Amy Lake (13 page)

Or could he? What if he had met her cousin elsewhere—in London, say, during one of his many absences from Marsden Hall. And made his acquaintance, for whatever reason, and then discovered the connection, and told Cousin Wilfred that Joseph had died.

Joseph Marwick? Of Tern’s Rest? Interesting. I had no news of that event—

But this made little sense to Fiona. From Thaxton’s letter, he knew of the cottage and the entail. Why had he never written before?

Of one detail Fiona was entirely correct. The baronet had indeed met Cousin Wilfred in London.

  * * * *

The northeast of England has long been a source of coal; London was importing sea-coal from the area by the time of the Magna Carta. Larger scale mining had to wait until what would be called the Industrial Revolution; then, as the number of factories increased, and iron was worked, and the steam engine invented, and later, when Britain entered into war with Napoleon, the appetite for coal grew and grew.

So there was plenty of blunt to be had.

But mining is difficult and money is not made for free. In addition to the dangers faced by the colliers themselves, the explosions from fire-damp, the open pits gaping in the earth, there was the question of what to do with the coal spoil. It needed to be dumped somewhere nearby, and the farmers of the area were naturally reluctant to have mounds of shale and muddy debris on their fields.

For the coalfields of Durham and Newcastle-upon-Tyne, the coast was nearby. Still, although the shoreline of England is long, convenient spots for tips of coal spoil were limited. A man who owned such a spot could suddenly find himself in possession of a very valuable piece of land, should the proprietors of a mine chance to come call.

Chapter 22: Inquiries

That November was not the coldest on record, nor was it unheard of that two additional snowfalls occurred over the next fortnight. But the combination of snow and intervening rain was enough to make the local roads nearly impassable, with the happy consequence that Fiona was finally able to forget about Cousin Wilfred.

Thaxton will put off his visit until spring, she thought, feeling almost giddy with relief. Dee, hesitantly, agreed.

“He’ll probably wait,” said the doctor, “but—”

“No,” said Mrs. Marwick. “Don’t say anything more. I don’t want to even think about the man until . . . until St. George’s day.”

As St. George’s day was not until the last week of April, Dr. Fischer thought she was being optimistic, but he nodded, saying nothing more.

  * * * *

Despite his promise to Fiona, Deandros Fischer found himself unable to forget about Wilfred Thaxton.

The doctor adored Mrs. Marwick; she was as beloved to him as a sister. But everyone has weaknesses, and Fiona's, at this juncture, was a refusal to face unpleasant news until 'twas absolutely necessary. Perhaps it was the only way she could cope with the present situation, but Dee was not as sanguine. He had taken it upon himself from the beginning to discover more of what he could about this cousin and, unlike Fiona, he had the means to do so.

Dee's income as the village doctor was not great, but neither were his expenses, and he was never overmuch concerned about money. After Mrs. Marwick had received the letter he had written to a certain friend in London—Richard Ford, a member of the Runners—and advanced a sum sufficient for a detailed inquiry.

A reply had come two days after the first snowfall, a response early enough to surprise Dee. But the reason was soon clear.

I have spent several days in Croydon. I can find evidence of no such individual living there nor has anyone heard of the Thaxton family.

Curious, thought Dee. Perhaps it was a simple mistake, although he knew his friend to be resourceful and thorough. Or perhaps—

'Twas deuced inconvenient that he had promised Fiona to say nothing to the marquess about Cousin Wilfred. That might be a promise best broken, thought Dee. But not quite yet. He remembered what Lord Ashdown had said about the shady reputation of Fiona’s neighbor, and on a hunch he wrote another letter, with a request that Richard Ford find out everything he could of Sir Irwin Ampthill, Baronet of Ferndale.

  * * * *

Lady Edwina was also thinking about Sir Irwin, and his most recent visit to Tern's Rest. Lord Ashdown's sister was neither unintelligent nor blind to the effect of the man's words on Fiona.

Something about a letter. And the woman was very worried—nearly to the point of panic, if Eddie was any judge. Did Colin know about the issue, whatever it might be? Edwina doubted it. Her brother was so besotted with the young widow that he could barely see beyond her pretty face with its large green eyes, not to mention the mounds of her admittedly lovely bosom.

