Amanda Scott (13 page)

Briefly she considered discussing the possibility with Lady Celeste, but she could not do so at once, because Lady Annis was also in the drawing room; and, by the time that lady left them, to attend to some vaguely described chores, Margaret had decided not to mention the matter. More than likely the old lady, strongly disapproving of Jordan anyway, would merely repeat her suggestion that Margaret should send both him and his mother packing.

Shortly after Lady Annis’s departure, Margaret also excused herself and went upstairs, intending to look in on Timothy. She met Melanie emerging from the nursery. The maidservant was frowning.

“Is Sir Timothy awake yet, Melanie?”

“No, miss, and ’e ought ter be, I’m thinkin’. ’E’s breathin’ funny like, too.”

Instantly the tension Margaret had felt with Farley returned with a vengeance. She pushed past the maidservant and rushed to Timothy’s bed. The boy was breathing raspily and his face was pale, nearly gray. Margaret knew just by looking that something was wrong. She shook him gently. There was no response other than a faint moan.

Ordering Melanie to send someone for the doctor, Margaret shook Timothy harder, hard enough, in fact, that she ought to have been causing him a good deal of pain. But it was some moments before she got any response at all. Finally, however, the boy’s eyes opened and he looked at her blearily, his eyes glazed as if he didn’t recognize her.

“Timothy, wake up!”

His eyes closed again, but Margaret shook him, demanding that he wake up. By the time the doctor finally arrived, Timothy was awake, although still bleary-eyed, and Margaret was exhausted. Dr. Fennaday came in cheerfully and maintained his smile while he examined the boy, but after he had him comfortably settled, he requested a private word with Margaret.

On the landing, he was no longer smiling. In fact, his expression was decidedly grim. “How much medication have you given him today?”

“Just the normal dose, Doctor, nearly three hours ago.”

“Well, his reaction is not normal. Has anything like this happened before?”

“No, of course not. I should have sent for you if it had.”

He nodded, grimacing. “Might the boy have taken more of the medication himself? Or might someone have given him a dose not knowing you had already done so?”

She shook her head and explained that the bottle was out of Timothy’s reach and that orders had been given that no one was to give him his medicine except herself.

“In that case, I have to ask if anyone means the boy any harm?”

Margaret gasped. “What possible reason could there be?” But her thoughts turned immediately to the thorn lying in Farley’s palm.

“I don’t know that, Miss Caldecourt, but I can tell you his reaction is that of an overdose. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I’d say he had been given something much stronger than what I prescribed. I’ve taken the liberty of replacing that bottle of medication just in case it somehow became contaminated. I suggest you put it where others have no access to it.”

“I will,” she said meekly.

He left soon afterward, though not before having been waylaid by Lady Annis, who had evidently experienced some strange symptoms that she wished to discuss with him.

Margaret, after a final look in on Timothy, who seemed to be resting comfortably, went in search of Lady Celeste. She found her still in the drawing room, knitting the blue carriage robe. The old lady had heard only that Timothy had been taken ill and that the doctor had been sent for. She explained that she had thought she would help best by staying out from underfoot.

“I knew he was in good hands, my dear,” she said gently.

“We must send to London for Abberley at once,” Margaret informed her, not mincing matters.

“Good gracious! I just assumed the boy had done something foolish and injured his arm again. Is it more than that?”

“I think someone is trying to harm Timothy,” Margaret replied without roundaboutation. “Do you know Abberley’s direction in town, ma’am? He has a house in Berkeley Square, does he not?”

“Whether he does or not does not signify in the slightest,” stated her ladyship calmly.

“Aunt Celeste, you cannot have understood what I have been saying to you. Someone in this house may even be trying to kill Timothy. I know that sounds absurd, but there was a thorn under his saddle and just now I have been told that someone tampered with his medicine. If I had not been at hand—”

“I am not in my dotage, whatever else I may be,” said her ladyship tartly. “I understood you perfectly well, and when you have lived as long as I have, you will know there is rarely anything absurd about attempted murder. Usually the absurdity is the greed behind the attempt.”

“Greed?”

