The Last of Lady Lansdown (16 page)

Douglas answered with an unintelligible grunt. What could he say? How could he argue with the truth? “Suffice to say, the countess needs to be warned immediately and I intend to do just that.”

“Tell her she can always come here to Lancaster Hall. She would be safe here. She can stay as long as she likes.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” The valet finished the cravat and stepped away. Douglas took a quick glance in the mirror. “Thank you, Frederick. It looks splendid.” He had no idea whether his cravat looked splendid or not. It didn’t matter. A flash of apprehension coursed through him. He must get to Chatfield Court as quickly as possible.

He was almost at the door when Rennie called, “Wait up!”

Douglas turned to see his friend rise from his chair, duck his head and shuffle his feet. “When you’re at Chatfield Court could you ... uh ... uh ...”

The transformation was amazing. In less than a second, Rennie changed from his confident, witty self into Rennie the insecure, lovelorn, practically drooling idiot. All because of that bird-witted sister of Jane’s. “You want me to ask after Millicent, do you not?”

“Well, yes, if you could.” Rennie’s expression reminded Douglas of an eager puppy. “Tell her I said ‘hello’ and I’ll come to call ... as soon as I get the nerve. No, don’t tell her that. Just say I send her my regards. No, don’t say anything. Just ... find out how she’s faring in this inclement weather. What I mean to say is—”

“Rennie, for God’s sake, just leave it to me, all right? I’ll say the right thing. If at all possible, I shall bring you a report on the state of Miss Millicent Hart’s health. Will that be satisfactory?” Watching Rennie’s grateful nod, he remained straight-faced. His friend’s aching, unrequited love for Millicent Hart was no laughing matter.

Turning on his heel, he hurried downstairs and out to the covered portico where Rennie’s carriage awaited him. He scrambled in quickly and took up the reins.

Must hurry. No time to lose.

* * * *

Late in the afternoon, Jane was sitting in her room, watching the rain from her window, when there was a knock on her door. When she opened it, Griggs informed her, “You have a visitor, m’lady.”

“Who?” She could not imagine anyone coming to visit in weather like this.

“Mister Douglas Cartland. I put him in the drawing room.”

Douglas
. Her heart gave a little leap. “Thank you, Griggs. Tell him I shall be down directly.”

She hurried to the mirror. Dear Lord, what a depressing sight. She had not realized till now, but she’d lost a bit of weight and the black bombazine made her look almost skinny. Not only that, she had dark circles under her eyes and her skin looked sickly pale. At least her hair looked presentable. Bruta had swept her auburn curls to a loose knot atop her head and fastened it with a comb decorated with black onyx. Black, nothing but black. How she hated it, especially considering she wore mourning for a man she hardly thought of anymore.

What on earth did Douglas want? Why was he here, especially when she’d told him she would not see him again? She took a final peek in the mirror and pinched a bit of color into her pallid cheeks. Telling herself she must not appear too eager, she left her bedchamber and descended the staircase at a slow, dignified pace, as if she didn’t give a fig that the man who kept her from her sleep at night awaited her below.

She stepped into the drawing room. He was looking out the window, hands behind his back, appearing deeply absorbed in examining the rain-sodden landscape. He turned when he heard her. “Your ladyship.” He did not smile and gave her a formal bow.

“Mister Cartland.” She curtsied and shut the door behind her. My, how handsome he looked! All dressed up for a change, in a short frock coat with brass buttons, a light brown waistcoat and matching breeches, top boots and a perfectly tied cravat. Kid gloves and a polished beaver top hat rested on a nearby table. “How elegant you look. I see you’ve put your valet to work for a change.”

He sniffed with amusement. “I don’t have a valet. I borrowed Rennie’s. Sit down. I want to talk to you.”

He seemed so solemn, not at all like his usual irreverent self. Mystified, she seated herself upon one of two facing elegant birch sofas, and he seated himself across. He still had not smiled, and she could see he was in no mood for light humor. “How is your canal?”

“Wet.” He flicked a disgusted glance toward the rain out the window. “Very wet. All work is stopped until this hellish storm passes.” His eyes drilled into her. “How are you?”

“Very well, thanks.”

“I do not want platitudes. I want to know if you’ve come ’round yet.”

