Cut to the Quick

KATE ROSS

CUT TO THE QUICK

Kate Ross (1956-1998) was the author of four Julian Kestrel mysteries: Cut to the Quick, A Broken Vessel, Whom the Gods Love, and The Devil in Music (all available from Penguin). A Broken Vessel was the winner of the 1994 Gargoyle Award for Best Historical Mystery. The Devil in Music was nominated for an Agatha Award for Best Mystery Novel of ‘ 1997 and for a Winn Dylis Award, given by the Independent Mystery Booksellers Association to books they most enjoy selling.

Copyright © Katherine J. Ross, 1993 All rights reserved

THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS HAS CATALOGUED THE HARDCOVER AS FOLLOWS:

Ross, Kate.

Cut to the quick/by Kate Ross, p. cm.

ISBN 0-670-84847-6 (he.)

ISBN 0 14 02.3394 6 (pbk.)

I. Title.

PS3568.0843494C8 1993 813'.514—dc20 92-50456

Mark Craddock paced slowly, deliberately, back and forth behind the desk in his study. From time to time he glanced at the marquetry clock on the mantelpiece. The young people were taking their time coming to an understanding, but he would not interrupt them. He had waited more than twenty years for this day. He could afford to wait a little longer.

Craddock’s servants called this room the Lion's Den, partly because of the lion’s head carved on the back of Craddock's chair, and partly because he himself looked very like a lion, with his thick, tawny hair and flat nose, and the fierce gaze he levelled at people through his small, round, glinting spectacles. The room was proportioned to suit his tall, strapping figure: the ceiling was high, and the mahogany furniture massive. The money and care he had lavished here showed in every detail: the Sfcvres inkstands, the portfolios bound with morocco leather, the elegant portrait of Craddock’s late wife that hung over the marble fireplace.

Sarah’s portrait made Craddock uncomfortable just now. Her eyes seemed grieved, reproachful. Try as he might, he could not avoid her gaze. He had half made up his mind to turn her face to the wall, when a footman came in. “Mr. Fontclair’s asked to see you, sir.”

Craddock forgot all about the portrait. “Show him in.”

And there he was: Hugh Fontclair, Sir Robert’s son and heir— her nephew. Craddock surveyed him with satisfaction. The boy had the Fontclair face, with its high forehead and long jaw, though the fine dark eyes were his mother’s. He certainly had the Fontclair bearing at the moment—standing tall and straight, eyes proudly defiant. He stood just inside the door, as though disdaining to come any closer to Craddock than he must.

"Well?” said Craddock. “How’ve you sped?”

“I’ve come to inform you that your daughter has consented to be my wife. Now, if you have nothing further to discuss with me, sir, Til take my leave. Any business to do with settlements and such things can be handled through our solicitors/*

Craddock did not want to let him leave right away. It was such a pleasure to make him stand there, fuming and longing to be gone. “Did you tell her anything?”

Hugh’s colour rose. “If you mean, did I tell her by what dishonourable means you’ve brought about this engagement—no, sir, I didn’t. I understood your orders were she wasn’t to know.” He added more quietly, “It’s not very fair to her, really.”

“You let me be the judge what’s fair to Maud.”

“Would you know, Mr. Craddock?” Hugh burst out. “Would you care?”

“It never ceases to amaze me how all you Fontclairs talk on about fairness and honour—as though you knew the first thing about either!” Craddock leaned forward, his large fists propped on the desk. “Go back to your father, and your uncle and aunt, and tell them it’s been settled between you and Maud. Tell them it won’t be long before there’s a child with both my blood and theirs in his veins. I hope they writhe when they hear it! I’m only sorry I won’t be there to see how they take the news!”

*

If Hugh had not been in such low spirits, he would have found it exciting to be in London. His parents rarely came to London, even during the season. Till recently, Hugh had been content to live at Bellegarde, pursuing his studies and helping his father run the estate. But now that he was a grown man—he had been twenty-

one for nearly a fortnight—he was eager to see more ot the world. He had been meaning to ask his father to let him go abroad for a year or two. The cafes of Paris, the ruins of Rome, the splendours of the East—he thirsted to experience them all in person, not just in books.

