Midnight at Mallyncourt Read online

  “How dare you!” My voice trembled with anger. “How dare you treat me like—”

  “Listen,” he barked, “carefully! Forget about tonight. Forget you heard anything. Forget you saw me.”

  “I didn’t do anything! I merely went to fetch my book, and you leap out of the darkness and grab me and—”

  “Jenny! Damn you, listen! It never happened, none of it! You never left your room. Do you understand?”

  “No! No, I don’t understand. You can’t—”

  “You’re not to tell anyone, not Edward, not anyone. You’re not to say a word. For your own good. It’s imperative! You’ve got to trust me.”

  “Why? Why should I trust you?”

  “Because I’m asking you to,” Lyman said. There was weariness in his voice now, all anger spent.

  He moved his arms away from me and stood up straight. He brushed back the fringe of thick locks, sighing heavily. In the hazy semidarkness his face looked strangely vulnerable, all shadowed planes. His robe, wrapped loosely around his body, gleamed with a dark, rich sheen. He stood there in front of me, powerful, robustly male, and somehow or other I sensed that what he had done had been done to protect me. My own anger ebbed. I felt weak and bruised.

  “Very well, Lyman. I—I won’t say anything.”

  He looked at me for a long moment as though to determine my sincerity, and then, abruptly, he gave me a curt nod and padded away into the darkness. I went into my room, put the book down, climbed into bed, and, surprisingly, I fell asleep almost at once. I had no time to think about anything the next morning. A maid brought in my morning tea, and I had barely finished drinking it when one of the footmen knocked on the door and informed me that Edward wished to see me in the drawing room immediately. I dressed quickly, puzzled, and, giving a final pat to my hair, went down to see what he wanted. Edward was standing in front of the fireplace, his features impassive, telling me nothing. As I entered the room a man got up from one of the chairs, made a gallant, mocking bow and regarded me with dark, dancing brown eyes.

  “My dear cousin Jenny,” he said. “Isn’t this nice? Your poor cousin Gerry finds himself in—uh—rather distressing circumstances. He’s come to stay with you and your fine, wealthy husband.”

  Chapter Ten

  THE LAST time I had seen him he had been wearing the resplendent costume of Cesare Borgia, his hair a cap of tight gold curls, the Borgia goatee adding a devilish touch, but now he wore tight tan breeches and elegant tan frock coat, his brown knee boots gleaming, his plum colored waistcoat decidedly flamboyant. His hair was its natural shade, a glossy brown, a bit too long, a bit too studiedly tousled. Though leaning to stoutness, Gerald Prince was still very much the matinee idol, undeniably striking, floridly handsome. I stared at him, stunned, at a loss for words. His mobile, sensual mouth curved into a smile. His magnetic brown eyes danced with amusement.

  “You seem surprised, luv,” he said.

  “What—what are you doing here?”

  “I’ve come to stay with you, Jenny dear. Surely you don’t object? It’s such a large house, and you wouldn’t want your poor cousin to put up at an inn, would you?”

  “‘Cousin?’ I don’t understand—”

  I looked at Edward as though for an answer. He was calm and composed, totally unperturbed.

  “It should be fairly obvious,” he commented idly. “He’s come here to blackmail me.”

  “That’s such an ugly word, old chap,” Gerald Prince remarked. “Let’s just say I’m giving you an opportunity to make a cultural investment. Ten thousand pounds will enable me to form a new company, and you, Sir, will be our patron.”

  Edward made no comment. I found his calm far more alarming than anger would have been. Elegantly dressed in pearl-gray suit and black and green striped waistcoat, his blond hair sleekly combed, he stood in front of the fireplace as though he hadn’t a care in the world, his arms folded loosely across his chest.

  “We must be reasonable about things,” Gerry said amiably. “The sum isn’t all that great—you could raise it without the least effort, and it means life or death to me. Do try to see it my way, old chap, and try to remember that—as the saying goes—I’ve got you by the throat.”

  “That’s putting it rather strongly,” Edward remarked.

  “But aptly,” Gerry told him.

  “Do you really imagine you can get away with this, Prince?” Edward inquired.

