The Deathly Portent (42 page)

“His lordship is right, though, my lady,” said Tabby gruffly. “She hadn’t ought to have said nothing to nobody, not even you.”

“Yes, well, it is too late to be thinking of that,” said Ottilia firmly. “We must do what we can to minimise the damage.” She looked around the room. “At least those of us here may be trusted not to speak of it.”

This assurance did not appear to be mirrored in the faces of the trio, despite the widow’s fervent nod and Netherburn’s rapid, “I shall say nothing, ma’am, believe me.” It was left to Miss Beeleigh to express the feelings of the group.

“After all that has passed? Good God, no! Shouldn’t dream of spreading such a tale about.”

“Just so,” said Ottilia, and she turned again to Cassie.
“Mrs. Dale, it is not safe for you to be seen about the village. You had best remain here with us for the time being. Mrs. Hawes, will you be so kind as to fetch Mr. Kinnerton?”

“Oh no,” uttered Cassie, rising swiftly, her dismay genuine this time, Ottilia was convinced. “Aidan cannot be disturbed. He is with Tisbury and Wagstaff, arranging Molly’s funeral, for he told Lady Ferrensby so this morning.”

“Then he will come when he is finished,” said Ottilia in a soothing tone. “Mrs. Hawes?”

“Go and fetch him at once, Tabitha,” cut in Miss Beeleigh, as if her word carried more weight. “Ain’t as if we don’t all know the vicar cares more about Cassie Dale’s safety than that foolish woman’s funeral.”

Foolish? Ottilia eyed the creature with unalloyed wonder as Tabitha Hawes exited the room, ignoring Cassie’s protests. Foolish Molly had undoubtedly been, but her death had been encompassed in a fashion as macabre as it was undeserving. Was there no pity at all in Miss Beeleigh’s heart?

Mr. Netherburn had taken a seat next to the widow, his anxious gaze upon her pallid features. “I wish you will not look so distressed, dear Mrs. Radlett. I am sure the danger has been averted.”

Ottilia caught the widow’s appalled expression before she managed to overcome it with a pathetic attempt at a smile. Her voice quavered.

“Horace, is it possible—do you suppose Bertha might take her own life?”

“Instead of someone else doing it for her?” cut in Francis with a ruthlessness Ottilia had not expected of him.

She watched to see how Evelina Radlett took this and was scarcely surprised to see tears start in the creature’s eyes.

“Determined on setting us all by the ears, are you, Lord Francis?” snapped Miss Beeleigh, bristling in defence of her friend. “For my money, Evelina is in the right of it. No reason at all to suppose the murderer will strike again. All know
Bertha has been a wreck since that scoundrel of a husband got himself killed. Wouldn’t surprise me at all if she took means to end her suffering.”

Not until she’d found that pot of gold. But Ottilia did not voice the thought, instead glancing at Cassie Dale’s now pallid features. Was the girl taking this seriously?

“Don’t look so worn, Cassie,” she said, unthinkingly using the girl’s given name. She realised it even as Miss Beeleigh’s sharp-eyed glance hit her, and she hastened to retrieve the slip. “Oh, I do beg your pardon, Mrs. Dale. I am far too free, but you worried me so.”

Cassie shook her head. “It makes no matter what you call me.” She came to the table, looking down into Ottilia’s face. “Is she right? Could Bertha be so unhappy she might—she might—”

Ottilia seized her hand and drew her down to sit again. “Dear Mrs. Dale, if she did, none could blame you.”

“But what if she hung herself?” cried Cassie, desperate now.

It was clear to Ottilia that the notion of the vision, despite its being invented, had penetrated Cassie’s mind so deeply that she almost believed in it. Did she suppose Bertha Duggleby might take it into her head to do the deed, merely because she heard about it? As hear about it she would, since Francis’s excursions in the hall were intended to ensure Patty came out of the kitchens to investigate. By tonight, the tale would be all over the village. Which was precisely what Ottilia wanted.

C
assie’s fears were not wholly allayed, although Aidan’s representations, as he drove her back to Lady Ferrensby’s home, were comforting.

“Don’t forget, Cassie, that the whole thing is a concerted plot. Lady Francis meant for the village to know about the
vision, which is why you must be safely ensconced at the Hall.”

“But I had no vision, Aidan,” Cassie protested. “And if Bertha should die because of it—”

“She will not die. We don’t know precisely what Lady Francis is planning, but you may be sure she will have taken this into account. There must be a solid reason why she used Bertha in particular.”

