Borrowed Dreams (Scottish Dream Trilogy) (45 page)

“Because I wanted to know why he wanted
me to take him to Melbury Hall.” The young woman’s voice quavered. “He said
‘twas none of my business, and if I didn’t do as he wanted and keep my trap
shut, he’d kill me.”

“When is he coming back?” Violet
asked.

“Tonight.” The girl’s eyes scanned the
street again. “He told me he’s coming back before supper, and I should take my
pa’s cart. Says I’m to hide him under a tarp in the back with the iron bars and
casks of tacks I take up from my pa’s smithy to the Hall every fortnight or so.
He wants to get to yer place around dinner, so’s he can slip out when we get
there, and no one will see him. He’s up to no good, I just know it. But I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Do you know where he is now?”

“St. Albans. I think he’s staying
in the tavern where he always goes to—the one out by the brickyards.”

Violet looked up the street and saw
the wagon from Solgrave that carted milk to St. Albans every morning. She knew
the driver. Shoving the basket and piles of newspapers into the woman’s hands,
she quickly gave her directions what to do with them. “After you’re done, tell
the groom waiting by the shops that I had to go to St. Albans. Tell him they
should watch out for trouble tonight.”

“I can’t tell them nothing about
Ned. He’ll kill me.”

“You just tell the man what I told
you and leave Ned’s name out of it. I’ll take care of the stonemason. Be sure to tell them to watch out for trouble coming their way.”

Without another word, Violet
hurried to catch up to the wagon rolling down the village street.

******

At noon on the final day of
traveling, Lyon reached out to help his wife climb into the chaise. After
stopping to warm up at a wayside inn, she had reluctantly handed the infant,
Josephine, back to the nursemaid riding in the carriage behind.

“I’ve uprooted everyone,” she said
again. “And so soon after our arrival at Baronsford.”

“You did not. We had planned on
being away only a fortnight.” He pulled her next to him on the seat. “We have
done everything we could possibly do at Baronsford…for now.”

“Walter Truscott told me before we
left that the mood among the tenants is much improved. He says there even
appears to be progress on some of the other estates.”

Lyon entwined their fingers.
“Unfortunately, all of these could come to an abrupt end when some other
landlord decides to clear his land. The people’s confidence is fragile. With
good reason.”

Millicent’s voice was hesitant.
“Truscott also told me that I should encourage you to get in touch with your
brother Pierce. Since you signed those documents some months ago, the
possibility exists that he might decide to go against your wishes and sell the
properties…or even clear the land himself.”   

“Pierce would never do that to Baronsford,” Lyon replied confidently. “But I do need to reach him. I just wish that this first
attempt to communicate with him did not have to involve the business of land
and inheritance.”

Lyon needed to think seriously
about how to approach his brother. He didn’t care a rush about getting back the
properties. The last thing he wanted was to have Pierce merely send back a
signed document, reversing everything. More important, Lyon wanted his brother
back. 

Millicent placed a kiss on his
clenched jaw, and he smiled at her upturned face.

“You shall do what’s right,” she
said. “I have faith in you.”

*****

Violet stood in a dark corner of
the tavern and watched him.

The place was packed with men, and
a traveling fiddler sat on a stool in the corner, sawing away feverishly at a
jig, his battered hat in front of him with a couple of dull copper coins peeking
imploringly from it. The men in the room were singing and roaring with laughter
as two drunken brickmakers danced in a circle, jostling those nearby in their
hilarity and drawing shoves in return.

Ned had one hand around a cup of ale
and his other arm around a buxom wench. As Vi watched him, she realized he
didn’t look quite so handsome to her. His features were thick, his limbs heavy,
and his movements jerky. His eyes glittered from the drinking.

He was supposedly going back to Knebworth Village in a couple of hours. The question of what no good he was up to gnawed at
her.  

When Ned’s attention was drawn to
the door of the crowded tavern room, Violet looked at the half dozen
rough-looking men who all entered together. Behind them she saw Jasper Hyde’s
clerk, the same one who had been sent up to Melbury Hall a number of times. She
drew back when she saw a swarthy gentleman enter behind the clerk. He had to be
Jasper Hyde, she decided. Leaning on his cane, the man motioned the group to a
corner, where Ned joined them.

