The Scarlet Wench (11 page)

Chapter Seventeen

“She’s beginning to show her hand.”

Ruth: Act
II
, Scene 3

5:40 PM

Maeve Addams turned the dial to preheat the oven. Agnes had left clear instructions to bake the lasagna on low heat and then raise it near the end to brown the cheese. Rain spattered against the kitchen windows. She felt glad to be in the warmth of the lodge and to know she wasn’t leaving it tonight. She glanced at Nora, feeding Sean in his high chair.

  “He really loves that baby rice.” Maeve tucked her shiny bob behind her ear, watching Nora deftly spoon in the mush.

  Nora agreed. “It will be fun to see how he likes fruits next.”

  A gust of wind rattled the back door, distracting Sean, who paused eating with his little mouth open in a wide “O” of surprise.

  “It’s all right, lovey, just wind,” Nora assured him, scooping the last spoonful into his open mouth.

  Maeve had to hand it to Nora. She’d risen to the role of single parent, and it was easy to see she was a good mother. She watched Nora wipe the baby’s face and hands, then hand him two empty plastic cups to bang on his tray.

  “Those will keep him happy a while. How can I help?” Nora rinsed the cloth in the sink.

  Maeve consulted Agnes’ note. “The salad’s made, and the bowl of meatballs and sausages need to be reheated closer to dinner. All that’s left is making garlic bread, but nothing right now. Thanks for asking, though.”

  Maeve met Nora’s eye so the other woman would know she
was sincere. They’d gotten off to a rocky start when Nora first moved into Ramsey Lodge. Sheer jealousy on Maeve’s part, truth be told. Mooning over Simon Ramsey for ages had taught Maeve that despite using every trick in her book of wiles, a hard sell was not for Simon.

  Time had changed things, and Simon had lost that hangdog look he’d had around Nora. That was when Maeve had decided to change her game by stepping back from the personal push and upping her sheer indispensability to the lodge. She’d developed her own relationships with their suppliers, pleasing Simon with deals and with her interest. On her own initiative, she’d repainted the front door and had asked the Barnum girls to wax the woodwork until it had shone in the lead-up to Kate’s wedding. She’d found Kate and Ian the caterer for their wedding reception and had acted as organizer to keep everything flowing smoothly on the special day. A funny thing had happened when Maeve had plunged into her work: She’d fallen in love with Ramsey Lodge.

  Simon had noticed her interest early on, and one evening, he’d invited her to see the albums his parents kept, detailing the restoration work they’d done throughout the years. She had been impressed and had confided over a glass of wine that she felt captivated by the historic building. One glass of wine had led to them finishing the bottle. Things had gone along just fine after that, despite the hectic time surrounding Kate’s wedding, and by tacit agreement, neither of them had pushed to be together every night. Yet. Maeve had learned that less was sometimes more in certain situations.

  Now, as Maeve looked Nora in the eye, she didn’t see a rival as much as a woman she knew Simon respected—but wasn’t romancing—and that made all the difference.

  “Why don’t you give Sean his bath and spend a little time with him before he goes to sleep for the night?” Maeve’s manner was gracious.

*

6:45 PM

Nora enjoyed bathing her baby. Sean sat in his bath seat and squealed when she poured warm water over his head to wash away the no-tears shampoo. He slapped his hands up and down in the water, watching the droplets fly and giggling. Had there ever been a happier baby?

  Her father would have loved this little guy. She missed him with an ache in her heart. He’d have been so proud of his grandson. Her sense of loss made her cringe at the knowledge her baby had another set of grandparents who didn’t even know of his existence, a piece of their son in this perfect child. She knew the time had come to tell the Pembrokes they had a grandchild—no matter what their solicitor might have in store for her.

  “Let’s watch the water go out.” She pulled the drain and Sean watched the water spiral down and out until she lifted him out of the tub, wrapping him in a warm towel and hugging him closely to her.

  Dressed in pyjamas, hair dry and standing up like an orange halo, Sean played with blocks on the floor as Nora changed for dinner. Then she sat him in the middle of her bed, where he chewed on his rabbit’s ear and watched her intently as she packed a bag for him and refilled his nappy bag.

  It would be the first time she had been away from her baby. The thought of being separated from him felt awful, but he was safer away from Ramsey Lodge just now. Nora chewed her lip as Sean leaned back against the pillows supporting him, his eyes drowsy.

  Another huge gust of wind rattled her window; the rain picked up in intensity, and she almost missed the gentle tap at her door. Nora opened it to find Declan, hair slicked back from a shower.

  He saw the sleepy baby and whispered: “Maeve says dinner in ten.”

