The Last of Lady Lansdown (27 page)

They rode in silence until Rennie spoke again. “You know I’m deucedly fond of her,” he said in an earnest voice. “Even though—”

“Even though what?”

For a long moment, Rennie remained silent. “I proposed, you know. She turned me down.”

“She did?” Jane was genuinely surprised. “She never said a word.”

“Perhaps she thought it wasn’t worth mentioning,” Rennie replied in a pensive voice. “I know she meant well and did her best to be kind, but she likened me to a friendly puppy dog. That rather hurt my feelings.”

How awful
. How could Millicent make such a cutting remark? Jane really didn’t want to cause this kind, compassionate man any grief, but the time had come for honesty. “I know she admires you greatly, but anything beyond that—”

“I am desperate, Countess, sick with love for her. I know I’m not a romantic figure, but do you think there’s any possibility she could ever like me in a special way?”

“I do believe she likes you as a friend, Lord Rennie.” This was painful. “I, personally, see in you a man who is mature, compassionate, dependable, and ... oh, my, you have so many excellent qualities it’s impossible to name them all. It would seem, though, that Millicent prefers a ... sort of dashing, handsome, devil-may-care type of man, the kind who could sweep her off her feet and carry her off to his cave, if you understand my meaning.”

Rennie laughed wryly. “Oh, I understand full well, Countess. I know I’m far from handsome, nor could I ever claim to be dashing or devil-may-care, but ... may I speak honestly?”

“Please do.”

“If she could ever find it in her heart to consider a man who loves her dearly, who would lay down his life to protect her, then perhaps I would have a chance.”

“I do understand. I’m so sorry. If I could wave a magic wand over my sister’s head, I would do so and make her fall instantly, madly in love with you, and that’s because I, for one, am of the opinion she could search the kingdom wide and never find a better man than you. But the problem is—”

“The problem is, she doesn’t love me.” Rennie sighed. “Well, don’t be sorry. We have no control over matters of the heart. If Millicent doesn’t care for me, there’s nothing you, nor I, nor anyone can do to change her mind. Let’s stop a moment.” They reined in their horses and sat looking at the swollen river. A log came floating by, twisting and turning in the swift, black current. “I don’t like the looks of this. The river is nearly overflowing its banks.”

“It’s far from the tranquil River Hulm,” Jane replied with a worried note in her voice.

Rennie pointed across the torrent toward the Twimby’s farm. “If the river overflows, the banks will break on the other side first. That farm will be right in its path.”

Jane realized she hadn’t seen Meg for several days. Was she all right? She decided that after she and Rennie finished their ride, she would pay a visit across the river.

When they continued on, Rennie spoke not another word about Millicent, for which Jane was most grateful. On the way back, when they came to the wooden bridge, Jane bid him goodbye. As expected, at sight of the bridge, Beauty performed her usual nervous dance, but with some urging from Jane, the edgy horse finally condescended to trot over the wooden boards.

Arriving at the farm house, Jane observed that it looked even more dismal than when she saw it the first time. The few chickens, even scragglier than before, wandered around a yard full of thick mud. Jonathan, the twelve-year-old, was halfheartedly shoveling muck from the lean-to stable on the side.

“Your ladyship!” Meg exclaimed when she opened the door. Little Molly peeked out from behind her skirts. “I am honored. Do come in.”

Meg looks thinner.
Jane bent low and stepped across the threshold. When her eyes adjusted to the dark interior, she saw Edwin Twimby’s empty bed. “Your father?”

“My dad died two days ago.” Meg’s voice caught as she spoke.

“I am so sorry.”

“Thank you, but he was in such pain those last days, even the laudanum wasn’t working anymore. He ...” Tears welled in Meg’s eyes. “We must carry on. Sorry, but I can’t offer you any buttermilk today. The cow’s gone dry.”

Jane’s heart filled with sympathy for this poor family that had just lost its one remaining parent. “Water will do just fine.” Her eyes strayed to a straw mattress in the corner where Matthew, the seven-year-old, lay pale and drawn, his eyes closed.

“He’s sick, I’m afraid,” said Meg. “It’s the flu. I’ve been giving him barley water for the fever.”

