The Valentine's Day Ball (18 page)

“Not us—you.” He continued to climb while Jane watched in fear. He lost his footing and sent a shower of small stones to the ground as part of the stairway collapsed.

“Drew!” screamed Jane. “Please come down! There’s no one there. The abbey is old—it’s tumbling down about our ears.”

“Quiet!” he commanded, and Jane glared at his back.

He stepped onto a narrow walkway that ran the length of the wall. In the past, it had been a corridor leading to the monk’s chambers. Now, it was little more than a ledge.

Jane closed her eyes and whispered a quick prayer. When she opened them, Drew had disappeared. She ran along the wall, searching for some sign of him. Suddenly, Jane gasped.

“Easy!” said Drew, grabbing her arms as she tripped over another fallen stone.

“How did you get down here?”

He held up a rope. “This was tied around the tower up there. I simply swung down to the ground. It took only a matter of seconds.”

Jane paled and Drew led her to the shade of a nearby tree to sit. Jane shook her head and said, “But who would want to do harm to either of us? I have no enemies.”

“I don’t wish to contradict you, Jane, but there have been too many suspicious incidents lately.  Perhaps there is a disgruntled tenant?”

“Suspicious incidents?” she whispered.

She watched as he controlled his expression, giving her a gentle smile of reassurance.  “You are right.  It was nothing but an accident.

“The rope was probably left there by some local boys. Tying it around the tower no doubt loosened some of the stones. We shouldn’t let it bother us, but I don’t think it would be wise to visit the abbey alone in the future.”

“No, I doubt I shall.”

He pulled her to her feet, but made no attempt to embrace her. Jane tried not to feel disappointed.

“Come, let’s go home. I could stand a glass of ale. It is terribly warm today,” said Devlin.

“What? Reduced to making conversation about the weather, my Lord Devlin?” Grinning, she returned to the horses. As he threw her into the saddle, she yelled, “Race you to the first fence!”

b

Monday morning dawned bright and clear. Jane dressed in a severely cut carriage dress of hunter-green. Her hair was pulled back in a tight chignon at the nape of her neck—her schoolmistress look.

Tom Summers, clad in red and black livery, drove the open landau at a spanking pace to Laura Place. The young groom, James, hung onto the back, smiling and winking at the pretty servant girls as they rolled along.

Jane was shown into the soothing salon at Laura Place where Mrs. Peterson joined her only moments later. They lost no time going out to the carriage. James hopped to the ground and assisted them into the well-sprung vehicle.

“It is so kind of you to show me around the countryside. You shall be much better company than a mere guidebook, my dear.”

Jane laughed. “I should hope so. I always imagine guidebooks are written by musty old dons who are bent on boring schoolboys to death.”

As they crossed the Old Bridge, Faith Peterson said, “What a beautiful Judas tree.”

“That path leads to the Chapel of St. Mary Magdalen. It was built in the Middle Ages. For a time, it was a house for lepers, hence the significance of the blood-red Judas tree blossoms. We are going up to Beechen Cliff. It is an excellent vantage point to view the city and all the countryside beyond—it is four hundred feet high.”

A short time later, Tom Summers pulled up on the ribbons. “Will you be wanting to walk about, Miss Lindsay?”

“Yes, Summers.” The groom jumped down and ran around to open the carriage door. After helping each of the ladies to alight, he stood rigid as a soldier.

“James, would you set out that basket and some carriage rugs?”

“Yes, Miss Lindsay,” he said, bounding into the carriage and gathering the items Jane wanted. He spread the rugs under a tree and placed the basket on top of one.

“Will there be anything else, miss?”

“No, we’ll do. You may come back for us in about an hour.”

“Very good, miss.”

Jane led Faith along a rock-strewn path, close to the edge of the cliff. “If you look across the valley, you can see the Royal Crescent and Lansdown Hill beyond.”

“It is beautiful. Now, what is that hill?”

“That’s Solsbury Hill. Below it is Swainwick, a delightful little village. It was the first site of civilization in the area, though I’m not certain how civilized it was. Bath has been occupied by the Romans and Danes, as well as the native population. It was originally called
Aquae Sulis
, so it has long been known for its healing waters. Legend has it that a British king named Hudibras had one son named Bladud. This son contracted leprosy and was expelled from the village. In order to survive, Bladud became a swine herder. He gave his pigs the disease, and it was they who found the healing waters.”

“Very believable—have you tasted the famous waters? They taste like swine have been bathing in them.”

Jane chuckled. “The other version of Bladud’s legend is that he built a temple to Minerva, the Roman goddess of medicine. According to this legend, Bladud used black magic to make the healing bath.”

“Oh, I much prefer the swineherd theory.”