“Of course, my dear. Sir Timothy is a very wealthy man, and his heir is right here in the house, or as near as makes no difference.”

“Good heavens, you cannot think Jordan would—”

“Why not? He don’t dote on the boy, as far as I can see.”

“Well, even if it is so, we have no way to prove it, and I have no wish to cope with such a problem alone. Abberley is Timothy’s guardian, and for once I agree with Annis. His duty lies right here.”

“To be sure, but there is no reason to send all the way to London.”

“But he left for town three days ago, did he not?”

Lady Celeste did not reply at once, and suddenly Margaret realized the old lady was looking a trifle conscious. Indeed, she looked guilty.

“Ma’am, what are you trying to tell me? Did Abberley go to London, or did he not?”

“Not, I’m afraid.”

“Aunt Celeste, he had every intention of going!”

“Well, you said you did not wish him to go, and I must confess I agreed that it was irresponsible of him even to consider going at such a time, so I arranged for him to stay here instead.”

“Arranged? What on earth did you do?”

“I spoke to Jake Muston, and he arranged for Abberley’s coach to be waylaid. They were all masked, of course, so he don’t know who’s responsible.”

“Where is he, Aunt Celeste?” Margaret demanded, her emotions spinning. She didn’t know whether to be delighted or dismayed, but she was certainly astonished—though not for the first time—by her grandaunt’s audacity.

“He is in the north tower room at Abberley,” said Lady Celeste calmly, “and I cannot conceive of why you should be so surprised. When a thing wants doing, ’tis best to do it.”

Shaking her head in bemusement, Margaret left the old lady to her knitting and hurried up to change into her habit, sending orders to the stable at the same time to assure that Dancer would be awaiting her pleasure. By the time she was mounted and on her way through the woods to the hall, she had begun to see humor in the situation, and more than one chuckle escaped her lips as she drew nearer to Abberley. Trimby looked at her as though he were wondering if her mind had turned.

“I am quite sane, Trimby,” she said as she dismounted at the broad front steps and tossed him her reins, “but I do not know how long I will be. I shall send for you when I am ready to return.”

“Aye, miss,” he returned, not meeting her eyes.

She chuckled again and turned toward the steps.

Puddephatt answered some two or three minutes after she first began banging the knocker. He was surprised to see her.

“I wish to see his lordship, Pudd,” she said, grinning at him.

“His lordship has gone to London, miss,” said the butler, staring carefully at a point beyond her shoulder.

“No, he hasn’t, you old fraud,” Margaret said. “I know precisely where he is, in the north tower room. Aunt Celeste said you had the key. I trust you haven’t been starving him.”

“No, miss, though the food ain’t been what he’s accustomed to, the missus not having been told he was there.”

“Because she’d have had your head on a platter and Jake Muston’s as well, and you know it.”

“If ye please, Miss Margaret, ye’ll not be telling the master ’twas Jake and the others. He might guess it for himself, but ’twould be best to be naming no names.”

“Very well, though I am persuaded he will think it only a good joke on himself.”

“Not he, Miss Margaret. He’s been in the devil of a temper these past few days. First drinking himself into a stupor the night young Sir Timothy took his tumble, then determined to go to town for no reason in particular that he could name, and now … well, let me tell you, miss, if you think to find him in a good humor, you’d best be thinking again. I know her ladyship meant well, and I’d not want to be the one to go against her orders, especially not once the deed had been done. I’ll not say I’m not glad to see you either, miss, because I can tell you I wasn’t looking forward to being the man who let him out.”

In the face of the butler’s anxiety, Margaret felt her own good humor fading. It was one thing to be amused by Lady Celeste’s bland air of having done nothing more than what was practical. It was quite another to think of facing Abberley in one of his fouler tempers. Her courage ebbed, but she knew she had to tell him about the thorn and the doctored medication. He had a right to know. Besides, now that she knew where he was, she couldn’t justify keeping him there. Drawing a long breath, she turned to the butler.

“Perhaps you’d better give me the key to the north tower room, Pudd. Does he even know you are involved in this business?”