Jane knew better than to ask if Matthew had seen the doctor. Of course, he had not. The Twimbys could not afford such a luxury.

They sat at the old wooden table, little Molly in Meg’s lap, and fell into a comfortable conversation, like old friends. “Do you think the rain has stopped for good?” Meg asked with a worried frown. “I’ve lived here all my life and I’ve never seen that river so high. If it overflows its banks, I don’t know what we can do, except run for the hills.”

“If the water starts to rise, you must come to Chatfield Court at once. You would be safe there. It’s higher up.”

Meg broke into a wide, open smile. “That will be the day! I can just see the look on Mrs. Elton’s face if the four of us show up on your doorstep along with ten chickens, one goat, and Jupiter. Let alone the cows!”

“You needn’t worry. Don’t forget, I am still the countess.”

“That reminds me, is there anything new?” Meg inquired, clearly asking in a delicate way if Jane had finally come ’round.

“Nothing new.” Jane hated to lie, and she wouldn’t if not for Mama. She quickly switched to another subject and went on to describe in detail the terrible fire at the stables. Meg listened breathlessly to her gripping account of how she rescued Beauty. At the end, Meg asked if she knew how the fire had started. “We’re not sure,” Jane told her. She longed to speak the truth—that Beatrice and Percy were responsible—but she knew it was best, at least for the moment, to keep her silence.

Later, Meg described her father’s passing. “It truly was a blessing when God took him home.”

Jane listened intently, her heart full of sympathy. “Will you be all right?”

“I ... am not sure. At least we had a good crop this year, but, of course, with the higher rent—” Meg bit her lip. “Sorry. You have enough problems without me adding mine.”

“Don’t be sorry. I tried to do something about the rents but I fear it’s out of my hands.” Each time Jane recalled her humiliating visit with Sir Archibald, she felt sick inside. She wished she could wipe it from her memory.

“Now that you’re here, your ladyship, there is something I ...” Meg shifted little Molly on her lap.

“You want to tell me something?”

Meg nodded decisively, as if she’d just made up her mind. “Yes, I do. It’s about Mrs. Elton. I don’t mean to tattle, but I think you should know—”

“If it’s about Mrs. Elton, then I definitely should know. Do go on.”

“Before Percy left for London, he and his mother practically tore the mansion apart looking for the Lansdown jewels.”

“Really?” Jane frowned in puzzlement. “How could they do such a thing when I’m usually there and so is my family?”

“She’s very sly, that one.” Meg made a face that revealed her dislike. “When she was sure you were not around, she and Percy dug into closets, looked under the beds, scoured the mansion for every possible place you could have hidden the jewels. I don’t think she found them, though.”

“I know she thinks I took them.”

“She does, but I know you did not, m’lady.”

Jane smiled softly. “How can you be so sure?”

“I know you, and I know you’re a woman of honor and integrity, and you would never do such a thing.”

If only you knew
. No, she had not stolen the jewels, but she had yet to denounce Mama’s sordid scheme, and that most certainly made her
not
a woman of honor. “I appreciate your telling me about Mrs. Elton. Actually nothing would please me more than if she found the jewels.”

“Maybe that’s why she went down to London. Maybe she found them and wanted to sell them.”

“Perhaps. I don’t know what I can do about it right now, but I’m sure all will be resolved, and soon.”

Why had she just made such a ridiculous statement? She had no idea what was going to happen. She just had a feeling that whatever it was, it would not be good.

Chapter 16

As Jane rode back to Rennie’s stables, Meg’s words,
I know you’re a woman of honor
, kept sounding in her head. What kind of honor would she have if she agreed to Mama’s scheme? Well, she knew the answer to that, and it was
none
. On the other hand ... She loved her mother dearly and knew her heart would be broken if she didn’t at least try to go along with the lie.

Dear Lord, what am I going to do?

Riding Beauty at a walk, she passed the spot by the river where she and Douglas had stopped for their picnic ... and other things. She got a tingling in the pit of her stomach just thinking about how he kissed her, unbuttoned her shirt, pulled aside her chemise, stretched her out in the sunshine before God and the cows. Desire coursed through her body. Despite everything, she still wanted him, wanted a man who said he would never marry, a man who had made it clear he would soon be off to America, alone. Well, she would have nothing more to do with him. As soon as she arrived home, she would inform her mother that no way in the world could she be a party to such a vile, immoral scheme. Furthermore, as soon as the Eltons returned, she would give them the news they were waiting for.

