The Scarecrow (Master of Malice Book 1) (35 page)

He found Denny in the senior officers’ hall, fellan by his elbow and the familiar pack of cards on the table. He hailed Taran as soon as he appeared. “Are you up for losing some more of your coin this evening?”

Taran was amazed to find the Major sitting calm and unruffled at the card table. “Isn’t there something else you should be doing right now?”

Denny frowned before his expression cleared. “Oh, you mean shouldn’t I be running about yelling orders and organizing patrols?” He grinned. “I did it earlier this evening as soon as I heard what had happened. I’m leading one patrol and Ardoch’s taking the other. Valustin’ll stay here in case of any disturbances in the city. Now, are you going to sit and take these cards or must I find some other fool … er, friend to fleece?”

Taran hesitated. Much as he enjoyed playing cards with Denny, he really ought to ride over to the estate and tell Jinny the latest developments. She might not even have heard of Neremiah’s murder, although her servants usually picked up most of what occurred in the city. And he still hadn’t taken her uncle’s possessions to her. But the hour was late and he had not sent a note to tell her he was coming. After their last meeting he was unsure of his reception. Turning up unannounced late at night wouldn’t endear him to her or make her receptive to his apologies.

He sighed heavily. Was he being cowardly again? Was the lateness of the hour simply a convenient excuse to put off what was bound to be a painful meeting? If he waited till the morning he would leave Vassa and Levant without the means to communicate with Elias should they need him. It would take him a couple of hours at least to ride to the estate, talk to Jinny, and then ride back. Strictly speaking, he was on duty during daylight hours and wasn’t supposed to leave the castle until evening.

Denny watched him impatiently as the other card school members took their seats. He dealt the cards and pushed a hand toward Taran. “Come on, man. Let’s see the color of your courage.”

Taran smiled and allowed himself to be persuaded. It really was too late. By the time he had harnessed Bucyrus and ridden through the falling snow, Jinny would have gone to bed and the household would be in darkness. She would hardly thank him for rousing everyone just to give her more bad news.

He sighed and picked up his hand.

I
t was long past midnight and the snow was falling heavily. They had heard young Matty return to check on the horses and replenish their hay, and then they heard him go home to his bed. Then Seth watched the house from the doorway until all the servants retired for the night. All light save the faint glow of banked fires had disappeared from the mansion’s windows when the wastrel glanced over at Seth. He grinned. “Time to go.”

Seth’s stomach churned, but he rose from his seat of straw, wrapping his cloak tight about him. “What do you want me to do?”

“First, we have to deal with the housekeeper. Have you decided whether you’re up to the job?”

Seth ignored the sarcastic tone, determined not to let the vagrant rile him. The poor wretch was to be pitied; he didn’t deserve Seth’s anger. “I’m up to it. How do you suggest we go about it?”

The faintest ruby light could be seen deep within the vagrant’s eyes. “Up to you. But if you’re asking for advice, I’d say a swift knife to the throat, unless you want to keep her alive for later. No? Thought not. That kind of pleasure isn’t to your taste, is it?”

Seth ignored the gibe. “Are you coming with me or shall I signal you when it’s done?”

The wastrel gave a wide grin. “Oh, I’ll be right behind you.” The menace in his voice and the light in his eyes left Seth in no doubt as to why.

He shivered. “Let’s get on with it.”

The vagrant bowed mockingly and Seth led the way from the barn.

They emerged into the snow which swirled around them, settling on heads and shoulders. The whore’s body was left in the barn. Seth presumed they’d deal with the mansion’s two occupants before it would be required. He glanced over his shoulder as he neared the rear entrance to the mansion, the door closest to where Alice would be sleeping. The vagrant was right behind him.

Seth approached the scullery door and turned the knob. In the Baron’s day this door was never locked, a convenient way back into the house for anyone staying out late. Jinella, however, was more concerned for security than her uncle had been and also had firm rules concerning her servants’ private arrangements. Anyone wishing to indulge in personal relationships had to do it in their spare time and away from her house. As Seth had expected, the door was locked.

