Dark Before the Rising Sun (29 page)

“No thank you, madam, I have other calls to make yet,” Sir Morgan declined. For some hurtful reason, Lady Bess felt his response as a rebuke.

“I shouldn't wish to keep you, Captain Lloyd,” she said, rising in dismissal.

Sir Morgan Lloyd got slowly to his feet. Lady Bess realized then that those sharp eyes had not missed the darned spot on the settee, or the threadbare carpets and draperies. His eyes were taking note, no doubt, of the peeling paint, and the one lighter wall where a painting had hung before being sold to pay the butcher's bill.

“You have far to ride?” she asked, trying to draw the captain's attention away from the beggarly condition of her salon.

This time Lieutenant Handley couldn't quite control his feelings. He sighed in exasperation. “Yes, m'lady, I am afraid so, for although I told Sir Morgan that Merdraco stands empty, he insists on seeing the castle. And from there we must travel back to Westlea Abbot, where I hope I can persuade Sir Morgan to stop and enjoy a warming rum before continuing on to Wolfingwold Abbey.”

“Indeed?” Lady Bess seemed disinterested.

“Yes. I thought I saw a light in one of the towers of Merdraco a few nights past,” Sir Morgan commented casually.

“Merdraco is not likely to be inhabited ever again,” Lady Bess said, smiling as she remembered the shining lights and the strains of music which used to fill the night air. She sighed with regret.

“You think not? And why is that, madam?” Sir Morgan inquired.

“Since you are a stranger hereabouts, you wouldn't know. The marquis, Lord Jacqobi, left Merdraco when he was but a young man, and no one has seen or heard of him since,” the lieutenant replied, eager to repeat the gossip he had overheard.

“I see,” was all Captain Sir Morgan Lloyd said.

“Of course, were he here,” Lieutenant Handley continued conversationally, despite the awkward silence that, for different reasons, existed between Sir Morgan and Lady Bess, “'twould make your job all that much easier.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. He was quite the wild one, or so I've been told. He was even accused of murdering a young girl out on the moors.”

“And what does that have to do with making my job easier, Lieutenant?” Sir Morgan wanted to know. His dislike of the young man was becoming even more intense for he could guess what the lieutenant's next words were going to be.

“Why, he would be, of course, the most likely suspect to be the leader of the smuggling gang. He lost his inheritance through gambling, and what better way to regain a fortune?”

“One must have proof, Lieutenant. We cannot hang a man merely because he possesses a bad reputation,” Sir Morgan responded.

“My pardon, sir. Of course, you are right,” the lieutenant quickly changed his tune. “But I still do not see any reason for going to Merdraco. My horse always acts crazy when I'm there,” he said without thinking.

“You have had cause to go there often, Lieutenant?” Sir Morgan asked quietly, and Lady Bess told herself never to make a slip of the tongue around the man. He missed nothing.

Lieutenant Handley coughed, clearing his throat nervously. “My troop and I have had to patrol all along the coastline, sir. And in the course of that duty, we have ridden to Merdraco. But we've never even stumbled across a mouse,” the lieutenant reported with a sickly grin, knowing he was going to look a fool with his next words. “I really believe, though, that the place is haunted. Yes, really. There are always people claiming to see lights flashing. Nobody goes up there anymore.”

“Then what better place for the smugglers to land their goods than Merdraco?”

“Can't do that very well, Sir Morgan. Dragon's Cove is the devil to sail in and out of. Most don't make it. Why, just a few months ago—” the loquacious lieutenant began, only to swallow the last of his words. “Sir Morgan, please forgive me, I meant no offense. I forgot about the relationship,” he pleaded, genuinely sorry this time.

Lady Bess stared hard at Sir Morgan Lloyd. “Lloyd? I thought the name sounded familiar. Where have I heard it before?”

“Perhaps, madam, you knew my brother, Captain Benjamin Lloyd, late of HMS
Hindrance
, which was wrecked in Dragon's Cove not half a year ago?”

“Good Lord, of course,” Lady Bess exclaimed, and as she continued to stare up into Sir Morgan Lloyd's hardened face, she realized the reason behind his assuming command of his brother's former station. No wonder he had managed to get additional powers. “I was very sorry to hear of his ship's sinking. I met your brother on several occasions and always thought him a most polite young gentleman.”

