The Prince of Ravenscar (18 page)

Sophie waited a moment, then walked resolutely to the maple tree. She called out, “Hello, Miss Langworth. It is a glorious day. Won't you come out and speak to me?”

She waited. Finally, Victoria emerged from behind the tree. She didn't move, simply stood there, watching Sophie, rather like a deer watching a hunter, wanting to spring away but frozen to the spot.

She looked very young to Sophie, in her schoolroom muslin gown, but Sophie knew Victoria to be close to her own age. Why had she not married? Why did she still dress like a schoolgirl?

Sophie said, “I rode Julian's horse, Cannon. Julian would have choked me if he could have gotten away with it. Actually, it was close. He was very angry with me. What do you think?”

Victoria didn't fidget, didn't move. Finally, she said, “I would choke you, too, if you stole my horse. Cannon frightens me. You really rode him? You weren't afraid?”

Sophie, all good humor, walked over to where Victoria stood, swinging her bonnet by its long violet ribbons. “No, I wasn't afraid, probably because Cannon decided to humor me. He was playful, unlike his master when he found me. Do you know Cannon comes to Julian when he whistles?”

Victoria nodded. “Yes. Julian tried to teach me to whistle once, but I could not manage it.”

“I could teach you.”

“No, no, I am too old for that now. Father keeps reminding me that I am a grown lady and I must be mature and thoughtful. Excuse me, Miss Wilkie—”

“Please call me Sophie.”

“I overheard Julian's mama speaking to my father. She said Julian was going to marry you, since your mother was her very best friend.”

Sophie merely smiled.

“Julian was married to my sister, you know,” said Victoria. “She loved him very much, at least I thought she did, but then she had private relations—that's what I heard the servants whispering to each other—with a man I never saw. I don't know if any of the servants saw him either. And then Lily was dead. It was all very sad.”

Lily had been married to Julian only six months and she'd taken a lover? Sophie said carefully, “I think her name very pretty—Lily. I'm very sorry she died.”

“She didn't die of a putrid throat, like my own dear mother, she got shot in the heart. If Lily were still alive, she would be thirty next Monday. Isn't that strange?”

“It is very strange—may I call you Victoria?”

“No one calls me that. I'm Vicky. Do you believe Julian is sorry as well?”

“How could he not be? She was his wife.”

“There was something wrong between them if Lily had private relations with another man, don't you think? But I don't think Julian shot her in the heart—I saw how shocked he was when he was trying to get her to wake up. But she couldn't, you see, she was dead.”

Vicky continued after a moment: “Such a beautiful wedding it was, at Saint Thomas's church in Ravenscar Village. They went to Italy on their wedding trip. How I wished to go with them, but Julian told me it wasn't what was done, and he patted my cheek. Lily laughed at me. I remember she twirled around and around in her lovely traveling gown, and I heard her whisper, ‘I'm free, I'm free.'

“When they returned, Julian took her to Ravenscar, and I became the mistress of Hardcross Manor. I do a good job. Did you like the beef we had for dinner last evening? It was done precisely to my recipe. It was my mother's recipe, actually. I miss her all the time, more than I miss Lily. My father never misses her, you know. I think he's glad she died. The day of her funeral, he began humming. He hums all the time now.”

Sophie wasn't pressing Vicky for information, Vicky was spitting it right out. Sophie heard herself ask, “You never saw another man, so perhaps Lily didn't have a lover; perhaps that was simply gossip.”

“Then why would she spend so much time here when she was married to Julian? I mean, she was supposed to live at Ravenscar, but she spent a great deal of time with us. She said she didn't want to take my place, that she was responsible for Ravenscar, and that was quite enough. But I ask you, Sophie, if she was always here, how could she manage Ravenscar?

“I don't think she liked Julian's mama very much. She said she was a bitch. Her grace has always been kind to me, but she wasn't my mama-in-law, so maybe that makes things different.”

Sophie said, “Her grace is really very nice. She is very kind to both Roxanne and me as well. I'm sure she was very pleased Lily was her daughter-in-law.”

