Lyn Stone Page 20

  “I would see the license then,” Frick said. His eyes darted to Clive and back again.

  “It is with Lord Havington at the moment, being further validated as we speak,” Galen said. “He’s on the High Council.”

  “Who are you?” Clive demanded.

  “Lord Justice Jelf of London, at your service. Chairman of the committee formed to investigate Lord Duquesne’s petition, which I have approved. All it lacks is the final signature. That is currently being remedied.”

  Guy simply nodded and offered Frick a questioning look. What would he say to that?

  “Charges have been filed,” Frick insisted, “and I must do my duty. As soon as the presence of a license has been verified—and if it is adjudged to predate the formal complaint—the patients shall be promptly released into Lord Duquesne’s care. In light of this new information, I believe I might forgo his lordship’s arrest.”

  “And the patients will remain here,” Jelf insisted.

  “No, my lord, I cannot agree to that. We have attendants without who are to transport them to Plympton Sanitarium immediately.”

  “No!” Guy protested, but Galen had come forward and now clutched his arm. Guy realized he would be fighting a losing battle. If he attacked either Clive or Frick physically, they would have good cause to arrest him then and there. But he could not allow them to take Lily away. Nor his father. God, the earl had not left the estate for fifteen years. A change like this would sorely confuse him. If it was a drug he had been taking, who would help him through the after-effects when it was no longer available? And who knew what would happen to Lily there without his protection?

  Clive shot him a smug look and Guy tensed. It would almost be worth a week in jail to bash in that aquiline nose. Instead he held his peace.

  “Take the earl,” Jelf suggested, giving Guy’s muscle a warning squeeze as he made the untenable decision for him. “Keeping one patient in residence violates no ordinance.”

  “No, he should take Lady Lillian,” Clive argued.

  “Over my dead body,” Guy announced, jerking away from Galen’s hold. “She is my wife!”

  Clive retreated behind a chair, gripping it with white-knuckled hands.

  Frick cleared his throat. “That also has come into question, my lord. You see, I’ve been informed that the lady was in no state of mind to make the decision to marry when you were wed. For all intent and purpose, sir, the marriage could be invalid.”

  “Prove it in the courts,” Galen challenged. “Until then, the marriage stands. I have it on excellent authority she was quite sane when their vows were spoken.”

  “On whose excellent authority?” Clive demanded.

  “My own,” Galen replied without rancor. “I attended the ceremony myself. Five weeks ago,” he added with an inclination of his head. “Earls Kendale and Hammersley were present as witnesses to the event.” He smiled sweetly. “A good time was had by all.”

  Frick turned his glare on Bradshaw as if damning him for false information. Then he heaved a weary sigh. “Very well, that will be easy enough to prove or disprove. But the other patient must go to satisfy the requirement. If the license proves valid, you may fetch him from Plympton and bring him home.” He strode past Guy and Galen, his head down and lips pursed. “I will summon the attendants to collect the earl.”

  Guy focused on Clive Bradshaw who was now in the room alone with him and Galen. “You will pay dearly for this, Bradshaw. I should have employed that butter knife as I promised. Now you may expect worse. Much worse.”

  “Touch me and you’ll be arrested!” Clive warned, his voice a full octave higher than usual.

  “Leave it,” Galen said, his voice low and even. “Everything to its season, Guy. Go and see to your father.”

  Lily stepped into the room. “I overheard,” she said simply, her eyes narrowed on Bradshaw. “You greedy wretch!”

  Galen held up a hand to silence her. “Enough. Bradshaw, I would advise you to leave while you are still physically able.” When Clive glanced from one to the other, obviously unwilling to give up the relative safety of the shielding chair, Galen added a sharp, “Now!”

  Clive skittered around them and hurried out of the parlor. His hasty footsteps clicked against the old tiles of the foyer and a door slammed.

  “Now go prepare your father,” Galen said. “I’ll watch over Lily.” He made a placating gesture when Guy started to protest. “And I promise to behave myself. Go!”

