Darkest Death, page 6
part #2 of Darkest Series
Sarah gaped at her incredulously. Then again, Hermione was the one climbing trees in their youth. Lillian often followed suit, but Sarah had never understood the draw. Though she had wished for the skill once for helping that kitten.
“Why do you say it’s a raven feather, and studying? Insects?” Lillian shivered, causing them all to laugh.
“It’s thinner and softer. It’s a little short for a raven feather, except you can see here where someone broke it off.” Hermione shrugged self-consciously and said defensively, “Well, you know I’ve always loved to learn. And what else am I supposed to be up to when my husband is newly dead? I barely was allowed here, and only because Lillian and you are my best friends. Plus, Mother, at least, understands I will have less and less freedom as the baby becomes more obvious. I thought to learn more to help with the crops for the estates, since I would be dependent on them. Mother is not being much help, but Father, after some reluctance, well… It’s the first time we’ve really bonded over anything.” Embarrassment had a blush stealing up her cheeks.
Sarah could count on one hand the number of times all three of them blushed in the same visit. For some reason, it lightened her heart. As if the future was not as bad as it may have looked last night and then again earlier, when she’d overheard…
She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I saw a man yesterday when we got out of the carriage and headed into the church. I saw him again, or someone who looks too similar for my liking, today talking to someone in the hotel’s dining room. I went to listen because…”
“Because you are your father’s daughter,” Hermione said. “You always have to know things. It is part of who you are. You should be like the women who helped us win against Napoleon. You would be brilliant at it.”
Sarah gaped for a second. “Why, thank you, Hermione. I think that is the best compliment anyone has ever paid me.” She would be, wouldn’t she? Had her father been grooming her for that before his death? She definitely knew more about it than most girls her age were likely to be told, if ever.
“So what did you learn?” Lillian’s sat still, her face pale as the frost covered trees, bringing Sarah back to the matter at hand. Lillian’s recent…unpleasantness…likely made her more aware of what could happen to them.
And she was stalling again. She had to just do it, simply tell them. “That the man who’d sat down first is plotting treason with the other man, and that he was waiting for Lord Archer,” she said in a rush.
Her two friends gasped, and Hermione’s hand went to her stomach again. “Plotting treason?”
“Yes. They wanted to kill the queen.”
The two women shouted at her in disbelief.
“I heard it,” she said defensively. “Then he said he was waiting for your brother.” She blinked back tears.
“Do you really think my brother, the most loyal royalist you have ever met, would ever plot to overthrow the crown?” Hermione scoffed.
“No,” Sarah replied slowly. “I hope you’re right because there is more. They are trying to take the throne and have him claim it as a descendant of Queen Elizabeth of the Tudors.”
Silence reigned in the room. “And they were waiting for Lord Archer,” Lillian whispered. “I really think we should bring Clarence in on this. Because if he is claiming to be a descendant of Queen Elizabeth, then…”
“Then Archer may not see it as treason,” Sarah whispered, the lump in her throat closing off easy access to air.
Hermione tilted her head, studying Sarah. She wanted to fidget under the scrutiny, but waited for Hermione to speak. “Do you know what my father, what our fathers, did?”
“Yes.”
“My brother works for them. Do you remember?”
Sarah took a quick step over to her earlier vacated chair, hope trying to worm its way in. It could explain…“I had forgotten. He sort of mentioned it at the funeral, but I was thinking about my parents’ death and how I’d make it.”
“Okay, so if this is an evil person, my brother will deal with him and might be playing an undercover operation.”
The relief at the reminder had her weak kneed and grateful she’d already sat. “So he probably is not guilty of plotting treason, even with a Tudor descendant.”
“No, he is probably doing spy stuff, pretending.”
“What if they find out,” Lillian whispered.
“That doesn’t bear thinking about,” Hermione said.
“What if they succeed,” Sarah said, her body suddenly growing cold. Was Lord Archer in danger? She had to warn him about what she’d heard, if it wasn’t too late.
Because her mind might shy away on taking the risk, but her heart said he would never conspire to kill the queen, no matter who claimed to be a contender for the crown. He just couldn’t. Because who else would her heart love?
Chapter Six
Lord Archer
Lord Archer, Earl of Northumbria, Viscount of Yorkshire, stared miserably out the carriage window. Rain belted in on gusts of wind. He should probably shut out the weather. The rented carriage and driver were top of the line, better than a lot of the hansom cabs he’d used in London, so easily made to keep the water out, but it reflected his mood. Thunderous and all wet.
He’d lucked upon the Dark Duke lurking in the hallways, awaiting his bride and good naturedly chatting about where they were headed, his estates, and so on. Somehow, Lord Archer had finagled an invitation to stay on the estates and speak with the estate managers and take a tour of the lands.
The darkness falling as a result of the cloud cover matched his heart’s current state. Cold enough to snow if it continued on into the night. Never, in all the time he had done undercover work, which he had done even as a lad when the need called for it, had he felt so dirty. And, to top it all off, he’d taken the coward’s way out and left before the women had come out and seen him.