Violet moved closer, keeping to the
shadows along the wall. She could hear snatches of the conversation over the
din of the room.

“Ye all stay in the Grove until you
see the flames coming from the house,” Ned barked. “Harry and the master here
both know what we are after. As soon as they point her out to ye, make a grab
for her and head out again toward the Grove. We shan’t be using any roads
getting out of there.”

Fear gripped Violet’s stomach as
Ned continued to talk. They were going to steal Ohenewaa, and they were going
to burn Melbury Hall to do it. Violet pushed away from the wall, not knowing
how to stop them, and yet knowing somehow that she had to try.

The noise in the room was getting
louder. More people were coming in. Violet could not even hear herself think.
Ned looked to be through with his talking, and the men were ordering ale and
talking amongst themselves. She saw him say something to Jasper Hyde and motion
to the ceiling.  As Ned got up to leave, however, an eager wench latched onto
his arm.

Violet realized he was going up to
his room. The stairs. She remembered vividly the dark corridor. Her gaze
searched the room and came to rest on a man stretched out on a battered settle
near her. In spite of the ruckus, he was snoring away with his mouth wide open.
The blade of his knife glinted beside his hand.

She walked toward him with purpose.
The man didn’t stir at all when she took the knife and hid it under her cloak.

Violet looked over her shoulder and
found Ned had succeeded in shedding the woman. He was heading toward the door
landing to the stairs, and Hyde was giving orders to his clerk and the other
men. Pushing her way through the crowded room, she hurried out ahead of the
stonemason.

The narrow hall at the base of the
stairs was dark, with the exception of a little light coming in from the
tavern. Violet moved into the shadows and waited. Her fingers clutched the
handle of the knife. Ned’s large frame broke through the light. He walked
toward the steps, and Violet stepped out.

“Ned.”

He turned, his surprised expression
quickly giving way to anger. “What the devil are ye doing here? Following me
again, are ye? Can’t get enough, ye silly chit? Well, I’m through with ye.”

“This is not about me, Ned.” She
came closer. “You cannot destroy Melbury Hall. Too many people’s lives depend
on that place.”

“Ha!”

“I have a little money, Ned. If
that’s why you’re doing this, I’ll give it all to you.”

Understanding made his eyes glint
in the dark. “Bugger off, slut. What I’m going to make out of this job, ye
shan’t be dreaming of making in yer lifetime.”

“He wants Ohenewaa. He is daft to
think she’s a witch. That’s all a lie. Don’t ruin so many lives because of some
nonsense.”

“What do I care? She’s a filthy
slave.” He towered over her, and then his face changed as a thought occurred to
him. “And ye’re a greedy whore. Ye came here because ye want yer cut, don’t ye?
Ye heard I’m using my other woman to help me, and ye don’t like it that I
didn’t ask ye.”

“No. I’m here to stop you from
doing the wrong thing. From hurting good people. You cannot—” 

Violet winced in pain as Ned
grabbed a fistful of her cloak and hair and jerked her about. “I think ye fancy
those slaves, especially that stupid one, Moses. That’s why ye want to save
them. Ye filthy whore. Admit it. Ye fancy the thought of letting them—”

With all her strength, she drove
the knife upward into his chest. His hand on her hair tightened. He took a step
back, stumbling as he dragged her with him.

“The black bastards.”

“You are the bastard,” she hissed
into his face. “And yes, I choose their lives over yours. And even over my own.”

Vi jerked the knife upward, and he
stumbled again, falling backward against a wall but still taking Violet with
him. When he struck the wall, she felt the knife sink deeper. His eyes went
glassy, and his knees buckled under his weight. As Ned sank slowly to the
floor, Violet went down with him. Small bubbles of blood appeared at the corner
of his mouth, and his breathing stopped with a single shudder. His grip eased
on her hair.   

“Ride ‘im good, lass.” A drunkard
laughed and slapped Vi on the side of the head as he stumbled by in the narrow
hall and started up the stairs.

