Anne Ashley, page 12
Above the rim of his glass he studied his friend as Luke began to consume the tray of food his wife had thoughtfully arranged to be sent in to him. ‘You’re a lucky dog, Kingsley!’ he at last declared, determined to have his curiosity satisfied. ‘A darling of a wife, a delightful home—everything a man could wish for… So why, I ask myself, do you feel the need to desert her so soon after the nuptials have taken place? My every instinct tells me something is sadly amiss here at the Manor!’
For a moment their eyes met and locked, before Luke returned his attention to the food on his plate. Had it been anyone else he might have denied entirely the assertion. Alas, he knew only too well that hidden behind that relaxed geniality lurked an astuteness every bit as sharp as his own. All the same, this knowledge didn’t deter him from at least attempting to alleviate Hugo’s obvious suspicions.
‘If you’re trying to suggest you detected a slight—how shall I phrase it?—strain between Briony and myself earlier, it’s hardly surprising. One does not expect to return home to discover one’s wife in the arms of another man, especially when that other man just happens to be an old and trusted friend.’
All at once the Colonel’s blue eyes were twinkling again. ‘Nice try, Kingsley, old fellow! Had I not known you so well, I might have believed you were slightly aggrieved… Not that you don’t have good reason to be,’ he went on, all at once appearing smugly satisfied. ‘I always believed I was destined to remain a bachelor and was not unhappy at the prospect. It isn’t that I’ve anything against the ladies, you understand. In fact, I’ve enjoyed the pleasure of a fair few in my time, as well you know. But marriage has never once entered my thoughts, not since Alicia’s death.’ All at once he looked serious. ‘Briony has stirred something in me, though, I don’t mind admitting to it. I’d give a great deal to have what you have here—a darling for a wife, a lovely home. I hope you appreciate just what you do have.
‘And all that nonsense I was hearing in London about you a while back didn’t fool me for a minute, either,’ he went on, when he received no response. ‘Like me, you’ve enjoyed a fair bit of female company in your time, but I’ve never known you become entangled with married women before. You’ve far too much sense for that. Nor am I fooled by all the stories of excessive gambling and living only for pleasure. We spent too much time together out there in Portugal and Spain for me not to be sure you’ve been behaving quite out of character since selling your commission. Too many times you came to my quarters before going out on a secret mission for Wellesley, knowing there was a very real possibility you wouldn’t be returning. Behind all the cheerful bonhomie you attempted, there was a certain guarded look in those eyes of yours.’ He paused for a moment, his own all at once surprisingly piercing. ‘And I’ve seen it again this evening.’
Again there was no response.
‘Why you suddenly took it into your head to marry is entirely your own affair. I just hope it was for the very best of reasons.’
‘Possibly it wasn’t,’ Luke at last conceded softly. ‘And no one regrets that more than I do now. But there are matters—’ He checked, not willing to divulge more than he should, not even to the man he trusted above most all others. ‘There are…complications. So let be, Hugo.’
‘Very well. I shan’t attempt to pry further.’ He then shrugged. ‘Besides, I think I can guess what you’re about. All the same, I’ll take leave to tell you I think you’re a fool. You’ve done your fair share for king and country. What you have here is far more precious. Guard it well, or you might so easily lose it.’
* * *
Hugo’s departure the following morning was tinged with sadness. Briony disliked intensely making her final farewells to the big man who she felt sure would always hold a special place in her heart. The very real possibility that she might never see him again was almost more than she could bear and the instant the post-chaise, hired to take him on the rest of the journey to Plymouth, had reached the gateway, she went back inside the house, not wanting to share her feelings with Luke, who stood arm raised in a final farewell salute.
