Fenella J Miller (18 page)

She was in the long gallery hiding a clue when she saw a coach turn into the drive.

My God! Surely not!

Alex was not due back for another three days. Where was Edward? She had not seen him all day. She must warn Alex of the danger he was in. She prayed she would not be too late. That when the time came to destroy her happiness she would have the courage to do it.

The carriage rattled along the drive and Alex viewed the relentless rain with interest. High time the crops were watered; it had been an unusually long dry spell and this was exactly the kind of weather farmers welcomed. Eleanor would be pleased to see him; she did not think he was returning until after the weekend.

He would be delighted to renew his acquaintance with her nephews and niece. They had seemed to be charming children. No doubt they were causing mayhem cooped up inside, after having rampaged about in the fresh air these past few weeks. As usual, he did not alight in the front but remained until the coach reached the rear of Blakeley where the carriage house and stables were situated.

Not waiting for the door to be opened by a groom, he jumped down and immediately heard childish laughter coming from inside the building. Intrigued, he went to investigate. Alexander was poking something with a stick to the delight of his small female companion.

God’s teeth!

They had cornered the most enormous rodent he’d ever seen
.
“Alexander, stop that at once.”

The child dropped his stick and threw himself into his arms. “Papa, you have come back sooner. Mama will be so pleased to see you. Isn’t this the biggest rat you’ve ever seen?”

Alex dropped him to the floor and turned to greet the little girl. He held out his hand and after a moment’s hesitation she ran to his arms.

“I don’t like that rat, sir, but Alexander said I should watch him, so I did.”

“Well that was very remiss of you, young man. You must take better care of young ladies and not expose them to danger. What if it had bitten her?”

Alexander grinned, unrepentant. “Then she would have kicked me, and we would both have laughed.”

Alex chuckled; it was good to be home. “Son, you are incorrigible. I should dust your breeches for making such a remark to your papa.”

Amanda’s face paled. She must think he was serious. He gathered her close and her little body was trembling. “Sweetheart, I was joking. Look, Alexander is not bothered, is he? I would not raise my hand to a child or a woman. Ever.” She pressed against him. When he looked up, Alexander was in the yard.

“Papa, I’m going to tell Mama you’re here. Amanda, come with me.” Alex straightened, the child hanging round his neck. “Come along, miss, I shall take you in. I think you need to wash your hands and face, don’t you?”

She reached up to touch the scar that ran across his forehead, the only reminder of the injury he had received all those weeks ago. “Does your head still pain you? When Aunt Eleanor hit you with a stick there was so much blood, I thought you would die.”

Alex stared. “You saw me when I was injured, Amanda?”

She smiled. “Yes, when you were shaking Ned. Aunt Eleanor hit you on the head. Then Betty took us to the maze and I didn’t see you again until we came here. I like you, you’re a nice papa. I wish you were
my
papa.”

Gently Alex placed the child on her feet, giving her a little push. “Can you find your way back in to the nursery? There’s something I must do.”

The child nodded and trotted off. He was stunned. Eleanor had lied to him, he had not made improper advances. She had married him under false pretences. His stomach revolted. He turned away to cast up his accounts on a nearby carriage wheel. He finished retching and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. How could she have deceived him like this?

He had given her everything, fallen in love with her, and she had betrayed his trust. He wanted to turn round and ride away, never come back, never have to face her again. No, he couldn’t do that. His children needed their father in their lives. He would not abandon them because he had lost the woman he loved. But from this moment Eleanor would be as a stranger to him.

Would Alex return to his apartment first, or come to seek her out? What she had to say to him should be said in privacy. He must be eager to see her or would not have returned early. She had best wait in her sitting room.

Eleanor ran the length of the long gallery, sliding to a halt on the shiny parquet floor in order to emerge like the mistress of the house and not one of the children. He would take about five minutes to reach her chambers; she had been more than that getting there herself. He should be here any moment.

She stepped into her bedchamber. Alex wasn’t there. There were voices in the large dressing room where Sally and her junior sat to do the mending. She pushed open the door. The two young women looked up in surprise.

“Lord Bentley is back unexpectedly. He will be visiting me here, I wish both of you to find duties elsewhere.”

“Of course, my lady, we shall wait for you to ring before we return.”

Eleanor flushed scarlet. Never mind, better they thought she was about to tumble into bed with Alex than they knew the truth. She paused at the long mirror shaking out the creases in her dress. If she had known he was returning she would have worn something prettier than a simple sprig muslin.

