Jo Beverley - [Rogue ] (38 page)

"Then who might look like him?"

Judith suddenly remembered Rosie saying the man who'd pushed Bastian off the bridge looked like papa. Had she meant more than it would appear? "Rosie, did Papa's ghost look like the man on the bridge in London?"

Rosie gulped and thought about it. She nodded. "But he had darker hair. The man on the bridge."

Judith looked at the others. "Sebastian has a brother. He looks a little like him, with darker hair." She looked back at Rosie. "Now, Rosie, tell us calmly exactly where you were, and what happened. I assure you, it wasn't a ghost, just someone playing a trick."

The child knuckled her eyes. "I don't like these kinds of tricks, Mama."

"Neither do I, and we're going to put a stop to it. Tell us all about it."

"We were in here playing with the soldier." Judith saw a brightly painted Grenadier lying on its side on the carpet. "There was a tapping on the French doors. Bastian opened them, and it was Papa. It sounded just like Papa!" She began to cry again, and Judith soothed her.

She looked up at the others. "Timothy Rossiter has a voice very like his brother's. It startled me." She turned back to the girl. "What did Papa do, Rosie?"

"He beckoned. He said he couldn't get to heaven without our help. He sort of wailed it..."

"And Bastian went?"

Rosie nodded. "I told him not to, but he said it was just like
Hamlet!
The ghost reached for me, but I said I wouldn't go. Then they ran away."

"How long ago was this?"

Rosie sucked a knuckle anxiously. "A little while. I didn't want to get Bastian into trouble. Uncle Nicholas said we weren't to leave the house without an adult... But then he didn't come back, and it got darker, and I was scared."

Judith hugged her. Nicholas and Leander were already inspecting the ground outside the French doors. "Thank heavens for this mist," said Nicholas. "There are tracks in the grass. I'll get a lantern."

Judith could see other bobbing lanterns through the mist, and took courage from the thought that many were searching. "Why?" she asked no one in particular. "If it is Timothy Rossiter, why is he doing this?"

Nicholas came back through the house with a lantern. "I'd guess, money. The root of all evil."

"Money?" said Judith. "What money?" But the men were already disappearing into the misty dark.

Judith stood. "Come, Rosie. We must go, too. Let's get you wrapped up warmly." In minutes Judith and Rosie were out in the dark mist, trying to follow Leander and Nicholas. Eleanor had disappeared on some other business.

Soon Judith was wishing she had taken time to find a lantern, but she struggled after the dim lights ahead, calling her son.

* * *

Nicholas and Leander followed the eerie trail through the misted grass. The lantern cast only finite light, creating a gray wall into which bushes and trees would push and become solid.

Leander worked his way around a mighty oak and plunged on, then the deepening dark told him Nicholas and the lantern had stopped.

He turned back. "Come on. The footsteps go this way!"

Nicholas was stationary by the big tree, looking up. Leander hurried back. "What's holding you up? The bastard's probably..." He stopped as he heard it. A faint cry for help from high in the tree.

"He's up there?" Leander asked. "Why? How?"

"Who knows? But with this freezing mist, he'll fall soon. We'll need a ladder."

"The devil we will," said Leander, and stripped off his greatcoat. "Give me a leg up."

He put his foot into Nicholas's hands and was tossed up so he could grab onto the first spreading branch. "Bastian!" he hollered. "I'm coming. Hold on!" It was like shouting into the void. Somewhere up there in the dark mass of branches that reached over a hundred feet, was a small, terrified boy. How he'd climbed up there was a wonder for later.

Well, actually, Leander decided, the how was not the question. Once onto the first branch the tree was easy to climb if one had a head for heights and strong arms. The rough old trunk and the nobbly boles offered footholds when the gap between branches was too great.

The dark and the mist was a problem, though. He could only see the branches just overhead, and couldn't plan a path. The ground had already disappeared into a sea of mist. Above him was just another misty sky. This isolation made him shiver. He could imagine how it must be affecting Bastian.

"Bastian? Can you hear me?"

"Yes," came back a thin voice.

"How are you?"

"Cold. I'm sorry but I don't think I can get down, Papa Leander."

"That's all right Just hold on. I'll be there soon."

But as he resumed the climb, Leander wondered how the devil he was going to get the frozen boy down. It was far too high for a ladder.

The moon winked on and off as clouds scuttered by, and the gusting wind up high blew the mist. Leander thought he saw the boy hugging the trunk nearly at the top of the tree. His heart almost stopped at the sight; Bastian still seemed so far away, and his position looked precarious. But he climbed steadily on.

He wished he'd brought a rope, then he could perhaps have lowered Bastian down. He was aware that his gloved hands were growing dangerously cold. He doubted Bastian had gloves.

He was going to murder Timothy Rossiter when he got his hands on him.

"I'm coming, Bastian."

Leander felt he must be getting close, but the moon had gone and there was still enough mist to conceal.

"Bastian?"

"Yes."

"Do you think you can talk to me, so I can find you?"

"Hello," said the wavering voice. "Er, what do you went me to say, Papa?"

Leander began to work around the tree a bit. "Sing then. Can you sing?"

Waveringly, the boy's sweet voice began,

"'At Christmastide so long ago/ An angel came to earth below/ To bring to men the blessings dear./ Jesus, our Lord, is near.'"

Leander tracked the thin, trembling voice.

"The angel's light brought peace on earth,/ A signal of the Savior's birth./New hope for all and end of fear./Jesus, our Lord, is near.'"

And suddenly, there Bastian was, a pale shape, shivering, clinging eyes shut to the branch, and gamely singing.

Leander waited until he was close enough to grip, before saying, "Like the view from up here, do you?"

The boy started, and turned, and Leander just managed to grab the back of his trousers before he fell. Bastian began to cry, and Leander pulled him close.

