The Houseparty (25 page)

"But Jeremy—"

"You may ask him all the questions you want once he ' gets back from London," Sir Henry said benevolently. "He'll be going straight there to make his report, but then he'll be mustered out and sent home, I should think. He's served above and beyond the call of duty."

"Thank God," she
breathed,
her eyes bright with joy. "And he'll stay home?"

"I wouldn't guarantee that," Sir Henry replied temporizing. "He was quite taken with a young lady in London, and there's been talk of a match between the two of them. The lady happens to be my daughter," he added sheepishly, and allowed himself to be enveloped in a jubilant embrace.
"Not that he won't give his father-in-law a severe dressing down for allowing his sister to get involved in such dangerous activities."

"Oh, he won't blame you," she said confidently. "He knows me too well to think anyone could keep me in line."

"Well, I only hope you've learned your—
What
in the name of all that's holy was that?"

Elizabeth's normally ruddy color had paled. "It sounded somewhat like
a . . .
a scream, sir."

"But where did it come from?"

"Directly outside the wall here," she choked out.

At that moment
Adolphus's
portly figure appeared at the top of the stairs, an affable expression on his round face as he minced toward them. "I'm afraid my uncle was overcome with guilt."

"I beg your pardon?" Sir Henry gasped.

"I pointed out how grievously wrong he'd been in pursuing his recent course, and he decided that the gentlemanly thing to do was to put an end to it."

"An end?"

"Over the parapet," Adolphus elaborated cheerfully. "A tragedy, of course, but really quite a neat solution to all our problems, don't you think?"

"I didn't know suicides screamed when they jumped," Elizabeth said slowly, and Adolphus favored her with a benign smile while picking an imaginary speck of lint from his puce overcoat with ominously scratched hands.

"I am certain that in the normal run of things they don't," he told her. "However, Uncle was, despite everything, a
Wingeft
, and they can be expected to do the unexpected. I can only hope," he continued without any real feeling, "that he didn't land on Captain
Fraser.
That would be rather a case of killing two birds with one general, don't you think
³
" With a light laugh he sauntered past the two horror-struck listeners.

"Michael," Elizabeth gasped.

"Don't worry, Miss Traherne," Sir Henry said in a distracted tone. "Fraser's dodged French bullets and swords for the past seven years without much more than a scratch; I doubt one small general would be more difficult to avoid."

"Did Adolphus
really . . ."
The words failed her, and Sir Henry nodded slowly.

"There seems to be little doubt that he actually did. Just as I've always suspected he saw to
LeBoeuf
himself. The Wingerts are an odd bunch when it comes right down to it. I suppose I should go apprise my men of the situation. The men won't like it."

"I expect they already know."
Adolphus's
light voice floated up toward them from further down the winding stairs. "I'll be with
m'mother
. Have to break the news to her about poor old Uncle. She'll be distraught." The voice faded in the distance.

The two of them went down the dangerous, winding stairs a great deal more slowly than their affable host, holding on to each other for a small kind of creature comfort. The
contessa
met them at the bottom of the stairs, a question in her dark eyes.

"It's over, Lonnie," Sir Henry said heavily. "Sir Maurice jumped from the parapet."

"That's not what Michael said," the
contessa
observed. "He saw two figures struggling up there while he was looking for the papers. Someone threw him over. Was it you, sir?"

"Don't be idiotic!" snapped Sir Henry, his usually even temper finally succumbing to the stress of the evening.

"I'm afraid it was Dolph," Elizabeth said in hushed tones.

"Sir Adolphus?" the
contessa
echoed. "Well, I'm impressed. I wouldn't have thought Adolphus was that much of a man."

"Contessa!"
Elizabeth shrieked. "He murdered his uncle for nothing more than family pride."

"Well, it does tidy things up nicely," she pointed out callously, and Elizabeth shuddered.

"Did they find the papers?" Sir Henry interrupted them.

"Oh, yes. Rupert told me to tell you he has them safe.

He and Michael are overseeing the removal of the body right now. Quite messy, I'm afraid. You'll want to avoid the east courtyard, Miss Traherne."

"I would like nothing more than to avoid everything and everybody in this wretched place," she said crossly, and then, with an uncharacteristic display of emotion, promptly burst into tears. A moment later she found herself enveloped in the
contessa's
perfumed arms. She allowed herself to be led down the hallway to the dubious haven of her room, with the soft voice murmuring soothing sounds all the while. With deft hands her comforter helped her undress, wash her scrapes and bruises, and climb wearily and
weepily
into the big soft bed.

"I'll tell everyone that you don't wish to be bothered. I don't wonder that it's been a shock to you, and that fool must have run off without even stopping to see how you were," she observed, having missed nothing of Elizabeth's varied and tearful complaints and immediately fastening on the most offensive of the lot. "But you know how men are, my dear. They never think."

"But that's just the trouble," Elizabeth wailed. "I don't know how men are."

"Well, take it from an expert. They're all rag-mannered and idiotic and not worth half the trouble they cause. And that includes Michael
Fraser.
You'll be well rid of him."
This last she offered in the way of an experiment and was well satisfied with Elizabeth's reaction.

