The Lady of Lyon House (20 page)

“His job will be to find you,” Philip Ashley replied. “The damn fool must be out of his mind, letting you wander around like this. It would serve him right if something happened to you.”

“I don't need a chaperone,” I said angrily.

“But you have one,” he said. He gripped my arm firmly.

“You're insufferable,” I said.

“Then you'll have to suffer.”

“Will you let go of me, Mr. Ashley?”

“No, I won't. You're coming with me.”

“I most certainly shall not,” I replied.

“You have no choice in the matter. I'm bigger than you are and far stronger.”

“You're making fun of me!”

“I'm stating a fact. Come along.”

“Where are we going?”

“Down by the river.”

“If you think—”

“Don't flatter yourself. It's quiet there, and we can see the fireworks. Your gallant Mr. Lyon should be ready to leave by the time they are over, and perhaps he'll remember that he is responsible for you.”

“What do you know about Edward Lyon?”

“Enough, lass,” he said.

I did not say anything more. I walked quietly beside Philip Ashley. It seemed all the energy had been drained out of me. I was still weak from the encounter with the two country roughs. We walked past the dark, deserted stalls, stepping over the litter of the day. Now I could hear the river rushing along the banks. The lights and music of the dance pavilion were far behind us now. The music was like a faint, tinny echo, the lights mere colored shadows in the distance. I felt the cold night air on my shoulders, and I shivered. The ground was damp, marshy, and all around us the shrubbery rustled. Philip Ashley led me to a bench beneath an immense oak tree, by the river's edge. He motioned for me to sit down, and I obeyed.

“What do you propose to do now?” I asked tartly.

“Wait,” he said.

“I want to go home.”

“That's too bad. You'll wait.”

“You are the most abominable—”

“Shut up,” he said harshly. “I've had enough out of you for the time being. I'm not enjoying this a bit more than you are, lass. If I didn't think you'd be carried off by ruffians, I'd turn you loose.”

“Why should you care what happened to me?” I snapped.

“I said shut up,” he replied, his voice husky.

It was calm and serene. The water rippled with silver shavings of moonlight. A frog leaped from a log and plopped into the water. The smell of the milkweed blended with that of damp earth and dead leaves. The sky was very black, softly gilded with moonlight. I was consumed with anger, my cheeks hot, my mouth pursed tightly. I wanted to throw something at this boorish creature who kept me captive, and yet I was curiously flattered at the same time. At least he showed some concern for me, which was more than Edward had done. I knew that I should have been afraid of him, but I wasn't.

“What do you want of me?” I asked.

“From you? Nothing, my dear.”

“Why did you follow me the other night?” I asked.

“Pardon?”

“The night before last, in the woods.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You were watching me. You followed me.”

“No,” he said, “I didn't.”

“You followed me in London. You were watching me tonight—”

“But I did not follow you in the woods.”

“Then—who did?”

“Tell me about it,” he said. His voice was strangely heavy. He stood with his head cocked to one side, listening very intently while I told him what had happened. In the moonlight, his face was grim. He looked angry, and I could see him tense.

“Damn fool!” he said.

“Who?”

“You should be kept locked up, you know. If you're not a part of all this—”

“A part of what?”

He ignored the question. “You're certain of this? You're absolutely sure you didn't just imagine it?”

“That's what Edward thought. No one will believe me.”

“I believe you,” he said.

“I don't understand,” I said. “I don't understand any of it.”

“You will,” he replied, “in time.”

Philip Ashley knew something, but he did not intend to tell me. I looked down at my hands in my lap. I wanted to cry with frustration. They all seemed to be in a conspiracy of silence, even this man. There was something behind all that silence, and it threatened me. Why did they refuse to let me know what was going on?

“Why should I believe you?” I asked. “Why should I? I know you followed me in London, I know you followed me tonight. Why should I believe you when you say it wasn't you in the woods?”

“You have a nice point there.”

“I—I don't know if I believe you or not.”

