A Rose Before Dying (28 page)

Sir Edward swore and plucked at the sheets
trying to readjust the folds over his legs. “You can’t blame me for
this one. I’ve never seen that little girl. Didn’t know you had
one. I’m innocent. You believe me now, don’t you?”

“Yes. No one is blaming you.”

“What’s this nonsense about Rosewell?”

“Mr. Phillips has taken possession. I can’t
go back.”

“Mr. Phillips? Your father’s partner?”

“Yes.” She felt so sick with misery that she
could barely meet his eyes. “There’s a contract. My father signed
it before he died. I must marry Mr. Phillips.”

“For God’s sake, girl, have you run away?
You’re mad! You can’t give up your heritage and your home!” A harsh
laugh cracked from his throat. “Besides, what’s a little aversion
in a marriage? Even that fool Sheridan claimed every successful
marriage starts with aversion. You’ll learn to get along in
time.”

“I—I know I’m being the worst kind of fool,
but I couldn’t do it.”

“And why not? One man is very like another,
after all. Blow out the candle and close your eyes. It’s what most
of you do in the end.”

She jerked her hand out of his clasp and rose
to her feet. “What
most
of us do? I beg your pardon!”

“I’ll thank you to pull your claws back in
and stop spitting at me. Talk sensibly, young woman. You can’t just
run off and leave the field to your enemy. It’s your home. What
would Rosewell be without a Wellfleet?”

“I wouldn’t be a Wellfleet if I married,
would I?”

“No, but you can’t give it up!” he repeated
stubbornly. “Reconsider. Where will you live? What will you do?
Become a governess to someone else’s brats? And what about this
Rose? What’s to become of her when you’ve no home?”

“Her situation won’t change.”

“So you intend to become a beggar? Do you
imagine that will be a better life than the comfortable situation
you’d have as Mrs. Phillips?” He waved her toward the door. “If
that’s your plan, I’ve no use or sympathy for you.”

“I thought you’d understand—”

“Understand?
Understand?
Oh, I
understand all right. I’ve seen the way you look at my nephew, and
he at you. But a man looks at hundreds of women that way, often in
a single day if he’s lucky. Has he offered for you?”

“Of course not! He’s an earl.”

“Precisely! And if there’s a marriage
contract already with Mr. Phillips, Castlemoor won’t. He’s not a
cad. Or a fool. Love is all right in its place, but it makes you
foolish. I know only too well. If you ask me, we’d all be better
off without it. So if you take my advice, you’ll return to Rosewell
before Phillips realizes you’re gone.”

“I’m fairly sure he realizes it already,” she
replied ruefully. The thought of returning to Mr. Phillips sickened
her, but Sir Edward’s words increased her doubts. She should have
stayed and faced matters squarely. Rosewell was her home, and the
only way she could provide security for Rose was to marry.

If she truly cared about the child, then she
would accept her situation as gracefully as possible and do the
right thing. And yet…she ached for a few days of freedom. Just a
few days more.

“Now, this child—”

“Her name is Rose.”

“Yes, well, that child. May I assume since
you’re here alone that my nephew has gone after her?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then. He’s not the addle pate he
looks. You were able to identify the blooms?”

“Yes.” She rubbed her forehead, feeling a
throbbing headache running up her neck and clawing under her hair.
“I just came down to see if you needed anything?”

“A new leg would be lovely. Thank you,” he
replied with heavy sarcasm.

“I’ll see what Mrs. Bewforest has growing in
the garden. Maybe there’s a cloven hoof sprouting from a rotten
cabbage you can use.”

“You think I’m cruel, don’t you?”

“No.” She sighed. “Not precisely cruel.”

“But you wanted to escape, didn’t you?”

She studied him, surprised. “I—”

“You’re not merely indifferent to Mr.
Phillips, are you?”

“If only I
could
like him.” Or even
admire him. Anything other than the trapped feeling she had
whenever he came near.

“You dislike him?”

“Yes.” She covered her face with her hands,
ashamed of herself. “I’m mortified. I’ve never disliked
anyone—”

He chuckled. “Here’s a rich secret—no one
likes him. I doubt your father cared for him much, either.”

“He arranged for me to marry him!”

