The Unaccomplished Lady Eleanor (37 page)

James raised his e
yes to the loft
. 
‘
You’re not wrong there, Jack. 
Indeed,
come to think of it,
I have had quite a number of near misses over the last few weeks.  I
seem to have
more lives than a cat.
’

The men chuckled politely, assuming James was making light of the situation.  His expression, though, could not have been more serious. 
Elean
or’s pulse quickened. 
Obviously it was beginning to dawn on James, too, that there could be more to these ‘accidents’.
 
And that
he
– rather than Eleanor -
could be the intended victim. 
Recalling all th
e previous incidents, it suddenly occurred to her
that James had been with her at every one
of them.  E
ven at the
soiré
e
, had he not been distracted by the odious Smithers, then he
,
too
,
could have fallen down the open trap door.  In fact, if he hadn’t invited her to join him and Madeleine, then the accident would have befallen only him. 
But why would Felicity want
to kill
James?  Without
him
it would be impossible
for
the girl to realize her ambitions
.  Perhaps then, Felicity was trying to kill Eleano
r and someone else was trying to kill James
.  But that would mean there were
two would-be murderers on the loose
- which
was completely ludicrous.  So what on earth
was going on?  She held her breath as Jack nimbly climbed the wooden ladder to the loft. 

‘
Ain’t
nothing to be seen up here,
’
he shouted down. 
‘
Reckon the fork’s
been propped up badly a
nd the rats have knocked it over
.
’

By the look upon James’s face,
it was obvious that
Jack’s theory was several hundred miles away from his own.

‘
Stevens!
’
boomed the
d
owager
from her fireside chair.
‘
Tell Lady Madeleine that I wish her to join me for tea this afternoon.
  I have not set eyes on the woman
for days
.
’

Embroidering in the corner, it s
uddenly
occurred to Eleanor
that she
, too,
had not set ey
es on Madeleine for some time.  Thankfully. 

‘
Begging your pardon,
your g
race,
’
muttere
d Stevens, returning to the room some
minutes later
,
‘
but Lady Madeleine says to inform you that she is somewhat indisposed today.
’

The
d
owager
lift
ed her lorgnette to study Steven’s obsequious face.
 
‘
In-dis-posed?
 
What on
earth does she mean by that
, man
?
’

‘
I
believe she has
the
headache, ma’am.
’

‘
The
headache?
But she is to
meet Madame
Aminieux this evening.
’

‘
Apparently she has already sent word
of her indisposition
to the
woman’s husband
, your grace
,
’
informed Stevens, his voice noticeably quivering. 

‘
Has she indeed?
’
sniffed the
d
owager
, lowering her lorgnette and pursing her lips
.

Eleanor
, conversely,
was not
the least
bit
surprised.  Madeleine obviously
considered an acquaintance with a mere
dancing master
and his wife
quite beneath her.  She
wondered, as she stabbed at the linen with her needle, if the woman’s headache would be so
bad as to t
urn away her lover this evening.  She would wager all she owned that it would not. 

The days were growing decidedly hotter and
so,
subsequently
,
were the nights.
Eleanor tossed and turned for several hours before admitting defeat and slipping out from under the cover.  She pulled her armchair up to the window and, hugging her knees to her chest, gazed up at the clear night sky.  The owl, which had awoken her a few nights previously, once again dominated the scene, swooping low in its hunt for sustenance.  She watched its graceful form suddenly dive behind a gorse bush and reappear a few seconds later with a mouse dangling precariously from its beak. 

Her attenti
on was diverted by
footsteps in the corridor. 
A cocktail of j
ealousy and anger
pulsed through
her
. 
She had to admit that James did an admirable job of disguising his
lust for Madeleine during daylight hours
.  If one didn’t know better, it could easily be assumed that he found the woman intolerable.  Despite herself, she padded over to the keyhole and crouched down to it just as
the
familiar blue
robe march
ed
past
- and
something pai
nful twisted in her stomach. 

*

‘
James, darling,
’
bleated
M
adeleine, as she butter
ed
her
toast at breakfast the next morning,
‘
I do
so
wish to go to Lady Armitage’s party this evening.  Please can we go, my sweet?
’

James sighed as he reached for the
coffee pot. 
‘
I have already told you a dozen time
s
, Madeleine,
I am in no mood for parties
.  B
esides, I thought you were ill.
’

Madeleine ceased her buttering and gazed at James in astonishment
. 
‘
Ill
?
’
she
repeated, wrinkling her
forehead. 
‘
Whoever told you I was
ill?
’

‘
Was that not your excuse for n
ot seeing the
Aminieuxs yesterday
evening?’

Madeleine rolled her eyes and continue
d
her buttering. 
‘
Really, James, I
think it is quite rude of the man to ask me.  How on earth does anyone expect me to meet a
dancing master
and his wife
, for goodness’ sake?
 
