Aurora (21 page)

“It’s yourself as does all the voyaging. I’ve no mind to go and mix it up with a bunch of Moslemites. Where are you off to?—as you mentioned taking your leave.”

“What would you expect of one of my kidney? I am off to pay my respects to another woman, naturally.”

“You’re a brass box if there ever was one. Bernard never talked so impudent to me.”

“He was always a bit of a slow top. Were you about to leave, Malone?” he asked, a trifle impatiently.

“I’ll give you just exactly one minute, and then I’ll come and fetch her, so you’d better get busy.” The warning given, she went into the saloon and stood counting off the minute on the long case clock.

“I hope she is equally strict with all your callers?” Kenelm asked, and put the remainder of his minute to better use.

Malone, true to her word, was back in sixty seconds, and promptly showed Lord Raiker out the door. “You’ve got a bit of explaining to do, missie,” she said to her charge when he was gone. “Haven’t I been warning you what he’s like?”

“Yes, when you are not advising me to make up to him,” Rorie answered pertly.

“It’ll be yourself with red eyes next. I gave you credit for a little self-respect. You shouldn’t be holding yourself so cheap. It’s marriage or nothing.”

“I wish you would not make a great to-do about it. He is a connection, after all.”

“Oh ho,
connection,
is it? I don’t see Mr. Berrigan taking such a warm leave of you, nor did I ever see Bernard, nor anyone else that calls himself a gentleman. And he as well as saying to your face he was running right back to Lady Alice, the villain. What he sees in the vixen is beyond me. Is he sweet on you then?” she asked, unable to contain her curiosity longer.

“Yes, Malone, I think he is, and I am very sweet on
him,
but nothing is settled, so pray don’t feel obliged to run to Marnie with tales of what you have seen.”

Malone regarded her with narrowed eyes. “I hope you know what you’re about. He shouldn’t be taking such liberties till it
is
settled. He’s as sly as a weasel, that one. Still, he’s been abroad, and don’t know the right way to behave, I suppose. You’d oughta teach him. Who is he going off to see now?”

“It has something to do with the case,” Rorie answered unhelpfully. Malone thought she didn’t know, so didn’t press her. She was in two minds about Kenelm. Certainly she considered him an indelible
parti,
but a little raffish for one of her girls. He’d bear watching, and there was little dearer to her soul than keeping a sharp eye cocked on her girls, unless it was spying on their beaux. To find the latter had run amok was heaven.

Chapter Fourteen

 
The two days of Kenelm’s absence were full days for him, and not entirely without incident for Aurora. Lady Alice came fishing for news at the Dower House, as Raiker was fishing in Hampshire. It was clear from the outset she had no idea where he had gone, and becoming clear too that she realized she had an archrival in Aurora. She dropped a million hints that she and Kenelm were more than friends, even using the word “soulmates,” which caused Rorie’s brow to rise and her heart to sink. He had shown her all his treasures from India, discussed his plans for them, had given her a shawl and a book on Indian customs. She had been teaching him to waltz.

“He
adores
the waltz, and how well he does it! He says he would have come home sooner had he realized it was the style now to hold all the young ladies in your arms with public approval. He is teaching me to drive his curricle. What fun we have, out every day. He took
you
out once I think, Miss Falkner? He mentioned he ought to do so, as you are Lady Raiker’s sister.”

“Yes, more than once,” Rorie answered, not telling the number.

“He is very concerned about behaving properly, doing the right thing. He would want to show you respect, because of family.”

Rorie began to wonder how he ever found a minute to pursue his claim to Raiker Hall. It was a highly unsatisfactory visit, leaving Rorie drained and doubtful of her lover’s constancy. He had not behaved properly at all, despite several mentions that he would like to. What he was doing was making up to all the girls, as hard as he could. He wrote no letter, despite saying he would do so. Malone, who had audited Lady Alice’s visit from behind a chair, took to dropping a setdown every time she opened her mouth. At least she did it when they were alone. “When the cat’s astray he’s bound to play,” she would say cryptically, and peer at her victim for a reaction. “He’s using
you
to be rid of Sally McBain. I wonder who he’s found to be rid of
you.”

