Maggie MacKeever (12 page)

“Good gracious, Jasper!” Loveday stared at the huge black pearl in its ornate silver setting with a mixture of delight and horror. “This has been in your family for ages!”

“Forever, I should think.” Jasper surveyed the ring with some distaste. “I’d have chosen emeralds for you, but there it is. My father’s a great one for tradition.”

“It must be worth a fortune. What if I should lose it!”

“I’d be grateful if you did, myself.” Jasper secretly thought the ring looked quite nice on Loveday’s slender hand. So, judging from her expression, did Loveday.

“You’ll have to wear it. I won’t have Isolda thinking I’m too beggarly to provide you with a paltry ring.” Jasper lifted her hand and kissed it, then left Loveday with her thoughts in a chaotic whirl. She sank down on the bed, and was wishing fervently that she had never set foot in the castle, when Dillian burst into the room.

“Loveday, have you forgotten? We’re to go into the village. Everyone’s waiting.” Dillian’s gaze fell upon Loveday’s riding-dress. “You did forget! Oh, do hurry; I shall simply refuse to go without you. Loveday? Whatever is the matter?” She came closer to the bed and her sharp eyes caught the ring. “Crickey!” said Dillian.

Loveday thought that this might well be the general reaction. She met Dillian’s curious gray eyes and dived headfirst into her wardrobe. “I’ll make haste.”

“I’ll help,” Dillian offered, not asking the obvious questions. “We’re making a party of it; Tibby and George have already arrived. Dorcas is coming too, though I wish she wouldn’t. She’ll complain continuously and nothing will suit her, and she’ll probably ruin everything.”

“We’ll pay her no mind,” Loveday retorted, grateful for Dillian’s tact. “If she becomes too unbearable, I’ll simply push her out of the carriage. Is Hilary to accompany us too?”

Dillian shook her head. “He and Jasper are accompanying Averil to a cockfight, I believe. They’ll meet us later at the inn.” Loveday wondered what had prompted Jasper to attend an amusement he detested above all things, and was not overjoyed by the thought of facing both Averil and him together. She consoled herself that she was looking well, in a gray merino walking dress with a red corded silk border and a rose satin bonnet plumed to match.

“Let us go then.” She would march stoically to meet her fate.

* * * *

It was as Dillian had predicted: Dorcas was in a rare taking and could not be diverted. She was much incensed that Hilary had chosen masculine company in preference to her own, and was further irritated by Loveday’s delay. It did not console her in the least to find Loveday dressed so charmingly, and her chagrin was complete when George was inspired to make Lord Fairchild’s daughter fulsome and heavy compliments. Dorcas seethed and snapped at Tibby, who accepted the snub with her usual good-natured forbearance.

Loveday was relieved when they finally arrived in the village. The ride had been far from comfortable, she had found George’s labored gallantries as tedious as Dorcas’s glowering remarks, and her own thoughts were not pleasant ones. Not only had she involved herself in an impossible situation with Jasper and Averil, but someone had made definite attempts on her life.

To whom was her presence so distasteful? The would-be assassin could only be one of the castle’s inhabitants, someone connected with that long-ago crime that she had been so imprudent as to witness. Loveday found the situation difficult to accept; it belonged in one of the romantic novels that she habitually perused. But perhaps her assailant wished not her demise, but only her departure from Ballerfast. Well, Loveday was not made of such shabby stuff. She forced her unpleasant thoughts aside and looked around her with pleasure.

The village was larger than she had imagined it would be; though still a far cry from London’s teeming avenues. The winding streets were lined with busy shops. Tibby proudly pointed out her home as they drove past: a large edifice of warm red brick, with high roofs and attic windows, and ornamental facings of semicircular tile. Loveday found it charming and said so, and Tibby glowed with pleasure.

They made their way among the shops, ignoring such unnecessary establishments as those of the butcher, grocer, cobbler, barber, saddler, and ironmonger. Loveday was delighted to discover that the local modiste had on hand not only a large stock of fashionable materials, including gauze, cambrics, fine muslins, and silks, but also the newest fashion plates. Dorcas fell upon them with an eager cry, and soon all four girls were chattering companionably, to the delight of the little seamstress, who foresaw a handsome profit for herself.