And Mrs. Marwick did not seem the type to play on Lord Ashdown's sympathies, a discovery which pleased Lady Edwina. The woman was well-spoken, certainly. Eddie wondered how she had avoided that atrocious County Durham accent, with its
summats
and
dinnits
, although she seemed to remember Colin saying something about the father being a rector, which might explain it. Mrs. Marwick also seemed independent, and not easily cowed by the marquess. The latter was a first in Edwina's experience of the young women who had been introduced to her brother at one time or another. In truth, the longer she remained at Tern’s Rest the more she liked Fiona, a fact which she was not ready to acknowledge. As yet.

Lord Ashdown would do as he wished in the end, a fact of which Eddie was only too aware. She had played the role of older sister her entire life—Evelyn certainly wasn't up to the job—but by thirteen years of age Colin had made his opinions known, and by eighteen he was the head of the family in actuality as well as in name. They had argued on many occasions, and the marquess always listened, but he did not always agree.

Eddie had learned to trust her brother's judgment in most matters, but this was new. This was a woman, and a woman with a problem. If nothing else, the Marquess of Carinbrooke's decision on the matter should be informed, and the situation therefore required further investigation. This would entail a delicate touch and even a certain amount of subterfuge, but Lady Edwina had not grown up among the
ton
without having developed precisely those abilities. The first step would be to read that letter.

Chapter 23: Confederates

Lord Ashdown carefully shifted his weight until he was standing almost entirely on his right leg. There was a little stiffness that remained, but no pain.

“Well, Bunny,” he said, “I think we're ready.”

Hobbs had saddled the stallion and led him outside the stables. Bunny was prancing and restless; he tossed his head, as if to say that his lordship had taken his own sweet time about it. Colin looked around. The little snow remaining on the ground would cause no trouble, and the path along the coastal cliffs seemed clear of mud as well.

“What do you think, Hobbs?”

“Eh,” said Hobbs.

This seemed to be the extent of the man's conversation in most circumstances. Colin approached the stallion's flank and put his left foot in the stirrups. There was nothing at all wrong with his left leg, and he found himself mounting easily, swinging carefully up and into the saddle.

Gods, it felt good to be on horseback again. Bunny should be eager as well, although he could sense a hesitation in the stallion's response, as if he was waiting for something.

Or somebody.

Lord Ashdown heard the kitchen door slam. Bunny’s ears pricked.

“Colin!” Madelaine came running from the house, without gloves or a hat, her jacket clutched in one hand. The stallion turned his head and neighed loudly in welcome.

“Bunny! Colin! Are you leaving?”

Maddie launched herself at the horse, and Lord Ashdown was thankful, at that point, that his mount was well-trained and imperturbable. Bunny didn't shift an inch.

“You're not
going
, are you?”

The marquess realized that the girl was on the verge of tears.

“No, of course not,” he told her. “I certainly wouldn't leave without telling you first. Did you think I would?”

“No . . . But mum says you'll be off soon.” Maddie sniffled, and looked up at him hopefully. “Can I ride with you?”

“Put your jacket on, and your hat and gloves,” said Lord Ashdown. “And then go ask your mother.”

She ran back to the kitchen, reappearing shortly with Mrs. Marwick. Fiona was wearing a simple morning dress of white, with an apron tied around her waist. There was flour in her hair and the apron showed smudges of whatever she had been cooking. Lord Ashdown thought he had never seen a more beautiful female in any ballroom in London.

“Maddie said you wanted to take her riding on Bunny?” said Mrs. Marwick. She looked dubiously at the stallion.

Colin looked at Madelaine with raised eyebrows.

The girl looked appropriately sheepish. “Well . . . that’s not exactly what he said,” she admitted to her mother. “But I can! I can sit in front of Colin! There's
lots
of room.”

Which was true enough, of course. Bunny was probably big enough for Mrs. Marwick to ride with him herself, thought Lord Ashdown, briefly considering what it would feel like to have Fiona's lovely form leaning back against his chest. He shifted uncomfortably in the saddle.

“His lordship is only now getting over a serious injury,” Fiona was telling her daughter. “He needs time to become re-acquainted with his own horse.”

“But you said he was leaving!”

