Face Down under the Wych Elm (23 page)

Still cursing her lack of foresight, Susanna backed away from the chamber. Behind her, another door opened. She whirled around just as Hugo Garrard stepped out.

He swore when he caught sight of her.

She thought about running, but he blocked her escape route.

Trapped, Susanna gave the first excuse that popped into her mind. “I had hoped to speak to Mildred Edgecumbe, but it appears she has gone out.” She moved toward him, hoping he would let her pass.

Hugo's hand shot out to stop her, closing around her forearm with bruising force. “It will be better, I do think, if you join your friend."

The moment he shoved open the door to the chamber, Susanna saw Jennet. She was lying on the floor, a trickle of blood staining her white cap. Breaking free of Hugo's grip, Susanna rushed to her friend's side. As she knelt, she realized that Jennet's hands and feet were bound.

"Leave her be,” a woman's voice commanded. “So far she has suffered nothing more serious than a blow to the head with a stout stick."

Susanna's hasty survey of the damage was sufficient to reassure her that this was true. She could not like the fact that Jennet was unconscious, but her breathing was regular and her color good.

Rising slowly, Susanna turned. Hugo had gone to stand by the window. Mildred Edgecumbe was nowhere in sight. It had been Damascin who'd issued the command.

"So,” Susanna murmured, “you are the instigator of it all."

"Why so amazed, Lady Appleton? I would think you'd be the first to admit that a woman can be clever and resourceful."

Certes, she had the right of it. Too late, Susanna recognized the simple truth that Damascin, as well as Hugo, stood to gain by the deaths of Edgecumbe, Marsh, Lucy, and Constance.

"I do not discount the murderous capabilities of females, Damascin. Indeed, I had thought that perhaps your mother—"

Damascin's high-pitched laugh cut short the remark. “Mother had no part in this.” Contempt laced her voice. A sneer made otherwise pretty features ugly.

"Your Margery told Jennet ‘twas Mildred Edgecumbe sent her to spy on us."

"And so she did, after I convinced her that she should."

"Where is your mother?” Had they done away with her, too?

"Gone to watch the procession. She will not trouble us. Nor help you, Lady Appleton. You need not think it."

"I rely upon no one but myself,” Susanna told her.

She looked around for the boy she had followed. The only sign of him was a heap of discarded garments scattered across the bed. In her head, Susanna heard Jennet's voice, quoting Margery: “Likes to dress up, does Mistress Damascin."

"Courtesy of the stable boy at Edgecumbe Manor?” Susanna asked, indicating the disguise.

"Make yourself useful, Lady Appleton. Finish lacing me up.” Damascin had resumed her own clothing but had not been able to fasten the back of her bodice or properly attach her sleeves.

Susanna obliged her, though she found the task distasteful. She entertained, briefly, a fantasy of using the young woman's own points to strangle her. She deserved no better fate after all she'd done.

Unfortunately, with Hugo close at hand, any such attempt would be doomed to failure. Better to cooperate, Susanna decided. She would bide her time until she could devise a foolproof plan to remove both herself and Jennet from the clutches of this murderous couple.

"We must change our plans,” Hugo said. “Again. I like this not."

Damascin ignored him. “You were unwise to take matters into your own hands, Lady Appleton. Now, what are we to do with you?"

"You could release us."

"I do not think so."

"Was this your plan from the first?"

"Yes,” Damascin boasted.

"To kill your own father?"

"Aye. Why not? He meant to ruin all. He tried to stop me marrying Hugo when he realized that Hugo was not the true owner of Mill Hall."

"You could have found other prospective husbands, some richer, mayhap, than Hugo Garrard."

"None would have been so well suited to my needs."

"Clement Edgecumbe would have ruined me,” Hugo asserted, moving up beside Damascin to wrap an arm around that young woman's shoulders. “Ruined us. He threatened to enlighten Lucy as to the true state of affairs. We could not allow that."

"Lucy should have been forced to sign away her rights when she left the nunnery.” Scorn laced Damascin's reproach.

"An oversight on my father's part. He thought it unnecessary since he'd convinced her she had no property, that he was the heir to it all."

"So,” Susanna said, “Clement Edgecumbe was the only one who suspected that Lucy was in line to inherit ahead of your father."