  “Yes, go on, Guy,” Lily encouraged. “He needs you now.”

  Guy went, very reluctantly, torn by the urge to remain at Lily’s side and the necessity of trying to explain things to his father in a way he might understand.

  God, this had begun as such a hopeful day. Probable relief from the threat of going mad himself as the years progressed, the near certainty that Lily’s spells were also the result of drugged tea, the knowledge that she cared about him and that the feeling might deepen into something even more wonderful.

  He heard a second crack of thunder that promised a sudden storm. It seemed a bit late for a warning.

  Lily gave in to Beau’s pleading to go out of doors for a while. Guy had gone off to find and speak with Andolou, but it wasn’t as if he had left them alone. Smarky, the little man he had hired to keep watch, was there by the stables. What harm could there be to a walk in the gardens, other than perhaps getting tangled in the overgrown vegetation? Clive was well away now and Guy had not ordered them to remain inside.

  “Half an hour and then we must come back in. I have things to do,” she said, taking her boy by the hand as they went out through the kitchens.

  He had grown so rambunctious, the young maid who had been keeping him company in Guy’s old nursery had complained she was at a loss to keep him calm. Lily figured Beau had sensed the unrest within the household, even though he had not been privy to any of the conversations between the adults.

  “Where is Duquesne?” he demanded. “I want to ride.”

  “Not today, darling. Your pony is at Sylvana Hall, remember?”

  Lily surveyed the wooded area just north of the gardens. What should have been a pleasant view sent a frisson of concern through her. With her free hand she rubbed her forearm where goose bumps prickled her skin. The urge to rush Beau back inside suddenly overtook her. Silly, she knew, but still she couldn’t shake the notion that they were watched from within the copse of trees.

  “I want to go and get her,” Beau argued, his brow furrowed as he looked up at Lily. “Now!” His small hand rested on his hip and his stance reminded her of Guy’s. So did the tilt of his head. How quickly children assumed the posture and attitudes of those around them. She thanked her stars that Beau was now removed from the influence of his grandmother and uncle.

  “Not today, Beau,” she repeated with emphasis. “We’ll speak with Guy when he returns about having your mount delivered here. Perhaps tomorrow.”

  “Are we to stay in this place long? What of Sylvana Hall? Who will take care of everyone there?”

  Lily smiled. “It’s good of you to worry since it is our responsibility, but Guy will see to it for us for the time being. We’ll go home soon.”

  That seemed to satisfy him. He let go of her hand and skipped off to chase a large grasshopper.

  Lily found a seat on an old stone bench and watched him play. She continued scanning the tree line. Was someone there? After a tense quarter hour, she ordered Beau inside.

  Guy worried about leaving Lily and Beau, even for the hour or so it might take to question Andolou, but Smarky was there keeping vigil. Still he wished now that he had sent word for Andolou to come to him.

  Smoke rose from the chimney of the small stone cottage in the northernmost reach of Edgefield. Obviously, Andolou was at home.

  The herb woman’s cottage was a quaint little stone structure with a steeply sloped, thatched roof. Charming, really. Before his time, he thought it had once been a hunting lodge. Now it looked rather feminine with color
ful flowers blooming in profusion all around it. Not at all like a place where dark deeds and potions were concocted.

  He intended to find out what it was that she had added to that tea, why she had done it and what possessed her to continue. And whether the same thing had been purchased from her to give to Lily. More to the point, he needed to know who had bought it.

  Guy did not know Andolou except on sight, had never spoken with her, though she had lived on the Edgefield property for as long as he could remember. He realized only now that he had taken his cue from his mother who, for as long as she lived, had refused to acknowledge the woman’s existence.

  Andolou kept to herself. Though the villagers visited her to buy potions and herbs, few in the community called her friend. He had been surprised to hear that Lily knew of her at all, even though the cottage was as near to Sylvana Hall as it was to Edgefield.

  Guy suspected that his father had known Andolou better than anyone, most likely in the biblical sense. Why else would she have been given a house on the Edgefield estate if she hadn’t been mistress to the earl? However, that was not a thing to be discussed then, and he would not mention it today.