  “But of course. You, Sir, have been getting away with your little deception for well over a month now. An admirable endeavor—I fully appreciate it. My own is far more direct, and not a bit more treacherous. Cousin Gerald has come to visit his dear, dear Jenny, and he will remain until the money is in his hands.”

  “And if you don’t get the money?”

  “Then, Sir, I squeeze.”

  “Meaning you’ll inform my uncle of our little charade.”

  “Precisely.”

  “You’ll regret this, Prince,” Edward said lightly.

  “I think not. I stand to lose nothing but ten thousand pounds, while you, Sir, stand to lose everything. Come now, no need for gloom. Once I have the money I’ll be on my way, never to bother you again. Think of it as an investment.”

  Edward made no reply. The faintest suggestion of a smile began to play at the corner of his lips, as though he found the situation rather amusing. Gerald Prince stepped over to study one of the engravings on the wall, and I looked up at Edward. He didn’t seem at all angry. That worried me. What was he thinking? What was he planning to do?

  “Your letters,” he informed me.

  “I—I’m sorry.”

  “Your friend Laverne left them in her dressing room. He saw them.”

  “Quite so,” Gerry remarked, turning to face me. “Careless of Laverne to leave them laying about like that. I chanced to step into her dressing room when she was out, spotted the letters immediately. They made most interesting reading. I was rather surprised—this sort of thing isn’t your style at all, Jenny—but I didn’t think too much about it at first. It was only after a series of—uh—most distressing circumstances that I began to formulate a plan.”

  “Laverne wrote me about those ‘circumstances.’ You left the company stranded. You absconded with the money, and—”

  “Past history, luv. We needn’t be concerned with that.”

  “And when the money ran out, you decided to employ a bit of blackmail. You came here, thinking you could get by with—”

  “Knowing I could get by with it,” he corrected. “Your—uh—husband can’t afford to refuse me. I have the upper hand, and he knows it. Right, Sir?”

  “So it would seem,” Edward replied.

  “I find your attitude most sensible—I half expected violent threats, smouldering rage, melodramatics. It’s plain to see you’re an extremely intelligent man, quite civilized.”

  Edward acknowledged the remark with a slight nod.

  “You’ll pay?”

  “I can’t raise a sum like that overnight,” Edward told him. “I’ll have to write my solicitor in London. It’ll take at least a week for me to get the money.”

  “No hurry,” Gerry said generously, “no hurry at all. I rather fancy spending a few days anyway. I’ve always been curious about how the other half lives—historic old house, servants at every turn, private stables and all. It should be pleasant.”

  Edward smiled his thin smile. I found it frightening, but Gerry was quite sure of himself now, and he found nothing at all extraordinary about Edward’s attitude. But then he didn’t know the man. I did.

  “You brought bags?” Edward asked.

  “I left ’em on the front steps,” Gerry said.

  Edward pulled a bell cord by the fireplace. A footman appeared at the door a moment later. Edward informed him in a calm voice that Mrs. Baker’s cousin would be staying at Mallyncourt for a few days and gave instructions to have Gerry’s bags taken up to the blue room.

  “Glad to see you’re being so reas
onable about things,” Gerry remarked after the footman had gone. “There’s no reason why we can’t keep things on a friendly basis.”

  “No reason at all,” Edward replied. His voice was almost amiable. “My wife’s cousin shall have every courtesy. I assume you intend to call yourself Randall?”

  “Randall? Oh, yes, I hadn’t thought of that. Clive, I think. I’ve always fancied that name. Clive Randall, the son of Jenny’s dear Uncle Reginald.”

  To my surprise, Edward offered Gerry a glass of brandy, and, when he accepted, poured two glasses from the decanter. I watched them, fascinated. Edward was the exquisitely polite host, Gerry the convivial guest, both men playing their roles to the hilt. Flushed with success, visibly pleased with himself, Gerry was completely relaxed, sipping his brandy and chatting with total aplomb. There was a flicker of sardonic amusement in Edward’s eyes. Gerry had quite plainly underestimated his man, but he wasn’t aware of it. Seeing the look in Edward’s eyes, I almost felt sorry for the man who had come to blackmail him.

