Chapter Twenty-Seven
Something woke Laura. Finding Nathaniel gone from the bed, she propped herself up on her elbows. The last few days, he’d remained with her until morning. Moonlight swept through the gap in the curtains and cast a silvery glow into the far corner of the room. She watched, transfixed, as the light appeared to take shape. Did she imagine the force that seemed to gather in the room? Strange that she wasn’t afraid.
“What do you want?” The shape shifted and formed the vague outline of a woman. “Is it you, Amanda?” Laura whispered.
Silence.
Laura gripped the bedcover, unable to move, fighting to penetrate the gloom. A breeze stirred the curtains, and the ray of moonlight shifted. This was ridiculous. She found the matches, and with trembling fingers, lit a candle. The bedroom looked the same as it always did. Her imagination was getting the better of her. She raised the candle to check the time on the mantel clock. It was almost two. Nathaniel had no reason to search the grounds now that the smugglers were gone. Where was he? Surely he hadn’t returned to his cold, lonely bed in the chamber next door. Was he working in his study? Really, he needed his sleep.
Perhaps he was just restless and didn’t wish to disturb her. She had to believe he would welcome her company. She slipped from her bed and donned her dressing gown and slippers. The open panel revealed an empty room, the bed smoothly made.
Disheartened, she stepped out into the hall. A light flickered beneath Amanda’s bedroom door. Laura almost gasped aloud. So, he was there. The muscles of her legs seemed rigid as she forced herself to walk to the door, determined to confront him. Her fear of facing his obsession with his first wife almost choked her. Rudge had had Amanda’s bedchamber emptied of all possessions; what drew Nathaniel to the room? Did Amanda still have his heart?
Gearing herself up for an awful scene, Laura slowly opened the door.
Apart from the furniture, the room was bare of its showy paraphernalia. A candle stub burned low on the mantel, its feeble glow a small circle of light. A man in dark clothes bent over in the shadows, his back to her. She heard a strangled sob.
Was it Nathaniel? Distressed, Laura slammed the door shut, and with quick steps, somehow made it back to her room. She collapsed on the bed in tears. As she wiped her eyes, she thought about what she’d seen. His sobs seemed wrong. Had she jumped to a hasty conclusion? She ignored the urging of her rational mind to remain in bed until morning and snatched up a candle, determined to face whoever was in that room.
This time, when she turned the doorknob with trembling fingers, only the acrid tang and trail of smoke from the extinguished candle wafted about the empty space. She retreated to the corridor where the huge tapestry stirred in a cold draft and rubbed at the goosebumps on her arms. He must have heard her shut Amanda’s door. She peeked into Nathaniel’s bedchamber to make sure he hadn’t returned. Empty.
Her fierce need for the truth roiled in her stomach, washing away any sense of fear. She gave up an attempt at stealth. After opening all the doors along the corridor to empty rooms, she descended the staircase. Through the long window, moonlight threw shifting shadows over the great hall below. The massive fluted stone columns were wide enough to hide a man. Laura feared an intruder would reach out and grab her as she hurried past. It was irrational. No one could break into Wolfram at night; Nathaniel had assured her everything was always locked up. Her throat turned ash-dry, which no amount of swallowing could moisten. It was deathly still and cold as she hurried along the corridor.
Nathaniel’s study was empty. On closer inspection, the whole floor lay in darkness and was silent as a tomb. Only the whoosh of the waves beating endlessly against the seawall and the screech of a barn owl broke the silence.
Her candle sputtering, Laura continued down to the kitchen, praying to find Nathaniel enjoying a second helping of Mrs. Madge’s apricot tart. But that room too was empty, the stove unlit. Gleaming copper pots and pans hung from their hooks above the scrubbed table. A lingering smell of lemon oil and coal mixed with something sweet and freshly baked filled the air. The scullery and the servants’ hall beyond were so dark as to seem impenetrable.
Laura’s knees threatened to fail her as she faced the fact that Nathaniel was not in the house. Her mind skittered, failing to find a viable reason. There was no squall, no lightning nor thunder to draw him outside. And no smugglers.