Violet’s fingers uncoiled from the
hilt of the knife. As she stood up from his lap, she saw the dark stain of the
blood on the front of Ned’s smock. She took a step back and stared at the man
she had once thought she loved—at the father of the child growing inside of
her. Violet pulled the cloak tightly around her and stepped into the merry
commotion in the tavern.

There were people all around, but
their faces were all blurred. She had killed a man. The wailing sound in her
head blocked out the music, the shouts. She pushed her way out of the tavern
and onto the street.

The air was fresh and clean, and as
she started up the street, her mind suddenly grew clear. There was no way she
could make it back to Melbury Hall in time. She had warned them. She had done
what she could.

Her only path now led away from
here.
She had to go someplace far enough away that she wouldn’t bring
shame to her mother and grandmother. Or on Melbury Hall. The thought of leaving
them, of never seeing them again, sent a shaft of hot steel through her heart. But she had no choice. She could not shame them.

At another inn just up the alley on
High Street, the daily mail coach was preparing to leave St. Albans. The driver
was climbing up and the team of horses snorted and stamped impatiently in the cold air. Vi stopped and counted her money. Ten shillings and a few pence. 

It was enough to take her away from
St. Albans, at least. And when the coach would take her no farther, she would
just walk from there as far as her legs would carry her.

“I am always complaining about
people arriving unexpectedly at Melbury Hall and here I have done the same
thing to you,” Millicent said as a way of apology to the housekeeper.

Mrs. Page and Gibbs had been racing
around for the past two hours and had succeeded in settling everyone new who
had come back from Baronsford. “We started a couple of days earlier than we had
planned and never sent a rider ahead to warn you.”

Mary looked adoringly at the baby
in Millicent’s arms. “You bring back this kind of joy to the house, m’lady, and
you think we’d mind an army of guests? Not at all. May I hold the little darling?”

She handed the sleeping Jo to the
housekeeper. This had been the same kind of reaction she had received from
everyone. The dowager, Ohenewaa, Amina, even Gibbs. So far Sir Richard had been
excluded from holding the infant, since he had been sequestered in the library,
discussing some business affairs with her husband. “By the way, where is
Violet?”

“She went to the village this
morning on an errand, and then ran off to St. Albans.”

“To see her mother and
grandmother?”

“I don’t believe so, m’lady.” An anxious look crossed Mrs. Page’s face. “The groom she went to the village with this morning
said she’d sent a message about trouble coming our way. He said that Violet
went on to St. Albans to see Ned Cranch.”

“The stonemason?”

“Aye, the missing stonemason. He
left in the middle of his job right after you and his lordship went to Scotland. Mr. Gibbs can tell you everything else about it. But there have been some strange
doings with that man…and I am afraid Violet is involved with him.”

“How?” Millicent asked worriedly.
“He is a married man, is he not?”

“He might be, m’lady, but I don’t
think our Violet knew anything about it when he started courting her.”

“When was this?”

Millicent could hardly believe what
she was hearing as Mary went on to tell her that as far back as Christmastide, Ned Cranch had been wooing Violet at every opportunity.

“Violet hasn’t been feeling well,
either,” Mary whispered. “I am only guessing, but I’m starting to think she
might have gotten herself into trouble.”

Millicent remembered the bruise on
the young woman’s face and her inability to hold down food. “Will you look
after the baby while I go and talk to Mr. Gibbs? I want someone to go to St. Albans after her.”

“Of course, m’lady.”

Everyone made mistakes in life. But after holding Jo’s hand and watching the young mother die after childbirth, Millicent was
not going to allow another young woman be lost to the world. She knew Violet
would not go to her mother’s house. She wouldn’t want to bring disgrace to
their doorstep.

No, Millicent had to bring her back
to Melbury Hall.

******

Jasper Hyde could tell the London men were becoming restless. They stood in a circle a distance from him, leaning on
their cudgels and shooting quick glances his way as they muttered together.
Night had already fallen. Through the break in the trees, they had seen that a
number of carriages and riders had recently arrived at the hall.