Curse of the Gypsy (12 page)

“I would certainly know,” she said, turning her face and kissing his wrist.

He wound his arms around her and they lost several more minutes, kissing and glorying in the closeness both had been deprived of for weeks.

“Poor Fanny,” Anne said softly, when they finally broke apart again.

“We know what happened next. That little trollop Lily Jenkins, jealous of her husband’s continuing fondness for Fanny, stole her diary and wrote those damning passages, where Fanny supposedly says I seduced her and that we had been together in a carnal sense.”

“How malicious she is!” Anne cried. “I am still deeply unsatisfied that she has received no form of punishment for her cruelty to Miss Allengate’s memory.”

“Ah, but she
is
being punished. The good people of Hornethwaite, learning of her excesses, have pulled away from her. Miss Beatrice Lange, her heretofore best friend, has completely severed ties. After Fanny’s death, I knew if it came out that Julius was alive and living in Yorkshire, Pomfroy would have him arrested. They would make the case that Julius was the one who seduced Fanny, and, afraid of being exposed, killed her to silence her.”

“I can see how that story would sound plausible. Still, Tony, you are the marquess. Doesn’t Pomfroy have to do what you tell him to do?”

“I could make him, certainly, but it would be an awful risk if I could never prove Julius innocent. People would still say he did it, and I would be seen as doing something despicable in leaving my brother free while Grover is hanged for killing Cecilia.”

Anne said gently, “Your honor would be suspect.”

Darkefell hesitated, but then said, “Julius
was
there that night, Anne, up on Staungill Force, the night Grover almost killed you. It was Julius who attacked Grover first, he and his wolf dog, Atim. They saved you.”

“Wolf dog!” she cried. “This ‘Atim,’ then, was the animal I heard howling several times near the castle and Ivy Lodge!”

“And that brings us to your sighting of Julius in your woods. I don’t know this for sure, because I have not spoken to him since, but I believe that Julius followed Hiram Grover away from Darkefell estate that night,” Tony said, telling Anne about his visit to Theophilus Grover’s home. “I think he then lost track of the man, and was asking the gypsies for information.”

Anne sat bolt upright. “The fat man! That is who the gypsy mother saw and spoke with!” she exclaimed, telling Darkefell all about her recent conversations with the gypsies. “The fat man could be Mr. Grover. Where are Grover, Julius, and his dog now, then?”

“I don’t know,” he said grimly. “But I intend to find out and take Hiram back to Yorkshire to swing for Cecilia’s murder, if he doesn’t die at my own hands first.”

“You don’t mean that!” Anne exclaimed.

He stayed silent, unwilling to shock her with how true that statement was.

“I wish I could help, Tony, truly I do, but I have my own worries,” she said, telling him about the illness of Robbie, the gypsy mother, and Mrs. Jackson. She did not tell him about the gunshot, though, certain he would forbid her to go anywhere alone, or make any decision on her own behalf. She was careful in her perambulations, but he was commanding and they would certainly argue.

“I’m not sure I understand who Mrs. Jackson is. And I remember you saying you had an older brother, but you never told me anything about him.”

She hesitated, looking up into his face, lit by silver moonlight. “Jamey is … he has troubles. He’ll never be earl. My father had to have him declared ineligible.”

Darkefell then asked, “Why does he live at this farm you spoke of, though?”

Tears started in Anne’s eyes. “It’s my fault he was banished.” She explained the history of Jamey’s incapacity.

“Oh, my poor dear Anne,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Your father did the right thing to protect you. Through no fault of his own, your brother was a danger to you. But perhaps his best life is not with his family, after all, but rather on the farm.”

“Thank you, Tony,” she said, her tears drying. “Thank you for understanding. Perhaps you shall meet him?”

“I would like it above all things.” He looked up at the sky, now adorned with a swathe of glittering stars across the black void. “It is very late, my dear. As much as I enjoy kissing you and talking with you, it is time for you to go to bed. And I must make sure my scholarly secretary does not keep your father awake longer than is good for him.”

“You,” Anne said, tweaking his chin, “are too much like me, taking care of those around us.”