  Both men looked up when Vanessa stepped into the door. She appeared to be startled to find a guest, but her surprise was a bit too studied, and I could tell that she had known she would find a stranger in the room. Ebony hair spilling to her shoulders in luxuriant waves, her coral lips parted in surprise, she was radiantly beautiful, wearing a low-cut violet silk frock much too elaborate for this hour of the morning. Pausing in the doorway, she gazed at the men with attractive confusion.

  “Oh dear, I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

  “Not at all,” Edward replied. “Good morning, Vanessa. You’re just in time to meet Jennifer’s cousin, Clive Randall. Clive, Vanessa Robb, my cousin Lyman’s wife.”

  Gerry stared at her, dazzled, taken aback by her beauty. Vanessa smiled, fully aware of her effect on him.

  “How do you do?” she said. “Jenny,” she scolded, “you never told me you had such a handsome cousin.”

  “Clive is going to spend a few days with us,” Edward said.

  “Oh? How enchanting. Just in time for the ball, too. Do you dance, Mr. Randall?”

  “Clive,” he said, “please.”

  “Clive,” she repeated, smiling.

  “I adore dancing,” he told her.

  “I’m sure you dance divinely.”

  “Well—”

  “I can sense it,” she said.

  They might have been alone together, Edward and I both forgotten for the moment. The chemistry between them was powerful, and immediate. Gerald Prince was even more susceptible to beautiful women than most men, and his response to Vanessa was plainly visible. Sensual mouth parted in a curling half smile, he looked at her with masculine appreciation in his eyes, and there was speculation as well. Although less obvious about it than he, Vanessa was just as taken as he was.

  “It’s nice to have you here,” she said.

  “Nice to be here.”

  “Are you interested in old houses?”

  “Fascinated by them.”

  “You must let me show you around.”

  “That would be—smashing.”

  “I had Peters take his bags up to the blue room,” Edward remarked.

  “Oh? I’ll show you the way, Clive. This house is so vast—quite easy for a stranger to lose his way.”

  “Thoughtful of you.”

  Her vivid blue eyes deep and shining, she gave a gay, tinkling little laugh and wrapped her arm around his.

  “Come,” she said. “You must tell me all about yourself—and our dear Jenny. Did you two grow up together? She’s rather a mystery, you see. No one knows a thing about her—”

  They left, her violet silk skirt rustling. I could hear her chattering in a bright, vivacious voice as they moved down the hall. I stood up, more worried than ever. Vanessa was definitely the enemy. She would do anything possible to hurt Edward’s cause. Gerald Prince was not to be trusted with a woman. What if he was indiscreet? What if he let slip something he shouldn’t? I looked at Edward. He seemed totally unconcerned.

  “It’s all my fault—” I began.

  “Quite true.”

  “I should never have sent those letters.”

  “You should never have sent them,” he agreed.

  “I—I don’t know what to say—”

  “Then I suggest you say nothing.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  Edward regarded me with frosty blue eyes, one brow arched, the other a straight line. “‘That needn’t concern you,” he said.

  “You’ll have to pay him.”

  “You think so?”

  “He—he meant what he said.”

  “I’m sure he did.”

  “He’ll tell Lord Mallyn—”

  His lips curled into that thin smile, and once again I detected a hint of sardonic amusement in his eyes. “My dear Jenny,” he said, “you brought this about through your own stupidity. I suggest you leave everything to me now.”

  “Vanessa is bound to question him, Edward.”

  “I feel certain she will.”

  “What if—”

  Edward glanced at the clock. “I have business to attend to,” he said impatiently, “and I believe it’s almost time for you to accompany my uncle on his turn in the sunshine. Keep calm, Jennifer. I’ll handle Mr. Gerald Prince, I assure you.”

  With those words he strolled out of the room, leaving me filled with a mounting alarm. What was he planning? What was he going to do? He had to meet Gerry’s demands. Surely he realized that. There was nothing else he could do. He was altogether too calm, almost nonchalant about it, and that worried me. Anger I could have understood, but this.… I shook my head, wishing I were far, far away from this place.

