The Stolen Bride (20 page)

He followed her eyes. “Disgusting, isn’t it? My father took it off Chelmly’s hand and forced me to wear it as if he was already dead—” A scratch at the door interrupted him and they turned to see the marquess’s secretary, Mr. Tyler. Sophie could see that the sandy-haired man had been crying.

“Yes, Tyler?” said Randal wearily.

“I have prepared the list of those who must be notified of the marquess’s condition, my lord. Would you care to scrutinize it?”

Randal waved him away. “No. I’m sure you know better than I who should be told.” When the man had left he turned to Sophie. “We’ll have to send out couriers to stop the guests from coming to the wedding. Just the family here will attend and we’ll have to stay here afterward, Sophie. I have to look after the duchy for him...”

Sophie remembered their tryst for the twenty-eighth at Fairmeadows in the big front bedroom overlooking the rose garden. Oh God, why did such things matter? It was just she and Randal that mattered, as he had said. “If you want it that way, Randal, it will be so. But think on it a bit more,” she asked.

“Very well,” he said, clearly with little intention of doing so.

Another scratch at the door brought Willerby, the groom of the chambers. “Your pardon, my lord, but there is a man here to collect documents the marquess was to have prepared. He says they are of importance.”

Randal made an impatient movement but then said, “Put him somewhere and send Mr. Tyler to see what it’s all about.”

He turned away and ran his fingers through his hair. “I haven’t had a moment...” he said distractedly. “Can no one do anything without my word?”

“They are as disordered as you are, Randal,” she said, soothing his hands down from his face. She drew him to a sofa and sat, holding his hand. “I know you don’t want all this,” she said, “but you have the ability to run the duchy.” She tentatively tried for a little humor. “Chelmly will be awfully cross if you let the place go to wrack and ruin.”

He gave a slight laugh but then leapt to his feet to wander the room again. “He has no enemies. The doctor suggested a disaffected tenant or even a radical but it seems absurd. Who would want to hurt Chelmly?” He stopped dead. “Oh God, Sophie,” he whispered. “If he dies, how am I going to cope?”

Before she could try to find an answer, Mr. Tyler was there reporting drily on an investment which had been planned in a shipping enterprise and the documents which needed to be signed. As the matter was technically business of the estate and not personal to the marquess, he related, Randal could sign.

“Does my father know anything about this?” asked Randal helplessly.

“Only the bare bones, my lord. He does not entirely approve of mercantile ventures.”

After a moment Randal said, “Get the man and I’ll come and go over it all with you.” He turned to Sophie. “This place is Bedlam. It would be best if you went back to Stenby for now, Sophie. Mrs. Hawley is here with the carriage and I would like you to ride back in it with her.”

“Mrs. Hawley?”

“She came seeking you earlier and was overtaken by a sick headache.”

“Oh. But I can ride back.”

“I’d rather you didn’t. If there’s a madman about I want you safe. I’ll send a pair of armed grooms as well.”

He was already moving away and it seemed to Sophie it was mental as well as physical. She was losing him in some way. “When will I see you again?” she asked desperately. “Shall I come over tomorrow?”

He shrugged. “If you wish but it will probably be even worse by then.” He turned and left.

Sophie pressed her hands to her face, seeking the strength she needed. It was all very well to understand the pressures which were besetting her beloved, but it didn’t make it any easier to handle the fact that he seemed almost a stranger. She had to believe that even if the worst should happen and Randal became the heir to the dukedom the ease would return, the humor come back into life.

Meanwhile it was for her to help as best she could.

She made a decision and sent for Willerby. She noted that despite his stately manner the man was distressed. She supposed the whole household was in a state of turmoil.

“Willerby,” she said, “I understand this is a considerable shock to everyone and that you look to Lord Randal to take care of everything. But you mustn’t overload him, Willerby.”

She saw the man absorb her words. “I see, milady.”

“You, Mr. Tyler, Mr. Sedgewick and Mrs. Young must be able to run this place with your eyes closed. Do so. Don’t come to him for every little thing.”

He bowed. “I understand perfectly, milady. Thank you.”

Sophie hoped that would give her beloved a little respite. She went off to find Mrs. Hawley.

A few hours’ rest had largely dispelled Beth’s sickness but she was shocked to see how pale and drawn Sophie looked. It was not unexpected, of course. It was just that Sophie had always seemed a golden child, untouchable by life’s harsher winds.

“Oh Sophie,” she said. “This must all have been terrible for you.” She opened her arms and the girl came into them.

“We were just speaking to him,” she said. “And then that happened. And now he might die, Beth. It’s not fair!”

Beth tightened her arms, remembering her husband. He’d been a naval officer and had courted death in his profession, but she had never expected him to die. He’d been young and he’d enjoyed life so.

There was nothing adequate to say and so she said the inadequate. “Accidents do happen, my dear.”

“It wasn’t an accident,” said Sophie flatly, pulling away. Tears rolled down her face and she sniffed. “Oh Beth, do you have a handkerchief?”

Beth provided one. “What do you mean, it wasn’t an accident?”

Sophie blew her nose. “The doctor thinks someone attacked Chelmly, deliberately tried to kill him.”

Beth sat down abruptly in a chair. “It’s not possible.”

Sophie shrugged. “It happened. Randal wants me to return to Stenby in the carriage and he’s sending outriders. It’s all quite outlandish, isn’t it?”

Beth thought it certainly was and those strange notes came into her mind. But what possible connection could there be between demented notes to Sophie about her marriage and an attack on the Marquess of Chelmly?

As they were preparing to climb into the carriage, Chloe Stanforth came hurrying over with her son in her arms and his nursemaid in tow.

