Daughter of Darkness (18 page)

The Inn was thick with smoke, and the odor of sweat permeated every corner of the room. Some of the men had imbibed too freely and were becoming raucous. Gerard drew Anthony Dowling aside. ‘I need to speak to you about a small matter. Perhaps there’s a private room we can use.’

‘You’re welcome to join me at my lodgings, sir. It’s but a few minutes ride.’ Anthony cast an eye over the increasingly noisy crowd. ‘There are dissenters in the crowd. It will take only one to turn this crowd into a mob once they are in their cups.’

‘You may be right.’ Gerard beckoned to Robert, and the three of them ducked through a back door. Ten minutes later they were comfortably settled in Anthony’s rooms, and being served with cake and madeira by the daughter of his landlady. She was a buxom creature with bold dark eyes, and breasts that bounced invitingly against her bodice. She giggled when Anthony slapped a hand against her backside and fluttered long, dark eyelashes in Gerard’s direction, her eyes loaded with invitation.

His loins tightened. It was a while since he’d lain with a woman, and this was a comely wench.

Anthony grinned as he intercepted the look. ‘Be off with you, Mary. I’ll call you if we have need of you.’

‘Glad to be of service, sir.’ Her hips swayed seductively as she left the room.

Anthony gazed at his guests, a faint smile on his lips as he raised his glass. ‘As you can see, gentlemen, my lodgings come with all accommodations. Your good health, sirs.’

Pleasantries over, Gerard brought up the matter that had been occupying his mind for the past few days.

‘Lady Sommersley was attacked?’ Anthony leaned forward, frowning. ‘This is indeed a serious matter. Was she injured?’

‘Fortunately, my wife managed to defend herself and escape. The man you’re looking for bears knife wounds across the fingers of his hand.’ Remembering Hugh Macbride, Gerard grinned when Anthony studied the ceiling for a while. The officer’s face was admirably composed when he finally engaged Gerard’s gaze, though his eyes looked suspiciously bright.

‘There was a ship at anchor, you say?’

Gerard related exactly what Willow had told him she’d seen, adding. ‘There were signs of a scuffle and spots of blood leading towards Sheronwood.’

The officer’s forehead furrowed in a frown. ‘I’ve heard rumors of activity there.’

‘The locals think the place haunted. Lights have been sighted, and crying heard.’ Robert shrugged when Gerard gave a faint smile. ‘Rosamond de Vere was deserted by her staff, and died with stinking corpses for company. It’s said the stench of the dead still lingers, and her soul cries out for release.’

‘Superstitious rubbish,’ Gerard said, his voice a trifle louder than normal to keep his unease at bay. Country folklore had been ingrained in him since birth. His nurse and tutor had been firm believers in the supernatural. The horrifying tales they’d told him had kept him huddled in his bed at night, and the punishment he’d expected to receive from the devil if he didn’t behave had been truly terrifying. He’d been about fourteen when he’d realized the stories and threats had been their way of controlling him. Though logic told him otherwise, he couldn’t quite shake off the feeling he was tempting fate by denying the existence of the supernatural.

The reputation of Willow’s mother stole into his thoughts. Was supernatural power hereditary? He chided himself as he brought his attention back to the present company. Willow showed no inclination towards things occult. He grinned. She busied herself with household matters, her appearance, and nagging him about the orphanage

‘You’re right, of course.’ Robert grinned sheepishly. ‘The locals are inclined to exaggerate these things. I have no qualms about the place myself.’

‘Nevertheless, from what you’ve told me, Sheronwood warrants further investigation.’ Dowling looked thoughtful. ‘I might ride over and take a look in the morning.’

‘I’ll join you.’ Gerard rose to his feet and picked up his hat in preparation of leaving. ‘The heir to Sheronwood is under my guardianship. I should like to assure myself his inheritance is safe. I intend to write to Lady Daphne, advising her that a new steward needs to be appointed if the land is to be kept productive.’

Anthony rose, stretching his long frame almost to the ceiling. ‘A dispatch rider is leaving for London the day after tomorrow. He’ll be pleased to deliver it, and any other missive you might wish to send.’

Remembering he’d offered to inquire about the fate of James Langland on behalf of his wife, Gerard voiced his thanks. He’d include a letter to his lawyer at the same time.