Elizabeth's response was to bury her head in her pillow, howling with misery. The
contessa
placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, Elizabeth. Everything will be just fine in the end. I realize you feel wretched right now, but by tomorrow morning you'll feel more the thing. Trust me."

"The only thing that will make me feel better," came the damp, muffled reply, "is Michael Fraser's head on a platter."

Reassured as to the fondness of Elizabeth's feelings, the
contessa
took her departure, making her way directly to Fraser's side with a great deal of interesting advice. Elizabeth fell into a deep and mercifully dreamless sleep.

Elizabeth awoke late the next morning full of aches, crotch-
ets
, and a great sense of ill usage.
The sight of her reflection did nothing at all to dispel her mood of gloom. Across one cheekbone was a bruise of a startling purple hue, which had doubtless come when she'd collapsed so gracelessly on the stone parapet. The back of her head still ached from the blow of her unknown assailant, and her stomach rumbled with hunger. It was already past nine, and she hadn't eaten since the noon meal the day before.

With any luck, she told herself crossly as she dressed with hasty movements, Michael
Fraser
would be long gone with the morning light, and she wouldn't have to see the wretched creature ever again. And Jeremy was back! That one brief look was scarcely enough. Michael
Fraser
would be easy enough to ignore if Jeremy was still there. At least some good had come of all this.

As for the rest of this miserable
houseparty
, the sooner she was gone from this ghastly place, the better. She wasted an extra ten minutes making her thick chestnut hair fall in its most attractive arrangement, disdained to powder her magnificent bruise, and made her way downstairs to the smaller library at the front of the house. With a great deal of presence she seated herself at a card table, summoned a servant, and requested that coffee and cinnamon buns be brought to her in her hideaway. The parlor maid, somewhat used to the oddness of the house and its inhabitants by this time, hastily did her bidding without more than one or two curious glances and then hastened to inform the master of the house and his breakfast guests where the final member of the
houseparty
was to be found.

She was well into her second game of patience when Sumner and a glowing
Brenna
appeared in the doorway. "Wish us happy, Elizabeth," Sumner ordered in mellow tones.
"Brenna
has condescended to make me the happiest man in the world."

"Well, if she has already done so, I fail to see why you need my wishes," Elizabeth observed irritably, "it's her that will
be needing
all the help, having to put up with the likes of you."

"Sumner is the best of all men,"
Brenna
said in misty tones, convincing Elizabeth for once and all that love must surely be blind.

"Well, I am delighted. This has been far too long in coming," she said, struggling to say all the proper things despite her own black humor. "Have you set a date for the wedding?"

"As soon as Jeremy returns, we shall. This dreadful business with Sir Maurice has overset everyone, and we felt it would be ill-mannered of us at the moment,"
Brenna
said smoothly, before Sumner could reply.

"Where has Jeremy gone off to?" Elizabeth demanded, news of his defection setting the seal on her foul temper. "I barely had a chance to see him last night."

"And he's not very pleased with you, I must say,"

Sumner pontificated. "You'd best expect a rare dressing down once he returns."

"Returns from where?" she questioned, keeping a tight leash on her temper.

"London. He and Rupert took off at first light. Sir Henry's orders, I gather."

"How nice," Elizabeth said listlessly, refusing to ask the question that most exercised her mind. "I'm very glad he's safely back and very happy for the two of you." She rose from her seat and embraced the Irish girl with unfeigned enthusiasm. "Welcome to the family,
Brenna.
I know Jeremy will feel the same."

"Thank you, Elizabeth,"
Brenna
replied smoothly. "And I want you to know that you will always be a welcome guest in our home."

Elizabeth looked startled for a moment,
then
smiled, silently applauding her future sister-in-law's adroitness. "I'm sure you'll see to that," she responded, with only a trace of mischief.

"We're going down to the manse so that
Brenna
can have a look at her new house. She'll want to make changes, spruce the old place up a bit, make it more habitable," Sumner continued, with a fond look at his chosen one.

Elizabeth, who previously had considered the manse to be more than presentable, bit her tongue. "We're taking the trap. You don't mind waiting until I bring
Brenna
back? The trap's rather crowded with three people."

Elizabeth minded a great deal. "Perhaps Lady Elfreda will lend me a carriage?" she suggested, not putting any reliance on the notion.

"Her ladyship's gone into seclusion.
Perfectly natural, of course.
She's sustained a double shock, losing her brother-in-law like that and then losing
Brenna,"
Sumner said solemnly. "I wouldn't bother her with trivialities at a time like this, Elizabeth. It surely is not too great an importunity to ask you to allow my affianced and myself a few hours of privacy."

"No, of course not," she said with a sigh.

"That reminds me, Elizabeth," Sumner said, tearing his besotted gaze from his glowing bride to be. "Rupert asked me to give you his regards and to tell you he will have something to ask you when he returns. I had the oddest feeling that he might be planning to make you an offer."

"You think so?" she inquired dully, surveying the cards laid out in front of her with unseeing eyes.