Chapter Seventeen
Nathaniel rode with Hugh into the village. In The Sail and Anchor tavern, Mallory lay on his bed in his rented room, dressed in a richly patterned dressing gown decorated with yellow dragons. There was a paucity of furniture, just a wooden table and chair on bare boards. The rank smells of unwashed bodies, stale ale and smoke from the tavern below fouled the air. Mallory’s coat and a spare shirt hung neatly on the chair back. A basin, clothes brush, hairbrush and razor were lined up over the table along with an empty tankard.
A red mist passed over Nathaniel’s eyes at the sight of him, and his hands formed fists at his sides. He steadied himself. His aim was to get this man behind bars and see him hang.
Mallory rolled off the bed and stood. Running his hands through his hair, his bloodshot eyes flickered to Hugh’s face then back to Nathaniel’s. “Good of you to return my call, Lord Lanyon. I trust you’ve brought my money.”
“For what?”
His fingers wrestled with the top button on his shirt. “I was called away before I was paid my wages.”
The man had gall, he’d give him that. He also had grandiose ideas above his station. But would he have taken a chance and come back if he’d murdered Amanda? It was hard for Nathaniel to dispel his long-held belief that the man had pushed Amanda over the cliff. What else might have caused him to run? Had he been scared off by Amanda’s murderer, suspecting he was next? Or was it fear that one of the gang would give him up to the police? Mallory was certainly scared now. It was in his stiff shoulders and the way he refused to meet Nathaniel’s eyes. He’d gotten the gardening job because of Mrs. Madge, but Nathaniel had never liked the man. Thought the world owed him a living. And he no doubt saw Amanda as a means to better himself.
It might be two years ago, but recalling the chain of events leading up to Amanda’s death brought it back fresh and stark. After Nathaniel had returned from a trip to London, he suspected Amanda’s relationship with Mallory had progressed to an affair, although she’d denied it. The trauma he suffered as a child because of his parents’ breakup and his mother’s subsequent death, and then his taciturn father who’d ignored his existence, came rushing back. It almost brought him to his knees and left him hopelessly sad, hollow and empty.
Having wrestled his emotions into some semblance of order, he eyed Mallory coldly. Nathaniel was damned if he knew what Amanda had seen in him. Was it his blond looks? Surely not his oily charm. It surprised him that although he wished to serve bloody justice on this man, he did so without a twinge of jealousy.
Nathaniel rested his booted foot on the chair and leaned his arms on his knee to distract himself from grabbing Mallory by the scruff of the neck. “Glad to see that you had the good sense to return to Wolfram. You can clear your name of the recent spate of smuggling, if, as you say, you are innocent.”
“You think that’s why I’m here?” Mallory smoothed back his hair. “I’ve never been involved in smuggling. Not back then and not now. My nose is clean.”
A man like Mallory would never pass up the opportunity to make money, through good means or bad. “Yet you ran off with your tail between your legs. The sign of a guilty man, wouldn’t you say?”
Mallory attempted a leer, but it failed to match his watchful eyes. “I didn’t run. I went after a lady I fancied. And now I need money to marry her. Money that you owe me, milord.” He spat it out with another unpleasant smile. “I doubt you’ll want me to spread it about that you don’t pay your staff. Not to those who already think ill of you.”
“Why you returned is of no interest to me. There are questions you must answer,” Nathaniel said.
“You will tell the constable all you know or rot in jail until you do,” Hugh said in a rough voice, stepping closer as if about to thump the truth out of him.
Nathaniel cast Hugh a warning glance. The villagers were ignorant of Mallory’s sordid past. Any action they took against him themselves would only make matters worse. “I find it interesting that you’ve turned up at this particular time, however.”
Mallory shrugged into his coat. “And if I choose to tell the constable to go to the devil?”
“Then he will find a reason to lock you up until you agree,” Hugh interjected. “We’re close to rounding up the gang. And guilty or not, you’ll be tarred with the same brush. If you don’t come clean with what you know, it could go very badly for you.”
Mallory swallowed. “I didn’t have anything to do with it, I tell you. I’ve been miles away! But I keep my ear to the ground. If I tell you who’s behind it, will you give me my pay and let me go?”
“I can’t make any promises. If you’re cleared of any wrongdoing, then yes.” Nathaniel jerked his head toward the door. “We’ll escort you to the police station.”
Several hours later, he and Hugh left Mallory with the constable. Having spilled all he said he knew, Mallory demanded to be allowed to go about his business.
“Not a bad day’s work,” Hugh said.
“Good that we now have the name of the scoundrel running it from London,” Nathaniel said. “Let’s hope next time the local lads will think twice before they get caught up in it.”
“Once their mates hang.” Hugh glanced at Nathaniel. “Mallory lies with ease; he’s in this up to his neck.”
“Then it won’t go so well for him, will it?” It was good to hear Hugh thought the same. That Nathaniel’s low opinion of Mallory did not color his judgement.
“He’s acted to save his own skin. And it’s not the first time.”
It chilled Nathaniel to admit it, but if Mallory had stayed around after Amanda died, he would have taken matters into his own hands and beaten him within an inch of his life. But then Mallory was gone and it was too late. Time had the advantage of him dealing with this with a cooler head.
“Want to tell me about it, Your Lordship?” Hugh asked with a sideways glance.
“I don’t think so, Hugh,” Nathaniel replied, aware he’d fallen into a grim silence. “But I’ll buy you an ale.”