On the way out they were intercepted by Mary, who watched them descend the narrow stairway with a smile on her face. She leaned back against an open doorway, her breasts thrust forward into tempting peaks, her smile almost catlike. Behind her, a tousled bed issued its own invitation. The girl was so willing he could smell the lust rising from her. He was tempted as she swayed towards him, her closeness inciting the most primitive of urges. Idly, he wondered if she was clean and free of disease.

Instantly, an image of Willow came to mind. Her fresh fragrance of lavender and roses, the innocence of her eyes, and most of all, her maidenly blushes. She reacted to his gallantries as predictably as any maid. The process of courtship was tedious. He grinned to himself. Willow was transparent, and her naivete kept him constantly amused. When she desired something she didn’t rest until she achieved it. He intended she would desire
him
. When she did… ? His grin became slightly wolfish. He intended to keep her waiting until every inhibiting thought was driven away by her urge for pleasure.

He glanced again at Mary, noting the coarseness in her face. It would be unfair to put the his innocent wife at risk by lying with a soldier’s whore. An ironic smile flirted at his lips as the heat left his groin. A few short weeks ago, he wouldn’t have hesitated.

The girl pouted as he neatly sidestepped, and followed the others into the street. Returning Anthony’s questioning grin with a rueful shrug, he mounted and turned his horse towards home.

‘I can only see my reflection.’ Disappointed, Willow turned to Sapphire and shrugged. ‘Perhaps you were mistaken in thinking I have the ability to see into the crystal.’

‘I’m not mistaken.’ Returning the crystal ball to its velvet-lined box, Sapphire placed it in her daughter’s hands. ‘You’re self-conscious at the moment. What your inner vision detects, your eyes deny. Accept the crystal as a gift.’ She smiled when Willow protested. ‘I have another, my dear. Meditate as I have shown you. Eventually, answers to your questions will be revealed.’

‘I’ll endeavor to do as you say.’ When Sapphire shifted. light from the window behind her turned the veil into a filmy mist, revealing the outline of her profile. Willow’s breath caught in her throat. Something familiar about the woman made her wonder if they’d met before. Sapphire was watching her, the scrutiny intense, as if the she was memorizing every feature. An overwhelming sense of loss seemed to hang in the air. Willow experienced a deep well of despair that seemed to cry out for something she’d never had.

Emotion overwhelmed her as she recognized the same need in Sapphire. She reached out, and closing her eyes, allowed the feeling to flow like a current between them. A hand gently touched her cheek, like that of a mother to her newly born infant. She nestled against the soft caress, filled with a deep sense of joy. Her hand closed over Sapphire’s, her voice trembled with the strange emotion she experienced. ‘You’re in pain. I pray your soul finds harmony.’

Sapphire found it hard to restrain her surprise. Her daughter’s intuition was stronger than she’d realized. Their souls had touched in a tentative recognition of the other. It was a strangely moving moment for her. She’d thought her soul beyond redemption, yet some tiny portion had remained unscathed, and struggled to be free from its prison of darkness. It had been drawn towards her daughter, as if Willow was the mother, she the child in need of nurturing. A tiny seed of hope took root in her heart as she watched Willow depart.

The gift from Gerard was delivered late that afternoon. It arrived in a box covered with red patterned brocade, the dressmaker’s name embossed in gold on the lid. Fingers trembling with anticipation, Willow carefully loosened the gold satin bow and eased off the lid. Her exclamation of delight when she pulled the garments from the box brought Kitty hurrying through from the maid’s room.

‘Look, Kitty!’ Thrusting a plum-colored frock coat into Kitty’s hands, she drew the matching breeches from the box. They were made of the softest wool and lined with silk. The jacket was trimmed with silver buttons and braid, as was the matching tricorn. There was a black cloak lined with plum silk, black leather riding boots and a cream silk shirt with lace at the cuffs and throat. A pair of black kid gauntlets had the Lytton crest delicately embroidered in silver thread. ‘Quickly, Kitty.’ Help me out of this gown so I can see if it fits.’

I’d be surprised if it didn’t
,
Kitty thought, smiling. The viscount has taken your measure, My Lady, and no mistake. For the second time that day, Kitty helped her mistress dress, and watched her parade in front of the burnished metal mirror.

Nellie came in to throw some logs on the fire. Sparks flew up the chimney. It was never allowed to burn out, because there always seemed to be a chill in the room.