Now everything was changed, of course. If he went on the Grand Tour, it would have to take the form of a wedding trip, which meant it would be no more thrilling or perilous than a picnic in the country. He was simply not ready to marry. Anyone who had ever read a play or a novel knew that the hero’s wedding came at the end, not the beginning. He had not had any adventures yet: no pistols at dawn, no midnight clashes with highwaymen. Hang it, no women.

He realized that plenty of young married men had their actresses and opera girls. But he could not go that route: his parents* example had spoiled him for the shallow, faithless unions so common among the Quality. Still, his father, Sir Robert, had chosen a wife for himself—he had not been coerced by methods like Craddock’s. Hugh told himself he was being unfair to Miss Craddock—none of this was her fault, after all—but he could not help seeing her as a penance, an anticlimax to all his hopes and imaginings. How could marital love take root and flourish under conditions like these?

He was mulling this over gloomily as he drew up his cabriolet outside his parents* town house in Curzon Street. He tossed the reins to his groom and went indoors. Resolutely, he put on a cheerful face. There was little merit in doing your duty, he thought, if you could not at least appear to do it gladly.

Michael, the footman, told him that his parents were in Sir Robert's study. “Is anybody with them?” Hugh asked apprehensively.

“No, sir. Lady Tarleton and Colonel Fontclair are here, but they’re in the drawing room.”

Lady Tarleton and Colonel Fontclair were Sir Robert’s sister and brother. Hugh was not surprised they had called; they must be eager to learn how things had gone between him and Miss Craddock. He was grateful for the chance to talk to his parents alone first. How they had managed to confine Aunt Catherine in the drawing room, he could not imagine. It must have taken all his mother’s tact and his father’s authority.

He went to the study and told them that Miss Craddock had accepted him. Sir Robert asked a great many questions about her. Did she seem well bred? Had she manners, accomplishments, graces? Was she bookish, and if so, what did she read? Above all, had she any sense of honour? Was she truthful, candid, modest? Hugh was hard put to respond. He had been so nervous and self-conscious, meeting Miss Craddock for the first time and having to offer for her under such embarrassing circumstances, that he had been in no fit state to observe much about her. All the while they talked, he had kept his eyes on a Chinese dragon on the carpet, and now he remembered the dragon’s face much better than his future bride’s.

Lady Fontclair took his face lightly between her hands. “My dear, did you like her at all?”

“I liked her very well, mother.”

“I mast get to know her before the wedding. Robert, mayn’t we invite her to Bellegarde for a few weeks? We could show her the house and the estate, and have her meet the servants and tenants. I want so much to be sure she’ll be a good wife to Hugh. We know so little about her.”

“I don’t think you’ll find anything to disapprove of,” said Hugh. “But, even if you did, Mother, what could you do? What could any of us do?”

Lady Fontclair smiled ruefully and shook her head.

“You know, it isn’t too late to draw back, even now,” Sir Robert said suddenly. “If you feel you cannot bring yourself to marry, just to pay for other people’s misdeeds, you have only to say so.”

“But, sir, I’ve committed myself to Miss Craddock.”

“I understand that. But you’ve done so under constraint. She would have no right to hold you to your promise.”

“I’m afraid I can’t agree with you, sir. It was a promise, whatever prompted me to give it. I can’t go back on it now. Anyway, I haven’t had second thoughts. I’m happy to marry Miss Craddock. I hope I should be willing to do far more than that, to protect our name from disgrace.”

Sir Robert said quietly, “When a man of our rank has only one son, it means a great deal to him that his son should grow up to be a man of good character, not merely a man of fashion. I have

Mr. Craddock to thank in one respect: he has tried my son and proved him to be in every way worthy of his name and lineage.” The colour rushed into Hugh’s face. “Father, I— I’m nothing more than the man you raised me to be.”

Lady Fontclair looked from one to the other, her eyes aglow. But seeing that they were both tongue-tied with emotion, she stepped into the breach. “Then may we invite Miss Craddock to Belle-garde?”

