Bar Sinister (16 page)

"I cannot think my friend was impertinent." Major Falk brushed his hair from his
forehead. It wanted trimming. "That's not Tom's style. I hope he was plain."

"He was plainspoken. I find the situation obscure."

Falk's eyes narrowed. "I daresay you do. Lady Sarah should have no difficulty
understanding it, however. She assured my friend that she would not inform Keighley--the present
duke, that is--of my children's whereabouts. I came to hear her repeat that promise. And to find
out what further damage she has done."

"Upon my word--"

"I daresay Lady Sarah's action was not malicious."

"Malicious!" Sarah stood in the doorway. "Richard, how can you?" Her eyes flashed. She
looked, her indulgent husband thought, quite magnificent.

Her brother regarded her without expression. "Eavesdropping? You weren't used to play
the coward, Lady Sarah."

"And you weren't used to wax slanderous, Lord Richard."

He drew in a sharp breath. "Don't be insulting."

"Why not, when you are?"

They glowered at each other. Presently a flicker of wry humour touched Major Falk's
eyes. "I had not meant this to be a social call, ma'am."

The fire went out of Sarah. "And here we are quarrelling like cat and dog, or brother and
sister." Her hazel eyes brimmed. "Oh, Richard, it is good to see you. How...how have you
been?"

Her brother was made of sterner stuff. "Very well," he said flatly. "How many of your
obnoxious family have you told of my children?"

Sarah flushed, but kept her dignity. "None, except
Maman."

"That was exceedingly stupid," Falk said through his teeth. "And she has no doubt spread
the news broadcast to the duke, your other brothers and sisters, and half the Ton."

"I did not tell her where I found your children. Merely that I had seen them and that they
are healthy and happy."

"So far," he said bitterly.

"You cannot imagine
Maman
means them harm."

"I have no idea what obscure motives move through her grace's brain, and pray do not
enlighten me. It's the duke and your amiable brothers whose intentions I question."

"Keighley wouldn't--"

"Oh, wouldn't he? You writ me a letter some years ago, Lady Sarah. I wonder if you
remember the tenor of it."

"I writ you three letters."

His brows drew together. "I received one."

"I writ you that my father was dead. That was the first."

He nodded. "That one reached me. Well?"

"Well what?"

"You told me," he said slowly, "that owing to the duke's carelessness I had some legal
claim on the estate. I paid you the courtesy of assuming that you were warning me not to try the
claim before the courts, and of course I replied that I would not. I also sent a statement to that
effect to your eldest brother."

Sarah sank into the nearest chair. "I wasn't warning you. I was
inciting
you. I
thought you ought to have something."

He stared at her. "My God, madam, nothing would induce me to claim kinship with the
Duke of Newsham. If thought I were his son on whatever side of the blanket I'd slit my
throat."

Wilson, who remembered the late duke with revulsion, fought an impulse to applaud and
said in his pleasantest voice, "I really think you should sit, Major. And that I should ring for sherry.
Airing the family linen is such dry business, is it not?"

"I prefer to stand, sir. I have very little time and I'm not in the mood for small talk. The
late duke tried once to kill me."

Wilson cocked an ear. He had heard Sarah's version of the incident and he was
curious.

Falk went on, however, without elaboration. "When he failed of his object, he had me
pursued to India. He very nearly destroyed me. When you writ me of his death, Lady Sarah, I had
several minutes of profound relief, until I realised that he had provided his sons with a motive for
continuing the hunt. So I signed an oath before two unimpeachable witnesses that I'd not try to pass
myself off as a Ffouke heir. It wasn't a pleasant task, as you may imagine, but I hoped it would
satisfy them. I sent the statement to the present duke. Should you care to see his response?"

Sarah nodded, mute.

He drew a paper from the breast of his tunic and handed it to her without further
comment.

Wilson was possessed of a keen desire to read over his wife's shoulder. He rang for the
butler instead. "Sherry, Bowles," he murmured when the man appeared. Bowles nodded and
vanished.

Neither Sarah nor her brother noticed the byplay. Sarah had gone pale as she read. Now
two spots of colour burnt on her cheekbones. "How utterly sickening of Keighley. Richard, I swear
to you, I didn't know." She began to crumple the dog-eared letter.