Hugo nodded. “Once he'd sought to marry Lucy, before she became a nun. Lucy was not the only heir back then, but her father had made a will to say that Lucy would inherit should her brothers die childless. Clement remembered that will when I asked to marry Damascin. Inquired about it and for some reason did not accept my word that the document was invalid.” Hugo looked offended, but Damascin's face wore a sneer that did not augur well for harmony in their marriage. “Thinking that Lucy might know naught of her father's disposition of the property, Clement voiced his intention to speak with her about it."

And that, Susanna thought sadly, had cost him his life.

"What need had Lucy for Mill Hall?” Hugo grumbled. “She never wanted it."

It was possible, Susanna thought, that Lucy did not care who owned Mill Hall, so long as she and Constance were provided for. But it was too late now to speculate on what might have been.

Shrugging off Hugo's arm, Damascin crossed the room to rummage in a capcase she'd stored beneath the bed. Susanna kept her eyes on Hugo. He was, except in the physical sense, the weaker of the two, but the very fact that both Hugo and Damascin were willing to answer her questions disturbed her. Doubtless they allowed themselves the luxury of boasting only because they meant to kill her. And Jennet.

Susanna had some hope they would be rescued. She had dropped the note about Jennet in her chamber at the Queen's Arms. Nick should already have arrived there and found it. Once he read it, knowing what he did about Hugo, he might well guess who had been behind Jennet's abduction. If he did, surely he'd come here. She had only to stall the conspirators until he arrived.

"Why did Peter Marsh have to die?” she asked.

"He was the one who started Father thinking.” Damascin spit out the words, darting a venomous look at Hugo. “While he served as a clerk at Mill Hall, he saw some papers he should not have seen."

And after Clement's sudden death, Susanna speculated, Marsh had become suspicious.

"You need not look sympathetic, Lady Appleton. He deserved to die."

Damascin's scorn for her second victim seemed greater than that she'd expressed toward her father. Mayhap because he'd once admired her?

"He tried to extort money from me for his silence and at the same time he went behind my back to court Constance, ugly hag that she is. He helped Lucy make a will and knew Constance was her heir. When he realized he could not have me, that I was to wed Hugo, he meant to thwart our plans by marrying her and claiming Mill Hall for himself."

"Could you not control him?” In a taunting voice, Susanna strove to drive a wedge between the conspirators. “'Tis plain you give Hugo his orders."

This time Damascin's laugh sounded genuine. “Marsh was greedy. And a fool. He had to die."

A glance in Hugo's direction showed Susanna new tension in his shoulders. He was watching Damascin with wary eyes and tugging with nervous fingers at his beard.

"Fine behavior for a man who wants to be appointed a justice of the peace!"

Startled, Hugo shifted his attention to Susanna. “I will have that honor, and others, too. All who stand in my way will be dealt with."

"Poor fool.” She pretended to hold him in contempt, though her overriding emotion was pity. “Damascin will marry you. No doubt of that. But will you long survive afterward? You have shown a grievous lack of judgment, Master Garrard, that bodes ill for your advancement in county government. ‘Twill only compound your error to murder me. If you had no hand in poisoning those two men, and I warrant you did not, the law might be inclined to leniency. Let Damascin pay for what she has done. Bring her to justice. Free those two innocent women. Redeem yourself."

A low-throated growl issued from Damascin's throat. “He will do what I say. They all do what I say."

"Not Peter Marsh.” As soon as the words were out, Susanna wished she'd kept her opinion to herself. The young woman glaring at her was dangerous. Unpredictable. Her eyes were over bright and her face was flushed, both signs of intense emotion ... or overuse of some stimulating herb.

"Save your arguments, Lady Appleton,” Hugo said. “Damascin and I understand each other."

"But you have no hope of success now. I am not the only one who knows Lucy is the rightful owner of Mill Hall."

"Liar!” Damascin's face contorted. She stepped close to slap Susanna hard across the face. Susanna's head snapped back. She tasted blood and her cheek stung from the force of the blow.

Total silence fell inside the chamber. They could hear faint echoes of the celebration going on in the town but no one spoke for a long moment. Then Hugo whispered a question. “What if she is telling the truth?"