  Nora opened the door. “Come in. You don’t have to whisper. I’ll put him to bed. I have to help Maeve with garlic bread.”

  “Done.” He grinned at her wide-eyed look. “I’m pretty good in the kitchen.”

  Nora lifted the heavy-eyed baby and carried him to his cot. “Your talents extend far beyond detecting.” She laid Sean on his back and turned on his mobile, tucking his rabbit in his arm and tiptoeing away.

  Declan pointed to Sean’s packed bag. “Just for him?”

  “Yes.” She knew Sean would be fine with Val, and it wouldn’t be a bad thing for the two for them to have a few days apart. She picked up the baby monitor.

  He held up his hands in a gesture of resignation. “Don’t mean to push.” He sat on the side of her bed and patted the mattress. “Join me for a sec.”

  “Go to bed with you?” She sat down next to him.

  “Yes, but I expect the young man should be fast asleep first, and maybe after dinner instead of before.”

  She smiled. The idea of sneaking away to Declan’s room again sounded wonderful.

  He took her hand and held it between his. “What’s bothering you?”

  “You mean besides leaving my child for the first time and a maniac loose at the lodge?”

  Declan cleared his throat. “I’m not pressuring you, am I?”

  “Oh, Declan, it’s not you at all.” She pulled him to her and kissed him. It was time to tell him why she was worried. She didn’t want him thinking it was because of him. She explained about the call from the lawyer and how her only meeting with the Pembrokes had been less than pleasant. “Things between us weren’t good before Paul died. I probably wouldn’t have ever met them if that plane hadn’t gone down. I’ve kept putting off telling them about Sean.”

  He stroked her hair. “I’m sorry this so tough on you.”

  “I know what I need to do. I’m having difficulty with how it will change everything.”

  Declan pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head. “You’ll figure it out. I have enormous faith in you.” He stood up. “Now let’s eat. I’ve been promised a fantastic pudding.”

Chapter Eighteen

“Jealousy causes people the have the most curious delusions.”

Charles: Act
II
, Scene 3

7:30 PM

Simon watched the cast at the long table tuck into dinner. Burt and Helen ate with gusto, Poppy dug in and Fiona had stopped complaining about her leg. Gemma cut up Grayson’s sausages and meatballs for him. The Dentons held everyone’s attention as they ate, describing how when they’d played
The Lion in Winter
on stage, they’d called Katharine Hepburn for pointers. Beside him, Nora stiffened at the mention of the movie, her fork halfway to her mouth. Simon wondered what that was about.

  He took a deep breath and tried to release the knot of tension between his shoulder blades. He prayed the person responsible for the accidents had tired of these deadly actions. Maybe having to talk to DS Higgins today would be enough of a warning to put the person off his or her game. Simon glanced at the animated faces and wondered who would be capable of arranging these incidents but more importantly,
why
. Was it someone who wanted the production to fail? Or was there a more personal reason?

  Simon felt a hand on his thigh and shifted his eyes to Maeve. A tiny smile played across her lips as she appeared totally focused on Declan’s enthusiastic description of Oxford’s historic Covered Market. Simon dropped his hand to his lap and squeezed her fingers, then picked up his garlic bread.

  “Excellent bread, Declan. Maeve said you gave her a hand. Thanks for that.”

  “I’m a dab hand in the kitchen—not sure Nora believes me,” Declan said.

  The lights flickered but held. Outside, the wind howled, and the rain picked up. Just what Simon needed now, lights to go out in a storm. Thank goodness Ramsey Lodge had a huge generator, all oiled up and ready to go in an emergency. Simon pushed away the prickling at the back of his neck, put his fork down and took out his mobile.

  “Think I’ll check the forecast. This storm is really hanging around.” Simon brought up the app for the local weather. His face fell. “Looks like this will last all night.” Right before dinner, he had filled his bath with water in case they needed to flush toilets. Now he was happy he’d listened to his father’s voice in his head and taken that precaution.

  “Good thing you went on a walk today, Declan.” Nora looked out the window at the driving rain.

  Simon thought Nora’s appetite was off tonight as he watched Maeve reach for another meatball. That woman could eat what she wanted, and nothing spoiled her slim frame. He pictured her long legs wrapped around him and shifted in his seat. He’d check that generator after dinner. The last thing he needed was to get out of a warm bed in the middle of a rainy night.

*

8:45 PM

Grayson Lange sat with the others in the library and flexed his fingers. His cast felt tight, his fingers puffy; the rain made his wrist ache even more. He took off the sling and laid his hand along the armrest of his chair.