She was about to return to the main floor when a creak made her pause. A cool draft caressed her cheek like a ghostly hand. She knew from whence it came: the cellar stairs. Would Nathaniel be down there? Aware of the precious life she believed she carried, Laura negotiated the stone steps with care, passing the entrance to the wine cellar. The chill breeze grew stronger, encircling her. She shivered and clutched the banister with stiff, cold fingers.
Trying to control her noisy breath, she continued down past shadowy doorways, which led into the cavernous storerooms that had once been part of the vaulted cloisters of the abbey. The stone ceiling pressed down, and a drip of water echoed like the steady beat of a drum. Her candle fluttered alarmingly in the damp current of air. Why hadn’t she stopped to light a lantern? Gripping the rail, she prayed her candle would stay alight. She couldn’t face the thought of climbing back up in the dark.
At the bottom, the outer door stood open, framing an expanse of clear, star-studded sky. Laura hurried forward and emerged into the stiff sea breeze. She was a few steps from the water’s edge, where the moon danced over the water. To the right of her, tall shrubs formed alarming shapes, blacker than the sky. The sloop rocked gently at the wharf. Nathaniel was not out on the water. How foolish to think he would be.
Laura’s skin crawled and the hair on the back of her neck shivered. She should not have come! As she retreated to the doorway, a dark figure exploded out of the bushes and ran at her. Laura had no time to evade the forceful shove, strengthened by the momentum of their mad dash. Hands struck at her, punching her in the chest. Losing her breath, she careened backwards. The candle sailed off into the darkness as she fought to gain her balance. Her heels hit the seawall and over she went, arms flailing. The icy water sucked her under, her body rigid with shock. In her heart-stopping panic, she sank into the dark depths of the sea.
She had never learned to swim. Now for her baby’s sake, she fought to live. Using her bare feet, her slippers gone, she kicked her way to the surface and burst into the air with a cry, swallowing salt water. With a desperate cough, she spat out briny water and took quick breaths to fill her lungs before she sank again. When her thrashing arms and feet brought her up once more, she gasped as she bobbed around. She cried out, but her voice was lost in the ocean’s roar.
Laura had managed to stay afloat for several minutes when she realized the pull of the tide had caught her and was sweeping her away from land. Horror, cold and fear blocked all thoughts but one. What if the tide carried her around the point to be dashed to her death on the rocks? Would they find her floating at the base of the cliff like Mallory and Amanda?
She spat out seawater and yelled. But her faint calls for help hardly made a sound, as she watched the solid lines of the abbey highlighted against the moonlit sky retreat. Thrashing her arms and legs, Laura quickly tired. Would she die never learning why anyone would want to kill her? Who had been in that room? She should have stayed, confronted them. Her chest constricted with small, abrupt spasms as the cold froze her core. Her legs cramped painfully, and she strained to keep them moving, hampered by her hair blinding her and her clothing plastered against her skin.
Laura had no concept of time; everything slowed down. She slipped beneath the surface again. The idea that it would be easy to let go and drift to one’s death began to appeal. Her baby! Forcing her legs to work, she fought her way up. She broke the surface and dragged air into her laboring lungs. Resignation stung at her more than the salt in her eyes. It was hopeless to fight. She might keep herself afloat for a while longer, but she couldn’t swim to shore.
Her fragile strength ebbed away, and her limbs faltered in their struggle to keep her head above water. Her mind wandered as she came to accept her fate. She would drift until she sank one last time. She forced open her stinging eyes. Over the swell of the waves, a blur of lights shone directly ahead. Trying to make out if it was a ship or land, she bumped hard against something beneath the water. The solid mass grazed her side, the flash of pain rousing her.
She clung to the pitted stone against the pull of the tide as her mind cleared. Supported, energy surged back into her limbs. Was it the rocks beneath the cliff? Laura raised her head but saw nothing except the starlit sky above her. She could not be below the cliff, for there was a row of lamplight to her right. The village! She clung to a fragile, desperate hope.