Cassie looked round at him. The gig was proceeding at a sedate walk, the road to the Hall being pitted with holes since the storm. She could not help being glad of it, for it prolonged this precious time when they were for once alone, Tabitha having been sent, at Lady Fan’s request, to find Sam at the cottage and give him certain instructions.

She regarded Aidan’s profile with a jerk at her heart and had spoken the thought in her mind before she could stop it.

“You are the kindest of men, Aidan.”

He looked round quickly, and Cassie saw a light in his eyes that made her breathless. He pulled up his horse, and the gig came to a halt. Cassie’s heart began to beat a little faster.

“Forgive me if I am precipitate,” he said, “but I must speak.”

Cassie was instantly gripped by conflicting emotions. She had no thought of visions or second sight at this moment, but she knew precisely what Aidan intended. While she longed for him to say the words, she dreaded to hear them. He would offer. And she must refuse him. The knowledge sent her spirits plummeting. No, she could not bear to hear it.

“Don’t!” she cried, shifting back a little in the confined space. “Don’t say anything, Aidan. It cannot be. I cannot endure to hear the words, though I long to do so. It cannot be, Aidan.”

He grasped her hand with his free one, the reins slack in the other. “Why, Cassie? My feelings are not unknown to you. And though I cannot pretend to your talents, I will not
insult them and feign to be unaware that you are by no means indifferent to me.”

Cassie tried to draw her hand away. “Indifferent? I only wish it were so, for I could be less distressed at the necessity to hurt you.”

He would not release her. “But why must it be needful? You are a free woman—”

Cassie felt as if her heart must burst. “Free? Yes, free to join a sisterhood you must despise, were it not for Aunt Ida’s generosity.”

Perplexity showed in his eyes, and he let her go. “I don’t understand you.”

She retreated as far as the gig’s seat would allow, covering her eyes so she need not see his confusion.

“Are you talking of Lady Ferrensby?”

Cassie dropped her hands and flung them into the air, her feelings threatening to consume her. “Yes, Lady Ferrensby. There, you know it now. She is my aunt.”

Aidan’s bright blue gaze was fixed upon her, and Cassie could not avoid meeting it. “I wondered if you were in some sort related.”

“Then you should also have wondered why she brought you here,” cried Cassie, despair engulfing her. “You were carefully chosen, Aidan. I knew it from the first. Oh, she cannot have thought it would come to pass as swiftly, but—”

“Wait!”

Such was Aidan’s tone of command that Cassie stopped midsentence. She eyed him, a little frightened by the look of frozen shock in his face. But his voice was even.

“Is this true? She thought me a—what shall I say?—a desirable parti?”

Cassie almost snorted. “A desirable sacrifice, Aidan. Oh, I wish you had taken me in dislike, if only to confound her.”

For a moment he did not speak, and shame swept through Cassie. She could not have held her tongue had her life depended on it.

“You say nothing. Can it be you suppose me to be a party to my aunt’s matchmaking scheme? I promise you, Aidan, I knew nothing of it. The moment I guessed, I tried to—”

“Cassie, stop!” he cut in sharply, and there was hurt in the blue gaze. “Do you know me so little? We have been acquainted but a matter of days, Cassie, but I feel as if I have known you far longer. It is so for you as well, is it not?”

She could not deny it. “Yes, but I could not blame you for thinking ill of me.”

He smiled. A smile of such gentleness that Cassie’s heart turned over. “I could never think ill of you, Cassie. Don’t you know that?”

For a moment the warmth blossomed in her chest. And then she remembered. With a passionate cry, she thrust her hands out, as if to ward him off.

“But you will, Aidan, you will! You do not know the worst, and I could never cheat you. I would not cheat any man, but—”

One of her flailing hands was caught in a strong grip. “Cassie, nothing you can say will change my feelings towards you. I knew my mind within two days of knowing you.”

“Words! Just words, Aidan.”

“You prefer deeds?”

Before she could think what he meant, her lips were seized in a kiss so hard and strong that Cassie was shocked into silence. When Aidan released her, she could only stare at him, aware of nothing but the blankness in her head and the thumping in her own chest.

The blue eyes were tender. “There now, Mrs. Dale. Tell me now that you don’t believe my words.”

Tears sprang to Cassie’s eyes, but she ignored them. “I believe you. But you don’t know.” She drew a shuddering breath. “Aidan, I am not Mrs. Dale. There is no Mr. Dale. There never was. I am a fallen woman.”

