Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 01] - Some Brief Folly (40 page)

"Yes. But why should he? He has my son, why—"

"Well… well, suppose he has not? Suppose—forgive me, dearest,
but—suppose Avery had… died in that accident? Mount would have been
left with nothing! But if he found a similarly featured, grey-eyed
child, and had the scar copied— Hawk, it
could
be
done! And don't forget, four years had passed since your Dr. MacKenzie
had seen Avery. A little boy changes a lot between three and seven…
and…" The words died on her lips; her heartbeat seemed suddenly to
suffocate her, and she sat in frozen silence, stunned by the absurd
notion that had crept into her mind.

Hawkhurst was silent also, thinking regretfully that she had
tried so valiantly to ease his grief, and must now realize how useless
it was.

He was mistaken, for Euphemia was in fact shivering with
excitement. Dreading lest she be mistaken, she tried to speak calmly,
asking, "Why would Mount try to kill you, then? He has blackmailed you
very successfully these past four years. One would think he has many
profitable years ahead."

It was a point that has puzzled him to no small extent. He
said frowningly, "Hatred, perhaps. A madness that could no longer be
contained. Perhaps he imagines that, with me out of the way, he can
produce Avery, invent some tale to explain it all, and get his hands on
the estate. He would have several doctors to back his story, and he
took care to see I would not dare confide in anyone." He paused, then
went on thoughtfully, "The only thing is, it is such a stupid risk.
However plausible his tale,
Avery
would inherit.
Mount's share would, at the most, be a reward, and gratitude. Unless he
supposes that he would have the boy under his thumb, and through him
would get the fortune somehow." He smiled grimly, "In which case, he
don't know my Grandpapa very well!"

"Just so!" cried Euphemia, gripping his arm with an excited
little pounce. "Hawk, it does not make sense! That fierce old gentleman
would see through Mr. Mount's Canterbury tricks before the cat could
lick her ear! And even if he did not, by making his move now, Avery
would be removed from Mount's influence, for your Grandpapa would
certainly send the boy away to school! No! It must be the height of
folly for him to act now, when by waiting he could blackmail you for
years, until Lord Wetherby is… gone, perhaps. Avery would be a young
man by then and completely under his control. Oh, darling do you not
see? If Mount
is
mad, he would want to prolong
your suffering, not shorten it. Unless, he
was forced
to act now… Unless…" And she stopped her impassioned speech, aware that
he was watching her narrowly, and terror stricken lest she build his
hopes to no purpose.

Hawkhurst stopped the team. He took up her hand and kissed it.
"Go on, my brave girl. Unless—what? Do you think—Dear Heaven! Do you
think Mount is become so unstable he means to kill my grandfather too?"

With a stifled sob, she threw herself into his arms. "Garret,
I love you so. When I think what you must have felt tonight. To have
read that wicked letter from Mount, and only moments later discover
that—that Stephanie and Simon had eloped. My poor darling! I
dare
not risk hurting you any more."

Hawkhurst took her shoulders and held her away from him. And,
shaking her gently, he said, "You must give me credit for more backbone
than that, dear girl. I own I was rather down-pin. And my confounded
leg is a bit of a nuisance. But, whatever I may have to face, I've come
this far. I'll survive."

Wordless, Euphemia put one hand to caress his cheek, and he
smiled, "You have restored me, as you seem so able to do, so tell me
what you suspect if you please, ma'am. And I shall promise in return
never again to throw you out of my curricle."

Her answering smile was tremulous. "Very well. But, first— The
landslide that brought me into your life,
was
it
an accident? Leith said—"

"Leith! He is on the Peninsula, surrounded by shot and shell,
and at the mercy of those two juggernauts who strive against one
another. And he worries. About me! No, it was an accident, but I'll
never convince Tris of that."

"And the Mohocks in Town? Ellie said they near killed you."

'They could have finished the job easily enough, but did not.
And no matter what Tristram said, it may have been sheer coincidence."

"What of the shot that went through your hat? And the falling
coping stone? And your new boat? All coincidences?"

Puzzled by all this and rather irked that she had been worried
by it, he said a rather brusque, "Probably. Who knows?"

Euphemia's heart was beating very fast. She moved back from
him and, clasping her hands nervously, said, "Then it is very possible
that Mount had no intention of killing you. Not until…
after
the Musicale."

He watched her. Waiting.