The causeway.
With the last of her energy, Laura clawed at the stone, breaking nails and scoring flesh from her fingers as she pushed her way up. Her knees and toes scraped across its rocky, shell-encrusted edge, her frozen body barely registering pain. She heaved herself over the top and onto the roadway with a weak cry, then crouched on her knees. She swayed on the edge as wavelets spilled over the causeway and threatened to drag her back into the inky sea. Was the tide ebbing or flowing? She wished she’d tried to understand such things. The sea might claim her again before she could reach land. Fear brought her to her feet. As she fought the pull of the water swirling around her thighs, Laura couldn’t gauge the width or direction of the causeway. Any moment she might step off back into the ocean again.
Fixing her gaze on the abbey tower highlighted by moonlight, she waded forward. Each step was painful, and it was useless to try to hurry. It seemed an age before she felt hard-packed earth beneath her feet, and as she climbed further, the water vanished like magic. She collapsed to her knees with painful sobs. Several minutes passed as she crouched there too exhausted to move.
Annoyed with herself, Laura pushed to her feet, then bent to pull away the ripped shreds of fine silk and lawn clinging to her legs, which threatened to trip her. She stumbled forward. A refrain kept repeating in her mind. Who wanted her dead? Then another frightening thought. Were they still near?
Deep shudders shook her as she staggered along, guided by the dark shapes of trees bordering the road. The salt stung her scratched, bloody legs and feet. A faint glow appeared somewhere along the lane. As she drew closer, she fought to make sense of the shadows and jerked with fear at the muffled sounds, which now reached her.
Laura rounded a corner of the stables where a lantern’s glow lit her way across the black cobbles. She tottered into the warm stables, which smelled of horse, hay and leather and offered a return to normalcy. She swayed on her feet. A lantern hung from a beam, shining down on a groaning horse. The animal lay on its side with two men bent over it, their voices low. Then Nathaniel chuckled as the white sac containing the foal emerged from its mother. The dogs leapt up and rushed to Laura, almost knocking her over.
“Nathaniel,” Laura whispered, her throat too painful and raw to speak.
Nathaniel spun around. His eyes widened. “Mother of…” He ran to catch her as her knees gave way. Strong arms caught her up and held her against his chest. Safe.
“You’ll get wet,” she stuttered, relief warming her cold body but failing to quell her shudders.
“What the devil…Laura, what happened?”
He laid her in the hay in the empty stall next to where the groom dealt with the new foal. Nathaniel shrugged out of his coat, and as he slipped her arms into it, she looked down to see that she was almost naked. Her legs were bare and a breast was exposed through her ripped nightclothes.
“Laura, for God’s sake, tell me,” he pleaded, his eyes incredulous, his voice ragged.
Laura swallowed; her throat felt like she’d eaten broken glass. She grimaced. “Someone pushed me into the sea.”
“Who? Why?” He shook his head slowly.
“I don’t know,” Laura said, annoyed. She only wanted to lie down somewhere soft and warm and sleep.
Nathaniel turned to the groom. “I’ll leave you to manage here.”
The groom’s alarmed gaze was fixed on Laura. “Of course, milord.”
“Good man.”
Nathaniel hefted Laura into his arms and strode to the house. She shivered uncontrollably as she rested her head against his shoulder. He put her down to unlock the front door, holding her upright with one arm. Then with her in his arms, he climbed the stairs.
“Your prized mare has a foal; you should go back.”
He frowned, his gaze roaming her face. “Is that what you think of me?”
In her chamber, Nathaniel placed her gently on the bed. He peeled her out of his coat and threw it onto a chair. “These wet things must come off.”
He stripped her naked and grabbed a towel, then rubbed her skin vigorously, careful to avoid the cuts and deep scratches. The friction made her skin glow. Her head fell back on the pillow, and she closed her eyes.
Nathaniel examined her body, moving her about with gentle hands. “Nothing worse than cuts and scratches.” He tucked a blanket around her. “Wake up, Laura. You can sleep after you tell me how this happened.”
