Dark Before the Rising Sun (55 page)

Shelby was deadly quiet. “What kind of a bruise?” he finally asked.

“He said it looked like a dog's head, something like that. He swears he saw it on Lettie's body too.”

As Shelby sat there on the back of Bristol Boy, Bess sensed a horrible change taking place in the man. The horse felt it too, for he whinnied nervously. The pieces of a puzzle were falling into place for him, and as Bess watched fearfully, the pistol began to shake. At last he spoke. It was just one word: “Miles.”

Then Jack Shelby turned Bristol Boy around and laid the whip to his backside as he galloped down the road, leaving Bess standing there afraid to believe that she was still alive.

* * *

“Damn, I don't see how he could have gotten away,” Dante swore softly.

“I don't think he did. A lot of bodies were carried out into the cove,” Sir Morgan reminded him. “Eventually, he will wash ashore.” That Shelby could be walking around was unthinkable.

Dante and Sir Morgan had reached the top of the cliff and were walking through the ruins when they both caught sight of the flames dancing high into the sky, lighting up the heavens with a sullen, orange glare. Both froze, then raced ahead.

Dante reached his horse first and was already galloping down the road when Sir Morgan sent his mount in pursuit.

By the time Dante reached the lodge, it was totally engulfed in flames. The heat was unbearable, and the small group huddled close together were standing back against the trees, cringing as if they were watching the end of the world.

Dante jumped down, letting his horse gallop away from the flames as he ran toward them. It was only when he drew close that he heard the weeping and moaning. But what stopped him in his tracks was the sight of Alastair sitting on the ground, his head in his hands, sobbing.

Alastair felt a hand touch his shoulder, and he knew without looking whose hand it was. He just shook his head, his sobs coming harder.

“Cap'n,” Kirby whispered hoarsely, his face streaked with tears and smoke, “it happened so fast. One minute everything was fine, the next the place was all in flames.” His gnarled hand shook as he kept rubbing Jamaica's ruffled fur. The cat's eyes glowed with reflected fire.

“Mr. Marlowe came running in and woke us, said it was spreading. He said Francis and—and—” But Kirby's voice broke. He started to cry. Then, sniffing, he gasped. “Lord Chardinall and Lady Rhea had gone upstairs to get Conny and Robin and young Kit. They were coming back down. W-we saw them. Then suddenly there was this sheet of flame. It cut them off. That was the last we saw of them. Oh, Lordy, I-I—”Kirby sobbed, his body shaking as he buried his face in Jamaica's fur, holding on to the tomcat as if he were the dearest thing in the world.

Sir Morgan shielded his eyes against the flames. He had heard Kirby's story, but even though he was staring at the raging fire, he still could not believe that Lady Rhea Claire and her brothers, and her son, and young Conny had all died that fiery death.

Glancing at Dante, he thought he'd never seen a man look so devastated, or so lifeless. It was as if he had somehow died himself in that moment when he had learned that his wife and child had died.

Sir Morgan jumped a foot as someone touched his arm. He looked down to see Bess Seacombe staring up at him, her dark eyes wild with despair.

“It was Jack Shelby. I-I was coming here to explain to Lady Jacqobi about the other night when he jumped me on the road and stole my horse. He boasted about setting fire to the lodge. He's raving mad. He did it because of Lettie, because he thought Dante killed her. But I told him he hadn't. I think he finally believed me. Then he said the oddest thing.” Bess's breath was coming raggedly.

“What?” Sir Morgan questioned, his arm around her waist all that kept her legs from giving out.

“He said, ‘Miles.' I don't think I've ever seen such a murderous look on somebody's face.”

“What did you say to him?” Sir Morgan asked, trying to go slowly to coax the answers from her.

“I was trying to convince him that Dante didn't kill Lettie, or Esma Samples. I told him that Dante was with me that night when Lettie died, and he already knew that Dante was at Seawyck the other night. Then I told him that you had been with him all night. He knew then that Dante could not have killed Esma Samples. I told him about the bruises on the bodies,” Bess said tiredly.

“What bruises?” Sir Morgan questioned impatiently.

“Bruises that looked like a dog's head. The man who found the body said he remembered seeing one just like it on Lettie's body. And that was when Jack Shelby said ‘Miles.'”

“Dante! Don't! Come back! No matter what, you can't do it!” Sir Morgan called suddenly. But it was useless, for Dante had overheard all of it, and Sir Morgan knew where he was going.

Dante had reached his horse and flung himself into the saddle when, suddenly, he slid back to the ground and stood staring straight ahead.

