“He never heard.”
Artemis turned wearily to her. “I’m sure now that’s true. He’s not that sort of man.”
“No, he isn’t.”
“I’ve suspected it for a while, but now . . . Yesterday, when he picked up those dirty children and they settled in his arms, feeling safe, my certainties cracked. Today . . . he saved Maria. You risked your life for Julia. I can’t hate you anymore. It’s painful in its own way, but better. I think.”
“Artemis, would you accept an embrace from me?”
Artemis stared at her, but then nodded. It was a stiff embrace, but as Prudence was about to step back, Artemis held her closer, slumping slightly, perhaps weeping a little. Prudence tightened her arms, remembering that night in Northallerton when Cate had held her just like this.
When they separated Artemis blew her nose on a black-edged handkerchief, moving away, perhaps embarrassed. “It’s the touch I miss most. I have the children, but I miss arms to hold me. Is it wrong to already be looking ahead to the day when I might marry again?”
“It’s only natural.”
“But is natural right?” She looked at Prudence with a frown. “What do those people mean to you and Catesby? Why are they important?”
“Hetty and her children? We believe they’re victims of Henry Draydale, the man I was supposed to marry. You know he was behind what happened today?”
“Catesby told me.”
“I thought you’d blame me. You could have reason.”
“Why did you engage yourself to such a man?” Artemis asked, but apparently in curiosity, not accusation.
“I’ve asked myself the same thing. I set my heart on something, blindly, as you set your mind on blaming Cate for everything. It took a shock to break me free of that. I escaped, but he’s not the sort to take disappointment well. Especially when he hit me in front of the congregation.”
“It did sound appalling, in the letter.”
“Cate thrashed him thoroughly, right there at the altar.”
Artemis bit her lip, but her eyes flashed with something positive for the first time. “Appalling, but satisfying, I’d think.”
“I was in no state to appreciate it at the time, but later, yes. And now Cate’s going to put an end to him.”
“Kill him?” Artemis asked in alarm.
“No, but he’ll destroy him in every other way.”
“I hope so, but I’d be happy to know he was dead.” Artemis moved to the door. She paused there, however, and turned to say, “Your situation won’t be easy, Prudence, and not of my doing. The tales from Darlington will become common knowledge and many will believe the worst. Your being the daughter of a librarian and sister of a young solicitor is unfortunate, but the rougher background suggested by the new arrivals will count against you in the neighborhood, and word will spread farther afield. I’d suggest trying to hide that part of your life, but you won’t, will you?”
“No, for there’s nothing shameful about it. My mother and I lived in poverty so that my brother could train for a profession and support us.” She didn’t share Aaron’s failings here. “When I sank to my lowest, Hetty befriended me, even fed me. I’m not ashamed to call her friend, and I hope she and her family will stay nearby.”
“You’re braver than I could ever be.”
“You’d be surprised, but I hope you never have need of that kind of courage.”
“So do I. I’m a very conventional person, afraid of seeming different.”
Prudence shrugged. “I have no choice. There’s no hiding the truth, and it’s simply too difficult to attempt to be anything other than myself. If the world is unkind, so be it.”
Artemis put her hand on the doorknob, but hesitated again. “Will I be welcome to visit here?”
“Of course! Whenever you will.”
“You’re more forgiving than I could be.”
Artemis left and Prudence lingered, thinking over the conversation. She prayed that she’d never have to face the death of a young child, though it was common enough. Hetty had lost one at six months.
The thought of losing Cate, however . . .
He came in. “What are you doing here?” Then he said, “What’s the matter?”
She went into his arms. “Just hold me.”
Chapter 34
W
hen they parted, she shared her talk with Artemis. “Poor woman,” he said.
“Yes. Would your brother truly be so unkind?”
“I’m sure he didn’t mean to be, but yes, his desperation for a son was obvious. Don’t see him too harshly. It was reasonable for him to regard my taking over Keynings with horror. I’m still not sure I can do a good job.”
“Yes, you can.”
