My Lord Murderer (30 page)

Gwen, in gratitude for what her friends had done for her, did everything she could to make things cheerful and companionable in the little parlor where they spent most of their days, and Wys was—as always—pleasant and good-humored. But a prison the Rose and Crown seemed to be, no matter how much they pretended to be cheerful, and they all looked forward with eagerness to a thaw which would permit them to return to their own homes.

Meanwhile, back in London, Drew retired to his bed and slept the clock round. When he awoke, Mallow discovered the bloodstained neckerchief and, clucking with disapproval at Drew’s neglect of his wound, covered it with a healing salve of his own concoction and bound it securely. After another day had passed, Drew realized that neither Wys nor his sister and brother-in-law had returned to town, and that they must be snowbound. It occurred to him that Lady Hazel and Tom would have had no word of Gwen’s fate or her present whereabouts and must be sick with worry. He wrote a brief, businesslike note, informing them that Lady Rowle was safe and well, that no marriage had taken or would take place between Lady Rowle and Sir George Pollard, and that Lady Rowle had been in the company of Lord and Lady Selby and Wystan Farr ever since the first evening of her departure. The note dispatched, he tried to put the whole business from his mind. That message was the last thing he would ever do to connect himself with Gwen or her family. And, he said to himself, it was a good riddance.

He was therefore somewhat chagrined when Mallow interrupted his reading in the library the following morning to tell him that Tom was at the door. Drew put his book aside with a sigh. “Tell him to come in,” he said to Mallow.

“He says he won’t stay but a minute and doesn’t want to remove his boots,” Mallow replied. “He asks if you’d be so kind as to step into the hallway to see him.”

Drew shrugged and went to the hall, Mallow at his heels. Tom stood just inside the door, his cheeks pink from the invigorating walk through the snow, the flakes melting on the capes of his greatcoat. “Good morning,” Drew said, holding out his hand. Tom seized it and shook it heartily. “I can’t thank you enough for sending round that note,” Tom said with a smile that held all his old adoration. “You’ve no idea how glad Aunt Hazel and I were to get the news.”

Drew did not intend to let Tom know that he himself had gone to find Gwen, so he merely nodded and said, “Save your thanks for Wys and the Selbys. They should all return as soon as we have a thaw in the weather.”

Tom shook his head. “You’re trying to make me think you had nothing to do with this, but I
know
you found her.”

“Really?” Drew asked with a noncommittal lift of his eyebrow. “And how do you know that?”

“I came back that day,” Tom said, looking down at the floor in shame-faced recollection. “You see, I had said a lot of things to you that I deeply regretted—”

“You said nothing that a loyal brother should not have said. I have already forgotten the incident.”

Tom looked up at him in gratitude. “That’s good of you, Drew. I’ve been perfectly miserable ever since that awful morning. It was dreadful of me to abuse you when you had been so good to me.”

“Look here, Tom, haven’t I told you—?”

“Please, Drew, let me say it. I must apologize, or I won’t be able to live with myself.”

Drew smiled. “Very well, you’ve apologized. Very nicely, too. Now have done.”

“You do forgive me, then?”

“Completely.”

“Thank you, Drew. But it’s important to me that you understand that I came to apologize
before
I knew that you had gone after Gwen.”

“See here, Tom, you don’t
know
anything of the sort.”

“Oh, yes, I do, so stop bamming me. Mallow told me.”

“Mallow?” asked Drew with an edge to his voice. His eye turned to his omnipresent butler who was discovered assiduously polishing a nearby mirror with intense concentration. “He
did
, did he? How
thoughtful
of him.”

“Don’t blame him, Drew. I wormed it out of him,” Tom insisted. “But I had to come and tell you that I’ll never forget what you did. Never.” Tom looked at Drew with glowing eyes for a moment. “Look, I’m going. I know that my coming here like this is against the rules you and Gwen have set up, and I won’t do so again. I just want to say a proper goodbye.”

Drew gripped the boy’s shoulders affectionately. “I’m glad you did. Thank you for coming. Kiss Hazel for me. Goodbye, Tom.” A quick handshake and the boy was gone.

Drew turned to Mallow, but the butler was already hastening down the hall. “Mallow,” Drew called with ominous gentleness.