"Cheer up," he said bracingly. "You can dine out on this for years." But the boy was shaking with the cold.

Bastian sniffed, and Leander managed to extract a handkerchief and give it to the boy. He also gave him his gloves. When their hands touched, Bastian's were icy, and Leander had to fight down terror at what might have been.

When Bastian had finished blowing his nose, Leander said, "Now, if you could steady yourself, I can get out of my jacket, and you can have that, too."

"You'll be awfully cold."

"Grown-ups don't get as cold as children," Leander said briskly. For a moment, pulling one arm out of a sleeve, he almost tipped them both, but then he had the garment off, and could help Bastian to put his arms into the sleeves.

"Th... that feels good," said Bastian, teeth chattering more than before, perhaps with reaction. "What do we do now?"

"We get down," said Leander cheerfully, "though I'll tell you truly, I'm not sure how. We'll figure out something. Haloo!" he shouted down into the misty nothingness.

"Ho, the Rogues!" called Nicholas's voice, not seeming very far away. "I'm on my way up with a rope. How are you?"

"In prime twig. In fact, we like it so well we might stay if you're bringing some cake and cider."

Bastian gave a gurgling laugh.

"You'll have to make do with brandy," said Nicholas, clearly very close indeed, though still not visible. "I feel like a bloody Saint Bernard. Where the devil are you?"

Bastian naughtily piped up with more of the song.

"'A sinner's plight makes angels sigh./ Ungodly words make angels cry..."

"Stubble it, you impious whelp," said Leander, hugging him close.

Then Nicholas was there—a very fat Nicholas. He took up a perch on the next branch. "I have great hopes for the future," he said. "The boy's clearly a born Rogue." He unwound something from around his body and passed it over. It was Judith's Russian mantle. Leander wrapped it around Bastian, pulling the hood up over the boy's head.

Next Nicholas passed over a flask of brandy, and Leander was glad enough to take a deep swig. He gave Bastian a little.

The boy almost choked them off the branch. "That's horrid!"

"See you keep that thought for at least eight years or so," said Leander. He turned to Nicholas. "We'd better get down." The truth was that the cold was beginning to eat into him and would soon sap his strength.

"Right," said Nicholas. "My plan is that I'll lower the boy, while you climb down to help if he gets caught up."

Leander tied the rope under Bastian's arms and showed him how to hold it. "Not long now," he told the boy.

As Nicholas gently lowered the boy, so the rope could start to take his weight, Bastian said, "Do you think Papa got to heaven?"

Leander and Nicholas shared a look. Leander said, "I'm sure that your father is in heaven. But this was a trick. We'll talk about it when you're down."

He then began to lower himself from branch to branch, finding it rather more nerve-racking than climbing up. His fingers were growing numb and he had to grope downward with his feet, seeking a secure spot. He kept pace with Bastian, though the boy needed little help and managed to kick away to avoid branches that would have stopped him.

Leander knew Judith must be waiting below, and so he called, "We're all safe. We'll be down soon."

They arrived at a ladder, with a sturdy servant at the top, but they decided to lower Bastian all the way. Leander was glad enough to use the ladder for the rest of the descent.

By the time his feet touched the ground, Bastian was already in his mother's arms, though still trailing the rope like a newborn baby still linked to its mother. Leander gave the rope a couple of sharp tugs to tell Nicholas that all was well and then shrugged into his greatcoat, teeth chattering. "Come on," he said. "Into the house with all of us."

Eleanor had soup waiting, and roaring fires, and they all set to thawing out. Judith, too, was chilled, though someone had found her a blanket while she waited. Nicholas came in, and after a quick conference with Eleanor said, "My delightfully resourceful wife not only thought of soup, but has sent people out around the area to track down our friend. We don't have that many strangers hereabouts, so I'm sure we'll find a trace."

Bastian looked up. "It wasn't Papa? But it looked just like him. It sounded like him. He even had his ring."

"Timothy Rossiter received Sebastian's ring in his will," Judith said. "Why? Why would he be doing these cruel things?"

"For gain," said Nicholas. "Bastian stands between him and something he wants. Does he inherit anything if Bastian dies?"

"No," said Judith. "I mean, he does get the rights to Sebastian's poetry, I believe, but that has never brought in any money."

"Really?" said Eleanor. "But 'My Angel Bride' was on everyone's lips when it came out. The book was in our circulating library in Gloucestershire, and was positively dog-eared with reading."

"In gilded cordovan?" Judith asked in surprise.

"No. In plain cloth-bound," said Eleanor, equally bewildered.

"I think," said Nicholas, "that we have a mystery here that needs investigation, but first the children should be put to bed." He anticipated Judith and said, "For tonight, at least, a servant will keep watch in each room."

Bastian seemed rather more impressed than alarmed at this. "Do you think he'll come back?"

"No," said Nicholas with a grin. "I'm afraid you had so much fun, you'll be off up that tree again."

Bastian grinned shyly back. "And Papa is really in heaven?"

Judith answered that. "Assuredly, Bastian."

"That man," said Bastian with a sliding look. "He said that he'd been thrown out of heaven because you'd married again, Mama, and because Papa Leander had stolen his children. He said if I climbed the tree as high as I could, and renounced Papa Leander three times, he'd be able to go back again."

His look flickered to Leander and away again.

All the adults shared a horrified glance. "Bastian," said Judith, hiding her rage. "That was all cruel nonsense. You mustn't believe such a thing."

"But it was sort of like
Hamlet,
" Bastian muttered.

Leander put his hand on Bastian's shoulder. The boy didn't look up. "I certainly didn't murder your father, lad, and it is not wrong for widows and widowers to remarry, but this would all be better discussed tomorrow when you're rested. Yes?"