If the truth had been known, she was finding it difficult to conceal her increasing resentment. Only Hugo’s presence had persuaded her to break her fast in the parlour that morning and not remain in the privacy of her bedchamber. Only his cheerful banter at breakfast had stopped her thoughts straying to Luke’s recent desertion and what he might have been doing in the capital, and with whom. Whilst Hugo had been a guest in the house, she had succeeded in maintaining a sense of perspective, had easily succeeded in being the perfect hostess, awake to her guest’s every need. But Hugo was no longer there to give her thoughts a new direction and the bitterness she felt, like bile, was rising, leaving a nasty taste in its wake.
She took herself off to the kitchen, a place where Luke rarely ventured, somewhere where she felt she might find a measure of relief from the resentment churning inside her. Keeping herself occupied as much as possible was the best action she could take in order to counteract her ills. It was no panacea, of course, and she never supposed for a moment it would be. Luke unwittingly helped by remaining away from the Manor for much of the day, but she found maintaining even common civility during the time they were together during the evening a severe trial and her nerves felt raw when she finally retired for the night.
Unfortunately, even sleep eluded her, denying her the respite she craved. Eventually she abandoned the attempt and just stared up at the silken canopy above her head, resentment gnawing at her insides with renewed vigour, until finally she forced herself to face the truth. She was jealous, unbearably so, by the mere thought of Luke having spent time in the arms of another woman during his recent stay in the capital. She had no right to feel as she did, of course, she reminded herself. Unfortunately, far from consoling her, this knowledge only served to make her feel so very much worse. She had willingly accepted the marriage upon his terms, never supposing for a moment that she just might grow increasingly fond of the man she had married. But there was no denying now that she had foolishly done precisely that. She had only gone and lost her heart to a man who didn’t appear to reciprocate her feelings. Worse, still, he was someone she was increasingly beginning to feel could not be trusted.
As though to substantiate this last disturbing thought, she detected the unmistakable sounds of movement in the adjoining chamber. Her eyes narrowed speculatively. So, he was about to embark on one of his furtive night-time prowls again, was he? A sudden surge of determination shot through her, restoring her spirit. This time she would discover precisely what he was about! If nothing else, it might serve to prove just what an utter fool she had been to lose her heart to one so undeserving of her affection. Perhaps then the healing process might begin.
With all the stealth of a feral cat she moved silently across to the door, slipping her feet neatly into slippers as she did so, while at the same time throwing a dressing gown about her shoulders. So swift in her pursuit was she that she reached the head of the stairs in time to see a flickering light disappearing down the passageway leading to the kitchen. Having lived at the Manor for more than a dozen years, she knew precisely which floorboards were loose and which of the stairs creaked. Consequently she reached the hall without having made a sound and, more amazingly, without having the aid of any artificial light.
In her haste to follow she hadn’t even bothered to waste time attempting to light a candle, but as she reached the kitchen, now in total darkness, she knew it would be foolhardy to venture further without one. She located Janet’s store without too much trouble and, whilst lighting one tallow stick, detected the faintest of grating sounds emanating from the cellar. That Luke was down there came as no very real surprise. After all, where else could he have gone whilst the back door remained securely bolted? What did catch her quite unawares was the unexpected rush of cold air that very nearly guttered her newly lit candle as she carefully opened the cellar door, and the fact that a swift glance below showed clearly enough that Luke was nowhere to be seen.
* * *
Briony couldn’t suppress a knowing smile when she was informed the following morning by Smethers that his master had passed an indifferent night. Possibly the result of travels in recent days, the valet had gone on to suggest, adding that his master would therefore forgo breakfast and would join her for luncheon.
Although Smethers wasn’t to know it, nothing could have pleased her more, for it afforded her the golden opportunity to examine the cellar without fear of being disturbed by Luke.
Janet, of course, posed a different problem. She ruled supreme in that particular area of the Manor and spent much of her time in the kitchen nowadays. Thankfully, here again, Lady Luck saw fit to favour Briony that morning, for Janet, having taken the young kitchen maid very much under her wing, was about to increase the girl’s education further by accompanying her into the garden to acquaint her with the variety of herbs used in cooking. Briony waited only until they had departed before arming herself with the necessary artificial light.
