Melinda Hammond (16 page)

 'I am … thankful for your friendship, Cousin.' With a stiff bow he turned away, yanking open the door and striding off across the hall.

* * * *

 The first day of May saw the annual fair in Derringden. Mrs Worsthorne gave the servants leave to go and enjoy themselves, and the ladies sat down to a cold luncheon in the quiet house. They had just finished their meal when Mr Bannerman appeared.

 'Pray don't get up. I merely looked into tell you that I had arrived. Reedley has asked me to sort out some papers for one of the tenancies.' His dark glance swept across Verity, not meeting her eyes. 'I shall be in the office most of the afternoon.'

 Verity's spirits sank. The dismissal was all too clear. Since their ride to the valley Rafe Bannerman had not been near Highclough, and she cudgelled her brain for an explanation, going back over their conversation, scrutinising every word, every look. She thought she had seen something in his eyes that mirrored her own heart, but it could not be so, or he would not be so cold now. The afternoon dragged on and Verity could settle to nothing. Her plans for the shrubbery had still not been drawn up and she took her sketch pad out into the garden, determined to make progress. However, after the third spoiled drawing she threw down her pad and pencil and marched to the door leading to the office passage. To her frustration the door was locked and she was forced to walk back around the house to the main entrance. She noted that Mr Bannerman's greatcoat and curly-brimmed beaver were still hanging outside his office, and, taking a deep breath, she knocked and went in.

 Rafe Bannerman was sitting at the desk, staring at a sheaf of papers. Upon her entry he looked up, frowning. Verity twisted her fingers together and forced herself to look at him.

 'Sir, you will tell me, if you please, what I have done that has so offended you?'

 The black brows went up. 'Why should you think I am offended?'

 'You have not been near me since our ride to Beech Clough. If I said - did - anything then …..'

 'You should not be here.'

 She winced at his harsh tone.

 'I know - I am sorry, but I cannot bear you to think that I was … forward…'

 Mr Bannerman stood up and came towards her.

 'You were perfectly adorable.'

 'Oh. Then what -'

 Her words were cut short as the gentleman pulled her to him and kissed her roughly. Shock immobilised her for a few seconds, then her arms crept around his neck and she found herself responding. When at last he raised his head she made no effort to move away, but leaned against him, her head on his shoulder.

 'Oh,' she sighed, 'I should not have done that.'

 His arms tightened about her and she felt his cheek resting on her head.

 'I know it. That is the reason I have been so distant, my dear heart, because until this damned business is wound up I have no right to treat you thus. That day in Beech Clough you looked up at me so trustingly I wanted to sweep you up and make love to you on the spot.'

 She shivered delightfully.

 'Then I wish you had told me as much. I have been perfectly miserable since then, thinking that you were angry with me.'

 'My poor darling!' he dropped a light kiss on her hair, then, cupping her chin with his lean fingers he tilted her face towards him and brushed her mouth with his lips. 'Bear with me,' he murmured. 'Once you are mistress here I promise you I shall come courting you with all the pomp and ceremony I can muster.'

 She gave him a misty smile.

 'That will not be necessary, but if it pleases you …'

 He kissed her again, then put her away from him.

 'It
pleases
me. Now go away, my dear. Once I have sorted these papers everything will be in order for Reedley to pass over to you on your birthday, but I cannot work with you here to distract me.'

 'Very well, sir. How long should it take you?'

 'A couple of hours, no more.'

 Verity looked towards the window. 'With this heavy cloud it is already getting dark. Megs has put dinner back an hour to give Luke time to get back from Halifax: will you not take dinner with us and stay here tonight?'

 The look in his eyes brought a blush to her cheeks.

 'You want to torture me further by making me sleep under the same roof as you? Very well, cruel one, tell Ditton to set another place at dinner.'

* * * *

 As if in a dream, Verity floated out of the office. There was a chill to the air and she ran upstairs to fetch her spencer then made her way outside, planning to walk round to the shrubbery and collect her sketch book. However, the temptation to go the long way, to pass the office window and peep in was overwhelming. She cupped her hands around her face and peered through the glass. The movement attracted Mr Bannerman's attention, and he waved her away, scowling, but this only made Verity laugh, and she blew him a kiss before skipping away towards the shrubbery.