“Papa was telling me perhaps we should have a party, since you don't ignore a duke's heir, and that's what Devlin is. I've known Devlin since Julian brought him to visit from Oxford. Julian had never met Devlin before he went to Oxford. Isn't that odd? Well, that is what I heard Lily tell our father. She said his father's family wished Julian didn't exist.”

“You were eavesdropping?”

“Yes, I learn everything by listening at doors or standing by the wainscoting or hiding behind draperies. I am very good at it, have been for years now.”

“The wainscoting? But how does that make you disappear?”

“Oh, I simply stand very still and no one sees me, not really. I must leave you, Miss Wilkie—Sophie. I must meet with Cook to ensure she has the correct recipe for the dinner mutton. I like to decorate it with mint, you know, that's what my mama did. I mustn't forget the Yorkshire tea cakes. My father said he quite liked Miss Radcliffe's father—Baron Roche, that is—said tea cakes were his favorite, and so perhaps she will enjoy them as well. I don't particularly care for them, but that doesn't matter, now, does it? Listen, I can hear my papa humming.”

Vicky left Sophie standing by the maple tree. Sophie didn't hear the baron humming, but then again, she didn't hear anything above the loud pounding of her heart.

What had Lily meant by saying, “I'm free, I'm free”?

S
ophie ran into the manor, nearly knocking Julian over. He grabbed her arms to steady both of them.

“Sophie? What's wrong?”

“Julian, I must speak to you immediately.”

He studied her face, then heard a soft rustling sound and looked up to see Vicky standing on the bottom stair step, smiling, looking from him to Sophie and back again. What had Vicky told her? Had it made sense? Frightened her? With Vicky, you never knew what would come out of her mouth next.

Fey, Richard called his sister, and then he would snort and add under his breath that she might as well be on the moon for all the good she was here on earth—the elfin child who would probably be happier dancing around an All Hallows' Eve bonfire than partaking of tea in a drawing room, sharing her life with family and friends.

What had she said to Sophie?

Julian drew in a deep breath. Vicky was still watching him, that smile still on her mouth. It wouldn't surprise him if two minutes from now, she turned into the mistress of Hardcross and asked them in for luncheon. It gave him a headache, probably gave a headache to her brother and father as well. He remembered Lily had said Vicky was an original. Then she'd added that Vicky always knew how best to get what she wanted, and how best to protect herself. Protect herself from what, he'd always wondered, but Lily had only shrugged, said nothing more.

“Hello, Julian,” Vicky called out. It wasn't her young-mistress-of-the-manor voice, it was her fey voice. “Isn't it a lovely day? I always adore a lovely day. I think Sophie does, too. It was lovely that day you found Lily lying dead in the garden, wasn't it?”

Julian said to Sophie, who was staring gape-mouthed at Vicky, “Come with me.” He turned on his heel and walked toward the back of the manor. He opened a narrow door and walked into the small airless estate room, used only by the baron's steward, now an old man who slept most of the time he was here, something no one appeared to mind in the least. Julian walked to another narrow door, opened it. Sophie walked past him into a small perfect gem of a garden.

She smelled jasmine, the hint of sweet lilies.

Lilies. She shuddered.

She walked past him onto well-trodden cobblestones that wound whimsically through the small garden, creating little curves and hideaways. It was natural, all the flowers spilling over one another, different scents mingling together. It was perfect.

He said in an expressionless voice, “This was Lily's favorite place when she was a child. She created this garden herself when she was eight years old, she tended it, no one else was allowed to—even after we were married she still spent most of her time here. I see her father has maintained it well in the three years she's been dead.”

Sophie slowly turned to face him. “Why did she not build a garden like this at Ravenscar?”

“She said this small garden was part of her, that she never wanted to duplicate it, even at Ravenscar.”

“But she was your wife. When she married you, Ravenscar became her home.”

“Yes.”

“Vicky told me when Lily was in her traveling gown, ready for your wedding trip, she whirled around and around and whispered ‘I'm free, I'm free.' Can you tell me from what she was now free? From whom?”