  Poppy jumped up, grabbed a pillow off the window seat, and used it to prop up Grayson’s arm. “You need to elevate that hand if you want the puffiness to go down.”

  “Better listen to Nurse Nancy.” Gemma flipped the pages of a glossy fashion magazine.

  Poppy’s cheeks reddened, and she returned to her post at the window seat, looking out at the weather.

  Grayson knew Poppy was right; the A&E doc had said much the same thing. The glow from the painkiller he’d swallowed before dinner was still there, but he knew it would only give him a few hours of relief. He’d take another at bedtime. He watched Helen and the Dentons playing cards at a corner table. Declan and Nora had their heads together on a sofa, and the Ramsey fellow and his girl were finishing in the kitchen. A dreary night all around.

  “Gemma?” He touched her shoulder. She’d been checking her iPhone but turned to him, and her eyes took a second to focus. Too much wine again. He held in a sigh. Gemma was becoming high maintenance. Once this production ended, he’d start driving a wedge between them. It would have to be done with finesse. She had to think she was the one ending the relationship or there would be drama-queen scenes.

  “Yes, darling?” Gemma took another sip of wine and seemed surprised to find the glass almost empty.

  “I think I’ll have one of your sleeping pills tonight.” He watched with satisfaction as she frowned. “My wrist is killing me with this rain.” He thought he got his pained expression just right.

  “Of course,” she said. “But then I’ll have to sleep in my own room. They make you snore.”

  “Absolutely,” he soothed her. “My little star needs her beauty rest.” He poured Gemma more wine, and as she raised her glass, he caught Fiona’s eye.

  Fiona turned toward him and discreetly raised her magazine. He was the only one who saw her put a finger into her mouth with a gagging motion.

  “Bloody hell!” Gemma’s voice cut across everyone’s conversation. She held out her phone to Grayson. “Just look at what’s on our troupe’s Facebook page.”

  He screwed up his eyes to see a soft-porn picture of Gemma, wearing a skimpy, see-through bra and thong, looking right at the camera with a wink. “Where the hell is that from?” Grayson asked.

  Gemma had the grace to blush. “It was in
Razzle
before I made it on stage.”

  Fiona laughed. “I didn’t know you used your bedroom skills on stage, too.”

  Grayson knew he’d made a huge mistake by putting Fiona and Gemma in the same show, but neither seemed to care about their obnoxious behavior in front of others.

  “Slut—” Gemma hissed. Her fingers flew over the buttons on her phone. Then a wide smile spread across her face as she held out her phone toward Fiona. “Ha! Seems I’m not the only one with a photo she’d like to forget.”

  “Let me see—” Fiona grabbed Gemma’s phone and looked at the image that had Gemma so satisfied. “But how? Who?” She sputtered.

  “Oh, for God’s sake, give me that,” Grayson commanded. Fiona mutely handed him the phone. The troupe’s timeline was graced with a photo obviously taken years earlier, showing Fiona drunkenly holding up a lamp post in front of a pub just after being sick, mascara running down her face.

  “This is absurd!” Grayson’s voice shouted above the howl of the wind. “I want this childish behavior to stop this minute!”

  Poppy spoke up. “Grayson, could I start final fittings tonight? It might be, er, a distraction … ”

  Helen raised her head. “Yes, let’s do that! I can’t wait to see my outfit. You did get my measurements, dear?”

  Poppy nodded. “Yes, and I brought the costumes in your sizes, but there might be fine tuning or hemming. I won’t know until you try them on.”

  Grayson banged his good hand on the armrest. “Capital idea, Poppy. Why don’t you start with Helen?”

  Poppy ran upstairs, returning with her sewing box and a striped caftan in garish purple, red and gold.

  Helen clapped her hands. “I’ll just slip into the drawing room and throw this on.”

  Simon and Maeve came into the library with a tray of drinks as Helen returned, attired in the flowing gown. “How do I look, Grayson?”

  His reply was drowned out by the thump of the front door blowing open as a huge gust of wind hit the front of the lodge. Grayson watched as Simon and Declan ran to the hall to deal with the door. They were gone a few minutes, and when they returned, Grayson immediately knew from their faces that something was wrong. Water dripped off them both. Simon had his mobile out.

  “It’s wild out there.” Declan grabbed a napkin and wiped water from his face. “The road’s flooded, and we saw flashing lights and barriers on the quay.”

  Simon brushed wet hair off his head and faced the crowd with his mobile in hand. “The entire area’s flooded, and several bridges have been breached. Even the road at the front is closed. Burt, you’ll have to stay here tonight.”