What a question! How rude. No gentleman would ever think of asking such a question, or lady either, for that matter. She felt the blood rushing to her cheeks. “How impertinent! How—”

“You women ... I swear to God. Just answer the question and don’t go all feminine on me. Stop blushing. Although, I must say, you need some color in those pale cheeks of yours.”

Despite his rhetoric, she detected an underlying current of concern in his voice. She could not imagine what, but he must have a good reason for asking, so she wouldn’t be coy. “No, I have not. In fact, I am ten days late, which, if you must know, worries me sick.”

“I see.” He remained silent, his face expressionless, except for a troubled glint in his eye.

“What on earth is the problem?”

He abruptly switched sofas, sat next to her and took her hand. “Have you ever heard of oil of pennyroyal?”

“No.”

“It’s what they call an abortifacient.”

“A what?” She had never heard the word.

“An abortifacient is a solution used to end a pregnancy. It can be dangerous if not used correctly.”

She began to feel a tightness in her stomach. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Your sister-in-law is desperate. She does not want you bringing the next Earl of Lansdown into the world. If what I hear is correct, and I believe it is, she has recently obtained a vial of oil of pennyroyal. Indications are she plans to use it on you.”

Jane sat silent until his words sank in. When they did, a soft gasp escaped her lips. “Are you sure?”

“Very sure.”

“How do you know?”

“Beatrice made the mistake of enlisting the help of that lady’s maid of yours.”

“Bruta?”

“Yes, Bruta, who, you will recall, used to work for Beatrice and apparently is still loyal. From what I understand, she’s the one who actually procured the oil of pennyroyal. Unfortunately for Beatrice, Bruta has a dalliance going with one of the footmen at Lancaster Hall.”

“Bruta?” Jane was amazed. She could not picture her ugly, dumpy lady’s maid cavorting in bed with anyone. “You must be mistaken.”

“We all have our moments,” Douglas equitably replied, “even less-than-attractive lady’s maids. At any rate, Bruta mentioned Beatrice’s request for the oil of pennyroyal to the footman, who told Rennie’s valet, Frederick. He told Rennie, who obviously passed the information on to me.” He frowned with concern. “I wanted to tell you immediately.”

So Granny was right about Beatrice being a threat. But perhaps she was using the oil of pennyroyal for something else. “Tell me, what exactly does it do?”

“A light extraction makes a pennyroyal tea, which is supposed to settle the stomach. A heavier dose causes severe cramps. If you actually were expecting, you would lose the baby. Aside from all that, if not diluted correctly, oil of pennyroyal is a lethal poison. The wrong dose could easily kill you.”

“Dear God,” she whispered, “like the Spanish Fly killed Arthur.” She rose and walked to the window. For a time, she stared out at the rain, attempting to pull her jumbled thoughts together. “The funny thing is, I don’t want the earl’s baby, either. Beatrice and I think alike on that score. But for her to ... I find it hard to believe. No one could be that vile, not even Beatrice.”

Douglas came and stood close behind her. “She hasn’t done it yet, Jane. Perhaps you’re right and she’s using it to settle her stomach, but the circumstances reek with suspicion.” His hands encircled her upper arms. The strength of his grip gave her an instant feeling of calm and security, as if a warm blanket had been wrapped around her. She liked his using her first name, too, as if he recognized the intimacy that existed between them. His closeness ... his simple touch ... made her almost forget her sister-in-law. She fought the urge to lean back against him.

“You should not stay here,” he said softly in her ear. “God only knows what that woman will do. Come to Lancaster Hall. Rennie wants you to come. You can stay as long as you like.”

His words brought her back to reality. She turned to face him, shaking her head. “I cannot come now. Better to wait and see what she does. This is probably all a mistake. Besides, how can I leave my family behind? Beatrice would have them moved to the servants’ quarters in the blink of an eye. I certainly can’t leave my sister to the charms of Percy, as well as James. Do you know what a lecherous old man he is?”

“No, tell me.”

She related her disgusting encounter with James and how he offered to take her as his mistress and move Beatrice down the hall.

They both laughed at the thought, but Douglas quickly grew serious again. “If you won’t come, is it possible you can find a way to get the Eltons to leave? After all, he’s not the earl yet, is he? You are still the countess.”