“Thank you,” Sir Morgan said abruptly, not inviting her condolences.

“I am surprised, however, that on the strength of that relationship alone, you were given so important a command,” Lady Bess said.

“Sir Morgan Lloyd, my lady, has had command of his own ship for many years, and was considered one of His Majesty's most illustrious captains on duty in the colonies,” the lieutenant supplied. “If anyone can catch those smugglers, then 'twill be Sir Morgan.”

For the first time since he had entered Seawyck Manor, Sir Morgan Lloyd smiled. Lady Bess gasped at the startling change it made in the man, and she found herself wondering what he must have been like before his brother's death.

“Let us hope you are correct, Lieutenant Handley,” Sir Morgan said, eyeing the young officer with interest. “Naturally, I shall not expect to achieve that end without your help,” he added, his smile widening as Lieutenant Handley grinned, unable to contain his pleasure.

“A pleasure, madam,” Sir Morgan said, nodding with the minimum of acknowledgment for her presence. “We still have a long way to ride, Lieutenant.”

“Oh, did I hear you say you were planning to pay a call on Wolfingwold Abbey?” Lady Bess asked. At the impatient look which crossed the insufferable Sir Morgan's face, she smiled, keeping her information to herself. “Then please give Sir Miles my best.” She did not inform them that she had passed him on the road the day before, bound for London.

As the door shut on the two figures, one in blue, the other in scarlet, Lady Bess smiled. They were destined for a long, frustrating ride, and it even looked like rain.

* * *

Bess drew the brush through her daughter's long, black hair with slow, even strokes. Grasping the soft strands, Bess parted them into three lengths and began to braid them.

“Mama?”

“Ummmm?”

“There really was a light in one of the towers of Merdraco the other night. I saw it.”

“Nonsense, child,” she said absently. Then her voice sharpened. “Were you listening outside the door? Haven't I warned both you and Charles time and time again against so rude an activity?”

“I was coming to see if you wanted tea,” Anne explained. “'Tis haunted, though.”

“Of course not.”

“But didn't the Lady Elayne jump to her death from the cliffs near there? They say 'tis she who wanders the halls.”

Bess sighed. She wasn't in the mood for ghost tales that evening, what with worrying about the padlock she'd had Bickham put on the stable doors. “She fell.”

“Couldn't the smugglers have pushed her?”

“There weren't any smugglers at Merdraco fifteen years ago,” she murmured, thinking that everything good in her life had happened in the past.

Anne Seacombe caught the unconscious sigh. Glancing up, she stared at her mother curiously. “That was about the time the Marquis of Jacqobi left, wasn't it?”

“Yes, it was the same time.”

“Was he truly as wild as they say he was? And as handsome?”

“And who has been speaking of him? Janey? That girl talks too much.”

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Well, was he?”

“Yes, I s'pose he was.”

“Did he really murder that girl?”

“You certainly are full of questions this eve, Madame Nosy,” Bess said.

“Did he, Mama?”

“No, he didn't,” was the emphatic reply.

“You sound very certain. How do you know?”

“I just do. I would never believe such a monstrous thing of Dante. When you love someone, child, you can believe no wrong of them.”

“But you broke off your engagement to him. If you loved him, why did you forsake him?” Anne's dark brown eyes searched her mother's flushed face. “Ouch! You pulled my hair too tight!” she cried.

“Because he had gambled away his inheritance,” Bess said tersely while she tied a red velvet ribbon in her daughter's hair. “Unfortunately, one must have means of putting bread on the table, and Dante was more concerned about the cards he was laying down on the table. How could I marry a man who couldn't support me?” Bess demanded. Even to her, she sounded hollow. “At least, I thought so at the time. I was so young. And so very foolish.”

“I am sorry, Mama. I did not think you still cared for him,” Anne said softly.

“What? This is ridiculous. 'Twould have been a most unfortunate match! He was wild and arrogant and damned everyone's eyes, and I was too used to getting my own way, and not sympathetic to other people's needs. We most likely would have killed one another before the month was out,” Bess said wryly.