Now,
enough of that,
darling
.   P
lease
let us go to the
party this evening.  It will b
e such fun and I have purchased
the most delightful gown.
’

‘
I am sure the gown will suffice perfectly well for another occasion,
’
mutter
ed James, his tone ripe with impatience
,
as he raised his cup to his lips.

Madeleine
set down her
knife and regarded him through lowered lashes.
‘
No it will not,
’
she replied in a tear-stained voice. 
‘
If I do not wear that gown
tonight, I may have no other need of it this Season and I could not possibly wear it next year
.  It
will be quite out of mode.
’
  A lone t
ear rolled down her smooth cheek.

Derek Lovell, making a rare appearance at the breakfast table, shot her a sardonic glance. 
‘
My, my,
’
he remarked
, loading his fork with scrambled egg,
‘
what
pressing problem
s you poor women have to deal with
.
’

Ma
deleine’s tearful eyes
adopted an icy glaze. 
‘
Given that your dealings with
women are undoubtedly
limited, Mr Lovell,
may I suggest
you keep your worthless opinions to yourself.
’

Lovell’s lips twisted into a sneer
. 
‘
You can suggest whatever you like, Lady Madeleine,
but
no
woman
will ever tell me what to do.
’

‘
Oh, really?
’
replied Madeleine
arch
ly.
‘
You do surprise me, sir.  I would have thought that women were f
orever telling you what to do.  Like, for example …
ge
t away from me
.
’

All at once, James flung down his napkin and thrust
to his feet. 
‘
For God’s sake, if
you two
cannot be civil,
then stay out of each other’s way or, at the very least, out of mine. I am sick to th
e back teeth of all the
bickering in this house.
’
 
And, in
a flash
, he disappeared from the room, slamming the door
behind him. 

NINETEEN

L
ady
Ormiston, so Giles had informed
Eleanor
, had been ordered to her bed again.  Eleanor had had to
bite back a smile
.  She could
not imagine
the dowager accepting
orders from anyone,
let
alone the sparrow-like
D
r Gosport
.
However, taken to her bed she had, with a severe case of laryngitis
.  The doctor had warned that any attempt to
speak
could
seriously damage her vocal chords
, and he had
le
ft specific instructions that the old lady
was to receive plenty of rest and to remain complet
ely silent until her throat was
recovered.  Eleanor
was almost certain she had
observed a flicker of relief and elation sweep
over Ste
vens’
s
normally anxious features
when James had
informed the footman
of his aunt’s predicament.

It was such a beautiful
day that Eleanor
arranged a picnic hamper from the kitchens and drove her and Milly o
ver to the Maguires’ cottage
.  They spent a delightful
day there but, as evening
fell,
Eleanor said her goodbyes
and insisted Milly spend the evening with her family.  Driving the
gig home alone,
she
marvelled at how the happy atmosphere of the Maguires’ cottage always had an uplifting effect on her, making her temporarily forget all her wretched problems
–
not least
that somebody wanted her dead
. 
As the formidable c
astle came into view,
her spirits dived and a
sliver of
icy
apprehension
flashed
down her spine
causing her to shudder. 
She would take dinner in her room this evening, she
resolved, not wishing to spen
d a moment longer than
necessary
in the presence of
t
he moody, petulant, arrogant, suffocating
guests
.

Handing over the gig to Jack at the stable block
,
Eleanor
exchanged some light-hearted chatter with the boy before
entering the castle.  She then informed
Giles of her dinner plans
and went
directly to her chambers.
H
aving
spent an hour or so
reading
on her bed
, there was a knock at
t
he
door and Stevens appeared with her supper
tray o
f
baked carp and new potatoes. 
He placed the tray
on her writing bureau and Eleanor
had just removed the silver dome
w
hen she heard an almighty bang followed by the sound of shattering glass.  In a flash,
she
darted over to the
window from where she observed Jack and two othe
r grooms sprinting towards the c
astle from the stable block.  All three men
were gazing
at the floor below hers as they ran. 

Eleanor’s stomach lurch
ed and tendrils of panic snaked around her
.  Something
was terribly wrong. 
Flying to the door, she flung it
open,
tore along the corridor and bounded down the stone stair
s
to the lower floor.  Once there, she spotted an open door from which she could hear voices.  S
he barged into the room and came to an immediate hal
t in front of
an obviously dumbstruck James Prestonville
, sitting on a
chaise-longue
, w
earing nothing but a dressing
-gown. 
Eleanor’s eyes were immediately drawn to his strong muscular legs covered in fine dark hair, which were clearly visible from just above the knee.  She gulped and
attempted to gather her thoughts
.  This was not the time to
daydream
about what
else
the robe might be concealing. 

Dav
ies, James’s valet, a
tall, thin
, balding
man was by a window,
extracting the
remaining shards of glass
from the
frame.  The re
st
was scattered a
ll over the Persian carpet
.