In a single swift movement he was at her side and had taken her wrist.

"You're hurting me."

Wilson started forward.

Falk took the letter and released his grip. "I beg your pardon, but that is the only legal
evidence I have of Keighley's intentions. If something should happen."

"I see," she whispered. "Oh, I see. And your children--"

"Represent precisely the same threat to the estate that I do," he interrupted, completing
her thought. "Not a very large threat, considering Newsham's power, but I have no faith in his
moderation. It would be easy for him to cause them harm, particularly if I were not alive to see to
their protection. I am posted to Belgium," he added wearily. "I have just returned from an
unpleasant year in America. Do you see why I have the wind up?" He smoothed the letter as if it
were a sonnet from a lover.

Sarah nodded without looking up. Her hands clenched in her lap. Wilson was deeply
sorry for her, but unable to think of anything constructive to say.

At that point, happily, Bowles entered with the sherry tray. He set it at Sarah's elbow and
withdrew. Sarah was in no state to be playing the hostess, so Wilson poured the three glasses
himself. Sarah took hers, still silent.

Wilson met his brother-in-law's frown and said placidly, "I am of a persevering nature. If
you'll take a glass, Major, we'll call it restorative rather than social." He had the satisfaction of
seeing the grim lines about the other man's mouth ease. At least Falk had a sense of humour. Falk
sat, docile enough, and took the proffered sherry.

"Excellent." Wilson seated himself on a rather uncomfortable gilt chair between brother
and sister, a not quite neutral body between contending armies. "Now, Sarah, you've told the
dowager that the children exist, but not where. She is apt to surmise they live within a reasonable
distance of Knowlton. Is your mother likely to have passed the information to his grace?"

Sarah looked at him uncertainly. He gave her a reassuring smile and sipped his
sherry.

"Maman
hasn't spoken to Keighley or Caroline in a sixmonth. Caroline is
Newsham's duchess," she added, looking at her brother for the first time in some minutes. "They
have three daughters.
Maman
is fond of the girls, but she and Keighley do not
agree."

Falk took a swallow of sherry. He did not comment.

"I've said nothing to anyone else, Richard. Truly. Except Robin, of course."

"Of course."

Wilson ignored the sarcasm. He gave Sarah a brief smile and turned back to her brother.
"Then I think our path is clear. In the morning I shall put the chaise to and leave for the dowager's
residence in Yorkshire. Do you ride with me far as London, Major, as your time is limited. Lodge
that incriminating letter with your solicitor." He finished his sherry in two judicious sips,
reflecting.

"Thank you, Wilson, but I can't impose on you so far."

"I think you ought," Wilson said mildly. "If you will give me your trust."

Falk finished his sherry and rose. "It won't wash. There are Lord John and Lord George.
Not to mention your sisters, ma'am. I shall have to remove the children to a place of safety. If I can
find one in the time left to me," he added, savage.

"No!" Sarah jumped up and went to him, touching his arm. He jerked away as if he had
been stung. Wilson, angered, made to interpose himself and thought better of it. His wife stood
very still rubbing her rejected hand on the skirt of her gown.

Sarah was not the sort to give up easily, however. She raised her chin. "What kind of
parent can you be to speak so casually of taking Amy and Tommy from Mrs. Foster's care? She has
given them her home. And her heart."

"I did not speak casually." He turned from her and stared out the window, the set of his
shoulders eloquent of stubbornness.

"The dowager lives retired," Wilson observed. "Lord John never visits her and Lord
George would not leave London in the Season for the wilds of Yorkshire. Nor would your sisters,
my dear. There's a chance the dowager may have writ them, but it's only a chance. If I act with
despatch I may be able to forestall her. Pray reconsider, Major. I'm at your service."

Major Falk turned slowly. "Why?"

"Not because of your conciliating manners, to be sure."

Falk did not smile at this sally.

Wilson sighed. "I have never dealt easily with the duke. He opposed Sarah's marriage to
me on specious grounds, and we keep our distance when we are forced into company. Unlike you,
sir, I do not believe him capable of sustaining a vendetta. He is far too indolent. However I, too,
have children, and I have sufficient imagination not to dismiss your fears. He is a proud man and
mean in money matters."

Falk was rubbing his brow as if he had the headache.

"I always pull Sarah's chestnuts out of the fire," Wilson murmured.

