Lord Deverill's Secret (25 page)

“You?” she asked in surprise.

She had the alarming feeling he had gone mad. She wondered whether she should remonstrate with him and tell him he had had no right to do it, but there was a glint in his eye that frightened her and she glanced round instinctively, working out her best way of escape.

“Are you going somewhere?” he asked mildly.

“I was looking for Moll. I said I would meet her here,” she said.

“No you didn’t,” he said. “You’re trying to work out how to escape. You’re frightened. And so you should be. Your life is worthless. I’ve been trying to have you killed for weeks, and it’s only a matter of time before I succeed.”

“You?” she said, astonished. “But why?”

“Why? For the treasure, of course. But you don’t know about the treasure. Let me tell you about it. A long time ago, after the Civil War, one of your ancestors fled to France, but he buried the family treasure before he went.”

“I know. But—”

“Ah, you know. That’s a surprise. But you don’t know where it is. You can’t do, otherwise you would have dug it up yourself. There are some advantages to living with one’s nose stuck in a book—yes, I heard your sister saying that. It wasn’t very polite of her, was it?”

Cassandra was grateful that Lizzie was not there, and would not be home for hours. At least her sister was safe.

“You see, that’s how I found out where the treasure was buried, by using your library. The treasure’s under one of the chestnuts, and I’m going to find it.”

“So that’s why you’ve been cutting them down,” said Cassandra.

“Of course. And why I’ve been visiting you so often. I needed access to the library so that I could continue to read Joseph Paxton’s journals and gather my information. I didn’t want to borrow them, or you might have wondered why I took an interest in them.” He gave an unpleasant smile. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but it was never your charms that attracted me. I heard a whisper of the treasure one night when your brother was in his cups. It was at the local tavern. He spoke of it, and said that Joseph Paxton had buried it, but not where. He mentioned something about a journal. It was too much of a risk for me to try anything at the time, because your brother was rather wild and unpredictable, but once he died I knew my hour had come. I visited the house as often as I could and read every one of Joseph’s journals whilst you thought I was choosing a book to borrow. Alas, the journals never said which tree the treasure was buried under, so I decided I would have to cut them all down. I borrowed a book on trees so that I could find out what a chestnut looked like, and then I was ready to begin.”

“So that is why you asked me to marry you,” said Cassandra. “So that you would have access to my land.”

“Yes. I fear I made a bad job of it or you would have said yes, but I have never known what to say to ladies.”

“I wouldn’t have married you what ever you had said,” remarked Cassandra in disgust.

“You would have preferred a pretty face, I suppose,” he said. “Women are so foolish. It’s a pity you didn’t say yes. It would have been better for you if you had. I would have married you and then I would have cut the grove down as a surprise for you—‘I am planning a treat for Cassandra’s birthday,’ I would have said to the neighbours—”

“You had worked it all out,” said Cassandra, horrified.

“Of course. ‘A new vista,’ I would have said—those books on gardening I borrowed were always talking about vistas—and then, surprise, when I cut down the trees, I would have discovered the treasure.
My
treasure, because as my wife, everything you had would have belonged to me. I would have been rich! You needn’t think I would have kept everything for myself. I would have been generous. I would have given you a new gown and a necklace. Women set great store by such things. But you refused me, and so I had to think of another way of getting what I wanted. And then you announced you were going to Brighton. Your visit gave me the chance I needed. No one would notice what was going on when you were away. Once I found the treasure, I could take it to London and sell it, and no one would ever know anything about it.”

“But I would have noticed the felled trees as soon as I returned home,” said Cassandra.

“Which is why you had to die. The servants never come down here, and nor does Elizabeth, but you often walk here. If I could have been sure you would not return until I had cut down all the trees, I would have let you live. I could have pretended I knew nothing about the damage. But I did not know how long you intended to be away, and if you had returned before I had cut them all down and I had not found the treasure, I would have lost my chance for ever. And so you had to die. The beauty of it was that you were to have an accident in Brighton, so your death would not be connected with the trees if anyone had noticed they had been felled. But that fool Goddard seems to have made a mess of things. A pity. I thought he had made a mess of it once before, when you returned unexpectedly. I broke into your house at night, intending to kill you whilst you slept, but you had locked your door. I visited you on the following day, intending to kill you, but John was with you. Then you revealed that you were returning to Brighton and I decided to stand by my original plan. I did not want your murder connected to the estate. But now it can’t be helped.”