She gazed at his lean, worried face. “I went down the cellar stairs to look for you. The door was open. When I left the house, someone pushed me into the water.”
“Oh, my love. I’ve been so afraid…” He gathered her to him and kissed her gently. His warm mouth breathed life into her. “But why go down there, for God’s sake?”
She must tell him about the man in the room. She would in a minute. With a sob, she wiped away the tears that coursed down her cheeks. “The tide took me to the causeway. I had to climb over it.”
“Good God. My brave love.” Nathaniel pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped her tears. “Those cuts must be cleaned and dressed. I’ll help you into a dry nightgown and send for the doctor.”
“Is that necessary? Can’t it wait until tomorrow? I just want to sleep, Nathaniel.”
“Yes, it is necessary. Oyster cuts can be nasty. Tomorrow then.” Nathaniel opened a drawer and returned to tug a fresh nightgown over her head. His deft fingers tied the bows at the neck. Going to the panel, he disappeared into his room. Minutes later, he returned with a tumbler of brandy and supported her shoulders with his arm. “What made you look for me, Laura?”
“Something woke me.”
Laura took a deep sip and choked. The fiery liquid burned its way down her sore throat, warming her frozen insides. After another sip, she gave him back the glass and rested her head on the pillow. More hot tears traced a path down her cheeks; she didn’t seem able to stop them. She began to talk, her explanation sounding garbled even to her ears, while Nathaniel held her hands.
“You found a man in Amanda’s room weeping?”
She nodded, fighting sleep.
His concerned eyes darkened with hurt. “And you thought that man was me?”
A sob rose in her throat. “Don’t chastise me, Nathaniel. I can’t fight with you now.”
“Chastise you? What sort of brute do you think me?” He chafed her hands between his large, warm ones. “It’s my fault.” He shook his head. “All my fault. I thought with Mallory gone this was over. It isn’t.”
Confused, Laura frowned. “But who was in that room?”
“Someone who can get into this house. I will find him, Laura, and when I do…”
“It must be Rudge. He was obsessed with Amanda. He dislikes me.”
“But Rudge isn’t here. I gave him the night off. I saw him leave, and once the tide rose over the causeway he couldn’t have come back.”
“Not even by boat?”
“Rudge in a boat? He’s from up country. He isn’t happy on the water.”
“You can’t be sure of that.” She put a hand to his cheek. “Who was the man who attacked me then? Who was weeping in that room?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart.”
She studied him. Was he telling her everything? “And why would anyone want to kill me?”
“It makes no sense. To get at me, I suppose.” Rising from the bed, he pulled the bell. “I believed after Amanda died that I shouldn’t marry again. But Mallory had been gone two years, and I wanted you with me.” His breath caught. “I love you, Laura. I didn’t believe I could love anyone like this again. I was miserable without you. I can’t do it again.”
“That’s just as well because I’m not leaving without you.” She stroked his cheek, his declaration bringing intense joy.
Despair haunted his eyes. “I was certain that Mallory had killed Amanda. I suspected they were having an affair, although she denied it. I didn’t want to face it. I shut down, buried myself in my work. Then after Amanda died, the police couldn’t find anything to link him to the smugglers or Amanda’s death. Then he left Wolfram. I sensed we weren’t done with him. His mother was here, and I feared he would come back one day.
“Once I brought you to Wolfram, I realized I needed to keep track of Mallory. Roe at The Sail and Anchor found someone for me. And then Mallory turned up. I tried to have him put behind bars, but he was a slippery fish. He’d thought by giving the police a few names, he could disappear again. He outwitted himself, however. His arrogance was his downfall. I thought it was over when he died.” He cradled her head in his hands and kissed her. “Oh, my love, I might have lost you.”
Her breath caught. “You do love me then.”
“Love you? More than my life. I did try not to get too close, Laura. I didn’t think I had it in me to love like this. I’ve been so very wrong.”
“Did Amanda hurt you so dreadfully?”