“Yes, my lord, I’ll be with you in a moment,” Mallow said hurriedly. “I’m needed in the kitchen with utmost urgency.” And he disappeared into the nether regions where he remained until he was convinced that his lordship had forgotten his intended reprimand.

The weather thawed after five days, and before the week was out the party returned from the Rose and Crown. Hetty promptly paid a visit to her brother, only to learn from Mallow that Drew wished to inform her that he was not speaking to her. Ostracized thus by the two most important men in her life, poor Hetty returned home. For the next two weeks, the only satisfaction she found in life was abusing her servants in an unwontedly shrewish manner and spending her afternoons at her favorite shops—buying bonnets and gowns with reckless abandon.

Wys received the same message from Mallow when he paid a call, but, ignoring Mallow’s remonstrances, he marched into the library, sat down opposite Drew at the fireplace, and proceeded to tell his friend all manner of gossip, cheerfully ignoring the fact that Drew made no response. He related to Drew the events at the Rose and Crown after he had left: how comical George had looked with a large gap in his upper front teeth and his nose swollen to twice its normal size and gleaming in purple majesty; how Selby had manfully managed not to speak to his wife through an entire game of backgammon; and how badly Selby had handled the ribbons on the icy road back to London. After about half-an-hour of forcing his face to look supercilious and repressive, Drew began to feel foolish and a smile forced its way out. From there it was a short step to laughter, and finally Drew gave up his intention to sulk and surrendered.

“Don’t know why you were put out with me at all, old boy,” Wys remarked after they’d shaken hands. “How was I to know you’d changed your mind and gone off all alone? You should have come for me. I had a stake in the matter too, you know.”

“You’re right, Wys. I feel like a fool about the whole business. Let’s not talk about it any more. I want to forget the whole thing. Did you go to see your Mr. Plumb since your return?”

“Oh, yes, I went at once. He was so overjoyed that I’d saved his daughter from that bounder that he quite forgave me for lacking a title. I shouldn’t wonder if I’m betrothed before the month is out.”

“Wys, you’re a lucky dog! Let’s have some Madeira to drink to your future happiness.”

After a few companionable drinks, Wys looked up from his glass and said thoughtfully, “It’s not fair of you, Drew, to forgive me and keep Hetty at arm’s length. The poor chit is having enough difficulty with Selby.”

“No, I don’t agree,” said Drew. “You, as you pointed out to me a moment ago, had a reason of your own for going to find Pollard. But my sister was meddling, as I’m sure Selby warned her. I’ve had quite enough of it, I can tell you.”

“She came at my insistence, Drew.”

“Did she?” Drew said, reconsidering. “Well, I’ll think about it. Meanwhile, let her simmer a bit. It’ll do her good.”

At Rowle House, Hazel soon noticed that Gwen had changed. She was subdued, downcast, and uncomfortably humble. She neither argued nor held very long to an opinion. “If you say so,” was always on her lips. It was as if she no longer trusted her own judgment. She wandered about the house aimlessly, and several days passed without Drew’s name being mentioned. Hazel felt strongly that Gwen should make an effort to show Drew proper gratitude, and finally brought up the matter. “I’ve been thinking about what you told me about Lord Jamison, Gwen. Don’t you think you owe him some sort of apology?”

“Yes,” Gwen said with a sigh. “I was unforgivably insulting to him when he had gone to such lengths to help me. What do you think I should do?”

“Go to him and tell him,” Hazel said promptly.

Gwen gave her mother-in-law a frightened glance. “Oh, no, I couldn’t! Never! He doesn’t want to see me again. He made that clear. Don’t ask me to do such a thing, Hazel. I couldn’t face him.”

Hazel sighed. “Very well, then, write him a note. It’s the very least you can do.”

That afternoon, Gwen sat down at her graceful little Sheraton writing table and began.
Dear Lord Jamison, how can I ever express…
No, that was not the right tone. It was too effusive, too dramatic. She tried again.
My dear Lord Jamison, Although this letter will probably stir up memories of a scene you would prefer to forget…
No, that was too negative a way to approach an apology. She tore up the sheet and started a third time.
Dear Drew
, she wrote, letting the words flow unchecked,
Dear, Dearest Drew, I have hurt you so many times, so unjustly, but oh, my darling, each time it hurt me more…
This sheet she tore into tiny bits, so tiny that nobody would ever be able to read it.

