Pendragon (33 page)

“My dear boy, Thomas is lying. Your father is the earl of Lancaster.”

“Aunt Libby,” Thomas said patiently, “you know that neither William nor I in any way resemble the earl of Lancaster. Both of us look more like our mothers than anyone else. It is up to you, ma'am. Who is William's father, Aunt Libby? Tell us now. Tell William now. There's really not much time. Meggie's gone and we must find her before it is too late.”

She stubbornly shook her head.

“Madam,” Tysen said, rising from his chair. “My daughter is in grave danger. You will tell us the truth now or I will do something I will probably regret. Now, madam, the truth, if you please.”

William said very quietly, pain and dread mixed in his voice, “It is Lord Kipper, isn't it, Mother?”

She turned utterly white, froze in her place, her eyes fastened on her folded hands.

“Lord Kipper,” Tysen repeated slowly.

“Yes, William,” Thomas said, “I believe he is your father and that explains everything, now doesn't it?”

Madeleine said, “But William is not beautiful like Lord Kipper is. What a wretched thing. How very unfair.”

“But, Thomas,” William said, ignoring her, “I was with him, I swear it to you, when Jenny was taken. That's why I believed I must be wrong. You see, I was beginning to wonder why he gave me so much attention, wonder why he always inquired so closely into what I wanted to do, how I felt about things. He was acting like—a man who was related to me, like a man who wanted to claim me somehow, to teach me, to guide me.”

“Like a father,” Thomas said.

“Yes, and it scared me to my toes. That's why I came to your bedchamber early this morning. I knew I couldn't wait. But I wanted you to tell me it was nonsense, I really did.”

“Yes,” Thomas said, “I know Lord Kipper was with you. That just means that he hired someone else to help him.”

Libby said very quietly, “I didn't want to believe it, truly, I didn't. I forced myself not to think about it. When Jenny MacGraff disappeared, I was relieved, pleased that she was gone, that she wouldn't drag your name down by marrying you. I wanted her to have run off to Dublin. I prayed it was true. I was lying to myself. And look at what has happened. I'm very sorry.” She looked up at her son, closed her hand over his. “I'm very, very sorry.”

William was shaking his head, not looking at his mother.

Libby said, “Niles has had Bernard Leach here for a good long time now.”

Thomas said, cocking his head to the side, his voice puzzled, “But Lord Kipper bedded Marie Leach, he said so, said that Bernard was a sot and a clod. It was obvious to me that Lord Kipper had nothing but contempt for Bernard Leach. Why would he let Bernard stay with him?”

Libby shrugged. “I saw Bernard. I wasn't supposed to, but I did, out by the stables one morning when I was leaving. Why was he there? I don't know.”

“He was there as Lord Kipper's tool,” Thomas said. “That's it, then. We know enough. William, sir, Jeremy, are you ready?”

35

T
HOMAS WOULD COME
, her father with him. Perhaps even Jeremy. She had to keep herself alive, just had to. She remembered she'd sworn to Thomas she would never leave him. She wasn't about to break that promise.

Lord Kipper had fallen silent. He was standing over Jenny MacGraff, a thoughtful expression on his face. He looked suddenly vicious. She watched him lift one of his riding boots and kick her in the ribs.

Meggie saw red, reared up onto her elbows. It hurt, but she didn't care. “You bastard, don't do that again. Damn you, you miserable coward!”

Lord Kipper ignored her. He said, both his voice and his expression utterly dismissive, and listened to Jenny moan, “She is so very common. I could not allow her to marry William. A travesty, that's what it would have been.”

Meggie saw that Jenny was lying on her side, huddled in on herself on the bare floor. She was slight, her hair pale, her skin very white. She was very young and very pretty. She was also alarmingly pale. She was wearing a simple muslin gown that was twisted about her knees, woolen stockings, and one black slipper. The other one had come off her foot and was lying several feet away from her.

“No,” Lord Kipper said, his voice meditative now, as
if he were speaking to himself, “I could not allow her to marry William.” Then he looked over at Meggie. “Don't you understand yet? This merchant's daughter couldn't be the next countess of Lancaster. Any fool in his right mind would realize what a bitter jest that would be. Thomas forced my hand when he ordered William to marry her on Sunday. I had to do something, and so I did. And then yesterday at the damned tea party your husband set up—William was so very close. And I saw that everyone else was now thinking about that. Everything would soon come down on my head and I couldn't have that, not until I'd fixed everything.”

Meggie said slowly, “You are willing to kill three innocent people because you want William to be the next earl of Lancaster? Blessed Hell, why would you care who is the earl of Lancaster? It's nothing to do with you.”

“What a stupid question, Meggie. Haven't you yet realized that I am William's father?”