It was some time later when they adjourned to the inn, for Dillian had required many things, including stockings, gloves, slippers, bonnets, and a magnificent silken shawl. Loveday had also procured two ready-made dresses from the gratified dressmaker, and Dillian was in alt. Loveday had hoped that George would grow bored and leave them, but that frail desire came to naught; among his many virtues was the patience of a Job. George had assigned himself the role of protector, and would not be swayed from his self-appointed task. Unfortunately, his attentions were more for Loveday than his affianced bride, who wore an expression not of jealousy but of quiet thoughtfulness.

Hilary awaited them outside the inn, and Loveday and Tibby both noticed how the sun shone off his burnished curls. Loveday returned his pleasant smile and wondered what lay behind the cheerful mask. She had not forgotten the grim expression that had earlier crossed those features; had it been directed at Averil or at herself? And why?

Dorcas feigned a fine indifference and swept past her husband without a word. Loveday was amused to see her at Jasper’s side, apparently determined to start up a flirtation. Jasper appeared amused.

“Will you take some refreshments?” Hilary asked, as he led Loveday solicitously to a seat.

“Lemonade, please,” she replied, thus leaving George to cope with both Dillian and Tibby, to his apparent dismay. Averil, slouching against one wall, plainly had no intention of bestirring himself on anyone’s account, though Tibby earned a smile and a kind word.

“The simplest pleasures are the best,” Hilary murmured, and Loveday wondered again why she could not like the man. He had charm in plenty, and a pleasing countenance, but he did not appear to advantage beside either Averil or Jasper. Hilary lacked the poise of the other two men, though his years were near their own. He was a paradox, and Loveday suspected that those cool eyes hid hot passions indeed.

“Tell me,” said that gentleman, “have you yet succeeded in solving our local mystery?” Loveday looked startled, and Hilary’s awarded her his charming smile. “I refer, of course, to the Ballerfast scandal, which Isolda insists was murder. I might add that I am not sure that I agree with her; there was little evidence of foul play.”

“I remember very little,” replied Loveday truthfully. “Isolda will be greatly disappointed if she bases her hopes of retribution on my wretched memory.” She was not deceived by Hilary’s casual manner; he was intensely interested in her words. “Indeed, I wonder if I witnessed the event at all; I certainly have no recollection of it.”

“Nor of me,” Hilary remarked, “though I retain a clear image of you at that age. You were an enchanting child, my dear Loveday, all huge eyes and tousled curls.”

Loveday returned his smile. “You paint a flattering picture, sir. But it’s true that I didn’t realize you were at the castle at that time. Was Averil also present?”

“Certainly. Dorcas was not, of course, and Dillian was but a babe, but the rest of us were all in residence, including the majority of the servants. You see there is a wide range of suspects. The estimable Theo was also installed in his ancestral manor. I have often thought that it would be a pleasure to fix the crime, if crime there was, on that disreputable gentleman.”

“But what reason could he have had?” Loveday, too, would have preferred Theo in the assassin’s role; it certainly fell in well with what she knew of his character. She wondered when he had returned to the area, and why; if he had access to the castle; and if he could have been responsible for that errant rifle shot.

“There was the matter of a mortgage, which Theo lacked sufficient funds to repay. Timothy was an astute businessman and promptly claimed a portion of the Tierney estate.” Hilary’s expression was incurious. “Perhaps Theo sought to revenge himself on the Veres although, in that case, I cannot imagine why he allowed Averil to escape.”

Loveday glanced at him sharply. “You too are a Vere,” she said.

Hilary shrugged. “Of too distant a degree to signify.” He turned away.  Loveday was left to speculate upon the brooding tone of that last remark, and to wonder if she’d merely imagined the resentment in Hilary’s voice when he mentioned Averil’s name.

They had the inn much to themselves, for it was not an hour when the locals came to drink their ale and gossip, for the most part about the castle inhabitants. The gathering went on pleasantly, with Dillian actually entering into the light conversation, and Dorcas at her most charming, until Jasper chose to be difficult. He had listened to Dorcas’s empty chatter with an expression of increasing boredom, and when she paused expectantly, he spoke instead to Loveday.

“I say, my love, what’s this I hear about the bridge being tampered with? Why did you not tell me?”

“What!” Dillian exclaimed.

Loveday was startled; she had never known Jasper to be rude, no matter how great the provocation. She assumed he had good reason. “There was no opportunity to do so.”