***
After lunch, Laura walked over to Cilla’s cottage to invite her to Nathaniel’s birthday dinner.
Cilla was dressed in her painter’s smock. There was a smudge of red paint on her fingers, and the smell of oil paint and turpentine wafted through the rooms. In her studio nook, a painting rested on the easel, covered with a cloth.
“May I see it?” Laura asked.
“I never reveal my work until it’s completed,” Cilla said, her smile lacking humor.
“Very well.” She smiled at the older woman, pleased to see her. Cilla was capable of extravagant and flamboyant gestures. But right now, she was the closest thing to a friend Laura had in this part of the world. “A landscape or a portrait?”
Cilla shook her head. “You are impatient. Care for tea?”
“No, thank you. I came with an invitation.” Laura explained about the dinner as they sat together on the sofa.
“Nathaniel’s birthday. He will enjoy that.”
Laura grimaced. “I hope so. I don’t know many people here yet, apart from you and another couple Nathaniel has invited. There’s also the vicar and his wife and the Thrompton ladies. I think Nathaniel will invite Hugh Pitney as well. You will come?”
“Of course I shall. You can’t have odd numbers at the table.”
Laura eyed her, wondering if Cilla was being serious. “Nathaniel doesn’t seem to welcome a fuss. Perhaps it’s due to his childhood. His mother died while he was away at school. I don’t suppose you remember her.”
“Vaguely. She was a pretty woman. Seldom here—caught up in social affairs. I doubt Nathaniel saw much of her.”
“Even so, a boy would be sad to lose his mother so young.”
Cilla tilted her head. “I dare say.”
Laura realized her motives were painfully transparent and her need to understand her husband far too obvious. “Theo Mallory has returned to Wolfram. Did you know?”
“I heard. Nothing much happens in Wolfram Village without everyone knowing.”
Except for how a young mother-to-be could plunge to her death over a cliff. “Why did Mallory leave his position here, do you know?”
“Nathaniel probably fired him. If he did, he had good reason.”
“He would never be unfair. He’s a stickler for correctness.” Except in the bedchamber, she thought with a rush of remembering. She rose and walked around the room, bending to smell lilies in a vase on the table.
Cilla examined a fingernail, picking at crimson paint. “A maid from the abbey told me she thought Amanda carried Theo’s baby. Not true, of course.”
Shocked, Laura stared at her. “Is she still in Nathaniel’s employ?”
“Mina left Wolfram about the same time as Mallory. I thought maybe she went with him. She was jealous of Amanda. Wanted Mallory for herself.”
“How can people be so vile?”
“They can and frequently are,” Cilla said, her eyes bleak.
Laura’s thoughts had been centered on Nathaniel and Amanda. Had venomous gossip been leveled at Cilla too? “Gossip is very often untrue. Vicious stories made up by people with too much time on their hands. Have you heard anything said about this in the village?”
“Not a word. The staff wouldn’t spread that lie. They are very loyal to Nathaniel. Some in the village suspect Nathaniel killed Amanda. And if a rumor spread that she was carrying Mallory’s baby, it would have given Nathaniel a good reason to have killed her, don’t you think?”
Laura stared at her, horrified. “You are sure that she and Mallory weren’t lovers?”
Cilla annoyed Laura by shrugging. “Who knows what people get up to? If Amanda had wanted him, she would have had him.”
Laura frowned. It was a harsh thing to say about a friend who could not defend herself. “That’s not very nice.”
“No. But realistic.” She put a hand on Laura’s arm. “Come, my dear. It’s all in the past. Most unfortunate to have that man back here again though, dredging up all the memories. But Nathaniel will likely banish him from Wolfram.”
“I would rejoice if he did. I disliked Mallory on sight.”
“Yes, I believe you would, Laura.”
“Why is that?”
“You’re more intelligent than Amanda.”
Do men prefer less complicated women? Perhaps her mother was right. Troubled, Laura left Cilla and walked across the park. Amanda might be gone, but she left a tide of misery and pain in her wake. She found the possibility that Amanda had carried Mallory’s child difficult to believe. More likely the spite of a disgruntled maid. Nathaniel must be aware of the gossip. Tears welled up, and she whisked them away. She wanted to fly to him and comfort him but feared he wouldn’t welcome it. Not when he’d made Amanda’s bedchamber a shrine he still visited and left flowers on her grave. For surely it must be him. Who else could it be?
The huge oaks threw deep violet shadows across the lawns. The trees were turning, and there was a new crispness to the air. Autumn was upon them. The season would be beautiful here. “Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,” Laura quoted. The sickly poet, Keats, had a good reason to feel melancholic. But autumn always seemed a sad season to Laura too. She loved to be outdoors and disliked the end of bright summer days, the long, dreary nights of winter approaching.
As she walked, a worry she’d dealt with during her sleepless nights gripped her with a new sense of urgency. What if she couldn’t give Nathaniel a son? They made love almost every night. Why wasn’t she with child? Her mother had said that was why Nathaniel had married her, and although Laura hadn’t wanted to believe it, it was true that he needed an heir. Could their marriage be happy if the years went by with no children to bring them closer?
She drew in a sharp breath. She must see Aunt Dora. She was even prepared to believe the Tarot. If a reading gave her some hope.
Reaching the lane, a sense of purpose drove her to hurry. She would write immediately and try to persuade Dora to forgo her London soirées for a visit to Cornwall. Even as Laura formed the words of her letter in her mind, she suffered another stab of guilt. She hadn’t yet invited her mother.