“Such faith in me.” He kissed her. “I’m on my way, armed and accompanied by armed men, to inspect the scene of the abduction in case anything can be learned. I wish the man had lived to point the finger at Draydale.”
“Has the body been removed?” Prudence asked.
“Yes, of course.”
“Then I want to come. It was all such a blur. I want to see it in a calmer state.”
“If you’re sure.”
“Yes. But are you sure it’s safe?”
“I refuse to skulk in the house, and I’ve had every available man beating the park. If he had accomplices, they’ve fled.”
Prudence considered hat and gloves, but didn’t bother with them.
When they left the house, six men fell into place around them, alert for anything. It seemed absurd, for the gardens and park appeared to sleep in the warm afternoon, showing no hint of mayhem or death. Prudence felt grateful, however, that she’d replaced both her knives, but her chief emotion wasn’t fear but anger—anger that Henry Draydale had sullied this place with his violence.
When they approached the woodland area and Prudence saw the trampled shrubs and broken branches, she hesitated. Cate gave her a concerned glance, and she gathered her courage. “Bold of him to pretend to be one of your men,” she said, raising her skirts out of harm’s way.
“A possibility I overlooked,” he admitted. “I called in workers from nearby farms, which meant not everyone knew everyone else well.”
She plucked a piece of dark cloth from a branch. It had torn from her gown as she’d run along this rough path. “He can’t have planned the abduction, can he, or he’d have chosen a smoother path.”
“He can’t have known you’d be on the lake. He simply hovered, pretending to work, looking for a chance to do mischief, or worse.”
“Above all, Draydale wants me.”
“Yes,” he said. “There were horses nearby, kept there for many hours in hope of success. If you’d wandered out on your own . . .”
“Henry Draydale always did assume I was a fool.”
He laughed. “A cunning man, but at heart stupid.”
They arrived at the bloodstained area.
“I shouldn’t have brought you here,” he said.
“I needed to see it.”
As Cate and the men poked around, looking for anything left behind, Prudence recollected what she could of the event.
“Did this serve your purpose?” he asked as they left the shady, treed area.
“Yes. I know it now, so it won’t form nightmares.”
He smiled. “I should have known you weren’t one to hide from reality. Enough of this. Let’s return to the house.”
They strolled back, more at ease.
“Is it possible to have instincts of danger?” Prudence asked. “On the lake, I felt it. And not of drowning. Now I feel safe.”
“Such things certainly exist. Celebrate it.”
“I hope not to have need of it.”
“Amen again. I truly hope for a peaceful life here. Ordinary days, making up a tranquil life.” But he looked toward the house. “Strange. Someone’s arriving.”
A large traveling chariot was approaching the front of the house, drawn by six prime horses, and with four outriders as well.
“Someone very grand,” Prudence said.
“And here we are with mud on our shoes and leaves in our hair. Shall we run in to make ourselves respectable, or brazen it out?”
“Brazen,” she declared.
“That’s my Hera. And in any case, that’s Perry.”
Indeed it was Perry emerging from the grand traveling chariot.
“I thought he liked to ride?” Prudence said as they walked over. “What a tale we have to tell him.”
“He’ll fume to have missed the drama. There’s someone with him.”
Perry had turned to hand down a lady. As Prudence and Cate came close, she could see the lady was of about her own age, and brown-haired.
There was something about her, however. A presence.
“My lady,” Perry said to the visitor, “may I present the Earl and Countess of Malzard, your hosts? My friends, this is the Marchioness of Rothgar, Countess of Arradale, and great lady of the north!”
Lady Rothgar laughed at that, smiling at them. “Perriam insisted that you’d welcome me, and also that I could be of use. He also shared your romance worthy of the troubadours. I couldn’t resist the latest Yorkshire story to carry south.”
Chapter 35
P
rudence thought in despair of her drab black and her hair, which was escaping her cap and, yes, probably stuck with leaves. She curtsied and welcomed, wondering how on earth she should treat the marchioness-countess, who owned vast parts of Yorkshire.