 Picking up her sketch pad and pencil, Verity made one final attempt to begin her sketch. She was pleased with her progress, but the light was fading fast. The grey cloud which had shut out the sun for most of the day now descended, shrouding Highclough in a thick, damp mist. Verity packed away her pencils and was about to leave the shrubbery when she heard her name. Looking up, she saw a figure standing at the end of the walk, a tall figure in a high-crowned beaver and a white caped driving coat. She laughed.

 'Rafe! What on earth -'

 He put his finger to his lips, and beckoned her to follow him. With a smile and a shake of her head, Verity made her way along the walk. She could feel the droplets of water from the mist clinging to her hair.

 'Are we going far, Rafe, because I have no cloak…'

 He ignored her, striding away so that she had to run to keep him in sight. He slipped through a small gate at the end of the shrubbery and marched across the field that bordered the stable block. He glanced back occasionally to make sure Verity was following, but did not slacken the pace.

 'Rafe, wait!' she cried. The long grass was damp and soon her thin sandals were saturated. They were out of sight of the house now, at the very edge of the gardens, and the conical mound of the ice house was before them. Verity saw the tail of Rafe's white coat disappear around the mound and she hurried to follow him. As she rounded the ice house she was surprised to see that the heavy outer door was open. Peering into the darkness, she could see the white blur of the driving coat in the passage.

 'Now what game is this, sir? Why all the intrigue?' She stepped into the tunnel, straining her eyes to see. Rafe was before her and she heard the scrape and creak of the inner door as she approached. She stepped up beside him. 'Why are we here- oh!' He suddenly grabbed her and as she opened her mouth to protest a soft ball of cloth was forced between her teeth. Verity felt herself lifted off the ground and the next moment she was tumbling into the darkness of the ice pit. Her fall was broken by the thick layer of straw that covered the ice, but as she scrambled to her feet she heard the door creaking shut above her, and a moment later she was in complete darkness.

Chapter Fourteen

'Rafe! Rafe!' Verity pulled the cloth from her mouth and screamed. Above the echo of her cries she heard the outer door thud. She knew her eyes were open, but the darkness was like black velvet, with no chink of light. She reached out her hands and felt the smooth side of the pit. Stretching up as far as possible she still could not feel the top ledge. Shaking, she sank down onto the straw, trying to subdue her panic while she considered her situation. She had been thrown into the ice house to die! Mixed with her fear there was boiling anger: Rafe had led her into the trap, he had forcibly thrown her into the pit. This time there could be no mistake.

 'What a fool I have been,' she muttered, blinking back her tears. The straw beneath her scratched her hands and as she shifted her position her fingers fell on the soft ball of material that had been pressed into her mouth. In the darkness she explored the square of silk - a handkerchief, perhaps? She pulled it through her fingers, feeling the raised embroidery thread in one corner. Swiftly she pushed the handkerchief into her pocket: it was most likely that Rafe's initials were embroidered onto the silk, and if she was going to die she hoped it might explain who had murdered her.

 Pushing aside such morbid thoughts she rose to her feet and began to explore the walls of the ice pit. They were smooth brick, with not so much as a handhold. When she thought she must be back where she started, she sank down again, calculating how long it would be before she was found. This part of the gardens was seldom used. There would be no more ice this year to add to their stock, and the first time Cook would require ice would be to make the sorbet for her birthday dinner in two weeks' time.

 Panic welled up within her and she began to shout and scream until her lungs ached and she fell sobbing on to the straw. She knew her efforts were useless, the thick walls and double doors would muffle all sound.

 Verity stifled the urge to cry. That would do no good at all. She scrambled to her knees and in the darkness she began to pull the loose straw towards her until she had fashioned a nest around her, then curled up under the scratchy covering to await her fate.

* * * *

 Mrs Worsthorne was crossing the great hall just as Mr Bannerman appeared from the office passage. Even in the dim candlelight her anxiety was evident.

 ''Rafe, is my cousin with you?'

 'Miss Shore? No, I have not seen her for two hours or more.'