"Hawk," she quavered, "I once told you why Simon and I first
came onto your lands. Do you remember?"

"Why, I believe you said you wanted to have a look at Dominer."

"I did. But—but it was more than that, dearest. I
really
came because… I had become so very fond of… of Kent, you see."

Hawkhurst stiffened, and the faint of colour that had come
back into his cheeks fled, leaving him whiter than before.

"I told you how I found him," Euphemia rushed on, gripping her
hands ever more tightly. "That sweet child, half-starved, beaten,
abused. And… the soles of his feet, so badly burned." She saw his eyes
widen at that and went on, "When he started to recover, I surrounded
him with books. Yet, so
often
, I would find him
gazing at one picture… Dominer. I began to be curious and to want to
see the estate myself. But—" She bit her lip, then burst out, "Oh,
dearest, if Eustace really
is
your child, does it
not seem odd to you that Mount would indulge and pamper the son of the
man he so hates? Such deliberate destruction of moral integrity would
be fiendish, I grant you, but surely too subtle, too lengthy, to afford
immediate pleasure to a warped mind? On the other hand, Kent was… was
sold to gypsies. And later, after God knows what misery, sold again,
for a climbing boy! A nightmarish slow death for that intelligent,
sensitive child! An experience so terrible that he lost all power to
speak. And I believe
was
near death when I found
him."

Hawkhurst was so horrified he could not move and stared at her
for what seemed an eternity while doubt and fear and imagination had
their way with him. He had been drawn to the boy from the first… That
piquant, thin little face; those clear eyes and tender mouth. Such a
change from the rosy-cheeked, plump little fellow he had lost. Yet the
eyes and the colouring were the same. There was the same sweetness of
disposition, the same warm affection. He clenched his fists, fighting
hope. He must not,
dare
not, dream it to be true.
Yet already his heart was hammering uncontrollably. "That Frittenden
woman," he muttered, running a hand distractedly through his hair. "I
remember now, at the Musicale, she stopped in front of Kent."

"Yes. I saw her. She stared and stared, and then rushed out."

Hawkhurst bowed his head and gripped his throbbing temples.
Had she recognized the boy? She might have seen him recently enough to
know him.

Echoing his thoughts, Euphemia said tenderly, "Darling, don't
you see? If she identified him and told Mount, he would know his game
was almost done. I believe that is why he tried to kill you on the
tower. He dared not risk your learning the truth. He had to settle for
whatever he might be able to pry from your Grandpapa—after you were
dead."

Hawkhurst sat up straight. His mouth was dry, his mind
spinning. It made sense now. It all made sense! And the boy
did
seem to like him and had settled into Dominer almost as if—A
recollection sprang to mind that was like a blow to the heart. He was
visibly jolted, and Euphemia demanded frantically, "What? What have you
thought of?"

"His… bear…" he half whispered. "Dear heaven! Why did I not
think… ? Mia! His
bear
!"

"You saw it? But—oh, did you give it to him? Poor shabby
little bear. He loves it so, I think he has hidden it away somewhere
for fear it might be taken—"

Hawkhurst gasped and grabbed at the side of the curricle.

For a moment Euphemia feared he would collapse. Then, looking
up at her, he said in a thread of a voice, "What… what kind of… bear?
A… little carven… wooden bear?"

"No, but—How odd, I had forgot the wooden bear he carved. And
now that you mention it, that little bear had only one ear as—"'

A wild cry escaped Hawkhurst. He all but sprang to clutch her
arms and shout, "What
kind
of bear?"

"Wh-why, a stuffed bear. Very old and worn. It had been white
once, I think, and with one—"

"One ear gone! And… did anything… conceal… the torn place?"

"Yes. A blue patch."

"A… blue… patch…" he whispered. "A
blue patch
!"
He pulled her close, crushing her against him, kissing her jubilantly,
half laughing, half weeping. "My beautiful… priceless woman! A
blue
patch]
It is true! It
is
, by God! Only
one person in this entire world knew where that bear was hidden, Mia.
Jerry Bolster gave it to Avery on his second birthday, and he scarcely
let it out of his sight afterwards. When the ear came off, Nell
Henderson sewed a 'bandage' on for him. Each night, before he went to
bed, he would hide his bear in a 'secret cave.' When Avery was lost to
me, I tore the house apart, but I could not find the bear! Oh, Mia! He
is!
Kent is my son
!"