“What the devil?” Sir Morgan whispered as Dante suddenly broke into a run across the stretch of cliff that led to the towers of Merdraco. For a horrible moment, Sir Morgan thought that Dante had lost his mind from grief and was going to throw himself off the cliff.

But then they all caught sight of figures making their way across that windswept ground. There were four of them. One of them was a woman cradling something close to her breast.

“Oh, my God!” Kirby blubbered, his sobbing loud and unrestrained as he understood. He recognized those two short figures running ahead of the other two now, and awkwardly he ran out to meet them, Jamaica eyeing the little steward as if he had bats in the belfry.

Francis Dominick's face was nearly black from the smoke, and his teeth seemed startlingly white as he grinned, stumbling into waiting arms. He glanced back over his shoulder to see Rhea disappear entirely as Dante embraced her and their son in his arms, holding them as if he would never let them go, as indeed he never would.

Truth is truth

To the end of reckoning.

—Shakespeare

There was no darkness before the rising sun on that day, for the skies had been aflame all night long. When dawn broke, the first streakings turned to scarlet, reflected by the smoky skies above Merdraco.

The daylight revealed a lodge reduced to little more than ashes, soon to be blown away on the winds.

It revealed, too, all that remained of the smuggling gang, footprints in the sand, soon to be washed away on the tide.

News of the fire spread quickly, and soon the homeless were on their way to Sevenoaks House, having received an invitation from Sir Jacob Weare to be his guests until Merdraco could be made habitable.

But before the master of Merdraco could rest, he would have to face his enemy. So Dante left Rhea and his son with Sir Jacob and rode from Sevenoaks House to Wolfingwold Abbey, the home of Sir Miles Sandbourne and the place where Jack Shelby would surely be found. With him rode Sir Morgan, Alastair, Francis, and Kirby.

What that group of bedraggled, grim-faced riders had expected was not what they saw.

Sir Miles's servants were standing in the great hall of the onetime monastic property, their faces clearly showing fright. Jack Shelby had indeed come to Wolfingwold Abbey demanding to see Sir Miles. Apparently he had found him in the salon. None of the servants had dared to open those closed double doors since they had heard the pistol shot ring out.

Dante and Sir Morgan put their shoulders to the locked doors and broke through. The sight which met their eyes was enough to sicken even a man accustomed to death.

Jack Shelby had discovered that he had been duped by Sir Miles all these years. It had been that fine gentleman, in fact, and not his stepson, Dante Leighton, who murdered Lettie. When Shelby started to choke the life out of Sir Miles, the older man managed to reach inside his coat pocket and grasp his pistol. Pulling the trigger, he shot the larger man in the chest. But Shelby, his big hands still clasped around Sir Miles's throat, continued to crush Sir Miles's windpipe before he succumbed to his own wound. Finally, both lay dead at each other's feet.

They had not lingered at that scene of such vileness. Back at Sevenoaks House, Dante found Rhea freshly bathed, smoke washed from her hair, and clad in a gown borrowed from Sir Jacob's niece, the hard-of-hearing Essie.

Kit was snuggled on her lap, his eyes drooping heavily as he nodded off. Rhea sipped a sherry and tried to put the horrible memory from her for at least a while.

Sir Jacob, still wearing his dressing gown, was waiting for Dante. He knew there would be more to this day. Essie was in her chair by the fire, and Dante wondered idly if anything ever budged her.

Alastair, Francis, Kirby, and the boys had found seats around the room. They had scrubbed their hands and faces clean of the black smoke, but their clothing still reeked of it. Dante ran a weary hand through his own disorderly hair and, finding a footstool, drew it up close to Rhea and Kit, a large snifter of brandy in his hand.

Jamaica, understanding that they were guests in the strange house, made certain of his next meal by attaching himself to Essie. He began to weave in and out around her legs, much to Kirby's annoyance. When it came to his stomach, that cat had no loyalties.

“They killed each other,” Dante startled everyone by suddenly announcing into the expectant silence.

“Sir Miles is dead?” Sir Jacob asked. Perhaps repeating it would make it absolutely true.

“Yes, but he managed to shoot Jack Shelby before he died,” Dante said.

“Good Lord, the madness that comes of hatred!” Sir Jacob shook his head. “Well, at least neither one of them will be able to hurt anyone anymore. Is it all over now, do you suppose? So many years, so many long, wasted years all because of one man's corruption.” After a silence, he said, “May I ask why Jack Shelby went after Sir Miles all of a sudden? If what I have heard is correct, then Sir Miles was the leader of the Sons of Belial, and the two of them have been working together for years. Why did he turn on Miles now?” Sir Jacob asked, thinking about rabid dogs turning on their masters.