It was said. Sick with dread, Cassie waited for the inevitable reaction, the disgust in Aidan’s face. Instead she saw a
rise of compassion there. She felt her hand taken and watched in fascination as he drew it to his lips.

“Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.”

Cassie snatched her hand away. “Is this your answer? To preach at me?”

He shook his head. “I am not without sin, Cassie. None of us are. It does not lower you in my eyes.” A little smile drew the corners of his mouth upwards. “Besides, I had already guessed as much.”

Arrested, Cassie blinked at him. “How? How could you know?”

“Well, not by the use of second sight.”

Too bemused to laugh, Cassie stared at him. He let out a sigh.

“I will be frank with you. Setting aside this witch business, your situation was strange. A widow, isolated from her family, who was clearly in some sort indebted to the proprietor of the village. And your retainers never addressed you as Mrs. Dale, but as Miss Cassie. I did not guess your relationship to Lady Ferrensby, although I supposed there must be a connection.”

Disbelief wreathed Cassie’s mind. “But don’t you care? You do not know my sin.”

“Nor do I wish to. I will not judge you, Cassie.”

Her heart swelled, and she was only vaguely aware of the tears trickling down her cheeks. But she could not let this pass.

“Do you think I could bear such generosity? No, you will hear me out.”

He frowned. “I will do so if you wish it, but only when you have consented to be my wife.” A sterner tone than she yet had heard entered his voice. “I will not have you take it into your head that there is some sort of divine forgiveness in my offer. I love you, Cassie. You, the creature of passion and insight. You, with your loneliness and your tragic eyes.
You
, Cassie. I don’t care what you did, do you understand? I adore you. I want you.”

To Cassie’s utter astonishment, a little of the darkness that had engulfed her for so long lifted. “Is it possible?”

A very gentle look came into Aidan’s face. “Are your visions uniformly unhappy? Can you not foresee an image of sunshine?”

She gave a laugh that cracked in the middle, and her heart was suddenly light.

“I must learn, if you will teach me.”

Then she could say nothing at all, for Aidan’s lips found hers again, gently this time, and all thought became suspended. Somewhere in the periphery of her mind she was aware of the uncompleted mystery still to be resolved, but her heart softly echoed to fulfilment.

T
he night was eerie. Despite the ban on any sort of conversation among those waiting in the shadows, Ottilia reflected, there was no such thing as absolute silence.

She could hear breath going in and out, including her own. From nearby came ripplings of water from the ever-flowing brook, with now and then a faint splashing sound to go along with a slithering that perhaps signified the motions of some nocturnal animal searching for a drink.

The moon was well up, casting a convenient gleam of silver to catch the bundle suspended from a rafter in the remains of the smithy roof. Even to Ottilia’s eyes, it looked horribly real. God send it would serve its purpose! Assuming the murderer came.

A faint
pitterpat
disturbed her heartbeat on the thought. The trap was laid, but had the perpetrator taken the bait? Had Ottilia been too clever? Was it possible that devious mind could outthink her and refuse to play the game out to the finish? Or was the risk too great not to take advantage of the opportunity?

Ottilia was banking on the fact that the murderer must be awaiting the chance to eliminate Bertha Duggleby. She
could bear witness; therefore, she could not be left alive. But to escape detection, the circumstances had to point to Cassie Dale.

If Ottilia had the measure of the creature, the plan must work. If not—no, she dared not think of failure. Not at this juncture.

Francis, sturdy at her back and armed nevertheless, inclined to the belief the murderer would wait a day or so. He might be right, in which case, as she had said, they must lie in wait again tomorrow night.

The thought of going through it all a second time made Ottilia’s heart sink. They had been obliged to take a circuitous route around the green to avoid being spotted. Ryde had been sent on ahead, concealing himself in Cassie Dale’s cottage with Sam Hawes, primed by his wife to bring an empty portmanteau for the necessary equipment. Anyone must suppose Sam was fetching and carrying for Mrs. Dale, known to be staying with Lady Ferrensby. Ryde and he had smuggled what was needed away. The two of them had done all that was required by the time Francis and Ottilia arrived at the smithy, having made their way around the back of Uddington’s shop and the Cock and Bottle, and crossed the stream downriver by way of an old wooden footbridge. It was then left to Francis to arrange the bundle suitably and tie it off on a convenient hook.