Something soft brushed her cheek. A raindrop? She held out her palm. Just what they didn’t need—more rain.

* * * *

“Douglas!” Rennie, busy at his desk in the library at Lancaster House, looked up in surprise. “Back so soon? I thought you would be gone another week or so.”

Douglas Cartland, weary after a long journey by horseback, settled himself in one of Rennie’s fine Louis XV gilt chairs and thrust his mud-splattered boots toward the welcoming flames in the marble fireplace. “Your canal is nearly complete, if that’s what you’re thinking of. We finished the tunnel. We’re almost done with the last set of locks. By the way, we used cast iron—much better than stone.”

“From the looks of you, you could do with some port.” Rennie poured two glasses from a crystal decanter and gave one to his friend. He settled into the matching gilt chair on the other side of the fireplace. “So why did you return early? Surely it wasn’t to tell me you used cast iron instead of stone?”

Douglas contemplated his glass of port. “Have you noticed it’s raining again? It started not long before I arrived.”

“So? What has the rain got to do with your return?”

“I haven’t seen this amount of rain for years. If you must know, it makes me uneasy.”

“We have had rainy seasons before.”

“Not like this,” Douglas said. “Never like this.”

“So what do you think will happen?” With a smile Rennie continued, “Will we all be drowned, do you think? Would you recommend I build an ark?”

His smile soon faded. Douglas, usually quick to respond to his friend’s sharp wit, remained straight-faced, his brow furrowed. “It has happened before.”

“Ah, yes. I seem to recall some legend about how the River Hulm flooded its banks and caused a bit of damage a few centuries ago.”

“More than a ‘bit of damage,’ as you so casually put it. Back in the fourteenth century, a wall of water twenty feet high swept through this valley. It destroyed the village of Sudberry and everything else in its path.”

“A piddling river like the Hulm? I had no idea. How is that possible?”

“As you know, the River Hulm flows through a steep, narrow canyon upstream from here.” Douglas motioned his head to the north. “The flood no doubt started in that narrow canyon. I can only make an educated guess, but I would wager conditions weren’t much different than they are today. A narrow gorge, steep walls, little foliage, a sudden cloudburst that dumps ten to twenty inches of rain, and suddenly you have a wall of water crashing down the canyon to the valley below.”

“’Pon my word! We would all have to run for the hills.”

“Not you, Rennie. Lancaster Hall is high enough up the slope that I doubt the waters would reach you, but—”

“Chatfield Court?” Rennie asked, unsmiling. “It’s closer to the river.”

Douglas nodded grimly. “Chatfield Court would be directly in its path, as would all the little farms along the river clear to Sudberry.”

“What about Sudberry?”

“What do you think would happen if a wall of water filled with trees, boulders, and God-knows-what came crashing down upon the town?”

“Good God.” Rennie sat silent, properly impressed, no doubt conjuring up a ghastly vision of the horror that would ensue should such a disaster occur. “Do you really think it could happen again?”

“Who can say? I only know that this constant rain has thoroughly soaked the ground. One more good rainstorm and the water will have no place to go except ...” Douglas shrugged.

“What can we do?”

“Pray the rain stops.”

“Oh, I shall.”

“To be more specific, better pray a cloudburst doesn’t open up over that canyon to the north.”

Rennie took a sip of port. After a long moment of silence, he said, “Surely that’s not the only reason for your early return. Aside from your fears about a flood that might or might not occur, what else?”

Douglas gazed toward the window and sighed. “That’s all.”

“No it’s not. It’s the countess, isn’t it? You couldn’t stay away from her.”

“Why would you think so?”

“Your attraction to her is as plain as the nose on your face. Don’t forget, I was there the night of the fire. I noted your behavior. A tender scene, if ever there was one. The way you held her in your arms—as if you’d just made love, not just carried her away from the fire.”

Douglas opened his mouth to protest, then changed his mind. “Damn you, Rennie, you’re too perceptive for your own good.”

“Aha! I thought so.”

“Have you ever been in love?”