At
tempting to control the colour rising in her cheeks, Eleanor adopted a business-like tone. 
‘
What
on earth has happened
?
’
she demanded
.

James did not even look at her. 

‘
It was a shot, miss,
’
replied
Davies
disbelievingly. 
‘
Someone shot at Maste
r
James
through this
window.
’

Eleanor’s jaw
dropped.
‘
Somebody
shot
at him?  But-but … how … who?
’

‘
Can’t say, miss. 
Didn’t see a thing, for all I
was
at the window in a flash.  I
f I ever get my hands on them they’ll be-
’

‘
But … I don’t understand. 
How would anyone dare-
?
’

‘
Oh they dare, miss.  Got a
neck for anything these days, they have.  You wouldn’t want to know
the tales I’ve been hearing about what them highwaymen are getting up to – and with innocent folk too - folk just going about their own business. J
ust like the master
here.
T
here I was, miss, getting him ready for Lady Armitage’s party and-
’

‘
But
he didn’t want to go to
Lady Armitage’s party,
’
exclaime
d a bewildered
Eleanor, aware that she was speaking about James as if he were not present. 
‘
He stated quite emphat
ically
that he had no desire at all to-
’

‘
Changed his mind, miss,
’
informed the valet
,
matter-of-factly.

‘
I see,
’
sighed
Eleanor, sickened a
s she imagined
the tricks Madeleine might have employed in order to bring about James’s change of min
d. 
‘
Well, I
suppose I had better
leave
you to your clearing up, Davies.’

The valet
inclined his head to her
. 
But, as Eleanor was leaving the room, a thought
struck her. 

‘
Davies,
t
his
may sound like a
strange questi
on but is that his own dressing-
robe Master James is wearing?
’

‘
Of course, miss,
’
replied the valet.
‘
Who else’s would he be wearing?
’

Not surprisingly, Eleanor’s eyes had not closed for an
instant that night as she had tried to make sense of this latest incident.  She
rose early
,
hop
ing that a ride before breakfast
might
clear her head. 
Crossing to the stable block, she became aware of
two men on horseback clattering up the drive.  They
came to a halt before her.
 

‘
Begging your pardon
, miss,
’
said
t
he older of the two
,
thick grey sideburns peeping out from under his grubby hat,
‘
but we’re looking for a Mr Lovell.
’
  His accent h
ad a thick northern twang.  I
t was obvious, despite their aspiring appearances
, that
these were no gentlemen.

‘
Mr Lovell?
’
repeated Eleanor, at once on her guard. 
‘
I have not seen him this morning. 
Most likely he has n
ot yet returned.
’

‘
Not yet returned
?
’
repeated the second man. 
‘
Well
,
we can guess what
he’s been up to all night
.
’
 
They both sniggered
before the second man said
, ‘P
erhaps you’d be good enough to pass on a message to him, miss?
’

‘
Of course,
’
replied Eleanor warily. 

‘
Tell him that wherever he goes, Dick and Sam’ll track him down.  Tell him we’re looking for payment in full this time, and if we don’t get it …
’

Eleanor’s eyes widened in horror as the man
made a gesture with his index finger across the width of his throat.

‘
Oh,
’
she spluttered. 
‘
V
ery well then.
I will …
er
…
pass that
message
on.
’

‘
You do that miss,
’
smil
ed the man. 
‘
And tell him we’ll be back same time tomorrow and whether he’s
here
or not, we’ll be wanting our money.
’

Eleanor nodded numbly as the two men wheeled their
horses around and thundered
back down the drive
, laughing raucously
. 
She watched until they disappeared out of sight, then she turned back towards the castle. 
Her desire to ride out alone
in the countryside
had completely deserted her. 

She
entered the breakf
ast-
room to find James and
Madeleine alre
ady there. James was as
white as a sheet and
appeared
wholly fatigued.  Madeleine, on the other hand, appeared to be in full flow,
turning
the recent drama to her advantage.  Eleanor slipped into her chair
at the very moment the Hungarian
dropp
ed
her knife and
pressed
the back of her hand to her forehead.  

‘
Oh my word,
’
she
puffed theatrically.
‘
Whenever I imagine
that bullet o
nly inches away from you, James
,
it makes me positively weak
.
’

Jame
s tossed her a disparaging glance
as he raised his coffee cup to his lips. 
‘
The image
does not exactly fill me with joy, Madeleine,
’
he retorted sourly
.

Madeleine tossed her head of blonde curls before picking up her knife and resuming the dissection of a kipper. 
‘
But th
at man
sh
ould be punished for it at once. 
We must pay a visit to the Bow Street Runners as soon
as we have finished breakfast
.
’

James
set down his cup. 
‘
Don’t be ridiculous, Madeleine
. 
We have no idea who was responsible.
’

Madeleine
regarded him with h
er startling blue eyes. 
‘
O
f course we do, my darling.  W
ho else could it
possibly
have been?
’