Kitty couldn’t understand why they stayed in this wing when they could have their pick of accommodations. The last time she’d brought the matter up, Willow had given an enigmatic smile. Now the maid frowned when Nellie sidled up to the discarded ribbon. ‘Keep your hands off that,’ she snapped. ‘They be dirty.’

‘Pretty,’ Nellie crooned, staring at the ribbon’s shiny length with fascinated eyes. ‘A pretty ribbon for Nellie’s hair. Nellie’s a good girl.’

‘Of course you are, Nellie,’ Willow said, before her maid could snap at the idiot again. She was annoyed with Kitty at the moment. For the past week or two the girl had been late rising. She’d made a mistake by discarding Kitty’s wooden pallet for a more comfortable bed. On a couple of occasions, she’d heard her retching into the closed stool. If that wasn’t bad enough, Kitty’s manner bordered on insolence every now and then.

Although she’d been her childhood companion and friend, Kitty had to come to terms with the changed circumstances. They were adults now. She couldn’t be allowed to indulge in the familiarity. As Gerard had pointed out, it displayed a lack of respect for her position. She stared without seeing at her reflection. If Kitty was sick she should have told her, not risked passing on the malady.

Willow usually gave Kitty any discarded ribbons, but this time a perverse little voice in her head urged her say. ‘You may have the ribbon, Nellie. Kitty will make a nice bow in your hair with it.’

‘I certainly will not!’

Kitty quaked as Willow turned a warning glance her way. ‘
You will do as you’re told, Kitty Adams!’

To Willow’s consternation, Kitty burst into copious tears and fled from the room. Something ailed her maid, and she intended to find out exactly what it was. She tied the bow herself to the hair of a delighted Nellie, sending her off to Mrs. Breton afterwards. Although the staff shortage had been relieved by an infusion of new servants who’d defected from Squire Tupworthy’s household, Mrs. Breton liked to keep Nellie below stairs and out of sight as much as possible.

Kitty was whey-faced when she finally responded to her summons. She’d intended to give the girl a piece of her mind, but her maid looked so woebegone that Willow’s heart softened. ‘You’d better tell me what the matter is,’ she said kindly. ‘I’m fast running out of patience with your moods.’ Seeing the hesitation in her, she smiled in encouragement. ‘Has Brian given his heart to another?’ She frowned at the thought. ‘I’d not have thought him fickle-hearted.’

‘He’s not.’ Kitty replied hotly, then as if remembering her place, she hung her head. ‘I’ve sinned.’

‘Oh?’ Kitty was of the catholic faith. Even so, Willow couldn’t understand why a small sin would have upset her so. ‘Did you confess your sin to the priest?’

‘He said I must wed, or my soul will be in peril.’ Kitty fell to her knees. ‘You promised to seek the earl’s permission for us to wed. So far, you’ve not said yea or nay.’

‘I’d forgotten.’ A tiny knot of suspicion surfaced. She knew little about the bearing of children, but stored in her mind were half-forgotten snippets she’d overheard whilst she was growing up. ‘This sickness you’ve been having. Are you… with child?’

‘Aye, My Lady.’ Bursting into a fresh lot of weeping, Kitty prostrated herself on the floor. ‘I didn’t mean to sin, but nature has a powerful way of going against the Lord’s teachings. Do not beat me or cast me from your door. I’ve no-one else to turn to.’

Willow didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the opinion Kitty had formed of her character. ‘Get up,’ she said with some asperity. ‘I’ll go and ask the earl’s permission now.’ She thought about it for a few seconds. ‘I’ll also ask him about the orphanage I wish to establish in the village. There are children whose parents died in the smallpox epidemic, and although they’re fostered to families who would take them in, their lot is not happy. Some have already been turned out. Did you think I’d subject you and your child to the same fate, you silly goose?’

‘Thank you, My Lady.’ Kitty’s face shone with happiness as she got to her feet.

Excitement bubbled up in Willow whilst she hurried to the door. ‘It’s about time we had something to celebrate. I’ll arrange things with Mrs. Breton after I’ve seen the earl.’

She was smiling when she entered his room. Ambrose was asleep in a chair by the fire. Opposite, Gerard lounged in a matching chair, staring reflectively into the flames. The atmosphere was contented, the candles not yet lit. Firelight made the shadows leap and dance, highlighting the firmly contoured angles of his face. It was not a restful face even when relaxed, but handsome, nevertheless. Whatever her father’s reasoning, his choice of a husband for her suited her. Had she been given to Simon Carsewell, life would not be worth living.