“Granny said I should throw them out.” She thought a moment. “I wonder what Sir Archibald would say. After all, he’s in charge of the estate.”

“Go see him. It’s worth a try. While you’re there, you can ask him why he’s raised the rents on all the tenants.”

“He what?” Her voice rose in surprise.

“You heard me. I see the Twimbys from time to time. They were barely getting by as it was, but this new rent increase may cause them to lose their farm.”

“I had no idea.” She recalled how grim Meg looked when last she saw her. Now she knew why. “I’ll see what I can do.” She had no idea what good she could accomplish, but she meant what she said.

“Keep in mind you’re in danger every second you stay here. Constantly be on guard, and if you’re given a beverage that has the smell of mint, for God’s sake, don’t drink it.”

“All right, I shall do as you say.” She would hold to her promise, of course, but she still thought Douglas had to be wrong. “You went to a great deal of trouble to see me and I’m very grateful.”

He bowed slightly. “My pleasure, your ladyship.”

His sudden formality felt like a slap in the face. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, why so formal all of a sudden?”

“Because for a moment I almost forgot we were not going to see each other anymore. Let’s just say I’ve come to my senses, and a good thing, too. You and I both know this is neither the time nor the place for anything more between us.”

She gazed into his dark, compelling eyes, and couldn’t resist. “I have missed you, Douglas.”

“
You
have missed
me
?” His mouth twisted wryly. “Well, I have missed you, Countess. How much, you have no idea. Did you think I forgot?”

Suddenly his arms encircled her, pulling her close, and his mouth crushed against hers with a hunger that caused her heart to pound. She had no sooner wrapped her arms around his neck, wanting more, much more, when he broke away. He looked down at her, hunger in his eyes, and said in a ragged breath, “No, we won’t do this.”

Far be it from her to beg! She instantly decided she would match his determination with her own. “You’re right. We must not see each other again. Besides, what would be the purpose? You’re not a marrying man, are you?”

“No.” He walked to the table to fetch his hat and cane. “I’ll leave you now. Watch yourself every moment.” He started to turn, then caught himself as if just remembering something. “How is your sister?”

She cocked her head. “I didn’t realize you were concerned about Millicent’s health, or could it possibly be it’s really Lord Rennie who wants a report on her well-being?”

“You know the answer to that.”

“Tell your friend my sister is in good health, although,” she sighed regretfully, “Rennie hasn’t a chance. He may be rich and titled, but if I may be brutally frank, not nearly handsome enough for Millicent. I heartily wish my sister’s standard of values could be otherwise, but ...” She made a little moue and shrugged.

“I understand. It’s her loss, you know. No finer man than my friend Rennie ever lived.”

He turned and was gone. She watched after him, her knees so weak she was forced to clutch the back of one of the satin birch sofas for support.

The next morning, Jane dragged from her bed cloaked in a shroud of gloomy thoughts. Eleven days late ... the rain would never stop ... Beatrice might poison her ...

For a while, she gazed pensively out the window, wishing she had someone to talk to, but she chose to keep her worries to herself. Why share Douglas’ warning with her family when it probably wasn’t true? He could well be wrong. In fact, he had to be wrong. No one, not even Beatrice, could plan something so horrible.

Bruta helped her dress, insisting she wear a black, high-necked muslin that was no less ugly and depressing than the bombazine. She went downstairs, hoping she could eat a quick breakfast and leave before Beatrice arrived. No such luck. When she walked into the dining room, there sat Granny, Millicent, and Beatrice, who, despite her black gown, seemed especially bright and energetic this morning, her plump cheeks rosy, her chirpy little ringlets bobbing on her forehead. “Jane!” she bubbled. “How are you this morning?”

“I am just fine.” She walked to the carved mahogany sideboard where an array of breakfast dishes awaited, each kept warm in a silver chafing dish. She picked up a crested china plate and helped herself to a spoonful of eggs and a piece of toast. Griggs, who ordinarily supervised the breakfast, was not in sight. “Where is the butler?”

“I have sent him off to the wine cellar,” Beatrice replied. “We need to do an inventory and he might as well get off to an early start.”

Granny remarked, “You should have waited ’til we ate.”

Mama entered the dining room. “Didn’t you think we would need him at breakfast? Must we now serve ourselves?”