  He reached the front of the cottage, dismounted, strode down the flat paving stones that led to the front door and knocked as he called, “Madam Andolou? It is Duquesne.”

  Guy waited a bit and knocked harder. “Come out. I would speak with you.” He tried the door and found it unlocked.

  Perhaps she was hard of hearing. Or ill and unable to answer, he thought, knowing he invented excuses to enter her home uninvited. At this point, he was too desperate and in too much of a hurry to care about her sensibilities. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  The little cottage was dark except for glowing embers in the fireplace and the bit of light seeping in around the window shutters.

  Guy made his way over to a table that held a large mortar and pestle and a foot-long slab of marble. He noted a number of glass jars and bottles, some clear, some dark, all labeled in a neat hand. He found a tin of lucifers beside an oil lamp and quickly lit it.

  An ornately carved, tightly lidded box rested near the mixing area. Guy opened it and sniffed the contents. It smelled of plain tea leaves. Did this already contain the substance that had so altered his father, and probably Lily, as well? He replaced the lid and set the box aside.

  As he did so, his hand brushed a small glass jar filled with gray-brown powder. No identifying label on that one. He sniffed it, too, but couldn’t identify the musty odor. It was the only other ingredient on the table. Everything else Andolou had prepared for sale or use set upon shelves, clearly marked.

  He lifted the lamp and looked around more closely. Clothes hung on pegs. No cabinets in which to conceal anything.

  The place appeared clean and very neatly kept. In one corner sat a rather large bed with an expensive-looking damask coverlet and fluffy pillows. On this side of the bed was a small table supporting a china basin and water pitcher. A twin table stood on the far side, holding a silver-backed brush, comb and hand mirror. Gifts from his father or purchases made with profits from her trade? Guy wondered.

  There was also an upholstered chair and footstool, mate to the two in the library at Edgefield. No question about who had provided those.

  He noted the aromatic herbs and dried flowers hung in rows from the sturdy rafters. A plush Oriental carpet softened the worn flagstone floor. An array of gleaming copper pots hung near the fireplace.

  He walked out the back door that led to a well-tended garden and looked around. “Andolou?” he called.

  Then he saw her. She lay in a crimson heap at the foot of a rowan tree beyond the herb plots of her garden. Though her face was not visible, he knew it was Andolou because of the bright fabric. None of the locals would wear that purplish scarlet color. And no one else was likely to be lying on her property.

  Heedless of the plants he trampled in his haste, Guy ran to her by the most direct route. He dropped to his knees beside her and pressed his fingertips to her neck, praying for a pulse. If she were dead, he might never find out what he needed to know.

  There, he felt it, a slight flutter. Quickly he lifted her and carried her back into her home and placed her on the bed.

  She didn’t stir. It might be her heart. Or perhaps she had merely overexerted herself working in the garden and fainted. Andolou looked rather young for heart problems.

  It was hard to tell her age, Guy noted. Her face and neck, the color of coffee with heavy cream, betrayed few wrinkles. Her graceful, long-fingered hands were scarred with burns, the nails clipped to the quick. Her high-breasted, slim-hipped figure was still that of a girl.

  He could well understand the appeal she might have held for one of his father’s station. She was wildly exotic, mysterious and as far removed from a cool, English beauty as a man could find.

  Guy had seen too much of the exotic and mysterious during his life in London to deem that attractive. There were hundreds of Andolous in the brothels there, wretched souls abandoned by men who had brought them to England then tired of them.

  Lily was the anomaly in his world and the only woman Guy had ever met who could stir his blood to boiling the way she did.

  But what was he to do with Andolou? He hated to leave her unconscious while he summoned help. And what help would that be? Old Dr. Ephriam who probably saw her as a threat to his own profession? If it was her heart, a dose of laudanum wouldn’t do her much good and that seemed to be the extent of Ephriam’s treatment.

  Perhaps if he could revive her, she might suggest her own remedy. He poured tepid water from the pitcher into the basin, wet a cloth he found and tried to cool her face. He spoke softly to her, called her name and encouraged her to wake up.