“The coach,” said Cassandra, remembering that the wheel had come off her coach on her first journey to Brighton. “Was that you?”

“Yes. It was another of my own efforts. If the wheel had come off whilst the coach was going down a hill it would have overturned and you would have been pitched out, very possibly breaking your neck.”

“I should have realized before now. I knew the accidents I’d been having were more than accidents, but it never occurred to me that the very first accident I’d had could have been an attempt at murder, too.”

If she had only realized it, she might have realized that the man behind the murders was not Mr. Elwin at all, but someone closer to home, she thought.

“So now you know everything,” said Mr. Brown, taking a step towards her.

“There’s no need to kill me,” said Cassandra, backing away.

He looked amused.

“No? If I leave you alive, you won’t tell anyone, I suppose? Oh, come now, Miss Paxton, you know I can’t let you live. You have no proof I’m behind the attempts on your life, but you’d prosecute me for cutting down your trees and claim the treasure as your own.”

“There is no treasure,” she said. “Joseph’s son dug up all the chestnut trees when he returned from France. He knew that was where his father had buried it. But he found nothing. His father had given it to his mistress. Either that, or it had been taken by looters during the Commonwealth.”

“It’s no good,” he said with an unsettling smile, “you can’t save your life like that.”

“But it’s true,” said Cassandra. “Look at the trees. They were planted at the end of the seventeenth century. They’re barely more than a hundred years old. The ones that were here before that were planted in the thirteenth century. They would be huge by now.”

“Dear me, what nonsense. Cut down all the trees, indeed. I’ve read John Paxton’s journals. He makes no mention of cutting anything down.”

“My father kept some of the journals in the study,” said Cassandra. “They contained useful information on running the estate. You did not see them. Look at the trees,” said Cassandra again.

“A good try, but you know no more about trees than I do,” he said. “The only time you tried to do anything with the garden you managed to kill most of your shrubs. You do not know how old they are.”

“Why do you think we never cut down the trees if the treasure was here?” she asked.

“Because you didn’t know where to look.”

“Of course we did. We knew the story. Rupert knew the story. He also knew that the chestnuts had been dug up and no treasure had been found. It was just a pity he didn’t tell you all of it.”

“This will get you nowhere,” said Mr. Brown. He took a pistol out of his pocket and levelled it at her. “I’ve wasted enough—”

“Put it down.”

The voice took Cassandra completely by surprise. So engrossed had she been with Mr. Brown and her efforts to reason with him that she had not noticed a new person enter the scene, and her heart leapt as she saw that it was Justin. She was very glad to see him—and then wished he had not come, as Mr. Brown pointed the pistol at him.

And then, in front of her horrified gaze, before she had time to think, let alone react, she saw Mr. Brown’s finger squeezing the trigger and he fired.

Time froze. She heard the crack of the pistol and turned her head to look at Justin, saw a look of surprise cross his face and then he staggered backwards as his hand rose to his chest. He stumbled and then began to crumple, his legs buckling as he fell to the ground.

“No!”

Cassandra cried out in anger and frustration and despair. She ran towards him but she seemed to be moving so slowly. It took for ever for her to reach him, and when she did, it was too late. His eyes were closed and he was pallid.

“No,” she said, hot tears running down her cheeks.

She sank down beside him, forgetting her own danger, forgetting everything but Justin.

“Justin, Justin my love,” she said, as she took his hand and looked into his pale face. “Speak to me, my love. Oh, Justin, don’t be dead.”

Her eyes dropped to the bullet hole in his coat. It was right over his heart. She unfastened his coat with shaking fingers—and then his hand closed gently around her wrist, and he said, “Don’t you think you should wait for our honeymoon before you do that?”