“I must confess I do, too. As a little girl, I would beg my father to tell the story over and over. I could just see Bladud, a future king of Bath, cavorting in the pigsty!”

They shared a laugh over this tale. Then Mrs. Peterson asked, “Where is all the limestone found for which Bath is so famous?”

“Most of it is in the quarries on Combe Down. Ralph Allen, who patronized the revival of elegance in Bath, owned it. The architects Wood senior and junior used it for many of their buildings. Those massive columns on the fronts of the houses in the Royal Crescent are all Bath limestone. The houses, so magnificent in front, are quite dull in back. This led to a saying in the past century, ‘Queen Anne in front and Mary Ann behind’.”

“There now—you see what I mean! A guidebook never gives one such interesting tidbits!”

“Would you like to return to the blankets and have some of Cook’s pastries now?”

“That sounds delightful. I didn’t have time for breakfast this morning. I slept too late after Martha FitzSimmon’s literary evening. I’m just not accustomed to these late nights yet.”

“Do you think you’ll stay in Bath, Mrs. Peterson?” asked Jane as she opened the basket.

“Yes, you can’t imagine how heavenly it is to have nothing to do all day but visit with people. My brother-in-law’s estate in York was too isolated to allow daily contact with the outside world.”

“That must have been difficult for someone who seems to enjoy people.”

“It was, at times. I had a small circle of friends who would visit me on occasion, but nothing like this. Of course, I shan’t allow myself to become an idle fribble entirely. I have spoken to your rector—Hall, I believe is his name—about helping with the parish poor. I suppose once a clergyman’s daughter…”

“So you are well and truly settling in. Does Drew plan to make his home here, also?” asked Jane casually.

“For the time being. But even if he doesn’t like to think about it, someday he will be Earl of Cheswick. His responsibilities will require him to spend part of the year in York. And then, if he chooses to take his seat in the House of Lords, London will be his residence when Parliament is in session.”

“I didn’t realize he was interested in politics.”

“Not politics—government. He feels very strongly about helping the poor, regulating the factories that are springing up all over the country. But, of course, you wouldn’t know that about Drew. That’s hardly a topic he’d choose to take up with a pretty young lady.”

“I don’t see why not. I am interested in such things. It is the duty of all of England’s citizens, men and women, to take an interest in the less fortunate.”

“True, but as women, you and I do all we can through our church work. That is the way of society. And never belittle the importance of the work we do, Jane. Our work is more personal—we have the satisfaction of seeing the children happy and smiling, rather than hungry and sullen.”

“You’re right, of course. How is it, just the mention of Drew’s name, and I am all up in arms?” said Jane.

“I wouldn’t dare guess, Jane. But I do think it’s an excellent question for you to ponder. My, but your Mrs. Brown makes the best teacakes I have ever put in my mouth!”

Tactfully changing the subject, they debated the efficacies of one ingredient over the other when baking teacakes.

b

That same afternoon, Drew again rode to Heartland, but he entered the grounds through the back pasture. He guided his big grey stallion into the woods, circling the green lawns until he had a view of the driveway. Then he dismounted and tethered his horse in the shelter of the trees, away from prying eyes.

His mother had told him she and Jane intended to go sightseeing that day, and he didn’t want to miss the opportunity Jane’s absence would provide.

Drew hadn’t discussed the incident at the abbey with his mother when he returned to Laura Place, but it was foremost in his mind. That night, he had declined an invitation to join his friends at cards so that he might set his thoughts in order. This had long been his way of dealing with problems. And he felt certain these accidents represented a very real problem—protecting his Jane, preferably without her knowing.

Donning his green brocade dressing gown, Drew had settled in a comfortable chair in his sitting room. His mother had gone out, and he had sent the servants to bed, preferring to be completely alone with his thoughts.

The first incident had been the locked crypt door with him and Jane trapped inside. Havelock had been present on that occasion, but Drew hadn’t seen that as a threat, so he hadn’t interrogated Havelock. The other people at the abbey that day were all in London, so he couldn’t question them about Havelock’s movements.

The shelf falling in the larder did represent a threat to Jane, and he would need to question Mrs. Brown about that. True, it hadn’t proven to be life-threatening, but the accident was suspicious.

The robbery by the highwayman hadn’t harmed Jane physically, but it had stunned her emotionally. Devlin would have Pipkin question the footman about the thief’s appearance. If it had been Havelock, the description would be enough—few men were as large as Jane’s cousin. If it had been the footman, Sims, perhaps Mickey could remember some distinguishing mark. Drew felt certain Havelock was connected to the robbery. How else had he found the large sums of money necessary to pay off his gambling debts?