  Vanessa brought “Clive Randall” out to the back lawn to meet Lord Mallyn an hour or so later. Ensconced in his chair, wearing a vivid robe and wrapped in a number of shawls, Lord Mallyn was in a testy mood, complaining that the sunlight was too strong, the birds too blasted loud, and he gave a snort when he saw the two of them approaching. Standing behind his chair, I frowned. I had been meaning to tell him about Gerry’s “visit” ever since we came outside, but his constant complaints had made it impossible to get a word in edgewise.

  “Who’s this?” he grumbled as they approached. “Another of Vanessa’s squires? Don’t like the looks of the fellow, too smooth—don’t like the cut of him at all. That preposterous waistcoat—”

  “He’s my cousin,” I said nervously.

  “Your cousin! You’re related to that stout popinjay?”

  “He—he’s come to visit. I invited him.”

  “You invited him! Must-a taken leave of your senses!”

  They reached us before I could reply. Vanessa performed the introductions gracefully. Gerry was impeccable, nodding politely, expressing his delight at meeting such an esteemed personage. Lord Mallyn snorted again and extended a beringed hand. Gerry squeezed it a bit too heartily, causing the rings to crush against bone, causing its owner to let out an anguished roar. Gerry dropped the hand promptly, dismayed. Lord Mallyn glared at him fiercely. Vanessa smiled prettily, called Lord Mallyn a naughty old rogue and, saying they wouldn’t bother us any longer, led Gerry back toward the veranda.

  “Just when I’m beginning to feel my oats, I’m invaded by overdressed hooligans!” Lord Mallyn said hotly. “The oaf damned near broke my hand! I suppose he intends to stay here! Well, I don’t mind telling you, Jenny, if he weren’t your cousin, I’d have the footmen throw him off the premises! Most unreasonable of you to invite him here in the first place. Everyone’s in league against me—”

  Vanessa and Gerry went out riding that afternoon, causing young Lyle Radcliff considerable consternation when he arrived shortly after their departure. I felt rather sorry for the youth. It was obvious, already, that he had been supplanted. Heavy, sensual, undeniably handsome, Gerald Prince would naturally be fascinating to a woman like Vanessa, and she had wasted no time in appropriating him. Edward might not be conce
rned, but it made me extremely uneasy. I was in a distracted mood as I sewed with Lettice in the nursery, unable to concentrate on the task at hand, and later on, as I dressed for dinner, my mood hadn’t improved a bit.

  Susie had arranged my hair on top of my head in smooth, sculptured auburn waves, leaving three long ringlets dangling to touch my bare shoulder. The girl was an artist, quite true, but she was also an incorrigible chatterbox, hardly pausing for breath. Ordinarily I found her chatter amusing, but tonight it was merely irritating. While she did my hair I learned that Cook had used her tarot cards this mornin’ and ’ad a fright, a real fright, said somethin’ dreadful was goin’ to ’appen at Mallyncourt soon, death an’ disaster bound to ’appen, it was in th’ cards. I also learned that Betty ’ad a new dress, red, it was, most improper, and ’ow, Susie wanted to know, just ’ow could an ’onest girl afford such a dress? Taking my gown from the wardrobe, she regaled me with an account of George’s cheekiness. This mornin’ ’e pulled ’er into the linen closet and gave her such a sound kiss and Lord knows what would-a ’appened if Jeffers ’adn’t come saunterin’ down th’ ’all when ’e did. Susie slipped the gown over my head, smoothing the skirt down over the full petticoats.

  “This golden brown satin,” she said, “so fetchin’, so pretty with your ’air. ’Ere, Miss Jenny, let me ’elp you fasten it up—there! You do look a picture, no mistake.”

  “Thank you, Susie.”

  “’E’s gettin’ impossible, ’e is, George, I mean. I told ’im I wanted a ring, and ’e looked ’orrified, said there were lots-a girls who wouldn’t mind sparkin’ with ’im without expectin’ to marry ’im, and you know what I told ’im? I told ’im to find one of those girls an’ leave me alone. ’E’s almost in th’ bag now—I say, did you ’ear about the row?”

  “What row?” I inquired, gazing into the mirror, not really paying attention to her babbling.

  “Mister Lyman—’e was furious! Near murdered Anderson, ’e did. Anderson’s th’ gardener, you know, been at Mallyncourt forever ’n ever. ’E was almost sacked this afternoon.”