You Only Love Twice (8 page)

Her breath was coming thick and fast. “Don’t you dare speak ill of my father! What would you know about him? You were a soldier! You were away at war.”

“And you’ve lost your memory. He was a gambler, Jess. He drank too much.”

Tears were shimmering in her eyes. “So he wasn’t a saint. But he kept me with him. He didn’t abandon me to some distant relative who would have used me as a drudge. I could have earned my own living, as a governess or … or a lady’s companion. He must have wanted me with him.”

Something flickered briefly in the depths of his eyes before his expression became veiled. “So that’s the way of it,” he said.

“What does that mean?”

“Your father …”

“What?”

He shook his head. “Maybe you’re right, but that’s not how it seemed to me at the time.”

His placating words came too late to stem the tide of emotions. “My father was brutally murdered,” she cried, “and I’m not going to let this rest till I find out who was responsible.”

Several moments elapsed before he said anything. “Do you really think I’m capable of murder, Jess?”

It didn’t matter what she thought. She was playing against long odds, and she had to take chances. “You had motive and opportunity.”

“What motive?”

“You were in love with this girl, Bella. I think my
father threatened to tell her about me. You didn’t want to lose her. That’s why you killed him.”

“Tell her?” He laughed harshly. “It was too late to keep anything from her after that brawl. Everybody there knew, or thought they knew, that we were lovers. And it was a damn lie! You wanted to ruin things for Bella and me. And you succeeded. Soon after you left Hawkshill, Bella married my best friend, Rupert Haig. That’s what your lies did, Jess.”

“If it wasn’t true, why would I tell my father?”

“Why?” He leaned closer so that they were glaring eye to eye. “Because you were infatuated with me. You thought I’d be forced to marry you. You wouldn’t be the first female to try and compromise me.”

Oh, she could well believe it, and for some odd reason the thought inflamed her. “If you didn’t do it, I think you know who did. Who are you trying to protect, Lucas?”

He rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Who the hell do you think I’m trying to protect? You, of course. Don’t you understand anything? The murderer was never caught. If you stir things up, he may decide to do away with you, too. And there’s something else you’re not taking into your calculations. You disappeared the same night your father was murdered. No one knew where you were. For all anyone knows, you could have murdered him.”

He dropped her at the front door of the house. She was in too much of a daze to respond coherently to his parting words. Her brain felt as though an electric current had passed through it. Thoughts chased each other in a frenetic jig. She didn’t know what to hold on to or what to let go.

This wasn’t the time to think about things. She heard voices coming from the breakfast room, which was now also their communal office. After removing her bonnet, she forced her lips into a serene smile and went in.

The nuns were sitting at the table, making entries in
one of the ledgers. Sister Dolores, close to sixty, was tall and thin with a sallow complexion and the most eloquent dark, bushy eyebrows that Jessica had ever beheld. Her stately manner and air of authority had earned her the nickname Sister Duchess. When she told a patient he was going to get well, so the novices joked among themselves, he hastened to obey her or he died in the attempt. Sister Elvira was about ten years younger and was small and chubby. Her domain was the orphanage, and though she never gave up on a child, no matter how hardened, she was no one’s dupe, either. She was an odd mixture of saintliness and worldliness and the novices had dubbed her Sister Solomon. It was Sister Elvira who was in charge of Hawkshill.

When Jessica entered, the nuns broke off their conversation. In the last few days, ever since the jam incident, there had been many such aborted conversations between Sisters Dolores and Elvira. They were curious, and when Jessica remembered the state of the kitchen when they’d walked in, while she was scraping jam from the ceiling, she wasn’t surprised. She hadn’t told a lie. She’d said she’d inadvertently hit the bowls on the table with the bread paddle and they had let it go at that. But it wasn’t in Sister Martha’s character to be careless, and she’d been aware ever since of the nuns covertly watching her. It wasn’t done in an unkindly way. The Reverend Mother had appointed them to be her guardians, and guard her they would, come what may.

“How did things go with the attorney?” asked Sister Dolores.

“Very well. My father left me some money. I’m not an heiress, but I’m not destitute, either. Sister Elvira, you seem very pleased with yourself.”