Meggie said nothing for a full minute, then quietly, nodding slowly, “You should be ever so pleased then that he got Jenny pregnant. He also got another girl in Glenclose-on-Rowan pregnant. He is just like you, isn't he? Like father like son. Do you hate the women you have despoiled?”

“Don't be ridiculous. Women are women, they are to be used, to be enjoyed. All of you are silly creatures, at least most of you are. As for my son, in that William much likes to bed women, yes, he is like me, actually like practically all men, truth be told. Some of us are masters at it, most aren't. Unfortunately, William is one of the latter. He does not have my charm or my brain, but I will teach him. Surely he will improve once he knows that I am his father, once he knows what I have given him. Yes, once William knows that the old earl of Lancaster was so obsessed, so gripped with the belief that he could not trust a woman to bear his son and not another man's, he will thank me, he will bless fate that gave me him as his father and not that miserable old man. Interesting, isn't it? The old earl sewed the seeds of
his own destruction. His father was the same way, I understand.”

“Evidently, the old earl was right not to trust Libby, wasn't he?”

“He shouldn't have distrusted her, she never gave him a reason. Our brief liaison was discreet, William the result. No, Titus Malcombe was a mad, stupid man. At least I had Libby come here to Pendragon after he booted her and William out. I've looked after both her and William over the years. I expect William will be so relieved that Lord Lancaster isn't his father that he will fall upon my neck.” Lord Kipper grinned at that thought, and for just an instant, there was a warmth in his eyes. “I will bring him to live with me for a while, to complete his education.”

“The earl of Lancaster was Thomas's father, wasn't he?”

Lord Kipper shrugged, eyes dead again. “I know that Madeleine played him false one time. Was he Thomas's father or was his father Madeleine's lover? I don't know. I don't really care. Yes, William will learn everything from me, his real father. He is still very young. He will not disappoint me.”

Meggie said, “If he doesn't learn, will you kill him, too?”

“Shut up, you stupid girl. You paint me as a monster, but I'm not. I want my son to have what should be his. I've been planning this for a very long time. Once he is the earl of Lancaster, I will marry Libby and adopt William, so that when I die, he will also gain my title and lands. No one will ever know that he is a bastard. It will be our little family secret.”

“Is William, I wonder, bereft of any sort of human decency, like you, his father?”

He stepped toward her, his fist raised, then stopped. He shrugged. “It doesn't matter what you think, what you say. I merely do what I must, no more, no less. Actually, as it turned out, it wasn't such a bad thing that Thomas met you and fell in love with you—ah, that's a stupidity, isn't it? This love business that doesn't exist in this
benighted world. But that's not at all to the point. You brought him a splendid dowry—that is what's important—and that will mean all the more money for William and his heirs.”

“I will wager you that right this minute Thomas knows you are the evil behind all this. He is right now searching for you.”

“No, you're wrong, not yet, not yet. But it will be close. I will mourn your loss, Meggie, you may count on that. Yes, I must move quickly now. I'm sorry for your death, but in the long run you're not really important.” He saw that she was shaking her head at him, that she was so pale, she already looked dead. Such a pity, but no choice. “Listen to me,” he said. “I could not allow you to have a child, and the good Lord knows that would certainly be the outcome since the two of you are consumed with lust for each other. And imagine, you a vicar's daughter. Yes, you having a child, that would have complicated matters far too much. You must die now, Meggie, common Jenny with you.

“Thomas, well, I suppose I myself must see to his removal since Bernard doesn't have the guts to. Perhaps I will let him go easily, an accident in his curricle, perhaps. That will do nicely. Yes, Bernard is a coward, when all is said and done.”

Talk, she had to keep talking, slow down time itself. “What really happened to Marie?”

“Ah, I forgot that you and Thomas were both there, witnesses to our little drama. It was I who had to string Marie up by her neck after that fool Bernard had killed her when she dished out too many insults on his head—not that he didn't deserve all her rage—the lazy sod. No, he strangled her, then didn't have the guts to hang her up. He cried and carried on the whole time. Then when I saw the carriage stop outside the inn, I hit him on the head and left him on the kitchen floor for you to find. Imagine, it was Thomas and his new bride who walked in the inn. I have smiled a bit over that.”

“You decided to blame it on the Grakers.”

“That is what Bernard wanted to do. I told him no one could be so stupid as to believe any of that nonsense, but he insisted, said the legends claimed the Grakers hanged their enemies. The next day he was evidently consumed by guilt and got himself blithering drunk, and spewed it all out, luckily only to that wretched stable boy, and he knew he had to escape, and so he did. He came here. I will remove Bernard when all this is done and over.”

“What happened to the stable lad?”

