Melinda Hammond (19 page)

 'How comforting it has been to have you with us tonight.' Mrs Worsthorne smiled fondly at her son. 'I don't know when I last been so well entertained.'

 'It was indeed a wonderful evening.' agreed Verity. 'Thank you, Megs. Goodness, it is nearly midnight. If you will excuse me I think I shall retire, it has been such a long day.'

 'But surely Cousin you will not go yet!' cried Luke. 'Let Mama go on to bed, but give me another chance to have my revenge at backgammon.'

 Verity smiled but shook her head.

 'That pleasure must wait for another evening, Cousin. I long for my bed.'

 He dropped to his knees beside her chair.

 'But you have never seen the full moon rising over the moors. The clouds have disappeared now and soon the moon will be in full view. Step outside with me, it would be the perfect end to your birthday.'

 She laughed at him.

 'Luke! There will be other moons. I think I can last a little longer without the experience.'

 She bade him good night and followed Mrs Worsthorne upstairs.

* * * *

 As soon as she had removed her gown and put on her silk wrap, Verity dismissed her maid and sat before her mirror brushing out her hair. She glanced down at the miniature of her father that she kept on her dressing table. Perhaps the restlessness that now possessed her was inherited: after all, her father had longed to go to sea and sacrificed so much to do so. Perhaps travel would help to push aside the unhappiness that seemed to hang about her.

 She would settle her affairs at Highclough and go to Portsmouth, and from there she would go abroad. Travel was not without its dangers of course, while the country remained at war with France, but there were other countries, and surely amongst her father's naval colleagues there would be one who could advise her, or even act as her courier. She remembered a retired naval man who had been their neighbour in Portsmouth: she would write to him and ask his advice. She began to compose a letter in her mind, but was interrupted by an urgent knock at her door.

 Luke was waiting for her, a single candlestick in his hand.

 'Cousin, come quickly!'

 'What is it? Megs - is she ill?'

 He caught her wrist. 'There is no time to lose - quickly, the south passage.'

 'But what on earth would Megs be doing there now?'

 He did not reply but set off down the stairs, almost dragging her with him.

 'Luke, Luke, what is this?'

 'Hush. I will explain soon enough. Just follow me, Cousin!'

* * * *

 The house was in darkness and they crossed the hall with only the light from Luke's candle to help them: it sent grotesque shadows dancing around the room. Verity clutched her wrap about her and noted with some surprise that Luke had exchanged his soft evening pumps for leather top boots which thudded noisily across the floor.

 'Luke, what is this, why are you dressed for riding?' Verity hung back as they entered the office passage. Luke put down the candle and pulled her forward.

 'Come to the door and you will see.'

 As they approached the outer door it swung open, and a stocky figure stepped into the passage.

 'Brigg!'

 Verity gasped with surprise but in a second Brigg sprang forward, clapping one hand over her mouth.

 'Quick master, gag her!' he hissed.

 Luke produced a scarf which he roughly tied around her face. Verity stared at him, her eyes wide with fear and anger. He gave her a twisted smile.

 'Forgive me, Cousin. I shall remove the gag as soon as we are safe from here.' He took her arms. 'I have her now, Brigg. Bring the horses.'

 Moments later she found herself perched up before Luke on his rangy black hunter. She struggled, vainly trying to free herself.

 'Be still, Cousin. I know this is uncomfortable but I can't risk a carriage. Neither can we leave by the main gates.'

 Pressed closed against Luke, Verity had no idea of their direction as they rode out of the stable yard and across the fields. The sky was clear but the moon had not yet risen and only the faintest shadow indicated the line between land and sky. A keen wind cut through Verity's thin wrap and she shivered. Luke's arm tightened.

 'Afraid? There is no need to be, if you will only be sensible.'

 She smelled the brandy on his breath and turned her head away in disgust. They rode on, with only the occasional cry of a fox or the whirring of a nightjar to disturb the silence. Verity closed her eyes. If Luke would relax his iron-like grip she could perhaps jump down and escape, or at the very least pull off the gag and scream for help. However, no opportunity occurred and after they had been travelling for some time Luke spoke again.