He felt around the lintel, his experienced fingers finding the loose brick. He worked it out and grasped the iron key it concealed. Replacing the brick, he opened the door. He and his companion slipped into the scullery, closing the door on the freezing snow outside.

Seth waited for his eyes to grow used to the darkness, but he knew every inch of this house and could have walked it blindfolded if necessary. He was soon moving across the room, followed by his sinister shadow.

They trod silently through the kitchens toward the stair leading to the housekeeper’s chamber. There was no sound from Alice’s room as they stood outside, Seth’s breath coming heavy and fast. His heart beat wildly and his palms were sweating despite the chill. He took hold of the hilt of his belt knife, loosening it in the sheath. He risked a look at his ragged companion, recoiling from the unholy light shining deep in his blank, disturbing eyes.

The vagrant raised matted brows, lips twisted sardonically. Seth felt anger rise in his breast, taking the expression as a slur on his courage and resolve. He put his hand to the latch of Alice’s door and silently lifted it, pushing the door open. The door swung noiselessly and the faint glow of the banked fire revealed Alice’s sleeping figure.

Seth slid his knife from its sheath and approached the housekeeper. He stood looking down at her oblivious face, allowing his feelings of resentment and indignation to flood his chest. She had no business here! She had testified against his master and betrayed him. She should have stayed in the city brothels. Seth felt his hand shake as his anger grew.

Before the vagrant could decide to take matters into his own hands, Seth dropped his weight on top of Alice, clamping his hand over her mouth. She woke at once and heaved beneath him, but he had her tightly. Her terrified eyes widened when he showed her the knife, holding it menacingly close to her throat. He felt her body’s tremor and the hiss of her breath beneath his restraining hand. She whimpered deep in her throat, but could make no other sound.

The vagrant stirred. “Quickly, man. If you don’t want to keep her, do it swiftly. We have no time for games.”

Seth ignored the man. He needed to be fully in command of himself to do this. He had no feelings for Alice except resentment, but he wasn’t a cold-blooded killer. He had never done anything remotely like this before and didn’t want to botch it. Especially not before a witness.

Ignoring the girl’s terrified whimpers, he set the keen steel to her throat. She read his dreadful intention and her instinctive panic lent her a surge of strength he hadn’t expected. She nearly escaped his arms in her frantic struggle to get free, and the knife cut raggedly into her throat. Luckily, Seth’s hand was still clamped firmly over her mouth so the agonized scream was muffled, but he had to make one more clumsy thrust before he got the job done. Revolted by the fountain of blood and his bungled efforts, Seth pushed the twitching body from him and staggered from the bed.

The vagrant stood with hands on hips. “Oh, brilliant. Very neatly done, my friend. Very tidy job.”

Seth spun round to retort, sickened by his own actions, but the angry words died on his tongue. The sullen ruby light flared from the vagrant’s eyes, quelling any thoughts of rebellion. Seth picked up his bloody knife and wiped it on the bedclothes, avoiding Alice’s gaping throat and wide, accusing eyes.

“Let’s just get on with it.” he muttered.

The wastrel grinned wider and gestured for Seth to lead the way. The manservant sheathed his blade, surprised that the great gout of Alice’s blood had hardly marked him. A few spots on his sleeve were all he could see. He stalked ahead of his companion toward the formal part of the house.

They climbed the carpeted stairs to the upper floor. The wastrel moved into the lead, needing no guidance from Seth. The manservant surmised that what the Baron knew, his puppet knew, which explained why Seth’s advice as to where to hide the whore’s body had been sought. The Baron had never taken any notice of the many barns and outhouses and would have had no idea of what they held.

They came to a halt outside Jinny’s private rooms, and the wastrel turned to Seth. Silently, he indicated Seth should remain outside. Seth thought about protesting, but let the idea die. What was the point? The wastrel—or the Baron—had obviously decided he was too clumsy and inexperienced to be trusted. Resigned, he nodded.