“We can’t invite her without her father,” Sir Robert pointed out. “That will be very awkward and unpleasant,” she admitted. “But the servants and everyone at Bellegarde will have to get used to him sooner or later.”

“My dear, if you wish to invite the Craddocks to Bellegarde, then of course you may.”

Hugh smiled. It was not as though there had been any doubt he would agree. When had he ever refused her anything? Yet she always asked his permission before she carried out plans of any importance. It was like a courtly dance they performed: she deferred to his judgement, and he granted her wishes.

“Shall I tell Aunt Catherine and Uncle Geoffrey things went off all right with Miss Craddock?” he offered.

“Oh, my dear,” laughed his mother, “you’ve been through enough! Run along, and leave Catherine and Geoffrey to us.” Hugh obeyed, with a mixture of guilt and relief. He felt sure they would have a row on their hands when Aunt Catherine heard the news. He went downstairs, meaning to get out of the house till the storm was over. But Michael waylaid him in the front hall.

“Excuse me, sir. Mr. Guy is in the library and wants to see you. He asked me not to tell anyone but you that he’s here.”

“The deuce! What does he want to be so mysterious for?”

“I couldn’t say, sir.”

Hugh sighed. “All right. I’ll see him.”

With half a dozen chairs in the library, Guy had chosen to sit on the portable stairs that were used to take books down from high shelves. One of his feet was propped on a step; the other long leg

swung freely. Guy was vain about his legs and wore shockingly close-fitting trousers. He was also vain about his wavy chestnut hair, which tumbled about his ears in carefully contrived romantic disarray. He had vibrant brown eyes, a cleft chin, and only a hint of the long Fontclair brow and jaw. His shoulders, chest, and waist were the realization of a tailor’s dream.

He sprang up on seeing Hugh. “You’ve been a devil of a time. I thought you were never coming down.”

“What are you hiding here for? Why didn’t you let Michael announce you?”

“Because I found out Aunt Catherine was in the house, and I’d rather be pickled in brine than exchange three words with her. I’m still not recovered from the last time I saw her, when we were all at Bellegarde for your coming of age. Another dose so soon would finish me off. I was bent on seeing you, though! Tell me—is it true you’re going to marry Mark Craddock’s daughter?”

“How did you know?”

“The colonel told me.” The colonel was Guy’s father, Geoffrey Fontclair, the younger brother of Hugh’s father. “It is true, then?”

“Yes. We became engaged this afternoon.”

“In the name of God, why? Mark Craddock’s daughter! He used to be—”

“I know what he used to be.”

“And Uncle Robert’s prepared to swallow it?”

“He’s agreed to the marriage, yes.”

“Then it’s got to be one of two things. Either you’ve been borrowing on post-obits, and Craddock’s holding all your notes of hand, or you’ve gone and got the girl with child.”

“Oh, for God’s sake! I’ve only met her once!”

“Well, it only takes once.”

“I didn’t meet her that way! And I must ask you not to talk about her in that fashion. She’s a very respectable girl, and she’s the girl I’m going to marry.”

“Is she pretty, at least?”

“She’s not— ill-looking.”

“Oh, my God! As bad as that? Why the devil are you going to marry her, then? It must be money. I had no idea Uncle Robert was hard up.”

“He’s not—never mind, I can’t tell you any more.”

”1 can't believe Uncle Robert would let you marry the daughter of a cit—any cit, let alone Mark Craddock! What would all our bloody ancestors say? There’ll be an earthquake at Bellegarde on your wedding day, with all those knights and war heroes turning over in their graves. When is the wedding, anyway?”

“At the end of June.”

“Good God, in only two months? Well, at least I can look forward to borrowing off you, once you’ve got your hands on La Craddock’s fortune. How much is her father forking out?”

“I don’t know exactly.”

“You’ve got engaged to a girl whose father is as rich as Croesus, and you don’t even know what her dowry is? Hang it, if it isn’t her money you’re after, what are you marrying her for?”