  Eventually, when he had almost given up, she groaned and squinted up at him, her dark eyes a cloudy brown. A pained smile formed. “G’iford? You don’ send de liddle mon?”

  Little man? Then he realized she wasn’t referring to size, but status. His father’s man had fetched the tea. “Mimms? No, not this time.”

  The woman had never met Guy, so he figured she must think he was his father. How long had it been since the earl ceased to visit here? Guy wondered. He decided not to correct her thinking.

  “Andolou? Have you been ill?” He mopped her brow again, dislodging the turban. Her hair was clipped very close to her scalp. Traces of silver mottled the tight black curls.

  Her fingers plucked at his sleeve as she frowned up at him. “You come to see me die, G’iford?”

  “No, Andolou.” He inclined his head toward the shelves across the room. “Tell me what you need to feel better.”

  “De shroom dust,” she gasped, glancing at the table. “Take no more. All de time he promise me. He say you come here, all well, soon.” She winced, grasping the folds of the fabric draped over her chest. “You fine now.”

  Guy had no clue what she was talking about, but he wanted to soothe her, to reassure her and above all, to get the information he sought before she lapsed back into unconsciousness. “Yes. Fine, I promise. Tell me what you put in that tea, Andolou. I must know. It’s very important.”

  “Shroom.” She repeated the strange word, dragging it out in a sibilant sigh as she clenched her eyes shut. “You finish now. No more.” Her long sigh sounded weary. “I finish…”

  Guy tried to wake her again, this time without success. Her breath became a rattle, then ceased altogether.

  “Andolou?” He shook her gently, then more firmly, but she remained limp and lifeless. He placed his fingers on her neck and felt nothing. He moved her hands away and pressed his ear to her chest. She had gone without a whimper or a goodbye.

  Guy bowed his head, feeling defeat as he sat there with his father’s dead mistress, wondering what the hell he was to do now.

  After a bit, he folded her long slender hands across her body. As he pulled the embroidered satin up to cover her, he felt something sharp snag the skin of his own hand.


  He ripped aside the fabric of the dark red paisley garment she wore and saw the metal embedded just below her left breast. How had he not seen that or at least felt it before?

  Guy cursed. Someone had stabbed her and the handle of the weapon must have snapped off, leaving a rough edge of steel protruding a fraction of an inch above the surface of her skin. She had not bled much, at least not on the outside. Her garment was darker than the color of the blood and had concealed what had seeped through.

  He covered her completely and stood. He would go for the constable. Murder had been done here and he felt in his gut it had to do with the business of the tea and what it contained. Why else would anyone do such a thing?

  If someone had murdered Andolou to keep her silent, then even Mimms might be at risk. He had to get home and arrange more protection.

  After a quick, final glance at the body, Guy hurried across the room and picked up the carved tea box and the bottle of what appeared to be ashes.

  He had a feeling whatever it contained was the source of his father’s, and possibly Lily’s, problems.

  Chapter Fifteen

  It had been a long, long day and it was not over yet. Lily joined Guy and the constable in Edgefield’s parlor where the earlier confrontation had taken place.

  Beau had been put to bed in the nursery where Guy had spent his early youth. Smarky had sworn to sleep across the threshold outside the door with a weapon in his hand.

  All afternoon, the scrawny little man had entertained Beau with wildly inventive tales of highwaymen and seagoing pirates, told in the cant of dockside London. While she might fear for her son’s sensibilities, Lily knew she need not fear for his safety so long as Smarky was around.

  Now she listened for the second time as Guy related what he had found at Andolou’s cottage. He explained what he knew of the herb woman’s death and the possible motive for it.

  “I believe that ingesting this powdered matter, whatever it is, must be the cause of my father’s behavior through the years. Lord Justice Jelf certainly was convinced. Someone learned of its effect, acquired a supply and used it upon my wife. I believe Andolou was murdered to keep her from revealing who purchased it,” Guy concluded.