Fiona and Lord Ashdown looked at each other. Mrs. Marwick's face betrayed nothing.

“Yes,” she told Madelaine. “He is.”

“Come on,” said the marquess. If you climb on to the fence I can lift you.”

  * * * *

Lady Edwina was an impatient person under the best of circumstances, but this was really the outside of enough. It had been two days since that loathsome Sir Irwin visited Tern’s Rest, and she had found no opportunity to search Mrs. Marwick’s bedroom.

But now, she decided, her chance had come. Colin was up on Achilles for the first time since he’d broken his leg, and he had allowed Madelaine to join him, sitting in front of the saddle astride. A bad idea, in Eddie’s opinion, who felt that children were dangerous and unpredictable creatures.

Were they really calling the marquess’ horse
Bunny
? She had thought it a joke.

At any rate, the girl’s mother was outside watching, and the cottage was at Lady Edwina’s disposal for the duration. Eddie searched the parlour, irritably, for her reading glasses, which she was quite sure she had left on the candle stand, and after finding them she nipped into Fiona’s bedroom. She scanned it quickly. A double bed, which was made up with a rather lovely quilt, so perhaps Mrs. Marwick was as good a seamstress as she was a cook. A wardrobe—that could be investigated later, if needs be—and a nightstand. The drawer of the nightstand was Eddie’s first target, but it contained nothing more than a few neatly folded handkerchiefs and a small prayer book. And a half-finished portrait done in watercolor—little more than a sketch, really—in a simple frame.

’Twas of a young man. This must be Fiona’s late husband, thought Edwina, and putting on her glasses she picked the thing up for a closer look. A gentle, bemused face, with a half-smile. Her first thought was that he looked nothing like a match for Mrs. Marwick, who struck Eddie as having a bit of fire in her veins. But ’twas neither here nor there.

Perhaps the woman had thrown the letter away. Then Lady Edwina noticed a small writing desk behind her, on the wall next to the door.
There it is
, she thought, and after a swift but expert search she was proved correct; the letter was tucked into a small notebook, which was hidden under a sheaf of writing paper inside the bottom-most drawer on the right.

Taking a quick glance out the window to assure herself that Fiona was still waiting at the open stable door, she extracted the letter from its envelope. Lud, what awful handwriting. Should she read the thing at once, or take it with her and risk another foray into Mrs. Marwick’s bedroom? Edwina decided on the former.

My dear Mrs. Marwick—

She went through the entire letter twice, carefully, growing more annoyed by the moment with the man’s execrable fist. Then she returned it to its envelope, and its hiding place in the desk, and crossed softly to the bedroom door.

The situation required a bit more thought before she decided what to tell her brother. An entail? ’Twas possible, supposed Eddie, who wasn’t sure that it would—or should—make any difference to Colin. But there was something very odd about that letter, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on—

“Lady Edwina.”

Dr. Fischer was standing there, in the hallway, as Eddie exited Mrs. Marwick’s bedroom. His eyebrows were raised.

Damn the man. Edwina made a rapid calculation in her head, and decided on honesty. She had need of a confederate, and the doctor was as good as any. He’s perfect, in fact, thought Eddie. He cares about Mrs. Marwick, but does not love her.

But has he seen the letter?

I’ll bet he has.

“What do you know,” she asked the doctor, “about Wilfred Thaxton?”

Chapter 24: Doubts and Confidence

Madelaine had enjoyed her ride on Bunny so much that Fiona knew there would be more such requests in the future.

Except that there was no future. There would be no Bunny, and no Lord Ashdown. The marquess was nearly strong enough even now to ride his stallion for a long distance, and from what Mrs. Marwick knew of Edwina, the marquess' sister would not shy from taking Artemis all the way to Elswick Manor as well.

So they would soon be on their way, regardless of what snow was left.

  * * * *

Dr. Fischer and Lady Edwina, after a brief period of mutual suspicion, had come to an understanding. Confidences were exchanged, information reviewed, and although most of the information came from Dee, he valued Edwina's judgment. They agreed that Wilfred Thaxton and the matter of an entail must be investigated further, as both had doubts about the letter and the individual who wrote it. Doubts that went beyond the poor quality of his handwriting.