The Deathly Portent (41 page)

H
aving dined at the Hall upon the previous night, Aidan had timed his visit early on purpose, not wishing Lady Ferrensby to suppose him to be hankering for a second invitation. He had to be back in the village by the afternoon, in any event, to meet with Tisbury and Wagstaff. Meldreth having completed the postmortem and sanctioned a burial, it was time for arrangements to be set in train.

Aidan had come to check that all was well with Cassie, but he was struck by the drawn look in her ladyship’s features and did not hesitate to voice his concern.

“Are you quite well, ma’am?”

Lady Ferrensby straightened up, casting a brief glance towards Cassie, whose dark eyes moved to study her at this question.

“Why, do I look out of sorts?”

“You look as if this business is preying upon your mind,” said Aidan frankly.

Cassie’s features expressed instant dismay. “It is my fault.
Forgive me, pray. Aidan says I should not have spoken of my vision, and he is right.”

“I said nothing of the kind. All I said was—”

“You did not phrase it so perhaps, but it was what you meant,” Cassie cut in, an undertone of passion reverberating in her voice.

“True, but I never imputed blame to you for these murders.”

Lady Ferrensby uttered a short laugh. “It is pointless arguing with her, Kinnerton. If Cassie can find a way to writhe in guilt, she will do so.”

Quick anger kindled in Aidan’s breast, but he maintained a cool tone. “I believe Mrs. Dale has reason enough to feel haunted.”

Cassie’s tragic gaze came back to his face. “Lady Ferrensby does not believe that I see these things. She thinks I suffer from an overactive imagination. I only wish it were so.”

Aidan smiled at her. “I believe you.”

Her lips trembled on a smile, and the dark eyes became luminous. “I know. You are the greatest comfort to me, Aidan.”

“I am glad.”

At this moment he caught the wry look of amusement in Lady Ferrensby’s face, and his cheeks warmed. At least it was not disapprobation. Not that he supposed his intentions required her permission, but since Cassie was in some sort her protégée, it would be politic to court her approval.

He was just wondering if the moment was propitious, when the butler entered to announce another arrival.

“Lord and Lady Francis Fanshawe.”

Cassie started oddly, the colour fluctuating in her cheeks. Aidan looked worriedly at her, and by the time his attention turned to the visitors, Lady Ferrensby was already exchanging greetings, her manner gracious and welcoming.

The instant the door closed behind the butler, however, this spurious politeness deserted her, and her hazel eyes
abruptly showed a haunted air that was so reminiscent of Cassie that Aidan was startled.

“You are recovered, I hope, Lady Francis?”

Transferring his regard to Lady Fan, as Cassie had it, Aidan noted an energised look about her. She wafted a hand dismissively.

“Oh, I am perfectly well, I thank you, but I have not come for that.”

A sudden shift in Lady Ferrensby’s face gave evidence of hope. “You have news?”

“Not that precisely,” the other responded. “At least, not in the way you mean. But I had to come.”

Cassie started forward. “There has not been more trouble? You are not hurt?”

Lady Francis caught Cassie’s hands as she reached her. “Nothing of that sort. But it is you I have come to see, Cassie. I need your help.”

The dark eyes grew wide, and Aidan was conscious of a burn in his chest.

“Mine? But what can I do?”

Lady Francis seemed to steel herself. “I am sorry to ask it of you, Cassie, but could you bear to have another vision?”

Shock ripped through Aidan’s breast. An outrageous request! Unsurprisingly, Cassie was staring at her, blankness in those lustrous, large eyes. Then they darkened. She wrenched her hands away, and her tone as she spoke was husky and vibrant.

“Do you make game of me, Lady Fan? I see what I see. I cannot make a picture appear in my head.”

Aidan longed to reach out to her in comfort but perforce held back for he had no right as yet to show protection in company. He had not realised he was staring at Lady Francis until she spoke to him.

“Do not look daggers at me, Mr. Kinnerton.”

At which, Aidan caught a fiery glance from Lord Francis,
but he was forestalled from making any comment as his wife turned back to Cassie.

“I am not making game of you, Cassie. Indeed, I am deadly serious. You shall have a vision this afternoon, if you please, and a very specific one.”

Lady Ferrensby was regarding the woman with a deep frown. “You mean you want her to pretend?”

“Just so.”