When morning of the third day came and still he had not returned, Malone began saying he must be having a good success with the woman he’d gone to call on, and she’d get the backhouse boy to chip her off some ice to make up cold compresses for the eyes. She did hate to see a girl with red eyes. The only saving note was that the two of them were alone. Marnie was a good deal absent. She went frequently to Berrigan’s home to see what it would require in the way of improvement before she would move in. She was so wrapped up in her own concerns that she took little note of Rorie ’s decline.

It was just past noon of the third day, and there was some fear the cold compresses would be required, when he came back, big with news. Malone took up her post behind the chair, which caused Kenelm to suggest a drive, in spite of a brisk wind and gray skies, presaging a storm.

“Rutley’s alive,” he said, the minute they were beyond Malone’s ears. “At least I think he is. He
was
alive well past the time that body in my uniform was buried, in any case. Nel had a note from him, just one, in America. She showed it to me. Had it right out in the parlour, which gave me a good idea Clare had been there before me. It was dated five years ago, and in it he complained of conditions there, spoke of coming home as soon as he could save up the money. Five years—he is likely back long ago, but I am convinced the mother hasn’t heard of him since. She sounded genuinely worried.”

“You don’t actually
know
Clare was there, though?”

“I am morally certain of it. The Rutleys in the village confirmed she had been back to them, enquiring of Nel’s name and address. She didn’t know the husband’s name at all, so we can eliminate him from the case. Nel wouldn’t be likely to have a five-year-old note on the mantel if she hadn’t had reason to show it very recently.”

“What about the husband? What was he like?”

“He’s the one I’m worried about. As shrewd as a horse dealer, which he is, incidentally. I think he married Nel only because Papa gave her a settlement. He hinted they could use more. There is no love lost between the two of them, but if Clare was there, she has bought their silence. He said nothing. I finally asked outright, and he denied it, but with a very guilty look. I’m glad I went. I don’t know exactly what she’s up to, but I was right in thinking it had to do with Nel and Horace. She’s trying to find Horace—that must be it. The thing to do now is to keep a sharp eye on Clare, follow her if she goes to London or elsewhere again. If she leaves, it is to get hold of Horace, that’s certain. The husband may have told her something. I don’t actually believe he did. I don’t think he knows, or the information would have been for sale.”

“Surely what she wants at this time is to keep Horace well out of sight.”

“Yes, and she’d be more sure of doing it if she knew where he was. If he is floating at loose ends, he might make an untimely appearance in the village and her story is shown to be false. He can read, and it has been in the papers that I am back. They made a big thing of it in the London papers. There were some articles in the
Observer
when I was there. The next thing we have to discover is the identity of the gent in the grave.”

“Wilkins could tell you nothing?”

“Nothing helpful. He gave me some names, but they are both very much alive. Neither one fits the remains that wears my uniform either. Someone who wasn’t missed or spoken of locally as missing. An outsider, in other words. He’ll be hard to trace. I’m tempted to have a go at Clare. She apparently thought it worth her while to challenge me, but she must know now after the questioning and all that I mean to have my rightful place. And with Horace alive to worry her, she might be happy to come to terms. She can no longer twist me round her thumb, if that is what she was counting on.”

“Did she use to?” Aurora asked, her heart plunging.

“Lord yes. I was putty in her hands. I had never seen anyone so beautiful and sophisticated—worldly. She was like a creature from some rarefied atmosphere to me. Well, a green boy of sixteen who had had no doings with anything but country girls. And Papa’s wife. There is nothing like unattainability to make a lady more desirable. The feeling of sin and damnation that hung around her was irresistible. No, I shouldn’t say that. You’ll think me worse than I was. I resisted, coveting her every second of the day. What a fool I was! Things are different now, however,” he said in a cold voice. “I know what she is now.”

“Did you love her?” Rorie asked.

“Madly. An apt word—I was insane, infatuated, and too inexperienced to recognize her for the well-dressed trollop she was. I’ve met many of her sort since. You must think me an utter ass, but I was a child, and she played with me, my feelings. She is an unconscionable woman.”

“She’s still attractive,” Rorie mentioned unhappily.