 'Strange.' She frowned. 'Her maid tells me she has not been to her room to change for dinner.'

 'Perhaps she is already in the drawing room.'

 'No, I have come from there in search of her.'

 Mr Bannerman followed the widow to the dining room, but that too was empty.

 'Could she be with Luke?'

 Mrs Worsthorne shook her head.

 'One of the village lads has brought me word that he is dining in Derringden, which is most vexing, when he knew I was setting dinner back especially for him. If ever anyone was so tiresome! That is why I was looking for Verity, to tell her that we need not wait dinner after all.'

 Mr Bannerman was frowning at the dining table.

 'Only two places are set.'

 Mrs Worsthorne looked round, distracted. 'Yes, I told Ditton to remove Luke's place, since he will not be joining us.'

 The gentleman's hard eyes moved to her face.

 'Then Verity did not tell him I would be joining you.'

 'Will you? We shall be glad of your company on such a gloomy evening. I have had Ditton light a fire in the drawing room to cheer us all.'

 'Then it is possible she did not come back into the house … have the stables been checked?'

 'No, but she never rides out alone now, and Will Barker has gone off to the fair today, with the other servants.'

 'Nevertheless, I will look in the stables, and the garden.'

 Mrs Worsthorne waited impatiently for his return, but when he came back his grim look did nothing to reassure her, and she clasped her hands together in an anxious supplication.

 'Oh heavens, where can she be?'

 Those servants who had returned from the fair were summoned and while Mrs Worsthorne undertook a thorough search of the house, Rafe Bannerman went out with the footmen to search the grounds. He returned some time later to find Mrs Worsthorne in the great hall, pacing anxiously before the window. He held up a sketch pad.

 'I found this in the shrubbery, but there was no sign of Miss Shore.' He shrugged off his driving coat and threw it over a chair. 'One of the men has taken a lantern and is checking the lane, but it is too dark to do more tonight. We will go out again at first light. You look tired, ma'am. Ditton tells me dinner is ready. I suggest we try to eat something.'

 'I could not manage a crumb!' declared the widow tearfully. 'I vow I do not know which way to turn. If only Luke was here - why must he choose tonight to stay out with his friends?'

 Mr Bannerman took her arm. 'Come, ma'am, it will do no good if we starve ourselves. We will need our strength for later.' He guided Mrs Worsthorne to the dining room and coaxed her to take a little soup and a few slices of chicken. However, neither of them touched the cheesecake or the sweetmeats, and Ditton was about to remove the dishes when there was the unmistakeable sound of a door banging. Without a word Mrs Worsthorne hurried from the room with Mr Bannerman close behind her. As they entered the great hall Mr Worsthorne appeared from the office passage.

 'Luke! Thank heaven you are here, my son!'

 The gentleman stopped. He coat and waistcoat were unbuttoned, and his tousled hair fell forward over his creased brow. He swayed slightly as he tried to fix his gaze upon his mother.

 'As you see, Mama.' He continued on his way and she followed him into the drawing room.

 'Luke, we are in such a worry. Verity has disappeared, and …' she trailed off, a frown creasing her brow as she watched her son move unsteadily to the sideboard and pick up a decanter. 'Luke my dear, do you think perhaps you have had enough brandy for one evening?'

 Luke ignored her while he filled a glass, then turned, giving his mother a sullen stare.

 'D'you think I can't take my drink, Mama?' His over-bright eyes shifted to Mr Bannerman and his lip curled. 'You still here, Rafe? You seem to be making yourself quite at home.'

 'Perhaps you did not understand, Luke. Miss Shore is missing.'

 'Gone, is she? Most likely she has run away to escape your attentions.' Luke gulped down the brandy and refilled his glass. 'Don't think I ain't aware that you've been trying to win her favour.' He jabbed an accusing finger towards Mr Bannerman. 'Highclough would make a tidy little addition to your property, would it not?'

 'Luke that is enough,' Mrs Worsthorne said sharply.

 Rafe Bannerman regarded him impassively.

 'You are drunk, Worsthorne. Go to bed.'

 Luke swung round, his lip curling in a snarl.