No way he could look Hermione in the eye, or Lady Lillian for that matter. And Lady Sarah, Countess of York, the strongest woman he’d ever met? There lay the real reason behind his uncharacteristic cowardice. Orders or not, how would she feel upon learning that he’d only come to spy on her and Lady Lillian specifically, and used their acquaintance and friendship with Hermione to do it? She would likely slap him! And he would deserve every stinging moment.
He needed a plan. Something about the Dark Duke had tempted him to bring him into his confidence. Agency rules said no, unless absolutely necessary. Did being suspicious of your mentor constitute an emergency?
Restless, he crossed and uncrossed his legs and crossed his arms. Nothing made him more comfortable. The knots currently tying up his gut went nowhere fast. Guilt churned, and he nearly asked the driver to turn around, even sat up to knock on the ceiling, but something stopped him as an idea began to form.
The rest of the trip, he worked on the details. Excitement bubbled up. He’d hit on the perfect way to souse out both the duchess and Lord Downing. He would recruit the help of the Dark Duke, as he’d wanted to, tell him of their suspicions of Lillian, then tell him of his own suspicions of Lord Downing.
Lord Archer was good at reading people. He’d know almost immediately if the Dark Duke had any knowledge of wrong doing on Lillian’s part—his story to Lord Downing. Pretend to garner the duke’s help so he could keep a closer watch on him and stay on the estates. The smile of relief could not be stopped. He stared out the window once more and saw that light, fluffy snowflakes fell. Just enough to be pretty, but not so much to make travelling difficult as of yet.
Now that he’d hit upon a plan, he wanted to get started immediately. Thankfully, the duke planned on enticing the other two women to his estates. Something about not trusting Jarvis or his cronies or the Earl of Lamberth’s ability to stick to holding his brother in jail with the “ruffians” of the sewers, even over his own daughter.
Lord Archer felt a pang. As much as his parents blustered, they, at heart, loved him and Hermione more than society. Though old fashioned in a lot of ways, recently, Lord Archer suspected a lot of that was a cover. For they knew Hermione’s gentle heart could only take so much. He’d noticed things had settled a bit about the pregnancy. Father and Hermione spent more time in the study together, and whenever he came home, he nearly always found them there or riding around the estates.
Hermione was still young, but soon, she’d be able to step back and see that their parents had done as they saw best for her, even if she balked at it now.
But Lillian had lived with half acceptance, knowing she wasn’t the male heir and therefore not as important to her father as her brother. Still, she’d grown into a woman to be proud of, even saving King William, allowing Queen Victoria to come of age. As an sub rosa protector of the queen, the agency had taught him more about the politics behind the throne than he could have imagined.
The carriage rolled to a stop, and a footman ran out, wool hat and gloves on, jacket flapping as if he’d suddenly thrown it on.
He took Lord Archer’s luggage before looking at him properly, then he saw the lad perform a double take. “Hey, and what is this now? Ye are nae His Grace.”
“No, I am a friend of His and Her Graces. They are on their way, with guests.”
The footman’s eyes rounded. “How many guests? I must warn the cook and housekeeper.”
The poor man sounded on the edge of panic. Lord Archer put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. I am a bit ahead of them. We have time. Now, let me take the bags. You show where the carriage driver can get a spot of tea, and then we will worry about the arrival of His Grace and his new wife.”
The man had begun to relax until the word “wife” passed Lord Archer’s lips. “Wife?” His voice went up an octave. “Right. You said Her Grace. My lands, Margaret is going to have a fit. We are in no way ready to greet a proper lady. The larder is low and the house is cool. I happen’ ta know they only light the kitchen fires and the servant’s area when His Grace is not in residence.” The squeak at the end had Lord Archer turning his head and hiding a laugh with a cough.
“Then we must work fast. There are four titled ladies about to descend upon this household.”
Even in the fading light, the man’s face appeared deathly white. “Four?” Had the man’s voice permanently settled on the higher octave range then?
Lord Archer laughed loud, and it felt damn good to release some of the tension which had its claws into him all day. “Come, man. It is not as bad as all that. One of them is my pregnant sister.” Laughter spilled out again at the panicked man gave him the side eye.
“Nay, ye be taking the piss. No one would send their wife here into the wilds of Scotland from London when they are expectin’ like.”
Lord Archer gave him a small push in the direction of the carriage. “She is widowed. And, I assure you, I am not taking the piss. She is one of the best friends of the bride. Now, hurry. We must be ready.”
***
A few hours later, horses’ hooves cobbled on the stone drive as it curved in front of the mansion. Lord Archer had a full set of rooms for all of them ready. Well, he amended. He arranged for them to be readied. They would be living in luxury even more than he was accustomed to.
He swallowed a lump as he again said a prayer of thanks that his sister possessed friends who would take care of her, even when others would turn her away, ostracize her, hold her accountable for the marquee’s nefarious actions.
And his Sarah was a major reason Hermione would be allowed in. Her compassion, her grace under fire, her imagination, her strength of self-worth…
He shook his head. If he weren’t careful, he’d greet her like a lovelorn swain, and he’d seen too often what she thought of them. As the carriages rolled to a stop, he squared his shoulders and walked down the stairs.