Did she have time to change? No, apparel was of little importance at the moment. What was going to happen to her after she had told him? She was going to tell him the whole, everything that she had kept from him these past three months. It would be the end of her marriage, but his life was more important than her happiness.

The sitting room door crashed open. Surely that was not him? He was not one to bang doors like her brother did. She hurried in to face a man she did not know. Her beloved Alex had turned into a hard-faced stranger. He carefully closed the door, turning the key behind him with one hand.

His eyes travelled inch by inch from her head to her toes. Something wonderful died inside her. “I have just had the most enlightening conversation with your niece, my lady. Can you guess what it might be about?”

She grabbed the back of a chair for support. She nodded; unable to answer, frozen by his arctic stare.

“You tricked me into marrying you. I made no improper advances to you. I had no need to make you an offer. You used my loss of memory to your advantage. You have broken my trust. You are a liar and I am no longer your husband.”

Tremors shook her as the blood drained from her face. It was too late to try and explain why she’d behaved as she had. He had to know about her brother’s wickedness, that it was Edward’s intention to murder Alex.

“Please, my lord, I know you hate me and I cannot blame you. But there is something I have to tell you.”

His eyes glittered and he shook his head. He had aged several years since she’d seen him last. “Hate you? I could never hate you, Eleanor. I shall always love you, I’ll never want another woman. However, I cannot like you any more, I despise you for what you have done. See, what you have condemned me to? Henceforth I must live like a monk, never experience the joys of intimacy. This is
your
fault. You must live with that, as I must live with your betrayal.”

He turned his back. Before she could protest, he deftly unlocked the door and vanished. She was too distressed to call him back. She should run after him and make sure he was aware of the danger that stalked Blakely Hall. How could she warn him if he wouldn’t speak to her?
She
must find her brother, beg him to take her instead and not harm Alex.

The sound of her sobbing cut him to the quick. He wanted to return, take her in his arms and tell her it didn’t matter and he forgave her. But he couldn’t, honesty was more important than love. He felt wetness on his cheeks and angrily brushed it away. He could not go about in public like this; he was unmanned—knew not which way to turn. He must retire to his rooms, and find solace in a decanter of brandy.

He hesitated, disoriented by his unhappiness. Where was he going? Yes, to his apartment, no more than a few strides from the door he had left. He flung open the door to his sitting room and found Foster, grey faced, waiting there.

“My lord, I must speak urgently to you.” His man stopped, stepped forward as if to take his arm. “My lord, you are unwell, has something happened to disturb you?”

Alex dropped into the nearest chair burying his head in his hands, fighting the urge to give in to his misery like Eleanor next door. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms; the pain restored his equilibrium. He raised his face.

“Foster, she betrayed me. I didn’t attack her, she attacked me. I had no need to marry her, she was not compromised but she let me believe I had behaved in the most reprehensible way. How could she have done that?”

“You don’t understand my lord. She wanted to tell you, but I advised her against it.”

Alex gaped at his man. “You knew she married me falsely?”

Foster shook his head. “No, not at the time my lord. May I be seated? There are things I have to tell you.”

Alex listened with incredulity.

“That bastard beat my wife? Starved her? Treated her in the most appalling fashion? No wonder the poor love was so desperate to escape she grabbed my offer without question. I wish she had told me at the time, that I did not find out from a child.”

The ice around his heart dissolved. What Thorrington had done was unforgivable, inexcusable. Eleanor’s sin paled to insignificance beside her brother’s heinous crimes.

“Now, let me get this straight. Thorrington was behind the attack on me a few weeks ago? He wants to kill me in order to regain control of my wife’s fortune? It beggars belief! The man’s insane. Whatever happens to me, he can’t touch her or her money. I knew what sort of man he was the moment I met him and have arranged matters accordingly.”

His despair was replaced by a fury so intense his vision clouded. “Foster, get Thorrington’s trunks packed, have his coach brought round, he will leave these premises when I’ve finished with him. Lady Thorrington and the children must remain here under my protection.”

Foster nodded. “I saw Lord Bentley by the mausoleum, sir. My lord, forgive me for saying so, but you shouldn’t go alone. Please consider waiting until Tom and I are ready to accompany you.”

