Anna Jacobs (17 page)

“Ever the gracious host,” sneered Elkin.

“Never the gracious host where you’re concerned,” Matthew snapped. He pushed his chair back. “I have things to do.”

“So do I.” Deborah fled to their bedroom and stayed there, mending one of Matthew’s shirts and wishing Elkin would leave.

But two hours later Mrs Elkin’s maid came and knocked on the door in great distress, begging her in to come and see her mistress, who was vomiting again. When she saw how bad Mrs Elkin was Deborah realised with a sinking heart that they would have to continue to entertain their enemy for a day or two longer.

She went to look for Matthew, but couldn’t find him. Jem thought he was out “talking to someone” but was very vague about who and where, so she didn’t press the point, just left a message for him that Mrs Elkin was worse.

On the way back she saw Elkin come to stand in the front doorway, looking out thoughtfully across the gardens. Hoping he hadn’t seen her, she ducked behind some shrubs until he went in then made her way to the kitchen for another confrontation with Mrs Simley, who was being as awkward as she could with everyone but Elkin.

* * * *

When Matthew came up to change his clothes for supper he said abruptly, “Elkin went into the village today and spoke to this stranger who’s staying at the inn again. Thompson sent his lad to follow them, but young Sam couldn’t get close enough to overhear what they were saying.”

“Is Elkin planning more mischief, do you think?”

“Undoubtedly. I’m going to hire a couple of fellows to help me keep watch here tonight. If he can bring in reinforcements, so can I.”

“Is that really necessary?” She blushed at what she had been hoping for that night and hoped he hadn’t noticed.

“I think so.” But he had guessed what she was thinking. Hell, he had been thinking about it, too. Only—if he had to choose between saving her life and making love to her, he’d save her life, of course he would. He didn’t dare let himself be distracted, so he deliberately kept his voice curt.

After an interminable evening of stilted conversation and long silences, Deborah went upstairs to their bedroom. When Matthew joined her, he saw she’d made no attempt to undress.

“You might as well get some sleep,” he said gruffly, standing with his arms folded and his back against the door.

“What about you? You look so tired.”

“I shall be all right.”

He looked across at her. “I didn’t like to see you walking with Elkin.”

Her heart lifted just a little, because that sounded very much like jealousy. She risked going across to lay one hand on her husband’s arm. “I don’t like to be near him. His touch makes my flesh crawl, as if his very skin is unwholesome.”

He looked down at her hand. “And my touch does not?”

“You know it doesn’t.”

He raised one hand to caress her cheek briefly. “If it were not so important to keep watch, I’d stay and prove that. Would you object?”

She blushed, but shook her head. “No.”

He looked her very directly in the eyes. “Will it be your first time?”

She nodded.

“I thought so. That’s why I don’t intend to rush things. It must be right between us, now and in the years to come, if we’re to make a good marriage.” He took a determined step sideways and grasped the door handle. “Get you to bed. No need for you to stay awake as well as me.”

But when he’d gone, she couldn’t bear to get undressed, she knew not why, so changed back into her everyday garments, laying the new black gown carefully in the press before she got into bed. These clothes were so crumpled already, it hardly mattered if she slept in them, but if anything happened, she intended to be ready to help.

* * * *

Just before midnight Seth made his way down the stairs and slipped out of the house, using a spare key he’d purloined from the big rack of keys near the kitchen door. Only trusting fools left keys lying around like that and they deserved all they got.

The farm labourer Matthew had hired to keep watch at the rear blinked in shock as a man crept out of the house. He had not believed his new master about there being mischief plotted, but he did now. He began to follow the man, trying to make no noise.

Just outside the village, Seth met Frank as arranged and the two turned back towards the house. “You’ve got the pistol?”

“Yes. Loaded and ready primed. Don’t worry. I know how to use it and am accounted a good shot.”

“Well, if you blow Pascoe to eternity tonight, you’ll be well rewarded.”

Frank smiled. Knowing the situation, he’d be well rewarded by his own master as well, but he didn’t share that information with Seth. He’d made sure no one had followed him from the inn and when they were nearly at Marymoor, he stopped Seth and insisted on checking that they were not being followed now.