"Almost dawn…" Wetherby turned from the window and, letting
the heavy curtains fall back once more, stamped across the gold salon
to glare at Lady Bryce, who huddled in an armchair, clad in dressing
gown and cap, with a sodden handkerchief pressed to her mouth. "Almost
dawn!" he repeated grimly. "Four hours since I came home to find this
house turned topsy turvy and that groom of Hawk's strove to fob me off
with one Banbury story after another! Four hours since I had the truth
from the caper-wit! And Hawkhurst ain't back yet! What the devil's the
boy about? If he don't drag home that sly, wanton little grandaughter
of mine, I'll… I'll have done with him! Once and for all!"

"My… sweet Stephanie… !" wailed her ladyship hoarsely. "Oh,
how could that wretched boy do such a thing? And him… wed… and a
parent! I
never
trusted his sister, and so I told
you, sir! But… Buchanan! A war hero!"

"War, pudding!" snarled Wetherby. "These sprigs today don't
know what war's all about! Now, when
I
served
with Nelson,
there
was action for you!
Seventy-four guns and my
Sweet Avenger
, and when
we was engaged… Ah, but enough of that. Where is your nephew, madam?
That's
what I want to know!"

"Hawkhurst is hurt, my lord," fluttered Carlotta. "You take no
consideration of the fact the poor fellow can scarce walk. Not that I
have any least expectation he will fail, for he's a savage man when
roused. A most dreadful disposition! Heaven help that poor Buchanan
boy! He's doubtless lying dead this—"

"I hope he is!" bristled the Admiral. "Conniving libertine! If
'twere me, I'd—" He tensed as a clatter of hooves could be heard on the
drive. "They're back! By God! Now we'll see some fireworks!" He ran
into the hall, Carlotta tottering after him.

A lackey swung the doors open, and Euphemia hurried inside,
cloak flying, hair disarrayed, and eyes filled with anxiety. She
stopped at the sight of Admiral Wetherby's grim scowl and Carlotta's
tears and said a pleading, "My lord, I know—"

"You have my deepest sympathy, ma'am," snapped Wetherby, "and
my admiration that you've the courage to come back here when—" His eyes
flashed to Hawkhurst, who limped in, leaning heavily on Ponsonby's arm.
Scanning that haggard countenance, relief swept the old gentleman, but
he said nothing until the doors had closed out the interested servants.
"Well?" he barked, then. "Did you kill the slippery lecher?"

"No, sir. I did not. Where is Kent?"

"
Kent
?" thundered Wetherby. "Where
should
he be at this hour? A sight more to the point, where is my
granddaughter? You cannot tell me you failed to call the rogue out! He
caught your head, by the look of it! Downed, is he? Dying, is that it?

Should've stayed until the world was free of him, Hawk. Your
pardon, Miss Buchanan! But you young folks today do not—"

"Sir," Hawkhurst intervened impatiently, "Buchanan is neither
dead nor dying. He grazed me, and I could not bring myself to kill the
man my sister loves. I—"

"You… could… not…" Wetherby's mouth fell open, and he took an
uncertain step backward. "Do… do you seriously tell me, sir—" His voice
rose to an enraged bellow. "Do you
dare
to stand
there and tell me you'd a pistol in your fist and lacked the gumption
to blow that bigamous damned scoundrel into the hell he warrants?"

Beyond words tired, beyond belief eager, Hawkhurst said, "Sir,
I am sorry. I have failed you again. Aunt, is Kent abed?"

"By God, I begin to believe you're a changeling!" opined the
Admiral and, ignoring Carlotta's shocked cry, spluttered, "You are the
head of your house, and you stand there and mew like a kitten about
your sorrow and ask after a page boy? If you did not kill the
rapscallion, sir, then what in the hell
did
you
do? Kneel to him and offer your sister on a silver platter, with an
olive branch clutched between your craven teeth?"

Hawkhurst sighed and drew himself up. "My lord," he said in a
voice Wetherby had never before heard, "I have loved and honoured you
all my life. The time is long past when you should have been told the
truth about my marriage and… my son. In a few moments I shall explain
everything. But—" One hand was raised in an authoritative gesture that
froze the interruption boiling in Wetherby's throat. "For the time
being, I must respectfully ask that you be silent." He turned again to
his aunt. "Ma'am, will you please go and bring Kent here at once?"