“Not to me! I find her physically repellent. Oh, I know she has kept her looks well. Objectively I know it, but there is too much between us now. However, she
is
Papa’s widow and my stepmother, whatever else she is, and I ought perhaps to give her the opportunity to unburden herself. It would save a deal of bother and disgrace, very likely. Best to wrap the family laundry up in clean linen when it is possible. She is a woman. It is a man’s instinct to protect a woman in trouble.”

‘‘She won’t even see you.”

“She’ll see me, if she’s approached in the right way,” he said confidently. “I haven’t had the stomach for it till now. Now I begin to feel I have enough of a grasp of the situation to deal with her. You haven’t seen her during my absence? She doesn’t know about us?”

Rorie was feeling there was nothing to know, except that he had made a fool of her. He had not written the promised letter, nor ever asked for her answer, ready now for several days. “No, Lady Alice called, but not Clare.”

“Sally called? What did she want? She was not pleased with my leaving.”

“Just a social call.”

“Hanley with her?” he asked, with what could not possibly be jealousy, though she tried to imagine it was.

“No.”

They were soon back in front of the Dower House. “No point in going in with Malone to clock me. I didn’t write you, by the way.”

“I noticed.”

“I started to, but realized the futility of it. I would be home before my letter, to tell you in person how much I missed you. Very much,” he said, with a searching look into her eyes, and an intimate smile. But that was all the affection she had from him before he was off again, to call on his beautiful stepmother, with whom he used to be madly in love.

For two days nothing more was seen of him. Rorie remembered his asking whether Clare knew about them, and assumed he stayed away from her to lull his stepmother’s fears. And why should he do that, unless he was carrying on a flirtation with Clare? Marnie, busy with her own plans, didn’t notice his absence, but of course she did notice when she saw him drive quite openly into the village with the dowager Lady Raiker, and she was furious.

“He’s back after her!” she said, coming in from a drive with Mr. Berrigan, her eyes flashing with anger. “Driving with Clare beside him in his curricle, and he has left Dougall’s house. Has taken a suite at the inn, to be closer to her no doubt. Or more likely Lord Dougall kicked him out. It is said in the village he has been twice at Raiker Hall. Oh, it is
scandalous!
John is furious.”

“It has nothing to do with John,” Rorie said, trying to trust her lover, trying not to be angry and jealous, but it was a very large order.

“Nothing to do with John! Indeed it has. Raiker is my brother-in-law, the same name. To see him
courting
his stepmother—for that is
exactly
the impression left in the village—is infamous. And they had Charlie with them.”

“The brute!” Malone said. “Oh, the unnatural man. He’ll be his little half brother’s stepfather, and his mother’s husband. He’ll be his own father is what he’ll be! It must be illegal!”

“Of course it is. He can never
marry
her,” Marnie said. “And after he came here telling us he
hated
her. But he always liked her. And he liked
me
pretty well too, I can tell you. We are not to see him again. John says we are absolutely not to let him in if he calls.”

“I should say so, the abominable corruptor!” Malone agreed. “Oh, this is worse than the Bible. Solomon and Glocamorra is nothing to it. I’ve never heard the likes. It’ll be an infamy throughout the land, and the sooner you change your name the better, my girl,” she advised Marnie.

Rorie listened, silent, and began to perceive that Kenelm’s behaviour was indeed seriously at fault. Even if he was only buttering Clare up to see what he could discover, the scandal he would cause was serious. It was ill-judged of him to do it.

“It is an outrage!” Marnie agreed. “And you may be sure Lady Alice won’t stand still for it. He has lost her, such an eligible match in every way. Why is he
doing
this? Has he run mad completely?”

“You must see he is trying to get Clare to accept him,” Rorie said.
“She
has been the stumbling block all along to his inheritance. For her to be seen with him in the village must mean she has given up opposing his claim.”

“No such a thing,” Marnie contradicted. “I wouldn’t mind if that were it. She is not giving up her opposition. And what is
she
up to, to befriend him when she says he is not Kenelm? Her behaviour is even more bizarre than his, but she never could resist a handsome man, and hasn’t had one for a long time.”