A sharp breath left Aidan’s chest, and he struggled to contain the flooding fury. He knew it sounded in his voice despite himself.

“You would set her in danger? Merely upon a whim? I should have thought you, Lady Francis, must be the last person to ask it of her after your experience.”

At this he came under instant fire from Lord Francis. “Her reason is sufficient, Kinnerton. What, do you suppose her cruel in this? You may count yourselves fortunate I have not removed her from the scene. Which I would have done had not her representations of the need to remain spoken too deeply to be ignored.”

Aidan eyed him in frowning silence as he took this in. Then he looked to Lady Francis.

“If I have done you an injustice, ma’am, I offer you my apology.” His glance swept back to Lord Francis. “I think your husband must understand my concerns in this for Mrs. Dale’s safety.”

“Yes, I do,” snapped the other man. “But you would do better to hold your fire until you know all.”

Before Aidan could respond to this, Lady Ferrensby intervened.

“Gracious me, gentlemen! Is it to be pistols at dawn? Have we not enough on our hands without the two of you coming to blows?”

Aidan tightened his lip upon an unwise retort, noting that Lord Francis did likewise.

“Shall we return to the matter at hand?” came coolly from Lady Francis.

It was fortunate, Aidan felt, that Cassie chose to reenter the lists at this point.

“Why do you wish me to pretend to have a vision?”

“Because I have not a vestige of proof, my dear, and I need to catch our murderer red-handed.”

Aidan’s mind leapt as fast as Lady Ferrensby’s words. “You mean you know who did it?”

Lady Francis drew a visible breath. “I am as certain as I can be at this moment.”

“Which is why you are seeking to trap the villain?”

“Indeed, Lady Ferrensby.”

“Well, who is it?”

As eager to hear the answer to this as her ladyship, Aidan was instantly disappointed when Lord Francis shook his head.

“She will not tell you, ma’am.”

“But she has told you?” Aidan asked shrewdly, and he was surprised to see a sudden grin lighten his lordship’s countenance.

“On this occasion, I have been so privileged, yes.”

A little smile of appreciation crossed the lips of his spouse, and Aidan was conscious of a twinge of envy. Might he hope for a like felicity? If his suit should prosper, of which he was by no means certain.

He became aware that Lady Ferrensby was eyeing her visitor in some dismay and wondered at it. Then Lady Francis saw it and reached a hand towards her hostess.

“I regret I cannot reassure you at this time. I have learned, from bitter experience, ma’am, that a word out of place may be a word too many.”

“But do you suppose any one of us will speak of it?”

For the first time Lady Francis’s clear gaze showed a hint of some inner torment. “A young man died because of some incautious words of mine.”

“Tillie, are you at that again?” burst from Lord Francis. “It is not so! We all were to blame, if blame there was.”

A blind look was in the lady’s eyes as they turned towards her husband. She put out a hand, and he took it and gripped it.

“It is not a mistake I intend to repeat, Fan.”

There was a silence. Aidan felt unexpectedly moved as he watched Lord Francis set a kiss upon the hand he held, a gesture innocent and yet wholly intimate in that particular instant. Glancing at Cassie by his side, Aidan saw her eyes riveted upon the little drama. As the gentleman released his lady’s hand, Cassie cried out.

“It will not happen again, Lady Fan. Only tell me what I must do, and I will do it.”

Aidan’s heart sank as Lady Francis outlined the details of the charade. Needed it might be, but it hurt him to see Cassie dragged into just such a situation as she ought to avoid. He resolved to ensure her safety, at all costs. And after, he would see to it that there would be no further repercussions from the visions she could not avoid.

O
ttilia was not much surprised to discover that Cassie Dale had the makings of an actress. Indeed, she rather suspected the girl was apt to exaggerate her passionate outbursts. Not, Ottilia did her the justice to own, from any conscious will. Likely she had developed the habit in defence against an environment of disbelief and scorn. From such stray remarks as Cassie had let fall, her immediate family had not been sympathetic. It was hardly surprising, in her lonely state, that she strove for greater and greater effects in her conduct.

However it was, no fault was to be found with her required demeanour when she came bursting into the Blue Pig’s coffee room, a wild look in her features that appeared wholly natural even to Ottilia’s eyes.

“Lady Fan? Where is Lady Fan? I must see her at once!”