The hand stilled.

"The one you ought to look out for is Lord George."

Falk dropped his hand and regarded Wilson, frowning.

"Think it through. Newsham's duchess has so far produced daughters. True, she's a
youngish woman and perfectly healthy, but, who knows? She might be thrown from a carriage or
choke on a bone. Or the duke might, more to the point. Lord John will never marry. His tastes do
not lie in that direction." Wilson watched the other two to see the effects of his little phantasy.
"That leaves Lord George to succeed--and he is your junior, sir."

Sarah's jaw dropped. She closed her mouth with a snap. Falk's thin face went blank. After
a moment he said, drily, "And pigs may fly. If you've no objections I'll deal with one disaster at a
time. Besides there is one irrefutable witness that I am not the duke's son. The dowager."

"I wondered when you would arrive at that. It presents a simple solution to all your
difficulties."

To his surprise Falk looked neither indignant nor relieved, merely uncertain. He turned
to his sister. "You know the dowager. Will she make a witnessed statement for Newsham's
lawyers?"

Sarah stared at him and then at Wilson. She was flushed. "You have both taken leave of
your senses. Expose her folly to the world? Every feeling revolts! How could you think of asking
Maman
to humiliate herself, to--to rake up a dead scandal."

"It is not as if she would be asked to perjure herself," Wilson murmured. "She has merely
to confirm what the world already believes. Her 'folly' is notorious and has been for some thirty
years."

"Thirty-two years and four months at least." Incredibly Falk appeared to be suppressing
laughter. "It is a little odd, to be sure, to be asking one's parent to swear to such a thing."

Wilson snorted.

Sarah was powerfully unamused. "You're both despicable. It is not a joke.
Maman
is five and sixty years old, and frail. You know how ill she was this winter, Robin. She has
suffered enough." At that she broke off, looking confused.

Falk said delicately, "Do you believe my children should be made to suffer, too? Very
scriptural of you, Sarah."

Sarah's eyes filled with tears. "I...Of course not, Richard. Oh, if I knew what was
right..."

Her brother, with some tact, turned back to Wilson. "It seems to me unlikely that the
dowager would make the effort."

"I am a persuasive and insinuating fellow."

"You are, by God, but you'd be trying to overcome some thirty years of inertia. Rather
like moving the world without a lever."

"That is not true!" Sarah burst out.

"What isn't?"

"Inertia.
Maman
rescued you."

Falk scowled. "From the duke's clutches? Come, Sarah, she wasn't even there. That much
I do remember."

"No, but when Papa stormed off she arranged for you to be taken to the parson, what
was his name?"

"Freeman."

"And she paid for your education. She sold her diamonds and had paste copies made. For
three years she schemed and contrived to get you safely out of the country, and what is more she
succeeded. If the duke knew of your whereabouts in India it was not her doing. She will be very
surprised to hear that he found you. Indeed, I shan't tell her so. She is proud of her efforts."

Falk regarded his sister in silence. Wilson thought he was skeptical. After a moment he
said rather heavily, "That's water under the bridge. Will she consent to make a statement
now?"

"I--I don't know," Sarah faltered. On a firmer note she added, "I know she will wish to
help in some way, if she can be brought to believe in the danger."

Falk withdrew the letter from the breast of his tunic and handed it to Wilson without a
word.

"Then you will entrust me with the matter?"

"I have no choice." Perhaps that seemed as ungracious to Falk as it sounded to Sir Robert,
for Falk flushed. "I beg your pardon. I shall be in your debt, sir."

Wilson rather thought he would. "A copy should suffice for the dowager, Major. I am
persuaded you ought to place the original with your solicitor. Let us meet tomorrow at the
coaching inn in Mellings Magna. Ten o'clock."

The next half hour was spent in practical arrangements. Gradually Sarah began to look
less agitated. Wilson was as conscious of his wife's feelings as if she had shouted them aloud. It was
grossly unfair that Sarah should be rebuffed because of her father and the present duke. She had
feared her father. That fear had left marks on her character which no amount of husbandly kindness
and approval could wholly erase. It angered Wilson that it should be so, and he felt some
resentment against Falk for calling up the bad old times, but there was no help for it, and the poor
devil was not to be blamed for trying to protect his children.