She stopped what she was doing, barely able to breathe, then slowly she looked into his face.

“Justin? Justin!” she said, as his eyes opened. “Justin!” she said in relief.

He gave a slow smile.

“But how…the bullet…” She sat back on her heels, her mind reeling.

He sat up.

“I think I owe my life to this.”

He reached in his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a gold locket. It was badly dented. It had acted as a shield and had prevented the bullet from reaching his chest.

“Mama’s locket,” she said, astonished, taking it from his fingers. “But how…? where…?”

“I won it from your brother at the gaming tables,” he said gently. “I meant to give it back to you, but once I’d opened the locket and seen your portrait, I couldn’t bear to part with it.”

“You saw…So that is how you recognized me,” she said, remembering the first time they had met.

“Yes.” His eyes softened. “I recognized you. And then I fell in love with you.”

“Love?” she said breathlessly.

“Yes, Cassandra, love,” he said softly. “I’ve been in love with you for a very long time.”

“I thought…I hoped…but you said nothing.”

“I felt I had no right to speak, not whilst the truth about Rupert’s death lay between us. Even when I knew you had forgiven me for his death I did not know if you would ever be able to love me. I didn’t know until I heard you call me ‘my love’.”

He put up his hand and stroked her face.

“I have nothing to offer you, except my title and myself. My fortune is gone. We will not be rich. But if you give me a chance, I will make you happy. Well, Cassandra?” he asked, his voice gentling as he took her chin between his thumb and fingers. “Will you give me that chance?”

“Oh, yes,” she said.

She felt herself melting as his lips covered hers and all the promise of their earlier meetings was fulfilled. It was exhilarating and engrossing and wonderful.

At last he pulled away. His eyes were glittering with un-sated desire, but he said, “No more. Not until we are married, at least. Name the day.”

“We have nothing to wait for,” she said. “We will marry as soon as it can be arranged.”

He kissed her again, and only let her go when a cough broke the silence.

Cassandra looked round, to see that Matthew was just finishing tying Mr. Brown’s hands. She blushed.

“I did not see you there,” she said, feeling suddenly awkward.

“No, I rather thought you hadn’t noticed me,” he said with a grin.

Justin laughed and stood up. He helped Cassandra to her feet, then put his arm around her waist.

“It seemed a good idea to bring Matthew along,” said Justin, turning to her. “He comes in useful from time to time!”

Matthew laughed at the sally.

“If not for me, you two would have been murdered whilst you kissed each other.”

“I can think of worse ways to die!” said Justin.

Cassandra smiled.

“Who is the local justice?” asked Matthew.

“Sir William Fielding,” said Cassandra. “He lives in the big red brick house at the start of the village.”

Matthew nodded. “I passed it on my way. I’ll take this villain there, and I’ll leave you two to arrange your wedding.”

“At which you will be the groomsman,” said Justin.

“Not even Napoleon could stop me,” said Matthew.

“Take my horse,” said Justin.

Matthew nodded. Propelling Mr. Brown forward, he made for the end of the grove. Looking down the length of trees, Cassandra saw two horses. She watched as Mr. Brown mounted clumsily, his hands tied behind his back, and then saw Matthew mount his own horse. The two of them rode away, with Matthew leading Justin’s horse by the reins.

When they had ridden out of view, Cassandra and Justin began to walk back to the house, arm in arm.

“I am glad Matthew is to be our groomsman,” said Cassandra. “I will have Maria as my matron of honour. She will be delighted. And Anne must be a matron of honour, too, if you think she would like it.”

“She will like it above anything. She told me weeks ago that she wanted me to make you my wife.”

“She did?”

“Yes. As soon as she’d met you, she knew I should marry you.”

“It’s a pity you didn’t speak out then,” said Cassandra.

“Is it? Would you have said yes?”

She hesitated.

“Perhaps not. I knew that I had strong feelings for you, but they were confused. It wasn’t until I saw you being shot that I knew I loved you.”

“Then we have something to thank Mr. Brown for, after all.”