“No. Then you should be terrified. I could easily toss you into the river here and now.”

“You could—”

“And I might just do that if you don't be quiet. I'm thinking. I want you to be still.”

“Be still yourself!” I said irritably.

Philip Ashley laughed harshly. The sound was diabolical there in the darkness. He scooped up a handful of pebbles and tossed them into the water. Each one made a loud splash as it hit the surface. A frog croaked angrily. Crickets chirped near the base of the tree, and the buzzing of insects filled the air. When he had thrown all the pebbles, he folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the trunk of the tree. His face was silhouetted by the moonlight, the sharp nose prominent, the jaw thrust out. He seemed to be oblivious to my presence. I found that more intolerable than his insults.

“You made quite an impression on Mrs. Crandall,” I remarked after a while.

“A most unusual lady,” he said. “Most unusual.”

“She was greatly impressed with your gin.”

“Guzzled damn near a whole bottle of it,” he said. “I've never seen the likes of it.”

“That's rather unfair, don't you think?” I said.

“Unfair?”

“Getting her drunk in order to pump her for information.”

“Is that what I was doing?”

“Isn't it?”

“Perhaps. She had some interesting things to say.”

“Corinne was furious. She claims she's never laid eyes on you before in her life.”

“Perhaps she hasn't.”

“Why are you so interested in us?” I asked bluntly.

“Let's just say I have a great curiosity about my neighbors,” he replied glibly.

“I wish I knew who you were.”

“Philip Ashley, painter and scoundrel, at your service.”

“Why are you here? What are you after? I know you didn't come to Devonshire just to paint.”

“Very perceptive of you.”

“I'm going to tell Edward all about this. I'm going to tell him everything you've said.”

“I wouldn't,” Philip Ashley replied quietly.

“Are you threatening me?”

“Perhaps.”

“Who are you? What do you intend to do?”

He chuckled. “A very sinister character,” he said. “Perhaps I am planning some heinous crime. Don't get in my way. It suits me to spare you at the moment, but later on I may have no such qualms. Stay out of my way and behave yourself.”

“I almost believe you,” I said. “I wouldn't be surprised at any thing you might do. Anyone who would get a poor, befuddled woman drunk and then laugh at her is capable of anything foul.”

“Quite capable,” he remarked casually.

We lapsed into silence. I wondered about this man with his cynical poise and his mocking tongue. He bewildered me and irritated me, and I was unable to resist his fascination. I told myself that I hated him, and I should have been afraid, yet I felt strangely secure here with him, and I was glad he had brought me. My headache was gone. I seemed to be vibrantly alive with every fiber of my being. Philip Ashley had caused this. I did not know how or why, but I secretly reveled in the feeling.

“Will you at least tell me who Mr. Herron is?” I asked.

“A chap from London.”

“I wonder what he could be seeing Edward about.”

“I wonder that myself.”

“Is Mr. Herron a friend of yours?” I asked.

“I had dealings with him once.”

“Do you know him well?”

“Not well, but well enough not to like him.”

“What does he do?”

“Nothing you would be interested in, my lass. You're asking far too many questions. I shall lose patience any moment now, and you'll surely regret it.”

“No one tells me anything,” I said, frustrated.

“Then you are most fortunate,” he remarked.

“Everyone treats me like a child!”

“You're acting like one now, my dear.”

We were silent as the first flare of the fireworks display lit up the sky. A rocket shot across the darkness, exploding into particles of silvery—blue fire that drifted slowly down and faded. There was another, powdering the sky with green flakes, then red, then gold. It was incredibly beautiful. Each time a rocket was shot there was a loud explosion of noise, then the silent explosion of beauty in the sky. I saw sparklers, glittering, spinning in silver wheels. I could hear the voices of spectators in the distance exclaiming their delight. The display lasted for fifteen minutes, dazzling, overwhelming, and when it was over the sky seemed darker than before and the wind was cold.