“Nonsense!” Jasper retorted. “You could have easily done so when I visited you in your chambers earlier today.”

There was a small shocked silence, and Jasper greeted Loveday’s frown with a smile. “I understand,” he said softly. “You had other things to occupy your mind.”

Loveday was, for once, speechless.  As Jasper had intended, she thought, and wondered if Samson’s malicious gossip had already reached Jasper’s ears, for why else such a pointed remark? One glance at Averil told her that her suspicions were shared. What she might have replied, once she regained the use of her tongue was never to be known: Dorcas chose that moment to knock over her drink.

“Quick!” cried practical Tibby. “It will stain your dress!” Loveday was already on her feet and, with admirable if extravagant composure, stripped off her gloves to sop up the liquid. She had one enemy that she was sure of: Dorcas. The spilled drink had been no accident.

“Lud!” George exclaimed, having seen the ring. Dorcas’s eyes followed his gaze.

“How improper!” she sniffed. “I wonder that you would wear so vulgar a piece, Loveday. It’s hardly the thing.”

“You must admit that it’s magnificent,” Hilary interjected. Loveday could not decide whether the gleam in his eye was due to admiration or greed, nor could she understand why he appeared so pleased. “I daresay it’s been in Assheton’s family for generations.”

“Longer than that,” Jasper said, in heartfelt tones.

Averil, suddenly realizing the significance of that piece of controversial jewelry, took Loveday’s hand and inspected it closely. “I see nothing improper in it,” he remarked. “A bride has a right to the betrothal ring of her choice.”

“Of course she does,” Tibby agreed. “And I think it’s a beautiful ring.” She ignored Dorcas’s muttered comment about her lack of taste.

Loveday removed her hand from Averil’s. “I have admired this ring since first I saw it,” she said coolly, “many years ago. Jasper’s mother wore it then, and I am proud to do the same.” Jasper, his expression enigmatic, made his way quickly to her side.

“My dear!” he murmured, with none of his usual bantering tone.

Loveday silenced him with a gesture. “My side aches abominably. Do you think we might return to the castle?” She saw with relief that the other members of the party were quick to agree. Their departure, however, was delayed by Mrs. Merryweather, who stood outside the door, her brown eyes snapping and her small mouth pursed.

“So!” she cried, eyeing Tibby with disfavor. Jasper took Loveday’s arm. “Fine goings-on, indeed. You can rest sure that the squire will hear of this, Miss Tibby!”

Poor Tibby was so mortified as to be speechless, and her father’s formidable housekeeper turned on Loveday. “As for you, miss, I’m fair disappointed in you. Telling me you were a governess and all. Well, I know who you are now, and you’re not fit company for Miss Tibby.” Loveday felt Jasper stiffen. “You’ll go the way of your father, and soon enough by the looks of things. Bad blood always tells, and the Fairchilds’ moon is on the wane—”

“Enough!” drawled Jasper, effectively silencing the woman in mid-sentence. “In case you hadn’t noticed, you are barring our way.” The gentleman looked capable of bodily removing her from his path, and Mrs. Merryweather allowed herself one last sniff before she stalked indignantly away.

“Come along, Loveday.” Averil helped her into the waiting carriage.

Loveday paid little heed to the ensuing babble, other than noting that George seemed deeply shocked and that Averil promised the upset Tibby that he would stave off her irascible parent’s wrath. Loveday thought with great longing of her comfortable bed. She was far too tired to even be confused.

Loveday’s thoughts might have taken a different turn had she seen Felicity, a silent and unnoticed observer of Mrs. Merryweather’s outburst, or had she guessed that Felicity was at that moment hurrying to apprise Theo of the whereabouts of his elusive prey.

Chapter 8

  Loveday was not destined for her rest: she
reached her room to find Verdelet sound asleep on her bed, a remarkably lifelike effigy of herself between his front paws. Loveday picked up the wax doll with some distaste and discovered a lethal-looking hatpin stuck in its heart.

“Devil take it!” she said, and Verdelet jumped. He looked around him, as if wondering how he came to be there, hissed at Loveday, and paced haughtily to the door. Loveday followed the cat.

She found Isolda in her morning room, with the household staff around her. Isolda did not look her usual immaculate self; her white hair was in definite disarray and cobwebs festooned the hem of her gown. She looked at Loveday with some impatience.