 'Look, Cousin, over there. Did I not say it would be a magnificent moon tonight?'

 She opened her eyes and lifted her head. In the east the full moon had risen, and hung now like a blood-red ball just clear of the horizon. In its pale light she could see that they were crossing the moors, with the black rocky outcrop of Bride Stones looming ahead of them. Luke reached up to remove the scarf from her mouth.

 'I think we can dispense with that. You can make as much noise as you like now, there is no-one here to come to your aid.'

 'Luke what is happening, why are you doing this?'

 'You will know soon enough.'

 Panic constricted her throat, and she fought to speak calmly.

 'Luke, listen to me. It will do you no good to kill me. I drew up a new will today: if I die, the estate is to be broken up and sold. Highclough will not remain in the family.'

 He looked down at her.

 'Kill you? I've no intention of killing you, Verity.' He nodded towards Bride Stones. 'I have arranged another little party for you, my love.'

 Looking towards the stones, Verity became aware of yellow lights flickering in the darkness. She forced herself to be calm.

 'What madness is this? I am not dressed, Luke. Take me home.'

 'Not until we are wed, my dear.'

 'What? You are being nonsensical. We cannot be married here.'

 'Why not? Locals have been plighting their troth here for years. And it will be quite legal. I have the special licence in my pocket and the priest is genuine … after a fashion.'

 Verity gripped her hands together to stop them from shaking.

 'Cousin, let us go back, we can discuss this in the morning.'

 'There is nothing to discuss. You must marry me.' He pulled flask from his pocket, took a long draught and held it out to Verity.

 ' Brandy,' he said. Take it, it will help you to forget the cold.'

 Fearing he would force her to comply, Verity took the flask and raised it to her lips, pretending to drink.

 'Is this why you kept Brigg on my accounts? To help you kidnap me?'

 'I told you, Cousin, Brigg is a loyal servant. I could not dismiss him.'

 They were almost at the Bride Stones and she could hear voices and raucous laughter echoing out into the night.

 'We do not have to be married this way, Cousin.' She handed back the flask. 'Take me home, Luke. We could have the banns called and be married at Derringden Church. Think how your mama would like that.'

 He laughed harshly.

 'You think me a fool? You will not marry me unless I force you to it. I did hope that once you thought Rafe a villain you might agree to marry me, but I could see it wouldn't work. And you are still determined to build that damned mill.'

 'But this will solve nothing.'

 'Now there you are wrong, my dear. Once we are married, Highclough becomes mine: there will be no mills on my land.'

 Anger flared in her eyes.

 'You disappoint me, Luke. I should have thought you would approve of my plans, the profits would help to pay back some of the money you have been leeching from Highclough all these years.'

 He looked down at her, grinning.

 'So you discovered that, did you? Clever girl.'

 'When you were laid up in your room I had the opportunity to study the books in more detail than you would allow me. I soon realized that your untidy habits were a cover to distract me from the flaws in your accounts: payments to servants who did not exist, rents entered at rates lower than the tenancy agreements. What did you do with the money, Luke? Gambling? Brandy?'

 He gave a harsh laugh. 'Aye, and my tailor, too. You cannot conceive the cost of being well-dressed.'

 'And the estate at Sowerby is not enough. You must have Highclough too.'

 'It belongs to me!' cried Luke. 'How could you understand, you have been here less than six months. Since I was a child I have worked on this land, striving to make it pay for itself. I was like a son to Ambrose - more so than his own children - your father Charles was only interested in the sea, and Evelyn, well, he did not love it as I do. When he broke his neck I thought Ambrose would make me his heir - it is what he should have done.'

 'And - and was Evelyn's death an accident, Luke?'

 Luke gave a short laugh. 'Lord yes. The fool over-faced his horse.'

 They were riding beneath the rocky cliff and his words echoed eerily back around them. Brigg brought his horse alongside his master.

 'We are almost there, sir.'

 Verity's lips curled.

 'And just who do you serve, Brigg? I saw you talking to Rafe Bannerman on the moor today. Is he involved in this too?'

 She felt Luke's arm tighten about her. He turned his head to stare at his servant.

 'Is this true?'