This time as she began to descend the stone steps, she took the added precaution of taking the key with her and locking the door securely from the inside so that there was no possibility of being pursued or disturbed whilst she was undertaking the search. Luke could not have disappeared into thin air, therefore there had to be another exit somewhere down in the cellar that she knew absolutely nothing about.
After lighting other candles conveniently placed on a small table, she began to look about her. Having followed orders to the letter, Janet hadn’t had the floor swept. Consequently, there were footprints everywhere, which didn’t make her task any easier, as it happened. Thankfully, though, there remained that clear curving scratch on the floor close to one particular section of wine rack where the very best clarets were always stored.
Concentrating hard, Briony began to scan that certain section of rack, but discovered nothing untoward. Yet a broken bottle of the finest red wine had been discovered in quite another area, where it ought not to have been, she reminded herself. It must have been removed for some purpose; her every instinct told her it had been none other than Luke himself who had removed it… But why?
Very carefully she began to withdraw several bottles and peer down the empty slots. Then she followed the same procedure in a further section, then another, until finally her patience was rewarded and she discovered a rounded piece of metal that would always remain completely hidden whilst a bottle remained in the slot. Reaching down, she examined it with her fingers, attempting to turn it this way and that, but it refused to move. Then, out of sheer frustration, she gave it an almighty tug. Immediately there was a dull click and a section of wine rack, about the same width as a door, sprang open an inch or two towards her.
Briony could hardly believe her eyes. Heavens above! All those stories Samuel Dent had told her years ago about a secret passageway at the Manor had not been a pack of lies. And there was the proof, before her eyes, a dank, musty-smelling, brick-constructed tunnel that led to she knew not where. There was even a lantern just inside the opening, conveniently hanging from a nail in the wall, the means by which Luke, no doubt, negotiated his way down the secret exit from the Manor. But dared she do the same?
Several long moments ticked by while she hovered, then curiosity got the better of her. After all, she’d come this far. She’d discover nothing further if she allowed her courage to fail her now, she decided, taking down the lantern and lighting it before she could consider the matter further.
With the best will in the world, though, she couldn’t prevent her heart racing as she set off into the gloom. Not knowing what she might discover, she naturally feared the worst and expected to find a hundred rats scurrying round her feet at any moment. Blessedly, though, save for herself, nothing in the brick-built subterranean passageway moved. On and on she went, forcing one foot in front of the other as she kept repeating over and over in her head that the tunnel must lead somewhere. Then, just when she began to feel it really would be the height of folly to continue further, especially as no one would think to search the cellar for her, should she be unlucky enough to meet with an accident, the gradient beneath her feet changed; the floor began to rise to meet a series of stone steps just visible ahead.
Very gingerly she began to mount them, seeing clearly they led to a trap door large enough for a man to get through. So she should have little trouble, she reasoned. But would it open to reveal what she most wished to know?
Keeping a tight hold on the lantern, she placed her free hand on the rough wooden surface and blessedly, with little effort, the barrier moved upwards an inch or two, sending a cloud of dust and straw cascading about her head. Then she distinctly heard a very familiar sound—hooves on cobblestones. Strangely enough, she attained a deal of comfort from the unexpected noise and pushed harder on the trap door, almost squealing in alarm a moment later as large black nostrils breathed a gush of warm air directly into her face.
All at once she knew precisely where she was and precisely who had caught her red-handed trespassing in his domain. A further quick glance about only went to confirm her belief. The passageway led amazingly enough to the stable at the lodge, just outside Vulcan’s very own stall. Just why Luke should wish to come here in the dead of night must remain a mystery for the time being. But of one thing she was certain—it wasn’t for the sole pleasure of visiting his prized stallion.
All at once the reason behind Luke’s night-time prowling took a very sinister turn indeed!