  Excited talk broke out among the group. Grayson waited to see who would give up their bed. He certainly wouldn’t be giving up his. He turned to Fiona. “Fi, dear, will you share with Poppy for a night and give your room to Burt?”

  Fiona’s face darkened at the suggestion, her eyes narrowed in anger.

  Nora pointed out, “We piled the last furniture from the drawing room on Kate’s bed today when all the props were unpacked, so that’s not an option any longer.”

  Declan spoke up. “Nonsense, the cast should have their own accommodations. Burt can have my room. I’ll bunk with Simon.”

  “I don’t think so, Declan.” Maeve was firm. “That spot is taken.”

  “Declan will share with
me
tonight,” Nora declared.

  Grayson was amused to see it was the women who settled things.

  Helen hooted with glee. “Romance on the premises!” she announced. There was a smattering of laughter from the others.

  The lights flickered and went out.

*

9:20 PM

Nora waited for the noise of the generator to kick in as her eyes grew used to the dark and she listened to the baby monitor; luckily, it ran on batteries. All quiet in the nursery. But no generator noise. “Who’s got a lighter?”

  Burt produced one and flicked it on. “Take this.”

  Nora made her way into the dining room, followed by Maeve. She lit a candle from one of the tables, then the two women grabbed a tray and gathered up all the table candles, using the lit one to light the others. Maeve brought one back into the library and used it to light the way for the others as they filed back into the dining room and retook their seats. Simon brought up the rear with Declan, one balancing the drinks tray and the other carrying bottles of sherry and brandy.

  “I’ll be right back,” Nora said and used a candle to check on Sean. The baby slept on, oblivious to the howling wind and rain. She opened a bottom drawer and brought out a winter baby sleeping bag and unzipped it. Leaning over the cot, she carefully laid him inside of it and pulled his arms through, then zipped it closed. Sean stirred but didn’t wake. The two layers would keep him warm once the heat in the lodge started to fade.

  She used the candle to light a larger one she kept in a dish on her desk for its scent, and soon, a mild scent of juniper and cardamom filled the air. Nora moved the candle away from the wall to a safer spot right in the center of her desk and placed the dish on a slate coaster.

  Nora left her door ajar and saw a torch waving toward her. Declan met her at the door carrying a pottery bowl filled with ice.

  “Mmmm, smells like a G and T in here,” he said, sniffing the air. “Sean all right?”

  “Asleep and warm.”

  He held out the bowl. “Stand his formula in this in your fridge overnight. If we keep the door closed, it should be fine for the night.”

  Nora took the bowl and did as he suggested, pleased at his thoughtfulness. “Why isn’t the generator on?”

  “Simon can’t get the bloody thing to start up. He thinks the diesel’s fouled.”

  Nora gave an involuntary shiver. “Declan, what’s happening here?”

  He reached out to brush a tendril of hair over her shoulder. “Don’t know, Nora, but Val won’t be able to get through, so Sean won’t be able to leave tomorrow.”

*

9:25 PM

Simon asked Burt to check the generator, and Declan tagged along, holding the torch as the older man checked the oil and inspected the engine. It started and sputtered out several times. They checked the fuel filter, and Burt grimaced.

  “Buggered,” Burt pronounced. “Maybe water in the fuel supply? No way to get it fixed tonight.”

  “Bloody hell.” Simon blew out a hard breath. No power tonight. He thought quickly and handed both men kitchen trays. “Follow me, troops.”

  The three men made their way carefully to the basement, where Kate stored tall hurricane lamps she used at Christmas. Burt and Declan carried them back up, balanced on the trays, and Simon followed with a carton of large, fat refill candles in one hand propped against his chest. His other hand held the handle of a large cooler.

  In the kitchen, Simon put his carton and cooler down and transferred a bag of ice from the freezer into a huge bowl he placed in the fridge. “This should help keep the temp cool in here if we don’t open it.” He dragged the cooler into a corner out of the way and took out two more bags of ice. Burt held the torch while Declan and Simon filled the cooler with a mixture of juices and drinks for the next day.

  “Burt, grab a few of those Ramsey Lodge matchbooks we give out,” Simon instructed when the caravan reached the hall.

  Declan distributed to each cast member a candle-filled hurricane lamp, and Burt followed, lighting each candle and giving each person a matchbook to take upstairs. Simon brought the bottles of brandy and sherry over to the table. Maeve and Nora handed out glasses, which clinked loudly as they worked their way around the table.

  There were several hurricanes left. “Declan, would you and Burt put these in the upper hall? There are more torches in the bottom drawer of the registration desk.” Simon thanked them as the men left to add light to the hallway and upper floor.