“Vicky never told me that. I wonder if she's told anyone but you. I wonder if it is even the truth, or something she merely imagined or something she made up. One must always consider all possibilities when Vicky says something provocative. Do I know why Lily whispered that, if indeed she did? No, I do not. Let's assume Lily did say that. Then that would mean Vicky picked you to tell because she had a reason to. What the reason could be, I have no idea.”

“But those simple words of Lily's raise frightening questions, Julian.”

He shrugged. “I have never been able to tell what Vicky is thinking, and I have known her all her life. She lurks about, always watching and listening. I imagine she knows every secret in Hardcross Manor. She has never said anything to me for or against my marrying again. She doesn't spend much time with anyone; she doesn't converse like regular people do.” He wondered if she'd been hiding in her father's library when he'd arrived yesterday, hiding, listening, watching. He wouldn't be at all surprised.

“She intimated Lily had a lover, but she said she never saw him. Did the servants, she wondered. She also told me she didn't think you shot Lily in the heart, because you were too shocked when you found her. Was there a lover, Julian?” Sophie whirled about, horror in her eyes at what she'd said. The words tasted rancid. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, that is none of my business. It's just that I want you to resolve this mess, and—”

Julian ran his fingers through his dark hair, making it stand on end. “No, I'm quite sure there was no lover. I've had to face it, Sophie, for there is no other conclusion—she shot herself through the heart. Why? I have no idea.” He hit one fist against the other, then gave a brutal smile. “Or I killed her, one or the other. Both Richard and his father believe I did. I don't know about you.”

She grabbed his jacket and shook him. “I have already told you I didn't for an instant believe you guilty of murder.
And of murdering your own wife?
” She shook him again. “What is wrong with you? Do you think I have rocks for brains? Stop that nonsense. Are you certain there is no one else who could have killed her?”

He smiled down at her. “I haven't known you very long, Sophie, yet you believe me innocent without knowing all the facts?”

“Of course, you moron.”

“Thank you.” He studied her face. “I wonder, would you defend me to the death, Sophie?”

“Probably. Listen to me, I happen to care about you. I don't want to see you hurt any more than you have already been. I drives me quite mad to think of Richard Langworth threatening you. And he honestly believes you killed your own wife, and he's known you all your life.”

She looked at him, straight on. “It's time you told me exactly what happened. Can you do that, Julian? Can you confide in me?”

He said nothing for several moments, then, in an emotionless voice, “I have never told anyone exactly what I saw, what I did, but yes, I will tell you.” He drew a deep breath. “I came here to Hardcross Manor that day to tell Lily I had to go to London on business, because I didn't wish to write her a letter. I heard a gunshot. She was lying over there, her skirts fanned out around her, and there was a large bloodstain covering her chest. So much blood. I remember I couldn't accept it, simply couldn't. She still held a pistol in her outstretched hand. Her beautiful hair was loose around her head, black as night her hair, and I wondered why it was down. She never wore her hair loose during the day.” He paused for a moment. “I felt as though I'd walked into a nightmare. Nothing made any sense, yet I knew it didn't matter what I thought or what I did, because everything was over.”

“Did you see anyone? This so-called lover?”

“No, no one was here, but Richard came a few moments later. He'd heard the shot and saw me on my knees beside her. He believed I'd shot her. Actually, I was trying to make her breathe, make her open her eyes, but she didn't.”

“You said the gun was in her hand.”

“Yes. Richard believed I'd placed it there. He believed she wanted to leave me, perhaps with a lover, and so I shot her.” He touched his fingertips to her mouth. “Yes, you want to say Richard is quite mad to believe me guilty, but you see, there had to be a reason he could grasp. It had to be something shattering, and a lover was the only reason he could latch on to. He was wild with grief, whereas I was cold and stiff, my brain and my body frozen. Richard threw himself on her, tried to get her to breathe, just as I had, but she didn't. He was sobbing and cursing, beside himself, yet I—I rose and stood over both of them, apart from all of it, and I felt the wet of her blood soaked through my shirt. I remember I looked at my hands. They were covered with her blood from when I'd pounded on her chest, trying to make her breathe.”