Chapter Nine
All right, so she had succeeded in satisfying her curiosity over one particular issue, but that achievement had only resulted in giving rise to many other puzzling questions, Briony decided later, as she stood staring blindly out of the parlour window.
What possible inducement could there be in visiting the lodge house at such an odd time? She didn’t for a moment suppose it was simply because Luke preferred to exercise the stallion at night. No, that was just plain ridiculous! Yet, Vulcan must surely play his part in the mysterious goings-on, otherwise he wouldn’t have been deliberately stabled well away from the house.
All at once, events that had not seemed in any way out of the ordinary when they had taken place now seemed to have acquired a sinister aspect. She strongly suspected that the only reason for wanting Vulcan stabled at the lodge was to enable Luke to ride out at night without anyone at the Manor being any the wiser. Therefore, it was safe to assume that not only were his activities questionable, but Ben Carey, too, must surely be party to these night-time excursions.
So what did Carey know that she did not? Where had Luke ventured on those three occasions that she knew about? Had he a mistress secreted close by? Unpalatable though it was, she forced herself to consider this very real possibility. But would he risk housing a light-skirt virtually on his doorstep when he had made such an issue of wanting the marriage at least to appear a love match? He did run the very grave risk of being seen visiting a light-o’-love by someone at some point, she reasoned. And now she came to consider the matter, why had it been so essential for the marriage to appear quite normal? It all came back to her original question: what on earth had been so vitally important that he had been willing to forfeit his bachelorhood in order to remain in Dorset for several months in an environment that appeared highly respectable and quite unremarkable? In order to secrete a mistress close by just didn’t seem an adequate reason.
‘Something appears to be troubling you, my dear?’
Briony gave a start. So deep in thought had she been that she hadn’t even detected the click of the door. The sight of Luke, appearing so relaxed, so self-assured, as though he hadn’t a care in the world, or carrying some deep, dark secret, either, only served to increase her suspicions and, perversely, annoy her, too.
‘Why you feel the need always to creep up on people, I fail to understand,’ she told him, finding some gratification in being snappish.
She was now highly suspicious of him, not to mention more than ever doubtful of his motives for contracting the marriage in the first place. Was she, too, an unwitting pawn in some devious game of his? It was still, perhaps, to her advantage to keep to her part of the bargain and play the devoted wife in public, for the time being at least. But she’d be damned if she’d pander to his whims in private, not now that she was almost sure he had wedded her for some sinister motive of his own! To the rest of the world, he might appear the suave, educated gentleman of means. Beneath the surface, though, lurked…at the moment she knew not what. But she had every intention of finding out!
As she seated herself in the chair Hugo had occupied whenever he had sat in the room, something all at once occurred to her. ‘I can only assume your stealth of movement must be a result of your years in the army,’ she remarked casually, in an attempt to discover something…anything that might shed some light on just why he had once again returned to Dorset. Hard though it might be to accept, she doubted the reason had anything to do with her. He had not once attempted to correspond with her during his time away, not even the briefest of notes. Nor had he gone out of his way to seek her company since his return. In fact, the opposite was true!
‘Things darling Hugo let fall whilst here have given me every reason to suspect you were in the habit of going out on secret missions for Wellesley… Spying, no doubt.’
Except for that one mobile brow that suddenly arched mockingly as he sauntered across to the decanters, his expression remained annoyingly impassive. ‘Darling Hugo talks too much, in my opinion,’ he remarked lightly enough, though Briony thought she could detect just a trace of annoyance lurking there in that deep timbre of his voice. ‘He’ll say anything to charm the ladies. Don’t believe everything he tells you. He’s the most notorious flirt who ever drew breath.’
‘Ha! That’s rich coming from you, I must say!’
The retort was out before she could check it. She was then obliged to watch a slow, smugly satisfied grin appear about his mouth as he brought a glass of Madeira across to her. Clearly he had not misunderstood, as his next words proved beyond doubt.