“We'll go now,” Philip Ashley said. “Your escort may have remembered he brought you. He'll be looking for you. I'll take you back to the wagon.”

“Thank you,” I said.

I felt depleted. The day had taken its toll of my emotions. Now I wanted only to be alone. I walked beside Philip Ashley, almost running to keep pace with him. We saw the wagons ahead. The great mound of hay stood out. I saw Edward standing beside our wagon, apparently at ease. Philip Ashley stopped.

“I'll leave you here,” he said. “Your Mr. Lyon is waiting.”

“I—I suppose I should thank you,” I said awkwardly.

“Not at all. The pleasure was all mine.”

“I will see you again,” I said.

“I imagine you will,” he replied.

He disappeared into the shadows. I stood there a moment thinking about him. He was so peculiar, so bewildering. I wondered why I had not been frightened of him. I had every reason to be. I walked to the wagon slowly.

“There you are,” Edward said. “I've been looking for you.”

“I met a friend,” I said.

“Oh? Jolly. Shall we go?”

“Yes,” I replied.

I was puzzled. Edward did not seem to be at all alarmed by my disappearance. He seemed, strangely enough, jovial. He helped me up on the wagon and swung himself up beside me with boyish enthusiasm. He was grinning to himself, and he clicked the reins merrily as he pulled away from the fair grounds.

“Did everything go well—with your friend?” I asked.

“What? Oh, you mean the chap I was talking with. Yes, everything is dandy in that department, just dandy.”

“I just—wondered.”

“Lovely night, isn't it?” Edward said.

The road was a silvery ribbon in the moonlight enclosed by the inky black borders of trees and shrubs. The horses trotted briskly over the road, eager to be home. The wagon bounced over the ruts, the hay falling on our shoulders. I could feel Edward's elation. He seemed to be on the verge of whistling. I was a little offended that he had taken my disappearance so casually. He had asked no questions. I did not intend to say anything about Philip Ashley. Everyone else had secrets. The encounter with Mr. Ashley would be mine.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I
WAS UP
early the next morning. I had just come downstairs when Corinne threw open the front door and came striding into the house in her riding outfit. The moss green veil of her hat was wrapped around her shoulders. She disentangled it and tossed the hat aside, greeting me as she did so. Neither of us had had breakfast, and we went into the breakfast room together. It was a small room near the kitchen, papered in vivid yellow. Sunlight poured through the window, making dazzling pools on the white linen table cloth. There was a bowl of blue flowers on the table and it was set for three, blue linen napkins folded beside the plates. Corinne sat down abruptly and rang for the servant.

“Is Edward going to breakfast with us?” I asked.

“It would seem so,” she retorted. “He's been up for hours, making the damndest noise! Whistling, knocking about in his room, packing up a suitcase.”

“Oh?”

“He's taking a short trip to London, he informed me. Good riddance, I say.”

“Did I hear my name mentioned?” Edward said.

He stood in the doorway, smiling at us. He wore dark trousers and leather slippers and a beautifully tailored dressing gown of maroon and black striped satin. His hair was mussed, rich auburn waves falling over his forehead. Edward managed to look elegant even at this hour. He took his chair, his dark brown eyes full of mischief.

“What dreadful things have you been saying about me?” he asked Corinne.

“Just that I'd be glad to be rid of you for a few days.”

“Only three, as a matter of fact,” he replied.

“I wonder if I could go to London with you?” I asked.

“Out of the question!” Corinne snapped.

I turned to her. She was aware of how abruptly she had spoken, and she tried to pass it off with a laugh.

“It'll give us a chance to really visit,” she said, “with Edward out of the way. Besides, I don't care to be alone.”

“There is Mrs. Crandall,” I said.

Corinne snorted, thus dismissing Agatha Crandall.

“Why this sudden urge to go to London?” Corinne asked Edward.

“Business,” he replied, smiling.

“Some wench, most likely,” Corinne said.

“Not this time,” her nephew replied, “although I might find time to look up some old friends.”