Sister Elvira beamed at Jessica. “That’s because our landlord was here earlier this morning. He’s promised to have our lease all properly signed and notarized by the
end of the week. Not only that, but—oh, I swear the man is an angel—he also offered to take six of our boys under his wing and apprentice them to his own people. The blacksmith, the farrier, the gamekeeper … I forget who all.”

“Lord Dundas promised to sign the lease?” asked Jessica incredulously.

“He did,” replied Sister Dolores, “and we are to have Hawkshill for a nominal sum.” She patted the empty chair beside her and, when Jessica was seated, went on. “He said that he had business in town with his attorney and that if he saw you he would drive you home.”

“Well, he did,” said Jessica crossly. “I … I suppose he asked a lot of questions when he was here?”

The nuns exchanged a quick glance. “He was curious about us, about our order and our boys,” replied Sister Dolores.

He was curious about
her
, thought Jessica sourly. “And you told him I’d lost my memory?”

“It came up in the conversation.”

Sister Elvira said, “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Jessica. And Lord Dundas was very sympathetic to your plight.”

Sympathetic! He had all but called her a liar. Her brows pulled to a frown. “I’d be careful about taking anything he says too seriously.” When the nuns stared at her in surprise, her cheeks went pink. “I mean, when he speaks to his estate manager, perhaps he’ll change his mind about placing our boys.”

They were like two alert sparrows watching a worm. Jessica squirmed uncomfortably. There was no getting around it. She had to tell them what she’d learned in town before they heard it from another source.

But there was something she had to clear up first. Breathing deeply, she said, “I didn’t tell you that my father was murdered.”

“We understand, Jessica,” said Sister Dolores. “It must have been a great shock to you. We told Lord Dundas that you’d probably heard it from Mrs. Marshal.”

“Well, it was a shock,” said Jessica, and marveled at her facility with evasions and half-truths, “but there were more shocks waiting for me this morning when I visited the attorney.” And without giving them time to consider or ask her to elaborate, she plunged in.

“The thing is,” she said, “I’ve learned that Lucas, that is, Lord Dundas and I were not the best of friends when I left here. And it’s no exaggeration to say that he doesn’t want me here now.” She told them about Lucas’s quarrel with her father and how he blamed her for trying to trap him into marriage. She told them about her father’s murder and how she had disappeared the same night. The sisters were so sympathetic and so accepting that everything poured out of her as if of its own accord.

When she had finished speaking, Sister Dolores studied her thoughtfully. She wasn’t a woman to speak without thinking. At length, she nodded, as though satisfied with what she’d heard. “That’s more or less what Lord Dundas told us.”

Jessica’s head came up. “He
told
you?”

Sister Elvira said, “He thinks you should leave this place, Jessica, and start afresh somewhere else.”

“Oh, he does, does he?” Jessica knew her tone was hostile and she made a conscious effort to soften it. She wasn’t angry at the sisters but at Lucas Wilde for deliberately trying to get them on his side. The offer to place their boys was probably a bribe to persuade the sisters to get rid of her. “And why should I leave this place?”

“To avoid any unpleasantness. People are bound to gossip. Those were Lord Dundas’s words.”

“How very kind of him to think of me,” replied Jessica sweetly. “However, I came to Hawkshill to find out …”

“To find out?” prompted Sister Elvira.

“To find out about myself,” Jessica went on seamlessly, “and until I do, I’m not going anywhere.”

She expected an argument and got none. In fact, the sisters approved. It was their conviction that the whole enterprise had been inspired by God, and it was their duty to follow where He led.

Somewhat chastened by the sisters’ blind faith, Jessica left them to begin preparing the evening meal. She didn’t feel put upon by having to do most of the cooking herself. They had agreed on the division of labor from the beginning. The kitchen was her domain. The sisters did most of the washing and cleaning and were out a good part of the day, knocking on doors to beg or buy whatever was needed to set up for the boys’ arrival. They didn’t have the money to purchase all they wanted, but that didn’t dampen their spirits. They expected the good Lord to provide and, to their way of thinking, He did. They’d already acquired some odds and ends of furniture, one milch cow and her calf and a handful of brood hens.

It was Joseph’s job to take care of the stock and generally keep the place in good repair. Before he’d become a professional fighter, he’d been a farm laborer. He didn’t say much, but Jessica could tell it suited him very well to be back on the land.