All of sudden, emotions slammed through him. They were about to embark on a dangerous mission as a group, if they agreed with his plan. At some point while preparing the rooms and such, he’d decided to bring them all up to date. Unusual, but he couldn’t go to the agency with Lord Downing acting so odd. He had to count on them to bring down his beloved mentor. His sister, his beloved, one of his best friends, if only through his sister. People he’d grown up with. But when poison entered the tree, branches needed cutting. Tears threatened to swallow him up. He ran to Hermione as she alighted from the first carriage with the duke’s help.
He grabbed her and hugged her tight, swinging her around and out of the way of the others and clasping her close. “I don’t say it enough, but I love you, sis.”
“Archie, what has happened? Are Mother and Father hurt?” Hermione kept her voice soft and didn’t struggle or push him away, so he took the comfort in her a moment longer before stepping back and answering.
“As far as I know, they are fine. I just…I have a lot to tell all of you.”
“Once we have the ladies settled, we can meet in the drawing room. Have the maids show you where it is,” the duke said, not unkindly. “The ladies have had a long day. And, I believe, they have much to tell you.” He helped the dowager down from the carriage.
“I must say, all of this gallivanting about has tired me out unreasonably so. You have heard my thoughts on the subject back at the hotel,” the dowager said primly. “I will hear not another word of negativity on this matter. However, I am not as young as you, and I intend to go straight to bed. Have someone bring me some tea and a bed warmer immediately. My feet are cold.”
“Of course, Mother. I will have your favorite maid sent up right away to assist you in preparing for bed.” Lord Clarence’s voice always softened when he talked to his mother, but the strain in his voice remained palpable.
Lord Archer’s senses hit high alert. He’d been so focused on his own feelings and being relieved at not having to pretend around them, he’d missed the tension ripe in the air. With a nod to acknowledge the plan, he held an arm out to Hermione and Lady Sarah without another word.
They walked the short distance to the front door, the stiffness of both women tangible, even though he sensed the small talk was supposed to cover that. Considering Lady Sarah had practically cut him direct after running into him, that she took his arm without voicing some sort of objection or apology was enough to have him worried that something happened after he’d left.
With a half bow to Lady Sarah, he allowed the women to leave and head to the rooms while he strode straight to the drawing room and paced impatiently in front of the fireplace until they arrived.
Once everyone settled, he took a deep breath. “I have…something to tell you, and I must promise you to secrecy.” He looked each person in the eyes until they all nodded. “I work for a secret agency. Our main purpose is to find and intercept any nefarious plans which could undermine the stability of the empire, with focus closer to home and the safety of our kings and queens.”
He paused, expecting some sort of gasping or shock, but they all nodded as if they already knew or suspected. He lost the train of what he’d planned to say. His mouth gaped open when he tried to speak, but no words left him.
“Lord Archie,” Lady Sarah said softly, and his heart skipped a beat that she’d said his childhood nickname. “Our parents worked together. I have known for a long time, since my parents’ funeral, that you followed in the footsteps of yours.”
“I…did not know you understood what we actually did.”
“Not completely, not then. I am older and less naïve now.”
“Even I knew some of what you did,” Hermione put in.
Duchess Lillian slid over on the sofa until she snuggled under the duke’s arms, watching him closely, but his sister and Lady Sarah carried the most conversation. “But…”
“Come, now, brother, we are not ninnies, as much as some of our choices may make us look once in a while. We have moments of weakness for those we love—or think we love. That’s all.”
When in the hell had his sister perfected that gallic shrug? He wanted to reach for her again as her face clouded over, decrying her nonchalance. He stopped only because he needed to finish what he’d started.
“I need to tell you all why I’ve asked for your secrecy and why I need your help. I…had a meeting with my boss and mentor.” Lady Sarah stifled a gasp. Though it seemed a bit over the top for his words, he let it go until he laid things out. “Everything which brought me to Scotland for work made me a little uncomfortable, but I thought I might do some good. I… I had already made a decision to hold things close to my chest and keep my own counsel. However, when I sat down with him at breakfast, I began to actively distrust him. I don’t know what’s going on, but what I do know, is that you three are the key somehow. I am of the opinion that he wants to discredit you, and now, the duke as well. The two of you entering into marriage really threw a kink into whatever they had planned. It’s making them tread softly while still adding you as a target. I just cannot for the life of me figure out why all of this with what little I know.”
Lady Sarah’s eyes, actually, her whole countenance, glowed. “I think we can help you with that,” she said, happiness vibrating her voice like a bow on a violin at the orchestra.
He canted his head sideways, trying to listen to her words. However, the effects her voice had on his libido caused his blood to rush anywhere and everywhere. His brain refused to hold on to what she said. Then silence beat through into his brain. Hermione was laughing at him, Lady Lillian smirked, and Lady Sarah’s eyes sparked with…dare he believe, lust?
She blinked a few times and then cleared her throat. “I had no idea that man was your mentor. So much more makes sense now. There is much you need to know, but it sums up to this. Lord Downing believes himself to be the long-lost heir to the Tudor line, direct descendant from Queen Elizabeth, and, from the way he spoke, I would presume he can prove it.”