All eyes moved from Sir Jacob to Dante, who explained, “Sir Miles was indeed the leader of the Sons of Belial, but, as was his way, he stayed in the background for all these years, letting Jack Shelby be visible, and letting him enjoy the small tastes of power Miles allowed him. If anything had gone wrong, then the rope burns around the neck would also have been Shelby's. I suppose I am partly to blame for Miles's involvement with the smugglers, for I caused him to become almost bankrupt. He had to have some revenue coming in,” Dante speculated, staring into his brandy as if seeing everything clearly in the glass.

“Nonsense, boy. Miles was rotten the day he was born. Never did like him, even when he was a boy Francis's age. Would've turned bad no matter what,” Sir Jacob expostulated. “Don't be silly. Now continue.”

“Well, apparently Esma Samples knew Miles's identity. Her husband must have known, and that was why he was killed. He told his wife, and so she was killed.”

“Ah, I am beginning to see,” Sir Jacob said, rubbing his chin. “I had heard about this murder and its similarity to the Lettie Shelby killing. No doubt Miles planned it to look as if you had done it. Since you had been suspected of the Shelby girl's murder, what better way to discredit you all over again and stir up Shelby, as well.”

“Yes, but Sir Miles did more than just
plan
this murder. He dirtied his hands this one time, and that was when he became careless. He was so desperate to silence the woman and protect his identity that he killed her himself, but he also couldn't resist the opportunity to cast suspicion on me. He was greedy. He let his desire to destroy me blind him to good sense.”

“How did it come about that Shelby and the authorities suddenly suspected Miles of Lettie Shelby's murder?” Sir Jacob wanted to know.

“Apparently there was a bruise on Esma Samples's body which matched one seen on Lettie's. It was the bruised impression of a dog's head. Something that might have been made by a blow from the head of a cane.”

“A wolf's head, not a dog's! Sir Miles and his vanity,” Sir Jacob said, smiling strangely. “He always carried that damned wolf's head cane. He signed his own death warrant with it. Shelby, slow as he might have been, would have remembered seeing a wolf's head.”

“Actually, we have Bess to thank for that,” Dante surprised Bess's grandfather by saying. There was a soft note in his voice.

“Bess?”

“Yes, she met Shelby on the road right after he set fire to the lodge,” Dante said, his hand touching Rhea's, “and she told him that I had been with her the night of Lettie's death and that Sir Morgan had been with me that other evening in question. As he already knew I had been at Bess's the night of Esma Samples's death, he knew I could not have done either killing. Then Bess told him about the bruise, and she said he looked as if he'd seen the devil.”

“But what was Bess doing on the road near Merdraco at what must have been a rather late hour?” Sir Jacob demanded.

“She was coming to tell me that nothing had happened between her and Dante.” Rhea spoke for the first time. “She wanted me to know the truth, that he and Sir Morgan guessed that Shelby would go to Seawyck Manor to accost her, and that's where they found him before he could harm Bess. But because Dante and Sir Morgan were working together to trap the smugglers and this Lieutenant Handley who had betrayed Sir Morgan's brother, they couldn't let it be known that Sir Morgan had been there that evening, and since Shelby hadn't seen him, they were still safe. Sir Morgan prevailed upon Bess not to say anything, and Bess, being grateful for their assistance and very willing to see the end of Shelby and his smugglers, was more than agreeable,” Rhea explained, glad, as Bess had been, to bring everything out into the open.

“Sir Morgan told me that he would have explained to Rhea if Bess hadn't,” Dante said, knowing what Rhea had gone through.

“If I were not so pleased to find out that Sir Morgan had never really turned against you, then I should be very displeased with him for not taking me into his confidence,” Rhea said calmly. “I shall look forward to having a few words with him. Where is he?” Rhea asked.

“He stayed at Wolfingwold to make arrangements, and no doubt to collect whatever evidence there is. He will be quite busy making certain that the lieutenant stands trial without delay.”

Sir Jacob leaned back in his chair and sighed. “I can scarcely believe that Miles Sandbourne is actually gone. I have worried for so long about that man and the threat he presented,” Sir Jacob mumbled.

“Ye've been worried?” Kirby said. “Think how I've felt all of these years, knowin' the cap'n was determined to come back here and wreak his vengeance against that hell hound. I don't s'pose I've had a night's rest since I've returned,” the little steward sniffed.