She donned her apron and stood for a moment or two in the middle of the kitchen floor in silent contemplation. There was so much to think about, so much to worry about. Of all the shocks she’d had today, the one that weighed most heavily on her heart was the brutal murder of her father. “Papa,” she whispered into the silence, trying to think herself into the part of a loving daughter. There was no answering chord in her memory.

She stayed there for a long while, staring into space, then frowned as she remembered that moment in the
Black Swan when she’d had an impression of herself as a young girl. What had she been feeling? She’d been panicked until Lucas had left his friends and come toward her.

Was it a memory? What did it mean? And why would she remember Lucas but not her father?

Scarlet woman
. No. It couldn’t be true. Even without her memory, she knew she wasn’t that sort of girl. Then what sort of girl was she?

Her eye fell on the kitchen table. Gritting her teeth, she picked up her skillet and slammed it down.

In the breakfast room, the black-robed nuns listened to the rattle of pots and pans that emanated from the kitchen. Sister Dolores’s eloquent eyebrows rose a notch at every clatter; Sister Elvira’s lips were turned up in a complacent smile.

“She’s not the same girl she was three days ago,” said Sister Dolores.

“No,” agreed Sister Elvira. “I think we’ll be seeing less and less of Sister Martha as time goes on.”

Sister Dolores rested her chin on the back of her hand and gazed into space. “What did you think of Lord Dundas?”

“I liked him. He seemed genuinely interested in our work.”

“Strange that he should offer to sign our lease. I had the distinct impression, when he first arrived, that he’d come to evict us.”

Sister Elvira’s bright eyes gleamed shrewdly. “Oh, I don’t think there’s any doubt of that.”

Sister Dolores slowly turned her head and her dark brows knitted in a perplexed frown. “Then what made him change his mind?”

“The good Lord, of course, and …”

“And?”

“Well, we did play upon the poor man’s conscience. It’s
a powerful combination, the good Lord and a good conscience, as we should know.”

“Mmm. You don’t think Jessica had something to do with it?”

“Of course Jessica had something to do with it, but I doubt that Lord Dundas is aware of it.” Sister Elvira chuckled. “With Jessica not remembering anything, he’ll have to court her all over again.”

Sister Dolores’s jaw went slack. “Your imagination is running away with you, Sister Elvira.”

“Would you like to bet on it?”

“You heard Jessica. Her father tried to force Lord Dundas to marry her and he refused.”

“I heard her,” agreed Sister Elvira, “but I know what my eyes tell me.”

Nonplussed, Sister Dolores simply stared.

Sister Elvira, who had more experience of the world and its wicked ways than Sister Dolores, knew when she was on to a good thing. “Three to one says it will be a summer wedding.”

Sister Dolores gasped. “I think you’ve taken leave of your senses!”

“For mercy’s sake, it’s only toffees we’re betting. And it wouldn’t be the first time. Besides, the mother superior will never get to hear of it. Who would tell her?”

“That’s not what I meant. Jessica doesn’t even like Lord Dundas. That was patently obvious.”

There was the sound of breaking glass in the kitchen.

Sister Elvira leaned toward the other nun, till they were practically nose to nose. “Four to one,” she whispered.

“You’re a bad influence!”

“Treacle toffees,” Sister Elvira threw in, shamelessly exploiting one of Sister Dolores’s few weaknesses.

“The kind your nephew supplies you with?”

“The same.”

“And what’s my stake?”

“Those sugar plums your niece sends you on your birthday.”

Sister Dolores smiled a slow, calculating smile. “You’re on,” she said.

CHAPTER
6

A
fter Lucas had seen Jessica enter the house, he turned the curricle around and made for home. He paid little heed to his surroundings. His mind was engrossed with thoughts of Jessica.

She’d lost her memory. When the nuns had told him, he hadn’t believed it; he hadn’t wanted to believe it. In fact, he’d been downright suspicious and had questioned them at length. They thought nothing of the inconsistency he’d found in Jess’s story, and he couldn’t tell them about how Jess had melted in his arms, as if she’d left him only yesterday. But as soon as he’d left Hawkshill, he’d rushed to Chalford to confront Jess in person. Then he’d found her in the Black Swan and they’d got off on the wrong foot.