But Lady Rothgar had turned to receive a bundle from a servant. A whimpering bundle. She turned back with a rueful expression. “In truth, Perriam offered us refuge. I’m afraid my darling has chosen this moment to cut a tooth and she’s so miserable that traveling is torture for all of us. I was arranging to stay some days in York when we met, and he was so bold as to suggest that you’d give me refuge.”
Prudence could see the baby now, doubtless a pretty girl, but with her face crumpled in discontent. She was drooling and a rash marred her chin. The baby’s whines began to work toward screams. Prudence had no experience with teething, but when the baby let out a yowl of complaint, she said, “Please, my lady, let’s go up to the nursery. Perhaps someone there will have something to help.”
There was Nurse Cawley, who cared for little Maria. She must have experience.
They hurried in and up, the nursery maid and another maid trailing behind, the crying seeming to echo off the walls.
Nurse Cawley hurried to meet them. “A baby!” she declared happily.
“A teething one,” Lady Rothgar said.
“The poor dear. Becky, get the brandy!”
“Brandy?” Prudence protested. “Surely not.”
“Just the thing, milady. A little rubbed on the sore gum. And something hard to chew on. Do you have a teething ring, milady?” she asked Lady Rothgar.
“No. We received a few as christening gifts, some of them ridiculously precious, but I don’t have one with me.”
“And a teething ring!” the ruler of the nurseries called.
Artemis’s older daughters came to see what the fuss was about, took one look at the baby, and left again. Clearly they knew what teething meant.
“Come through here, milady,” the nurse said, leading the way into another room. “There’s a crib here that can quickly be made ready.”
“Thank you,” said Lady Rothgar, “but I would like it put in my own bedchamber. I keep my daughter with me.”
Now, there, Prudence thought, was how one gave an indisputable order in the most pleasant manner possible.
Nurse Cawley was not pleased, but she gave the orders. “Then perhaps we could go to your bedchamber, milady.”
Lady Rothgar looked at Prudence, who realized she had no idea which would be most suitable.
“We have many,” she said. “I’m very new here.”
“So I understand,” Lady Rothgar said. “Such a romantic story.”
Prudence was beginning to distrust the many nuances of the word “romantic.” The Countess of Arradale had probably married her marquess simply for power, wealth, and higher rank.
A maid came in and gave Nurse Cawley a small vial and a carved circle of what looked like bone or ivory. Nurse Cawley applied a little of the brandy on a rag to the baby’s lower gums. “There, my little angel, there. Doesn’t that seem better? No more tears, no more tears . . .”
The baby’s squalls simmered down. Prudence thought it could just be surprise at the new taste, but perhaps brandy did numb the gums. The nurse put the ring in the baby’s hand and then guided it to her mouth. The baby chewed a little, and then set to gnawing with a look of powerful intent.
Prudence chuckled, and Lady Rothgar thanked the nurse, but one of her servants was glowering. Probably the baby’s own nurse. Nurse Cawley proved her worth by surrendering the baby and offering an understanding, “A first tooth coming early,” to explain away lack of preparedness.
Pandemonium banished, harmony restored.
Prudence took a deep breath. “I don’t think I properly welcomed you to Keynings, Lady Rothgar. Of course, you are welcome to stay as long as you wish.”
“That’s very kind of you, but we’ll push on south as soon as possible. I’m anxious to return to my husband.” It was a simple statement, but something in the tone and eyes told Prudence she’d misjudged the situation. It was a love match. “A minor crisis developed on one of my estates up here, but Lord Rothgar felt unable to leave London with so many matters on the edge, so I came alone. It was too long, in any case, since I’d visited my estates, but traveling with a baby is difficult.”
“I’m sure it is. Shall we go down and settle you in your rooms?”
Prudence led the way, still unsure where to establish such an important guest, but when she arrived on the next floor down, she found one of her problems solved. The dowager had emerged to take charge.
She, of course, was well acquainted with Lady Rothgar, and not particularly awed, but still gratified to have her as a guest. Soon the marchioness was installed in an excellent bedchamber with an adjoining door to a room that would serve as a nursery. Footmen were summoned to bring down the crib, and the dowager offered refreshment.