 The groom sniffed. 'I was making my way to Highclough this afternoon when he came across my path, but I fobbed him off.'

 'Aye, Rafe Bannerman's a fool!' sneered Worsthorne. 'I should have liked to see him hanged for your murder, Cousin, but that plan did not work.'

 Verity raised her head. 'What plan?'

 'To kill you, my dear.'

 'Master.'

 Luke ignored Brigg's growled warning: Verity thought he sounded pleased to be able to tell her what he had done.

 'It was fortunate that my first attempt failed. If the chimney stone had killed you, Highclough would have gone to Rafe, and I would have lost everything.'

 
'You
pushed the stone from the roof?'

 'It required very little effort, my dear. You will remember Mama complaining of the damp on the bedroom wall, I went up to check the roof and when I saw you with your sketch-pad the opportunity was too good to resist. Of course
then
I did not know that Highclough would go to Bannerman.'

 Fear trickled down Verity's spine.

 'And the barb under Delphi's saddle?'

 'Master, no more,' hissed Brigg.

 'Quiet, damn you,' snarled Luke. 'What does it matter if I tell her everything? A wife cannot testify against her husband. Where was I? Oh yes, the barb. That was Brigg's clumsy attempt to dispose of you and implicate Bannerman. But he did not follow it up, and you survived with barely a scratch.' He drank again from the flask, enjoying the recital of his cleverness. 'Of course that made Rafe suspicious, and I thought I should not have another chance to implicate him. I
had
to do so, you see, because if you died, and Rafe was convicted of your murder, then Highclough would go to the next in line, my mother. My plan would have succeeded, too, if I had not fallen into that damned fire.'

 'Then it wasn't Rafe… but I saw him - he spoke to me!'

 Luke laughed again, a wild note in his voice.

 'Could anyone be so careless? He always leaves his coat in the passage; I have often seen it when I have returned to the house.'

 'But the passage door was locked, Luke.'

 'There is a spare key hidden in the stable so that I can come and go as I please without Mama and Ditton fussing over me. That day I had just ridden back from Halifax and was in the stable when you came round the back of the house. I saw you, flirting with Rafe through the window. I knew then what I had to do.

 'We are of a height, Rafe and I, so it was easy to put on his coat and hat and walk through the gardens, and you followed, thinking he was leading you somewhere private where you could continue your love-making.' His lip curled. 'There was a handkerchief in his pocket. I made sure it went into the ice-pit with you. When they found that with your body, they would know he had locked you in - and how could he deny it?'

 So Rafe was innocent. Despite her present danger she felt her spirits lift. A sigh escaped her and she Luke's arm tightened across her chest, squeezing the breath from her.

 'But you were on my conscience, my dear,' Luke continued. 'I went down to the village but couldn't get you out of my mind, no matter how much brandy I took. I've grown damned fond of you, Cousin, so this way is better for both of us. You will live and I will have Highclough.' Verity could not prevent the despairing cry escaping from her, and she felt Luke's cheek rest briefly against her hair. 'Now now, my love. No tears on our wedding night.'

 They passed between the two entrance stones into the rocky enclosure. Torches had been jammed into crevices in the rock to light the area, and Verity saw that a number of rough-looking men were waiting for them. One was dressed in ragged cleric's robes. He looked uncomfortable, but he had a bottle in his hand from which he was constantly refreshing himself.

 A stocky figure walked forward, a toothless grin splitting his face.

 'So this is the Highclough lady.' His eyes observed her thin wrap. 'And dressed for bed already!'

 'Aye, Joe. Hold her for me while I dismount.'

 Verity was pushed roughly from the saddle and found herself pinioned in the man's iron grip. She struggled as he leered at her, the stench of beer and onions on his breath making her retch. Brigg led the horses away and Luke pulled Verity back into his arms. He beckoned to the cleric.

 'Well Parson, here is my bride. Let's make a start.'

 'Aye' cried Joe with a cackling laugh. 'Then we can all enjoy the wedding night.'

 Verity shrank closer to Luke as the men crowded around.

 'What- what does he mean?' she whispered

 Luke pointed to the rocky shelf at the far side of the enclosure.