“I’m sorry to tell you this, but your father
was an idiot. He mismanaged his entire fortune and was having
financial difficulties. Even asked me for a loan. If I recall,
around that time, Phillips inherited a good piece from an aunt. The
poor woman died five years ago in a tragic accident.”

“Tragic? What happened?” Feeling overheated,
she looked over her shoulder at the window. It was already
open.

The heat in the room was growing oppressive
as the sun beat down on the house. The flat moors, sparkling here
and there as pools reflected the pale blue sky, offered no shade,
no escape. And they sat in a house standing at the edge of that
barren landscape with just a scraggly fringe of vegetables and a
few roses, Rugosa variety, one of the few that flourished in such
an environment. The rose blooms were the only touch of color, a
dark, rich pink fluttering between the leathery, brilliant green
leaves.

“She drowned. In the Thames.”

She couldn’t catch her breath.
“She…drowned?”

“Yes. Left everything to her nephew. Don’t
know how much she left—just a house and a few investments—but it
was enough for Phillips to help your father when he hit that rough
patch.”

“And now he has Rosewell.” She daubed at her
upper lip with a handkerchief. When she noticed the embroidery, she
balled it up, reminded of Rose. The linen square was one of those
embroidered with tiny silk roses by Miss Baxter. Ariadne struggled
to control her fears. “Well, he helped father. He spent his
inheritance doing so. I suppose it’s awful of me to run away
without word.”

“Well, you’re young, yet.”

“Youth is no excuse for incivility.”

“It’s as good an excuse as any.” A thoughtful
expression crossed his face before he changed the subject abruptly.
“What did the doctor say about Miss Baxter?”

“I—I’m afraid she’s not very well. Dr.
Humphrey gave me the impression she’s not progressing as quickly as
he’d hoped.”

“No one progresses as quickly as any doctor
hopes as far as I can determine.” His restless hands rubbed his
thigh. He studied her with a frown. “How did she seem to you?”

“Weak, too weak.” She tried not to inflict
her worries on him, but she couldn’t entirely suppress her concern.
“Perhaps it’s merely the dark before the dawn.”

He grunted and stared down at his heavily
veined hands. “Are you sure you can’t stomach that fellow, Mr.
Phillips? You might grow to tolerate him after a time.”

She shook her head. Mr. Phillips was a man
with a short temper and a quick hand, and it would be foolish to
believe they’d have such a harmonious marriage that arguments would
never occur. Her cheek ached briefly. She touched it with cold
fingertips. Her own disposition was hardly compliant enough to
avoid all conflict, though she knew better than to anger him,
now.

“I’m sorry—I wish it were otherwise, but no.
I don’t like him, and I don’t believe he’ll improve on closer
acquaintance.”

“Then my mind is made up. I’ll offer for Miss
Baxter, and you shall come to live with us.”

“Sir Edward!” She stared at him,
nonplused.

“My nephew is clearly cork-brained.”

“I beg your pardon?” She flushed, aghast.

“I refuse to involve myself in Castlemoor’s
personal affairs. If he hasn’t the wit to offer for you, then other
arrangements will have to be made. This is the obvious solution.
Where else could you and Miss Baxter go if Phillips owns Rosewell?”
He stared out the window. His heavy face gradually assumed a
belligerent expression as if he expected her to argue.

While Sir Edward did his best to present a
hard, gruff exterior, he was by no means heartless. In fact, she
suspected he was rather a romantic. While she was flattered that
he’d consider such a disruption to his household, she suspected it
had more to do with his reawakened interest in Miss Baxter than a
desire to have Ariadne and Rose move in with him.

She smiled and then hastily smothered it
before his sharp eyes noticed. “While I appreciate it, it would be
high-handed of us to assume Miss Baxter will agree.” Assuming she
survived.

“Ha!” Sir Edward shook his head. “She’s older
and hopefully wiser, now. Or at least not as flighty as she once
was. This time, she might want to reconsider refusing me. She
doesn’t have quite as many suitors as she once had, even one-legged
ones.”

“Oh, Sir Edward, she’d never refuse simply
because of your poor limb—”

“Then you don’t know her as well as I do.
Fifteen years ago she would have. A mighty proud woman was your
cousin. A crippled old man is hardly what she’d consider a prime
catch, but she’s fifteen years older now, too. So she might not be
so hasty.”