“You do look as if you've aged a lifetime, Kirby,” Sir Jacob commiserated with the little man, who raised a bushy eyebrow at that.

“Aye, thought 'twas the end there for a while, and I don't s'pose hell could be any worse than the sight of that lodge on fire,” he said with a shake of his head. He raised the brandy glass to his lips gratefully.

Sir Jacob stared at Rhea and her son, sitting there so close by Dante, and then at Francis, who seemed truly to be enjoying a brandy for the first time, and at the two boys, who were sitting close together on the settee, their eyes still wide with the terrors they had seen.

“How the devil did you get out of the lodge?” Sir Jacob suddenly demanded.

Francis shuddered. He had come too close to death to think about it even now without feeling the heat of that fire singeing his eyebrows. He glanced over at the two boys, a loving look in his eyes, and said, “We have those two intrepid but secretive explorers to thank for our being alive.”

Conny and Robin looked shamefaced even as they straightened their shoulders proudly. They knew that by keeping the underground passage from the beach to the lodge a secret, they had been partially responsible for Jack Shelby being able to escape Sir Morgan's and Dante's trap.

“I thought we were done for,” Francis admitted. “The flames had cut us off, and we were huddled there in the hall, when Conny and Robin suddenly started hollering about some secret underground passage that led from the lodge to the beach below. They started to fumble against the panel in the corridor. Finally, clearing some of the smoke from my brain, I started to help them. We found the latch and got into the tunnel just in time. A minute later and…” Francis struggled for the words that did not need saying.

Dante eyed the boys sternly. “I had forgotten about that underground passage. It was boarded up long ago. It served its purpose during the Civil War, when my ancestors needed to escape Cromwell's men. I assumed the roof had fallen in by now. Apparently Shelby hadn't forgotten about it. That must have been how he escaped us on the beach and reached the lodge to set the fire. He probably found the tunnel when he was bailiff at Merdraco and used it smuggling. Thankfully you found the secondary tunnel leading to an exit in the castle ruins and not to the cave on the cliff when you fled the fire. I shall have to explore this tunnel with you later,” Dante promised. He also promised himself to keep a closer eye on the two fearless young fellows.

“I still wonder how all of this would have ended if Sir Miles hadn't killed Esma Samples and if Bess hadn't told Shelby about that bruise,” Alastair mused, thinking that their lives had depended rather too much on a few chances of fortune and the caprice of fate.

Sir Jacob shifted to a more comfortable position, but Rhea could have sworn his eyes gleamed with anticipation. “I'll have to visit Seawyck, thank Bess, see her children, been too long,” he grumbled. “But it would have ended the same even if Shelby hadn't killed Sir Miles.”

“How can you know that for certain?” Dante asked, thinking that Sir Jacob had a lot of faith.

“I think it is time to reveal everything,” said the old man. He glanced at the little woman sitting so quietly by the fire, Jamaica curled in her lap. “Essie? Don't you think so?” Sir Jacob inquired gently. Everyone was surprised to find that she had no trouble hearing Sir Jacob. And when the old woman got up, she moved quickly and easily.

Dante and the others stared as the woman turned and faced them, allowing the bright light of day, streaming in from the broad row of windows, to hit her full in the face. After a moment she removed the deeply ruffled mobcap which had concealed so much of her face. Then her hands, no longer shaking with age, slid into her silver curls and, with a quick movement that caught them all by surprise, she pulled the wig from her head, revealing her own golden hair, pinned tightly in a topknot.

Using a lace-edged handkerchief, she carefully removed the caked powder which had made her seem old. At last, removing her spectacles, she held her face up to them. It was the woman of the portrait.

“Mother!” Dante cried hoarsely, rising to face the woman whose death had haunted him. “Mother!”

“Dante. My son. My beloved son,” she said softly, holding out her arms to the lost son who had finally come home to Merdraco.

* * *

Two weeks passed while they remained at Sevenoaks House, and in that time Dante and his mother came to know one another again. Rhea smiled joyfully watching Lady Elayne, looking almost as young as her portrait, sitting in the shade of the big oak tree, her grandson cradled in her lap. She sang softly to him, as she had once sung to her Dante.

Rhea remembered every moment of that stunning discovery of two weeks before, when Dante learned that his mother was alive and had been living at Sevenoaks for the past ten years.

Sir Jacob had been under oath to keep the secret, he told Dante apologetically. Elayne pleaded with him, and although he had not wished to, he had gone along. As the years had passed, he came to see the wisdom of Elayne's decision. The others in the salon listened to her story and came to admire a frightened woman and the sacrifice she'd made to survive.