“You are still in love with him, aren't you, Mama?”

A proud Lady Bess remained silent. That was an admission she dared not make even to herself, for how much more empty could her life be than it was already? And there was no future in dreaming.

“I know you were not happy with Father.”

There was a startled silence, and then Bess asked frankly, “Was it so obvious?”

“How could you be happy with him when he was forever drunk? And when he did speak, 'twas always of his hounds,” Anne said, surprising her mother by her keen memory. “I can see that you might long for a former love, especially now that you are widowed.”

“Thank you, my dear,” Bess said, and for the first time she saw Anne as the thoughtful young woman she was becoming, and not as just her little girl.

“Do you ever think of him?”

Bess smiled, tugging gently this time on the long black braid. “Yes. More than I should. And who knows if he is even still alive?”

“Maybe one day he will come riding up to the house on a big black charger and carry you off to his castle,” said Anne, who was still young enough to believe in romantic dreams.

“If he were to return, he would probably shun me, and with good reason. I betrayed him. He will never forgive me,” Bess said, knowing she would not forgive herself.

“Oh, Mama, no. He must still love you. He will if he ever sees you again, for you are so beautiful,” Anne's dark eyes mirrored admiration.

“Fanciful child,” said Bess affectionately, pleased by the compliment.

“Besides, Mama, your grandfather would never have allowed you to have wed him once his reputation was ruined, especially once he became penniless. You were underage, and you would have needed permission.”

“You are right, my dear. Grandfather refused permission when he discovered Dante's gambling had led him to lose his inheritance. And, of course, when Dante was accused of murder, he forbade me even to see Dante again.” Bess's expression became sadder. “He later came across information which proved Dante's innocence—while convicting me in his eyes.”

“What was that?”

Bess hesitated, then explained. “Something I said. I was ill with fever, and I rambled on and on about something which, until then, had remained a secret between Dante and me. I do not think that Grandfather has ever forgiven me for it, or for what I did to Dante by lying. I know I still curse myself.”

“I always wondered why Grandfather visited us so rarely.”

“He bears you and Charles no grudge. He is a good man and an honest one, but very rigid. I disgraced him by breaking his code of ethics. And oddly enough, disreputable though Dante may have seemed, in Grandfather's eyes he acted the gentleman. Now,” Bess ordered, pressing a kiss against her daughter's forehead, “off to bed with you.”

“Good night, Mama,” Anne said and kissed Bess's cheek. Spinning around and around, her nightdress billowing out, Anne danced to the door, then paused, listening. “Did you hear something, Mama?” she asked, suddenly frightened.

Bess swallowed hard. “No.” She managed to sound firm.

“Go to bed, child.”

As the door closed on the small figure, Bess sighed tiredly, but her eyes strayed to the shuttered window rather than to her bed. Her rooms overlooked the stables. She conquered the temptation to glance out, in case someone standing out there in the darkness was looking up. Clad only in the thin lawn nightgown, Bess shivered, but with cold, not nerves, she reassured herself as she glanced at the darkened hearth.

Pulling a wool shawl around her shoulders, she crossed her arms over her breasts, hugging herself protectively, and then began to pace. She would wait for the clock in the entrance hall to strike once, and then…

Bess awoke with a start, her heart pounding. It was too quiet. What had awakened her? Tired of pacing, she had curled up in the winged-back chair near the fireplace, but that had been hours ago, she realized as she heard the clock strike the hour. It was well past one, the hour she had been dreading, yet nothing had happened.

Bess sighed. She uncurled her legs and glanced around the floor for her slippers. She froze as her bare foot struck something cold and hard. In the half-light, she just barely managed to make out the broken padlock she had locked on the stable doors earlier that evening.

“Did ye really think 'twould keep me out, Lady Bess?” a harsh voice demanded.

Bess's scream died in her throat. She stared up at the man leaning negligently against her bed, a glass of brandy in his large hands. Tall, he was broad of shoulder and lean of hip. Clad in leather breeches and frock coat, he looked like any villager, but his heavy jackboots were caked with mud. The man was accustomed to much more walking than was normal.