“At first perhaps. But Amanda merely confirmed my belief that women were never to be trusted.”
“You thought I was seeing Howard behind your back.”
“I’ve had to learn to trust again, Laura. And for a while I didn’t think I could.” He trailed the back of his fingers down her cheek. “Jealousy is a terrible thing, sweetheart.”
“I know. I’ve suffered from it myself.”
His eyes widened. “You have? When?”
“Cilla.”
Nathaniel huffed out a sigh. “Now that is ridiculous. Cilla, my sweet, doesn’t like men that way.”
“But she had a lover when she lived in Paris.”
“Another woman. When she came here she was close to killing herself; that’s why I gave her the cottage.”
“That never occurred to me.” She frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t feel it was my place to.” He kissed her fingers. “I thought she should tell you. And what does it matter?”
“People should be free to love whomever they choose, though I personally couldn’t imagine loving anyone but a man.”
“Any man?”
She smiled. “One man in particular.”
He examined her cut fingers, turning over her hand to kiss the palm. “But you didn’t get a prize with me. I’ve fought demons for most of my life.” He smiled wryly. “My father told me to run my marriage like a business and find a mistress. I’ve never given a thought to a mistress since the day I met you.” He shook his head. “Madness to think I could keep you at arm’s length. It was impossible, almost from the very first. I didn’t have a hope.”
“So, you went sailing at night to escape me?”
“When all this is over…” He frowned. “You’re to come with me next time. We’ll take a bottle of wine and a couple of Mrs. Madge’s pasties and throw a line over the side in the moonlight. I’ve brought a catch home for the table many times.
“You tore down my defenses, Laura. You’re the best part of me. I am nothing without you.”
“My love.” Laura drew his face down to hers and kissed him. She told him about the letters Dora had found at Gateley Park. “I didn’t read them, but there was one from your father that made me understand just what you had been through.”
Pain darkened his eyes. “It was a bad union. My father was a reserved man, and my mother wanted everything from life.”
She threaded her fingers through his. “It made me cry. You must have been lost and hurt, my darling, and very much alone.”
“Not alone. My grandmother came to the school every visiting day. She brought me treats and told me I was loved. She was a wonderful woman.” He shook his head. “I thought I saw that special quality in you the first time I set eyes on you. You have a big heart, Laura. You care for others. And you’ve made me a better man. I thank God you came into my life.”
She inhaled deeply. “There’s something else I must…” As she spoke, her stomach felt strange, and she suffered a surge of fear for her baby. So tiny and new, would the babe survive the trauma?
A knock came at the door. “Come,” Nathaniel called.
Agnes entered sleepily, her hair in a long plait down her back. “You rang, milady?”
“Bring hot water, salve and bandages,” Nathaniel ordered. “Your mistress has hurt herself.”
Agnes’ mouth fell open.
“Don’t just stand there, girl,” Nathaniel snapped.
Agnes rushed from the room.
“What were you going to tell me?”
Laura’s lids drooped. “It can wait until later. I’m so very tired.” The ominous heaviness she felt low in her stomach made her afraid to tell him. She couldn’t bear to disappoint him now.
He pulled the blanket up around her shoulders. “Rest, my love. When Agnes returns, I’ll leave you. I must check the house and grounds. I won’t be long.”
“Please be careful, Nathaniel.”
He looked grim. “My hunting rifle’s in the study. I’ll load it.” He turned to the maid, who had just returned. “Stay until I come back, Agnes. Lock the door and don’t answer it to anyone but me.”
Agnes gaped at him. “Yes, milord.”
Laura sipped the brandy while the maid bound up her cuts. A little woozy, she drifted off to sleep. She dreamt that Nathaniel had been hurt. Waking with a start, she found he’d returned and sent the maid away. She still trembled with shock.
“Stay with me,” she begged, holding out her arms.
“No one was lurking about the grounds. I won’t leave you again tonight. Sleep, my love.”
He stretched out beside her and gathered her into his arms. She coiled up against his reassuringly strong body and fell into an exhausted sleep.