The note was delivered to Drew the next morning, and he tore it open carelessly. After a quick glance at the signature, he noticed that the hand that held the paper had begun to shake. With a surge of self-disgust, he tossed the letter aside and turned to the other messages that Mallow had placed at his elbow. But he could not make his way through even the first one, and he quickly dropped it and picked up Gwen’s note again.
My Dear Lord Jamison
, he read,
For your many kindnesses to me in the past, and in particular for the invaluable service you rendered to me not a fortnight ago, you have been rewarded by abuse and ingratitude. I now realize how mistaken I have been and how I have misjudged you. I cannot ask you to forgive what I myself consider unforgivable, but I wish to assure you that I am now more grateful than words can say for everything you have done in my behalf, and shall always remain so. Most sincerely, Gwen Rowle
.

In spite of the hand that shook as he read the note, Drew’s face had a mocking sneer. Oh, no, my girl, he said to himself, you’ll not trap me again. Not any more. You’ve cost me too much and waited too long to expect a few humble words to make it up. And the hand that shook crumpled the note and tossed it aside.

The next day, Gwen received a reply.
My dear Lady Rowle
, she read,
Please be assured that apologies and thanks are not at all necessary. I have already been more than adequately thanked by your brother, and since I am sure that the incidents to which you refer will soon be forgotten, there is no need to dwell on them further. With every good wish for your future happiness, I remain, Yours, etc., Andrew Seymour Viscount Jamison
.

“Lord Jamison has sent a very polite response to my note,” Gwen said to Hazel with a strained smile, “so we may now forget the whole affair. The amenities have been attended to.” With that, she crushed the letter in her hand, ran to her room, and wept.

“Selby,” Hetty said to her husband, who sat before her pretending she did not exist, “since you are not speaking to me and therefore cannot scold, I’m going to make a confession to you. I’m going to interfere again. You needn’t get so red in the neck, for it’s nothing so very terrible. I’m not going to break my word or do anything
really
dishonorable.”

Selby made a strangled sound in his throat.

“I saw Gwen Rowle at the Pantheon Bazaar today, and she looks thinner and paler than she looked after Rowle died. She is pining away for Drew and too proud to do anything about it. And you can’t tell me—oh, of course you can’t if you’re not speaking—but you couldn’t even if you
were
speaking, tell me that Drew is happy. I’ve never seen him look so hagged! Well, it’s about time somebody did
something
to bring those two together. And there’s nobody else but me to do it. Don’t look at me like that, Selby, because I won’t be talked out of it! Well,
glared
out of it, if you must be accurate. If
we
only had a friend like me, she would have done something for
us
by now, and we wouldn’t be living in this awful silence. Oh, I know
I’m
not silent, but you know what I mean.”

Selby choked and shifted in his chair.

“I suppose you’re wondering what I mean to do. It’s a very simple plan, really. I’m going to send each of them a note and ask them to come here on Thursday at four. Neither will know the other is coming. They will think it a tête-à-tête with me alone. But,
I
won’t be here
! Well, I really
will
be here, but I’ll be hiding in my room. They’ll have to face each other, and I know that is all it will take to make them fall into each other’s arms. Good heavens, Selby, why are you getting so red? I do believe you’re about to suffer a stroke!”

“Hetty,” Selby burst out, unable to contain himself any longer, “I absolutely
forbid
it!”

“Selby!” Hetty squealed. “You
spoke
! You broke your word of
honor!
” She flung herself into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Oh, you darling! Can it be that you care for me more than for your
honor?
Oh, Selby, I’ve never been so flattered in all my life!”

Poor Selby found himself being smothered with kisses. Since it had been some time since he had estranged himself from his wife, he found the sensation quite enjoyable, and he couldn’t resist putting his arms around her and responding to her embraces. He quite forgot
why
he had spoken, so enraptured was he by the enchanting little vixen in his arms. If he had known that dishonor would be so rewarding, he might well have opened his mouth a week or two sooner.

The notes were identical. They read,
I
am in most urgent need of your advice. I am in despair. Please spare me an hour on Thursday, about four. I shall make sure we are alone. Don’t fail me. Hetty
.