“No, not I. If I had been like that before, perhaps my mother would not be as she is, and my brother would not be a fugitive from justice.” He stood and took her hand, pulling her up and into his arms. He kissed her with lingering passion, then turned her around and took her arm, taking the meandering path that would unwind them from the heart of the maze. “To bed, my lady, before I am unfit company for anyone.”

“Tony, I do love you,” she said softly, stopping him and giving herself up to the fire Darkefell lit in her body. “I love you,” she whispered into his ear as she clung to him.

Eight

It was early morning, and Anne sat at the desk in her bedchamber writing an involved letter to Lydia, explaining her previous letter as best she could.

Mary, who had been fiddling about, refilling Anne’s pomade pot and perfume bottle at the dressing table and removing books from a table near the fireside chair, finally spoke. “Milady, may I say something?”

“Of course,” Anne said, looking up. “What is it?”

Mary MacDougall, with a painfully worried look on her face, approached the desk and said, wringing her hands, “Mrs. Noonan is in the chapel, and she’s weepin’ fit to try the heart of an angel. What could be wrong with the poor soul? I asked her, but couldna understand a word she said.”

Anne vaguely replied, “I suppose she’s upset by my plans for the boys.”

“Your plans? What d’ye mean?”

Anne sighed, set her quill down, and turned to gaze up at Mary. “The oldest boys—in fact, all of them but baby John—are to be schooled by Vicar Wadley starting today. Mrs. Noonan is aghast at the very idea for some unfathomable reason, but I say the village will not survive if what I surmise is true, that those young devils are responsible for all the problems of late, the tormented stock, shed fires, and such.”

Mary asked, “Why would she be so afraid of that? For it was fear, milady, not anger nor pique, that had her weeping.”

Anne frowned and rubbed the leather surface of her desk, a simple table with graceful legs and several leather-fronted drawers. “I can’t imagine. She said she was going to sit in on their lessons with the vicar, and I told her that was nonsense, that she indulged them too much.”

“Oh, milady, perhaps that’s it. Willya no reconsider? Those bairns are all she has left, since her poor husband died.”

“Reconsider what, giving them a tutor? Don’t be ridiculous; those boys are overindulged. This is not to be permanent, after all. I expect to hear back from Mrs. Noonan’s brother telling me when they can be transported to their new abode.”

“But until then? She’s fair troubled, milady.”

Anne considered; she had no children but Mary did, so perhaps she should defer to her maid’s better judgment in this one case. It went against the grain, but she reluctantly acceded. “All right, I will not back down on those imps being tutored by the vicar, but I will allow her to sit in on the lessons with Vicar Wadley. Do you think that will help?”

Mary nodded. “Aye, milady, I think that will be for the best.” She crossed the room and continued her tidying of the dressing table. While she sat on the dressing table chair and cleaned a brush, she looked over at Anne, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “You were quite late last night, milady. What on airth did you and the marquess have to talk about that kept you outside, alone with him, so long?” It was amazing how she had rebounded since Robbie now seemed to be on the road to recovery.

Anne shook her head. “Why would I tell you this morning what I wouldn’t last night? I’ll only say that he and I have not yet come to an agreement on everything but …” She trailed off, not in the mood for lighthearted banter. She truly was perplexed. “What shall I do?” she asked, serious this time, turning to gaze steadily at her closest confidante, her maid. “I love Tony; I’m sure of that now. But if we marry I’ll lose my soul. I love him far too much!” she said, wrapping her arms around herself.

Mary didn’t make fun of her fears. Instead she said, “That’s as it should be. Man and woman were meant to be together. Only a fool would say nay to true love. If he’s the one, the
only
one you can love, then what is to keep you from each other?”

“There are many things to keep us apart. I can’t leave Father alone here at Harecross to fend for himself. Look what happened when I left for just a month or two! Trouble with the gypsies, Mrs. Noonan and her ill-mannered brood invade, the villagers up in arms; if I left forever Harecross Hall would fall around his ears. If Mother would just come back and stop being such a …” She broke off, for she resisted every urge to castigate her mother.

“You father’s steward should be helping,” Mary said, her lips thin with disapproval.