“I’m sure she regretted it.”

“Not likely. Be that as it may, I’ll ask
anyway. We’ll see what she has to say about it.”

She laid her hand over his and squeezed. “If
she doesn’t say yes, you can always ask me.”

“Well, now, that’s a tempting offer. I almost
hope she does have the sense to say no.” He started to laugh when a
spasm of pain crossed his face. He pounded a fist against the edge
of the bed, pale and sweating.

She jumped to her feet. “Where’s the medicine
Dr. Humphrey left?”

“There.” He panted, breaking off with a
groan. “Blue bottle.”

She carefully measured out a few drops into a
glass and added some water, swirling it into a cloudy white
draught. When he saw the glass in her hand, he grabbed it and
drained it in one swallow. Beads of sweat rolled down the sides of
his face, but when she bent to wipe his forehead, he slapped her
hands away.

“Leave off!”

“Should I send for Dr. Humphrey? Is the pain
worse?”

“That butcher! Leave off and get out!” His
teeth ground together, the cords in his neck standing out as he
gripped his thigh just above the knee. “All this chatter—you women
will be the death of me.”

The abrupt shift in his mood stood as
evidence to the amount of discomfort he endured, but she could
think of nothing more to do. Like most men, he clearly disliked
exposing his weakness. Finally, she realized the best thing she
could do would be to leave him in peace. Perhaps he could rest.

“I’ve worn you out and neglected my cousin.
If you need anything, I’m only a shout away.”

His sharp nod was his only reply.

As she left, she realized that somehow, the
patient had comforted the nurse rather than the reverse. She
sighed. Some days, she couldn’t do anything properly.

As Rose slept, Charles sat in an armchair by
the window and watched the weary travelers and horses come and go
from the stable yard. The dreary, damp scene, lit fitfully by a few
lanterns, increased the frustration building within him.

He’d managed to rescue Miss Baxter and Rose,
but whether they survived was another matter. Miss Baxter was no
longer young, and she’d been exposed for hours.

Pacing, he considered matters. Should he
visit Marsh Rose Cottage in the morning, or take Rose back to
London to attend the inquest? The presence of Rose made him
hesitate. He suspected Mr. Phillips would refuse to care for the
child without Miss Wellfleet’s protective presence.

That was another awkward situation. He should
have confronted him directly and freed Ariadne from her obligation.
No matter what he thought of Philips, he owed him the courtesy of
an explanation, even if it resulted in an ugly scene.

At least Ariadne had been spared that
unpleasantness.

In the hush of the pre-dawn hours, he
realized one more thing. If he had done the right thing, they could
have come to an agreement, and he could have courted her with a
clear conscience.

Now, if he offered for Ariadne, it would be
tainted by the cowardice of their flight and the complications of
the existing contract. She would undoubtedly believe he felt
obligated to provide her with a safe home after assisting in her
flight.

He rubbed his face, his beard rasping against
the palm of his hand. There were no answers, only more questions,
and he had other more urgent concerns. Something in the back of his
mind was busy picking over the mystery of the deadly roses.

Initially, the flowers seemed designed to
implicate Sir Edward and send him to the gallows, presumably for
revenge. But the net had widened to include not one, but two women.
Both from Rosewell. All of them were inextricably linked through
their love of roses and complex personal relationships to Sir
Edward.

He loved Lady Banks, and she died shortly
after she’d found a new lover in the form of Mr. Nivelle. Then, Mr.
Nivelle died, pointing at a motive of jealousy on the part of the
rejected admirer, Sir Edward.

When Miss Baxter was kidnapped, her past
relationship with Sir Edward implicated him. The two had considered
marriage before one, or the other, decided against it. And this
brought Rosewell into focus, since Miss Baxter lived at Rosewell
and Sir Edward was a client of Mr. Wellfleet. As was Lady
Banks.

They all bought roses from Mr. Wellfleet.

And so did Mr. Tunnes. And Mr. Tunnes had a
previous argument with Sir Edward. Charles remembered a
particularly scathing review his uncle had written two years ago of
a play featuring Tunnes. Nonetheless, it seemed odd that Tunnes
would wait all this time for revenge, but who knew what played into
a madman’s decisions?