“Sophie,” she said breathlessly. “Can you take Stevie and Rosie to Stenby? This is no place for a child and his happy nature is out of order with Chelmly so ill.”

Perhaps sensitive to atmosphere, Stevie was sucking his thumb and clinging to his mother’s gown looking solemn. Sophie looked at Beth for guidance. Beth could not imagine Jane refusing such a request and nodded.

“Of course,” Sophie said and the maid took the child into the carriage.

“Thank you,” said Chloe, brushing damp hair distractedly off her face. “This is the most terrible thing... I can’t believe it. I will send a groom over with some of Stevie’s toys and clothes.” She looked at Sophie closely for the first time. “I’m so sorry about your wedding,” she said.

“Randal wants it to go ahead,” Sophie said.

“Next Wednesday! But what if Chelmly should...” Chloe stopped herself from uttering the dreaded word. “And why not,” she said resolutely. “Whatever happens, Randal needs you more than ever now. Take care of Stevie for me, Sophie, please. I would go with him but I am concerned for Grandmama.”

With that she hurried off and Sophie and Beth mounted the steps. “Do you too think it shocking?” Sophie asked Beth a little defiantly.

“To carry on with the wedding?” Beth responded. “I think no purpose would be served by delay, Sophie, and Lord Chelmly would be the first to say so. At times like these we must sometimes go against convention to find the true path.”

As she said it, Beth thought of herself and Sir Marius. Did she have the courage to follow her own advice?

Randal was with Chloe and his grandmother when Justin Delamere and Verderan returned from their investigations. He crossed the room halfway to meet them and Verderan placed a turnip-size rock in his hands. It showed damp earth on one side and blood on the other.

“In the path?” asked Randal.

“No,” said Justin. “There was a trail of someone leaving the scene and the rock was off there to one side, as if thrown away. It was a planned attack, Randal.”

Randal looked down at the rock blankly. “But why?”

“There’s no way of knowing yet. But we found something else.”

“What?”

“There’s a mark on a tree there,” said Justin. “A rope was stretched across the path to trip the horse. When Chelmly fell someone tried to finish him off with that.”

Even Verderan made a slight movement of protest at this blunt telling. One remembered that Justin Delamere had been a soldier in the thick of the Peninsular War and was no stranger to violence.

“How is he?” asked Justin soberly. “Will he pull through?”

Randal gave a slight gesture of helplessness. “There’s no way to tell,” he said. “He just lies there. Killigrew refuses to give up hope but even he has to admit that the longer he is unconscious, the worse it looks.” He looked down at the blood-stained rock and his hand tightened on it. “I want the man responsible. Come.”

He went as if to leave the room but the autocratic voice of his grandmother stopped him. “Randal,” said the dowager duchess. “Come here with whatever that is.”

After the briefest hesitation he obeyed.

The dowager’s eyes took in the stone and needed no explanation. “How could anyone!” she demanded in broken outrage. “How could anyone? Chelmly has never injured anyone.”

Chloe Stanforth leaned over and put a hand over the older woman’s. “They’ll find the villain, Grandmama,” she said softly and looked up at the three men; her husband, her cousin, and the Dark Angel whom she didn’t trust but believed capable of almost anything. “Won’t you?”

“Yes,” said Randal, “we will.”

Men were sent out to search, others to alert all nearby villages, inns and coaching houses. Assistance was called for from the military at Shrewsbury and a Bow Street Runner was summoned from London. Randal, fretting, was left to care for the Towers and support his father while Justin and Verderan rode out to personally supervise matters. Soon David and Marius, alerted by Sophie’s recounting of affairs, were assisting.

 

Sophie and Beth arrived back at Stenby to find Jane already frantically undoing all the complex arrangements for the grand wedding. She accepted the arrival of Master Delamere as a minor inconvenience and arranged for his quartering. This was helped by the fact that the child had fallen asleep on the journey.

“Though a sweet enough child,” Jane commented, “he seems to attract trouble.”

Beth was surprised to find that Sophie was determined to start learning to run a great house but saw immediately why. She had always thought the girl more capable than she seemed and in her response to impending tragedy, she was showing it. Sophie changed out of her bedraggled habit into her most plain and functional gown and set herself to work. Beth hoped Sophie would never be the Marchioness of Chelmly but she saw no harm in the girl learning management and there was no better prescription for her at the moment than employment.

Three staff members with neat hands had been set to writing the notes to inform the wedding guests of the unfortunate circumstances and the curtailment of the ceremony. Beth and Sophie took the task of supervising and checking these notes against a master list. After a little while, however, Beth saw that this job was hard for Sophie. It focused on the marquess’s injury and gave too much time to think. She asked Jane if she had a more active task available.

“Someone should go to the village,” Jane said, “and cancel all the orders. It is more suited to a servant but...”

Beth shook her head. “They would want to talk about the accident and Sophie needs to get her mind off her problems for a while.”

Jane and Beth reviewed all that needed to be done but all the tasks were reminders of the disastrous circumstances and most were administrative. Then one thing came to mind.

“I just remembered. Would you believe that in the middle of all this our mysterious invalid has recovered her memory? She’s a Mrs. Haven from over Stone Way. She doesn’t know why she was coming to Stenby except that she has been ill since a death in the family. She remembers leaving her coach and servants at Market Drayton and so a message was sent there this morning. Unless she is suffering from delusions, her people should come to collect her tomorrow. Not that we need the space anymore,” she added helplessly.

After a moment she pulled herself together. “Mrs. Haven asked to see Sophie before she left,” said Jane. “Why don’t you suggest that she does that to make sure the woman has all the help she needs to take her leave.”

Beth passed on this suggestion and saw Sophie leave her boring task with alacrity.