood, "I have to do this
properly. The witness account of mere servants is not as weighty as—"

Orlando's hand whipped out and he
grasped Jeffrey's jaw. Jeffrey yelped and struggled to get away but failed.
"Hear this. I killed Margaret Cowdrey because she was going to kill
Susanna. That is how you'll record it. Only after that will we release the
plans for the orange tree shelter to you. Do you understand me, Lord Lynden?"

"Plans for the orange tree
shelter?" Cook echoed.