All the habitués were present, having arrived in due time, agog for news. The widow Radlett, who did not look as if she had slept well, started violently. Miss Beeleigh’s calm demeanour did not desert her, but she looked up with a frown. Most affected was Mr. Netherburn, distinctly ill at ease this afternoon. He rose from his chair and half started towards Cassie.

“Mrs. Dale! What has occurred?”

Francis had been standing by the empty fireplace, leaning his arm along the mantel. He straightened up, gesturing towards Ottilia seated in her favourite chair at the round table, which gave view at the same time of the green and any who entered the room.

“My wife is here, Mrs. Dale. What is amiss?”

Cassie’s large eyes fastened upon Ottilia’s face. “Lady Fan, help me, pray!”

Ottilia got up at once, moving to catch the girl’s hands. “Calm yourself, Mrs. Dale.” She drew Cassie to the table as Francis pulled out a chair. “Come, sit. Of course I will help you.” She reseated herself, not wishing to lose the advantage of watching the reactions of those present. “Now, my dear, tell me what has happened.”

“She’s had another of them visions,” came gruffly from Tabitha Hawes, who had entered behind Cassie and was hovering in the open doorway.

“Good Gad!” Mr. Netherburn visibly blanched, setting a hand to his chest. “Not another death.”

“Oh, it was horrible!” cried Cassie, quite as if she really had seen something. “I went at once, to warn her. Only Tabby would not let me go in to her. So I came to you, Lady Fan, for I don’t know what to do.”

“Who? Her—
who?
” came from the widow Radlett in a hoarse tone barely above a whisper.

Ottilia cast a quick glance at the woman and noted her pallid cheeks. Afraid to hear the name? Or had she guessed what was coming?

“Bertha Duggleby.”

“
Bertha?
” uttered Mrs. Radlett, shock in her voice.

Of course, Ottilia thought. She had expected the girl Jenny to be named. Taking in the reactions of the other two, Ottilia noted that Mr. Netherburn was looking horrified, while Miss Beeleigh’s frown had merely deepened. But it was she who broke the silence following the revelation of the name.

“Not going to tell us you foresaw Bertha’s death now, are you? Really, Mrs. Dale, it is too bad.” She flicked a look at the maid. “Shut the door, Tabitha. Don’t want this getting out to the village.”

“No, indeed,” agreed Ottilia hastily. “Don’t say any more, Cassie, until we are assured there are no listening ears.”

“I’ll check,” said Francis.

He moved swiftly to the door and reopened it, walking out into the hall. There was silence in the coffee room, every eye upon the open doorway. As her spouse made a show of opening the other doors that led into the hall, Ottilia had the chance to take stock again.

Evelina Radlett was severely affected, her breath rattling a little as she drew it in and out. Her features had paled considerably, and there could be no doubt at all that she knew just what this new vision portended. Miss Beeleigh’s expression denoted both that smug superiority of hers and disgust, as if she was thoroughly put out by Cassie having yet another vision. The surprise was Mr. Netherburn, who truly looked as if he was about to suffer some sort of spasm. Had he begun to suspect?

Ottilia became aware of Cassie’s gaze on her and quickly focused on the girl’s face. Cassie’s brows flicked upwards in a questioning look, and Ottilia gave her a swift smile of reassurance before calling out in a low tone to her husband, whose figure she glimpsed moving back in the direction of the coffee room.

“Is all well, Francis?”

“It looks all clear. There is no one about.”

He came in and shut the door, remaining with his back to it, as if he stood on guard. Ottilia took hold of one of Cassie’s hands again.

“Now, Mrs. Dale. What did you see?”

Cassie shuddered artistically, resuming her role. “It was so horrible, Lady Fan. She was in the smithy. Bertha, I mean. There was a rope, and—and—a shadow swinging in the light that came in from the roof.”

A swift glance took in the widow’s horror, Netherburn’s distress, and Miss Beeleigh’s growing revulsion. Ottilia remembered to inject the appropriate dismay into her own voice.

“You mean Bertha was hanging from a roof beam?”

Cassie nodded, shivering violently. “I must tell her, must I not?”

“For pity’s sake!” burst from Francis, as if goaded. “Have you learned nothing, Mrs. Dale? Did not Kinnerton specifically instruct you not to speak of your visions?”

Ottilia lifted a warning finger as Cassie flung her hands over her face. “Enough, Francis. The girl is distraught.”