It had been said before, but Anne didn’t see a way around the problem without hurting someone. “Mr. Destry is too old and too ill. The man should be retired, but when I broached the subject with him a week ago he began to cry. For heaven’s sake, the man is in his late sixties and still has a young family and an elderly mother to care for. In the end it’s Papa’s decision, and he will never pension Mr. Destry off while the man wishes to continue. If Papa’s secretary had not moved to Italy, then
he
could have assisted in running the Hall.”

“Then either Mr. Destry needs an assistant or your father needs a new secretary.”

Anne nodded. “I should have come up with that myself, and would have if Tony hadn’t befuddled my senses. That man! Anyway, I’ll suggest both of those. Father would be well served by having both a new and energetic secretary—though not just anyone would suit—and an assistant for Mr. Destry.”

“It’s too bad Mr. Boatin is not available. He would suit admirably as the earl’s secretary.”

“Tony would never let him go. Mr. Boatin knows Darkefell business better than the marquess does by now, probably. But that does give me a good idea,” Anne said. “Father needs a secretary with some language experience. Perhaps a foreigner would be better than an Englishman. I shall write some letters and set up some interviews.”

Mary stood and said, “And begin to consider having your own life. Begging your pardon, milady, but I would think it a terrible thing for a woman as fine as you to lose your youth looking after someone else’s responsibility.”

“You’re being impertinent,” Anne said, though she didn’t mean anything by it, nor did Mary do aught but nod in response. It was well-trod ground between them. “My question is, would I, by marrying, indeed gain my own life? By law, I merely become someone else’s chattel when I marry.”

“P’raps,” Mary replied, “but if you marry wisely, you’ll be the winner in it all. Don’t let your fear of leaving your home keep you from his lordship and all that he can offer.”

Anne examined the room she had slept in and lived in since she was nine and moved down from the nursery. At that age, she had convinced her father, against her mother’s wishes, to send away the tyrannical nursemaid who had made her days and nights a torment with laudanum dosing and nonsensical dietary restrictions, and her first act of independence was to choose this room. She had loved it ever since, its white-papered walls and sunny windows that reached to the ceiling, pale lilac damask drapes and white-painted furnishings.

But it could not be her home forever, and she must
never
lose sight of that fact. When her father died, the earldom would go not to Jamey, but to a cousin that Anne had only ever seen twice in her life. Neither Harecross Hall, nor the London town house, nor any of the other estates belonging to the Harecross title would be open to her, except at the charity of the new earl. She was wealthy in her own right because of a bequest; she did not need charity, nor would she ever accept it. No, if she remained unmarried, she would need to live somewhere, and she would need to provide a home for Jamey.

She sighed. Such gloomy imaginings on a sunny day were inappropriate. She had other things to work on right that moment, among them a gypsy curse, a brood of ill-mannered boys, the disappearance of Lord Julius Bestwick and quite possibly Hiram Grover, and an enticing, entrancing marquess about whom she could not stop thinking.

She folded the letter she had been writing and put it away to finish later. “I have much to do today. Darkefell and I are going to the gypsy camp to look for his brother,” she said, not needing to explain to Mary, as she had told her all the pertinent details the night before as her maid helped her undress, “and then to Farfield Farm to see how Mrs. Jackson fares.”

“Let me get to your unruly hair, then, milady, and rebandaging your poor sore shoulder. It should be encouraging that Robbie seems to be doing so much better,” Mary said as Anne crossed and sat down at the dressing table. “I only hope poor Mrs. Jackson recovers as well. I’m so grateful that Irusan spends so much time with him, for my lad’s already wanting to get out of bed, but your feline gives him a companion, at least. Robbie has been reading to him from the books Miss Lolly recommended.”

Lolly Broomhall was Anne’s chaperone, when she needed one to maintain her reputation, and she had spent much time in Cornwall teaching Robbie his reading and writing. “I believe Irusan has learned a sad lesson that not all boys can be trusted, and now values Robbie much more,” Anne commented as Mary twisted her hair into drooping curls and pinned them high to cascade down, dressing them with some velvet ribbon. “But before I do any of that, I have to go with Mrs. Noonan and her boys to the village and speak with the vicar. Until that is done I’ll be looking around every corner for a trap or trick. I should have done this two weeks ago.”