“I don’t know, miss. He hasn’t seen me. I made up a big packet of food from the larder—bread, cheese, beef, wine, and whatever else I could find—and simply left it and a chamber pot in the room before the others delivered him. He was blindfolded clear up until they shoved him into the room and slammed the door behind him. Her ladyship had come to tell me what I might expect, you see, and to make sure my missus was busy elsewhere. She knew right well that Marthy’d never stand for such a stunt.”

“Then, you may be perfectly safe. I’ll not tell him where I got the key, and if I know Aunt Celeste, she’ll take the blame for the whole.”

“Well, he won’t believe she abducted him all on her lonesome,” Puddephatt pointed out, not without a glimmer of a smile on his thin face.

Margaret chuckled. “Leave it to her. Before she’s done with him, he’ll believe anything.”

Her smile faded again once she was on her way, unescorted, to the north tower. The room in question was a small round chamber at the top of the ancient tower, and was reached by climbing a great number of winding stone steps. She was not looking forward to the climb. Even less was she looking forward to facing the earl’s wrath. After three days of nothing but bread and cheese and probably a bottle or two of wine, she would not be astonished to discover him raving. When she realized what the sanitary conditions must be, she grimaced, biting her lower lip.

The key fit the door at the bottom of the tower and also that of the room at the top. When Margaret had made her way to the second door, she paused to catch her breath, then stepped forward, key in hand.

“Who’s out there?”

She could hear him clearly despite the thickness of the tower walls and the thick oak door between them, and she quickly realized that there were spaces at both top and bottom of the door to account for the fact that he had heard her coming.

“It is Marget, Adam. I’ve come to let you out.”

“Have you, indeed? And just how did I come to be locked up here in the first place?” he bellowed. “Was it your doing, my girl?”

“No, and that is of no import now,” she said, fitting the key into the lock.

“The devil it isn’t! You’re going to tell me who is responsible for this outrage, and when I get my hands on the guilty party, I’ll bloody well make him wish he had never been born.”

Margaret removed the key from the lock. “Adam, are you quite dreadfully angry?”

“Dammit, girl, this is no time for a comfortable coze. What are you waiting for? Open this door at once.”

“Answer me, Adam. How angry are you?”

The reply came in a low growl. “Angry enough, by God, that if you don’t open this door immediately, I’ll soon make you wish you had.”

“I see. Then I am persuaded that I shall do better to leave the door locked, for I wish to talk with you, but you don’t sound as though you are at all in a mood for conversation.”

“Damn you.” He sounded completely exasperated. “Of course I’m not in the mood. Didn’t I just say that? The only thing I want to hear from you is the name of the person responsible for having me abducted. Unless, of course, you arranged the matter yourself.”

“No, I didn’t, but I’m glad someone did, for I need you. Something has happened which—”

“Open this door!” he bellowed in furious but measured tones.

“I won’t,” she replied just as loudly. “Not until you promise to listen to what I have to say.”

“I’ll listen, all right, just so long as you tell me what I want to hear.”

Margaret bit her lip. She was quite certain he would pay no heed to anything else she said until he knew who had arranged to have him waylaid. And so long as he was safely locked up, there seemed to be no reason not to tell him.

After a moment’s silence, she said quietly, “Aunt Celeste arranged it.”

There was a longer silence. Then he said grimly, “I see.”

“I don’t think you do, sir.”

“Let me out, Margaret.”

Knowing from the fact that he called her Margaret that he was still in a fury, she hesitated. “Aunt Celeste meant no harm, Adam. I had told her I wished you wouldn’t go to London just when Timothy was ill, and she decided it would be better for you to remain in Hertfordshire.”

“She failed to discuss the matter with me,” he said with a touch of sarcasm.

“I know. She didn’t discuss it with anyone.”

“Not so,” he said, his tone gentler now. “She discussed the matter with at least four large, rather rough men. I recognized Jake Muston’s voice. Who were the others?”

Not deceived in the slightest by the gentle tone, Margaret chuckled. “I’m thankful to say I haven’t the least notion, sir. And it doesn’t matter, for I’m certain you would never be so unfair as to blame them for following Aunt Celeste’s orders. You know perfectly well that your tenants, each and every one of them, would ride into hell for her.”