“Who’s the hell’s going to follow us?” Seth growled. “Jem’s keeping guard on the stables and Pascoe’s watching the house. One man can’t watch both my master and me at the same time.”

“Better safe than sorry. Walk on slowly.” Frank slipped away into the darkness.

A couple of minutes later there was an exclamation and a grunt, followed by a dull thud, which sounded like a body falling. Seth stiffened, not liking to be proven wrong.

Frank appeared beside him, grinning, his teeth showing white in the light of the waning moon. “We were being followed, but the poor man had an accident and won’t wake up for a while.”

“Let’s get on with it, then.”

They made their way in silence towards the house, avoiding the stables and entering by the kitchen door. But the second man hired by Matthew to patrol the boundaries of the gardens saw them coming and was more careful how he followed them than his companion had been, waiting in the shrubbery until they’d gone inside.

Once they were indoors Seth led the way slowly towards the hall where Matthew had been keeping watch. Seth paused, with a soft exhalation of annoyance.

Behind him, Frank tensed.

“The bastard isn’t here,” Seth mouthed close to his ear.

“Let’s wait a few minutes. He may only have gone out for a piss.”

There was the noise of footsteps from the direction of the library and both men fell silent again, moving back into the shadows. There was enough moonlight in the hall for Seth to be sure of his victim. No one else at Marymoor was as tall or had as broad shoulders. His own master was tall, too—it ran in the family—but he was much thinner built than Pascoe. He nudged his companion.

Frank cocked his pistol, but the click made the intended victim jerk round, and at that moment the watcher who had followed them inside called out, “Look out, master! He’s got a pistol.”

Matthew threw himself to the side and the ball buried itself in the wood panelling where he had been standing. “Get him!” he roared. The labourer dived towards Seth while Matthew tackled Frank.

A desperate struggle ensued, because although the labourer was willing, Seth was more skilled at close fighting and not afraid to use dirty tricks. Frank was also skilled, but he made heavier weather of his encounter with Matthew, who was a strong man and much bigger than him.

The noise brought Deborah out of her bedroom holding one flickering candle aloft and Elkin out of his, wearing a banyan unfastened over a nightshirt.

“What the hell is going on?” he demanded.

“I think we have intruders,” she said.

“I must help!”

Before she could say anything else, he ran down the stairs, barrelling into Matthew and Frank just as Seth punched the labourer on the chin and sent him staggering backwards to thump against the wall and fall over a chair. Glancing towards the stairs, he saw Deborah coming down, muttered a curse and edged quickly out of the hall, using the servants’ stairs to hurry up to his room.

Somehow Elkin got in Matthew’s way and thanks to his intervention, Frank was able to wrench himself free and turn for the kitchen just as Deborah reached the foot of the stairs.

She caught a brief glimpse of him, not enough to identify him, but enough to make her feel there was something familiar about him.

By the time Matthew had got to his feet and rushed out after the intruders, all he found was the kitchen door open but no sound of flight outside. He yelled, “Jem! Intruders!” but kept himself out of sight, not wanting to attract another shot.

Frank, standing in the deep shadow of the stable wall, smiled as Jem stared round, saw nothing and ran towards the house. Swiftly but cautiously Frank then made his was back to the inn. On the way he heard the man he had thumped staggering along the lane long before he reached him, and moved to stand behind a tree as the other stumbled past him. Another fool! he thought as he slipped back into the inn.

He stood by the window of his bedroom for a while, keeping watch on the street to make sure no one had pursued him, but when nothing happened to disturb the peace of the night, he got undressed and lay down on the bed. It was galling to have his shot spoiled like that. It would not be nearly as easy to get another chance at Pascoe from such close quarters now that he was warned that someone wanted him dead.

* * * *

In the big house Matthew was glaring at Elkin. “You allowed them to escape.”

“I was trying to help.”

Deborah, watching, thought how ugly he looked without his wig. The shaven head with its light stubble seemed to emphasise the viciousness of his character and the deep lines of dissipation on his face.

“Then please refrain from helping us in future,” Matthew snapped. He could prove nothing, but he was quite sure that Elkin had let the man go on purpose. “Where’s that manservant of yours?”

“In his bed, I expect. He sleeps very soundly.”