Lord Kipper shrugged. “Bernard strangled him and buried him behind the stable, at least that is what he told me. Now, enough, Meggie. It's time for you to say farewell to this life. Your father is a vicar, a man of God. I assume he raised you in his beliefs. Do you believe in God, Meggie? Do you believe in a splendid afterlife for all those who are worthy?”

“Yes.”

“I'm glad you will have some comfort. Now, I will shoot cleanly this time, and then it will be over.”

“I don't believe you. It was you who killed Marie, wasn't it, not poor Bernard.”

“No, she pushed him over the edge, finally. Now, you're trying to distract me, and it is a paltry attempt. It's over now, Meggie.”

Meggie stared at that black ugly gun he was lifting in his hand. She couldn't look away from it. She didn't want to die, she didn't. With all her strength, she lunged toward him, her hands out, clutching for that gun. She managed to grab his hand, twisted it upward as he pulled the trigger. It was an immense explosion in that small room. She heard a chunk of the wall explode.

He slammed her back with his fist. He was cursing her, hitting her again, hard on the jaw, and Meggie knew she was moaning, knew that she was nearly unconscious, pain from her shoulder ripping through her. She was panting, panting, so afraid, and now she watched him through pain-blurred eyes as he walked out of the cottage. He was leaving? No, he was getting Bernard's gun.

She tried to rise, but couldn't, she was just too weak.
She lay there, wanting to cry because she'd failed, because all she'd done was just put off the inevitable.

Too soon, too soon she watched him come back into the room, and in his hand he held not a gun, but some stout string. He was wrapping it around his hands, pulling on it, testing its strength. She didn't want to be strangled, but now there wouldn't be a choice.

He came closer and closer. “Bernard always carries this stout string. He did kill Marie, this is what he likes to do, strangle women.”

He dropped a knee onto the cot and leaned over her. “Now it's over,” he said, and lifted her head. She tried to fight him, tried to twist out of the way. She felt the string, knots along its length close around her neck. She was so weak but still she had to try. She was trying desperately to pull the string loose from her neck, jerk his hands away, but it didn't slow him at all. There was no more strength, none at all now. She felt his hands tightening the string, felt the knots digging into her flesh. Obscene sounds filled the room, gurgling sounds, and she was light-headed, the pain in her neck building and building.

She couldn't die, just couldn't, but there was nothing left now, nothing she could do.

Then, suddenly the knots weren't digging so deeply, the string was becoming slack. Meggie opened her eyes to look up at him. His face was a mask of surprise and shock. He huffed out a breath and fell sideways, crashing to the floor.

Jenny MacGraff stood over him, his empty gun held in her hand. He moaned and both women froze. Jenny very calmly went down on her knees and struck him hard against the temple. When she rose, she said to Meggie, “We've won. What a horrible man. Are you all right, my lady?”

“Yes, thank you.” Her voice was a croak, and she was pulling frantically at the knotted string. She had to get it off her, had to. Her voice was raw, painful, but there was no hope for it. “We haven't won yet. There is still Bernard. Quickly, Jenny, he's outside.”

Jenny nodded and crept toward the door. She opened it, saw Bernard was riding away.

She turned. “He's run again,” she said, then walked slowly over to where Lord Kipper lay. She raised her foot and kicked him hard in the ribs.

“Is he dead?”

Jenny shook her head. “No. But he should be. I hit him hard enough that second time.”

“Don't you end it, Jenny. Let him hang,” Meggie whispered since it hurt so badly. “Yes, let him hang.” Then she held out her hand to Jenny MacGraff. “I am so glad you will be my new sister. Thank you, Jenny. I am Meggie. I would have welcomed you to Pendragon, but that bastard took you first.”

“How do you feel? Your voice sounds a little bit better, thank God.”

“Yes, it's not quite so bad now. Sit here beside me. Thomas will come soon.”

When Thomas, William, Tysen, and Jeremy arrived a half hour later, bursting through the door into the cottage, they saw Jenny sitting on a narrow dirty cot holding Meggie's hand. Lord Kipper lay unconscious on the floor, his wrists bound with the knotted string he'd used to strangle Meggie, his shirt ripped off him, the remnants tying his ankles together.

Thomas walked to the cot, stood there over her, saying not a word until Jenny eased out of the way.

Meggie smiled, a very big smile, and said, her voice not as raw now, “Jenny saved us. She hit him over the head when he was strangling me.”

Strangling her. Oh God, he was trembling, he just couldn't help it. He stood there like a palsied man, trembling, so weak with relief, with gratitude to Jenny MacGraff that he wanted to shout with it.

Meggie smiled when her father shoved Thomas out of the way, came down to sit beside her on the cot, and held her close. He buried his face in her hair. “My dearest heart, you're alive. This was too close, Meggie. Far too
close. Your voice—that will probably take some time to heal. Are you all right?”