Alex smiled grimly. “I don’t intend to kill him. I shall give him the same treatment he gave my wife. I shall make sure everyone in Town knows him for the bastard he is. He will be received nowhere, will have to rusticate at home, or live abroad.”

Should he take his riding whip and use that instead of his fists? No, he wanted to feel the man’s pain when he struck him. He took the stairs three at a time, ignoring the startled expressions of the footmen who stood permanently on guard in the Grand Hall. They jumped to open the front door. Foster was right behind him. No doubt his man had already sent word for Tom to come from the stables and join them at the mausoleum.

What in God’s name is Thorrington doing there?

Alex hated the place. The crypt had been built by his great-grandfather to house the remains of the Bentley family. He never set foot in the building; the marble floors and stone effigies depressed him. He had no intention of being buried there; Anna was laid to rest in the family plot in the village churchyard. She was in the sunshine, not locked away in a dark stone vault.

He slowed his pace, gathering his thoughts, hardening his resolve. His white fury had abated somewhat to be replaced by a clinical determination to mete out the punishment the man deserved.

He rounded the corner and came face-to-face with his adversary. Not giving the man time to react, he drew back his fist and punched him with a satisfying crunch on the jaw. Alex had removed his jacket before he’d left his chamber; small wonder the footman had been startled by his appearance.

Thorrington fell backwards, blood spurting from a split lip.

“Get up, you snivelling coward, I have not finished with you yet.”

Alex saw the man react. With remarkable agility for a man who’d just been floored, he sprang to his feet with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “So, you know it all. Don’t think it will stop here, Bentley. I shall get what is mine, one way or another.”

Alex’s rage took over. He stepped in quickly, landed two smashing blows one after the other. The first broke his opponent’s nose, the second blacked his eye. Thorrington staggered, recovered and aimed two feeble punches in retaliation. These were easily dodged. A few more quick jabs to the ribs and Thorrington collapsed like an empty sack.

“You hurt my wife and you hurt your children. You will not do so again or I will kill you. Do you understand me?” Each remark was punctuated by a sharp prod in the man’s back. He would not demean himself by kicking him.

Thorrington was an abject, defeated man, no longer worthy of his attention. From the look of his cheek his jaw was broken. Good. Alex blew on his bruised knuckles. “Foster, Tom, throw this object in his carriage. Make sure his coachman and valet understand they are to deliver him to his house. Failure to do so will earn my extreme displeasure.”

Eleanor dried her eyes on her skirt. She no longer cared what she looked like. Her life was over. The man she loved had rejected her and she didn’t blame him. Foster was not at fault either for advising her not to tell Alex; this had been her decision and she must live with the consequences.

She needed to be alone, to get away from the house and not risk having to speak to the children or Jane. Where could she go? A gust of wind, and the rattle of rain on the window reminded her everyone was inside. She would venture out. Getting wet would do her no harm. There was a small garden hidden away in the grounds, behind a large beech hedge; the little summerhouse there would be ideal for her purpose.

Not bothering to collect her pelisse or put on her bonnet, she ran from the room. The footmen gaped at her disarray. She ignored them; decorum was the least of her problems. They were paid well enough to disregard what didn’t concern them.

She ran through the hall and down the central passageway to the side door which led directly to the garden. She closed it quietly behind her, pausing in the stone arch to view the dismal sight of the rain lashing down. A soaking was what she deserved. If she caught a congestion of the lungs and died then it would be the Almighty’s way of punishing her.

The grass underfoot was slippery, making it difficult to run, and her thin muslin skirts were soon sticking to her legs. By the time she reached the summerhouse, she was drenched to the bone. Her teeth chattered despite being inside. Inside was dry and the padded seat comfortable to curl up on. She squashed herself into the far corner, in the darkness where she wouldn’t be seen. Bringing her legs up under her chin, she hugged her knees and lowered her face to touch them.

Was there anything positive to be discovered in the catastrophe that had befallen her? Foster would have told Alex about her brother by now. They would take care of matters between them. The situation was out of her hands. The water drummed on the wooden roof—her tears fell as heavily as the rain.

Perhaps there was one thing she could cling to, Alex had not said he would send her away. She could live under the same roof as him, share in the upbringing of their children. That was something. To see his dear face every day must be enough for her. The worst had not happened—he had not sent her back to live at Tendring Manor.

Her teeth clicked so loudly they could be audible outside. She was shaking violently and couldn’t think straight. To venture out dressed as she was had been a very bad idea.