“Through a noise like this?” Matthew gave a disbelieving laugh and turned towards the stairs. “I intend to check on that.”

“Do so!” Elkin waved one hand languidly. “I need a brandy to restore my spirits. Do you have such a thing, Cousin Deborah? I beg you to pardon my state of undress.”

She could hardly bear to speak to him, as sure as Matthew that he had deliberately made it possible for the man escape. “I don’t know whether we have any brandy or not. You’ll have to ask Matthew when he returns.” She turned to the labourer who was standing by the wall. “Are you all right, Peter?”

“Yes, mistress. Just a few bruises and such. I was sorry that fellow got away. He fights nasty, he does.” He fingered a deep scratch across his cheek. “He was going for my eye.”

“I’ll bathe that for you in a minute. If you go into the kitchen, perhaps you could get the fire going to heat some water?”

Jem spoke from the doorway. “The intruders got clear away, Mrs Pascoe. Not a sign of them. What happened here?”

“Someone got into the hall and shot at Matthew. He’s gone to check on Elkin’s man, who seems to have slept through the whole thing.”

“Oh, did he?”

Jem sounded as disbelieving as she felt.

Upstairs Matthew was first accosted by the Simleys, demanding to know what had happened. As they were speaking Seth came out of his bedchamber, wearing a nightshirt and yawning, while Merry peered out of another door.

Seth was overdoing the sleepiness, Matthew thought grimly, but as with Elkin, you couldn’t prove that he’d been involved in the attack. “We had intruders break into the house, but we drove them off,” he said curtly.

Mrs Simley screamed and had to be comforted by her husband.

Merry listened wide-eyed but said nothing.

“Does my master need me?” Seth asked.

“I can’t say. You’d better find out.” Matthew turned on his heel and made his way downstairs again.

Deborah was waiting in the hall, with several candles lit now. She came to meet her husband at the bottom of the stairs. “Well?”

“Nothing can be proved one way or the other. I know what I think, though.”

“Me, too. Elkin wants a brandy.”

“Let him serve himself, then. There’s some in the library.”

“You’re not hurt in any way?”

“No. The bullet missed me completely, thanks to Peter’s warning.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. They looked at one another, then he said softly, “Go back to bed now, Deborah.”

“I want to tend your man’s scratches. And I doubt I’d sleep anyway.”

They went through into the kitchen, but just as Deborah was picking up a bowl there was a sound outside. Matthew stiffened and put one finger to his lips.

However, the person was making no attempt to be quiet and it turned out to be the other labourer, still groggy from the blow to the head.

By the time they’d tended to both men and got their versions of the night’s events, which suggested that Seth had indeed left the house, the sky was lightening. They left the man who’d been knocked out sitting in the kitchen while the other continued to patrol the outside.

“We can prove nothing,” Matthew said when they were alone in their bedchamber. “No one saw the faces of the two attackers, well, not clearly enough.” He saw that Deborah couldn’t hold back a yawn and put his arm round her. “I think we should both go to bed now. I must get an hour or two’s sleep or I’ll be good for nothing today.”

But he lay awake for a while listening to her breathing slow down as she fell asleep, feeling the warmth and softness of her body against his and the hardness of his response to her presence. He was very tempted to wake her up.

He didn’t. He wanted more out of their marriage than a sensible business arrangement. Much more. And a hasty coupling was no way to start off.

* * * *

In the library Elkin poured himself a brandy and when Seth joined him, said in a savage undertone, “You bungled it.”

“He had extra watchers outside we didn’t know about.”

“Make very sure you don’t bungle it next time! Is that fellow in the village worth dealing with again?”

“Aye. He gave a good account of himself and he’s the one who noticed the man following us—and dealt with him efficiently. His aim was good and Pascoe would be dead now if we hadn’t been interrupted.” He heard footsteps passing through the hall and raised his voice. “I’ll see you in the morning, then, sir.”

“Aye. But not too early.”

Elkin sat on in the library, sipping the brandy and considering his options. He wasn’t going to give up now. He wanted Marymoor more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life, but to that desire was now added a grim determination to best Matthew Pascoe. And then deal with that stupid bitch the man had married, the bitch who’d brought Marymoor to his enemy.