+ + + + +

O
nce Seth had acknowledged him, the vagrant opened the door and slipped inside. He moved surely through Jinny’s solar, glancing neither left nor right. His ruby eyes were fixed upon the bedchamber door and his heightened senses could pick out the deep, even breathing coming from the sleeping Baroness. His own heart began thumping, but it wasn’t nervousness. Rather it was the increased excitement of his master, who controlled and directed all his actions.

So far, Reen was pleased with the night’s events. Seth had proven useful, if a little clumsy, and the Baron knew he could rely on his former servant when he finally returned to power. Provided he ensured no one could connect Seth to this latest incident, the manservant should remain free and be able to resume his duties when the Baron returned from exile. Reen had to quell the memories of the many intimate services Seth had performed for his master in the past. There would be time enough later to revisit such pleasures. For now, he had to concentrate on this next delicate task.

Reen, seeing through his puppet’s eyes, directed the man to the ornate door leading to Jinny’s bedchamber. He’d been disappointed to learn Taran wouldn’t be with her, but what he now had in mind would prove far more satisfying and provide yet more anguish for his archenemy. Smiling, his grin reflected on the face of his tool, he sent the vagrant into Jinny’s chamber.

+ + + + +

J
inella had retired later than usual. She’d spent the entire day thinking of Taran, trying to make up her mind whether she should call a messenger and send her letter to the castle. Even had they not quarreled, she knew she wouldn’t have seen Taran until evening. But their painful parting and her harsh words ensured he would be most unlikely to come to her unsummoned.

A measure of irritation entered her heart. He was
so
predictable! Always so careful to do the right thing, so quick to be the guilty party. Why couldn’t he be impetuous for once and come demanding her forgiveness?

She knew she was being unfair. He was a gentle soul who hated giving offence. He was gallant and kind, chivalrous and thoughtful. He wouldn’t be the man she loved if he could come barging into her presence making demands. She knew all this and yet, sometimes, she wished he would.

She sat up late, rereading her letter, experiencing once again the emotions she had felt while writing it, and finally determined to send it in the morning. It was too late now. All the servants had retired early that night. She refolded the letter, returned it to the exquisite silver box she had brought in from her solar, and lay down to sleep, comforted by her decision.

She lay in a pleasant doze, dreaming of her coming reunion with Taran and how she would show him her love and forgiveness. She finally drifted into true sleep, the dream following her as she relaxed. She murmured half-formed words as she felt his hands upon her, smiled in pleasure at the sensations they produced. He was stroking her throat, running his fingers over the soft skin below her jaw and under her ear. He was sitting on the bed beside her—she could feel his weight pinning the bedclothes around her. She imagined him leaning over her, his handsome face poised above hers, smiling gently and passionately down at her.

She opened her eyes, searching for his face in the dim firelight. She tried to move her arms, to bring them out from under the bedclothes. As she came further out of her dream, the smell hit her. Gagging in revulsion, she struggled against the restraining weight above her, becoming frantic as her attempts failed.

She opened her mouth to scream and a hand clamped over her lips. The dreadful smell intensified and she screwed her eyes against the acrid stench. She struggled harder, but it was no use. She was securely pinned and her assailant too strong.

He made no sound except the rasp of his breath. She blinked her watering eyes, determined to see who dared assault her in her own home. She stiffened in shock as she registered the demonic glow in the ruby orbs so close to her face, and her throat squeezed out a petrified whimper.

A voice crawled out of the darkness. “Keep still, my Lady, and you won’t be hurt. There are none to hear should you scream. Your servants are too far away and the housekeeper’s dead. I have orders to take you with me and I have no wish to render you unconscious, but I will if you cause me trouble. Do you understand?”

Jinny managed a nod against the pressure on her mouth. She felt his hand ease away and he raised his body upright. But he didn’t release her arms.

“Who the hell are you?” she demanded, anger and fright lending her strength. “What gives you the right to come barging in here? What do you want with me?”

The man grinned nastily. Jinny shrank back with a gasp of horror as the demonic glow in his eyes intensified and the charnel reek rose again. She retched.

“Jinny, my dear niece, that’s not very ladylike.”

Jinny’s eyes stretched wide and she stared frantically about the room. She had clearly heard her uncle’s voice, yet he was nowhere to be seen.