And the last
accident
, the one that had come so very close to ending Jane’s life? His own, also, when he had tried to save her. There was no way he could prove Havelock or his henchman had been up there. The best he could do was to ensure that Jane didn’t go to the abbey alone again. She had said she wouldn’t—he would have to believe her and do the best he could to protect her anywhere else.

And so, at first light, he had sent to Bow Street in London, requesting a discreet Runner, an investigator who would be willing to work privately for some time. Next, he had roused Jane’s lawyer, Mr. Crankshaft. He had explained a great deal to the close-mouthed solicitor before the man had agreed to answer his questions concerning Jane’s heir. In essence, Heartland was up for grabs when Jane died, if she hadn’t produced any offspring. At present, the logical heir was her aunt, Roland Havelock’s mother.

And Drew had only himself to blame for having set Havelock’s curiosity and greed to work. Heartland was one of the richest estates in England—certainly a prize worth murder, if one had few scruples. And Roland Havelock had never struck him as a particularly scrupulous man.

Drew watched as Jane’s coachman drove the landau down the long drive to the road. At least her groom was perched up behind. He waited ten more minutes before mounting and turning his horse toward the house.

“My lord,” said Pipkin, bowing. “Miss Lindsay is from home at the moment.”

“Yes, I know, Pipkin. Actually, I came to see you. Is there some place we could be private?”

Pipkin nodded and led the way to the study. Drew knew he had shocked the old man, though Pipkin gave no indication of such. But after Drew’s rather pointed remarks about Jane the day before, perhaps the butler thought he wanted permission to pay his addresses to Jane. But Drew’s amusement was quickly banished as he recalled the serious nature of his visit.

“I’ll be brief,” he began when the door was closed. “I very much fear someone is trying to kill Miss Lindsay.”

The butler turned a sickly green and his prim mouth drooped. Drew took the servant’s arm and led him to a chair. He turned, his gaze searching out a decanter of port. He gave a full measure to Pipkin before sitting in front of the butler. Pipkin seemed to have aged before his eyes.

“Are you all right? Should I send for someone?” Pipkin shook his head and sipped the strong liquid. “I’ve shocked you; I’m sorry. I would say I was mistaken, but the matter is too grave for such weakness.”

“Please, my lord, I want to hear what you have to say. I’ll be fine. Please continue.”

“We visited the abbey last Friday on our ride. Just as Miss Lindsay was standing by one of the remaining walls, several huge boulders fell. I managed to push her out of harm’s way. Then I ran up the old steps. Someone had tied a rope around the tower, presumably for a quick escape.”

“Village children?” asked the butler weakly.

Devlin shook his head. “Jane thought she heard thunder just before the rocks fell. The sky was clear as a bell. I believe she heard someone pushing the stones that last little bit to make them fall. A child, even a youth, couldn’t have moved those stones. I daresay I would have had trouble. Someone wanted to harm your mistress.”

“What does Miss Lindsay say about this?”

“When I suggested such a thing, she became so upset that I dropped the matter entirely. I can understand. She has always been so well-loved in the neighbourhood, she cannot fathom why anyone would wish her harm.”

“No one would, my lord. I can’t imagine why—”

“Perhaps in the hopes of obtaining Heartland?” said Lord Devlin quietly.

“Mr. Havelock!”

“He is my favourite suspect, but that may be because I do so dislike the man. And how about this Sims that Jane mentioned?”

“Yes, I can see him involved in such a nefarious scheme. I’ll sack him immediately!”

“No, you mustn’t, Pipkin. Better the devil we know than one we don’t. If he is here, you can keep an eye on him. Tie his hands, so to speak.”

“True. But we must do something. Miss Jane, why, she’s…” The butler stood up, his demeanour as proper and unrelenting as ever, despite his misty eyes.

“I would like to speak to Mrs. Brown, your cook, and also to Miss Lindsay’s maid. Those two, I think, will be our greatest allies.”

“There is not a body or soul on Heartland who wouldn’t give his life for Miss Lindsay, my lord.”

“No doubt you’re right, Pipkin. But with all that protection, we would never be able to catch the blackguard. And believe me, I have every intention of catching him.”

“Amen,” said the butler, bowing his head. “Mrs. Brown sent that Sims fellow out on an errand not thirty minutes ago with Mickey along, so we needn’t worry about him. I think, m’lord, perhaps it would be best if you accompanied me to the cook’s sitting room. Mrs. Brown coming to the study when everyone knows the mistress is out would appear strange. Let me go first. I’ll see to it the scullery maids are busy elsewhere.”

Moments later, Drew was sitting in a cosy parlour just off the kitchens. There was a tidy desk against one wall, a comfortable chair, and a small sofa in front of the spotless fireplace. Pipkin entered, followed by two middle-aged women. Drew inclined his head to them.