"It does not matter,” Damascin insisted. “I have worked it all out. Constance may be Lucy's heir, but you are heir to all Constance possesses when she dies. As for Lady Appleton, she will be as silent as I wished her to be. She will disappear, along with her servant.” She gestured toward Jennet's motionless form.

Had Jennet's position shifted? Susanna thought it had and hoped she was correct. If Jennet was conscious and listening, their chances of survival were much improved.

"Once we spirit them away from here,” Damascin continued, “we will spread more rumors, stories to make people think Lady Appleton is a witch, too, and that she used magic to escape the law. When evidence is found in her chamber at the Queen's Arms, proving she dabbled in spells and sorcery, no one will doubt this reasoning. Seize her, Hugo."

Before Susanna could elude him, Hugo pinned her arms behind her back. Damascin unstoppered a glass vial, doubtless the object she'd retrieved from her capcase. She advanced toward her intended victim, her face a mask of malevolence.

Susanna recognized the contents of the vial, both by smell and taste. She fought not to swallow, but it was no use. Despite her best efforts to keep her lips tightly sealed, enough dribbled into her mouth to accomplish Damascin's purpose.

Helpless, her senses reeling, Susanna collapsed against Hugo. Her last coherent thought gave her only small comfort: at least the vial had not contained banewort.

Nick scarce heard the church bells sound to announce the arrival of the assize judges. His mind was still struggling to assimilate the shocks of the morning.

Had he ever truly known his own mother?

That she'd lied to him had been bad enough, but in some ways he almost wished she'd continued to lie when he'd confronted her, that she'd invented some new story. Anything would have been better than the truth.

She'd abandoned her family completely after she left Croydon, although she'd known full well how destitute her sisters were. When she might have helped them, she did not make the slightest effort on their behalf, not even to discover if they were still alive. She'd made no apologies for that, either. According to her, sisters and father alike had turned their backs on her, turned her out. Insulted her. She owed them nothing but contempt.

That she'd have felt the sting of her father's damning prophecies so strongly confused Nick further. By her own confession, once in London, Winifred Marley
had
turned whore to keep body and soul together.

Oh, she had not gone to work in a brothel. Nick supposed he should be grateful for small favors. What she'd admitted to, angry rather than tearful at being found out, was that she'd become the assistant to a third-rate astrologer. And his mistress.

She'd met Bevis Baldwin, Nick's father, when he'd visited that astrologer, as many merchants did, to ask the most propitious time to start a new venture. The stars had advised him to purchase shares in a certain shipping venture. Winifred had suggested, after one look at him, or mayhap at his fat purse, that he enter another sort of venture with her. When he'd hesitated, she'd purchased a love charm—not a love potion, she'd been quick to assure him, as if that distinction made any great difference—and within a month they were married. She'd become respectable again.

Had his father ever known about the love charm? He had, it seemed, been able to accept that his new wife did not come to him a virgin. They had always appeared, at least to their only son, to have a loving relationship, one based on affection and on mutual trust. Nick had seen Bevis Baldwin look at his wife in a way that reminded him of the intensity of his own feelings for Susanna.

But as Nick paced the parlor, hours after the session with his mother had deteriorated into bitter words and recriminations and she'd fled to the isolation of her bedchamber in a temper, he wondered if he had really known either of his parents as well as he'd once thought.

Raking his fingers through his hair, Nick paused to stare at his own reflection in the windowpane. It was already past the hour he'd promised to meet Susanna at the Queen's Arms, but there was no help for it. He had other matters left to discuss with his mother. He would finish this now. If there were worse revelations ahead, he would deal with each as it came.

Nick climbed a flight of narrow stairs to his mother's chamber, the same chamber Susanna had used on the one night she'd spent under this roof. “Did my father know all?” he blurted when he found Winifred, composed and dry eyed, propped up against the pillows on the bed.

"Aye. He did."

Nick believed her. However their marriage had come about, Bevis Baldwin had loved his wife and Winifred had devoted herself to him and to the business and to their son. To him. Nick understood, although he deplored the fact, that even his mother's irrational dislike of Susanna stemmed from love, from a desire to do what she believed was best for him.