Part 5 (1/2)
Colonel Davis, still hale, though he must be seventy. His son had been stationed in India when James first arrived, though they had only spoken twice. Now the man was serving on the Peninsula. But he could imagine no conflict between the colonel and John-unless the rumors were true that John was involved in smuggling. Many smugglers aided French spies, infuriating every military man in the country.
The new vicar, who was oddly outspoken for a man of the cloth.
The doctor, two solicitors, and half a dozen young people he could not place-friends of Northrup, he supposed. They would have been children on his last visit.
His eyes finally rested on his host. Northrup had also been in India, though they had not met there. Did that hold any significance? Northrup was the one man who was truly innocent of murder, yet he was the most hostile man in the room. His eyes hardened whenever he glanced at James. Only the presence of others kept his teeth unbared. Was Northrup another who was reacting to his looks? But that made little sense. Northrup had been abroad for years. Even virulent hatred should have dissipated. Did his remain, or was it new?
Perhaps he had only recently learned of some serious offense. He might look askance on John's affair with Mary. Or was there a worse crime that had struck directly at Northrup's family?
”I really must talk with you privately,” James murmured to Mary once the gentlemen reached the drawing room. She was settling the older guests at card tables. Most of the younger ones had repaired to the music room for informal dancing.
Irritation flashed across her face. ”If you are offering for one of my sisters, talk to Northrup.”
”I am not interested in either of your sisters, and Northrup cannot help me. He's been gone nearly as long as I have. Surely you can spare me five minutes. No one will miss you. They are engrossed in cards.”
”Persistent, aren't you?” She sighed, but led the way to a small sitting room.
He shut the door firmly behind them. ”Do you have to treat me like a pariah?” He regretted the question the moment the words burst out.
”Am I neglecting my guests so you can complain because I'm not falling at your feet in adoration?”
”No. I am trying to find my brother's killer,” he said bluntly. ”But it isn't easy. He acc.u.mulated enemies the way Shelford collects driving records.” Shelford was a noted Corinthian who spent much of his life racing.
”Why come to me? Squire Church is conducting the investigation.”.
”I know. I already spoke with him, but he is satisfied to let the matter go.”
”Without evidence, what would you suggest he do?”
He shrugged. ”Maybe he is right, and the killer came from elsewhere. I have men checking that possibility. But I don't believe he ever seriously considered the local connection. Thus he hasn't asked the right questions. Every person in the district must have a theory about who killed John. Since you knew him better than anyone, I want to hear yours.”
She frowned. ”Where did you get that idea? He was Frederick's friend, not mine.”
”Don't lie to me,” he interrupted, anxious to get this phase of the conversation finished. ”I don't care what either of you did. John was despicable, but that does not give anyone the right to kill him. Even you.”
”Me?” she spat. ”Did the Indian sun addle your wits? What earthly reason would I have to take a life?”
”I want justice, Mary.” He walked close enough to loom over her. ”And I don't care what secrets I have to expose to get it. I've known about your affair for years. I doubt you entered it by choice, but even if it continued until John's death, I wouldn't blame you. Your husband was rarely at home.” He had not intended to say that much, but the words poured out, leaving gaping wounds behind. d.a.m.n John! And d.a.m.n Mary. He cared, all right. No matter how much he deplored the idea, he cared.
”What affair?” she demanded, her face so white he feared she might swoon. She hadn't reacted that strongly to his accusation of murder. Did she think no one knew?
”Don't play the innocent with me, Mary. John told me about it ten years ago.”
”My name is Lady Northrup,” she snarled, retreating from his intimidating stance until she had put a table between them. She fingered a pair of scissors as if she considered stabbing him. ”You are as despicable as your brother, and far more stupid. I can't believe you can be that credulous.”
”Credulous?” His voice dripped ice.
”Are you blind, my lord?” She slammed the scissors back onto the table and glared at him. ”Can you actually believe a word he said? You, of all people, should know how he twisted facts. He was no gentleman. Winning and exercising his power were more important to him than truth or honor. How many falsehoods did he spread about you?”
”But- ”
”But nothing. I never believed that you killed your father, though John told everyone that you had fled rather than admit to striking him down. In fact, most of the rumors surrounding your departure originated with him.”
Dear G.o.d! ”I left because John threatened to evict the Thompsons and abuse Cotter and the other tenants if I stayed.”
”That sounds like him. John was contemptible. He routinely cheated tradesmen. He reveled in making the tenants struggle to meet their rents-which he raised whenever higher corn prices made their lot bearable. He brutalized more than one of his servants. Whoever killed him deserves a reward for outstanding service to the community.”
”Are you claiming that you never had an affair with him?” he demanded, struggling to understand her words. Had that white face been fury rather than fear?
”I'm telling you that your brother would say anything to carry an argument.” She twisted her face into a sneer. ”But you are like everyone else. Believing him justifies having designs on me yourself. Well, forget it. I deplore affairs and could never consider one with a man who can only remind me of the neighborhood scourge.”
”No one gets that angry over injustices to others.” He ignored her other charges as well as his own fury whenever he encountered injustice. ”What did he do to incite such hatred? Did he ravish you?''
”Of course not! I would have killed him myself if he'd tried. I've seen the results too often.”
”Why would a rape victim come to you? Everyone believed you to be his mistress,” he scoffed, again failing to censor his tongue.
”Not everyone-especially before my marriage; the vicarage welcomed those in trouble.” She sighed, turning away. ”Calm down and think, my lord. John had no need to steal my virtue. He could inflict far more pain by stealing my reputation.”
Which he had done. James clenched his fists, recalling the snide remarks that had filled the drawing room before dinner. Country memories were long, meaning that malicious rumors would remain forever. What had she suffered? And why?
Stupid! The why was easy-to hurt him. By befriending Mary, he had drawn John's wrath onto her head. So he must somehow rescue her reputation.
He should have questioned John's veracity long ago. Instinct had tried to warn him at the time, but he hadn't listened-and wasn't listening now, he realized grimly. She had been describing John's tactics, most of which he'd missed.
”And he drew my husband into repeated trouble,” she continued, pacing the room. ”John was a profligate wastrel-not that it mattered to a man of his means. But Frederick could not afford such a life. The ones who suffered the most were his sisters.”
”Is that why you are throwing them at my head?” he demanded. ”Am I supposed to pick one and launch the other to make up for John's sins?”
”Not at all. I would never approve a match based on guilt. Both parties would be miserable. Nor would I consider a match at all now that I see how unreasonable you have become. Perhaps I discounted the rumors too quickly. I had remembered you as a man who treated people fairly. Unfortunately, maturity has robbed you of your virtues while repairing none of your naive blindness.”
”That is hardly a fair a.s.sessment, my lady. And not typical of someone who used to weigh all the evidence before jumping to conclusions.”
The address was an attempt to regain lost ground. He had badly mishandled this meeting. His biggest error had been believing John. Thus he had hurled unconscionable charges at her face. He would not have treated the lowliest tenant like that, so why had he done it to Mary? Her t.i.tle might derive through marriage, but even the vicar's daughter he had once befriended deserved more respect than he had shown.
She was innocent, both of murder and of liaisons with John. His heart leaped for joy, swelling until he feared it might burst.
Slow down, he admonished himself, fighting to steady his breathing. This wasn't the moment to pursue his desire. His accusations had put her back up-as her vow proved. His second mistake had been his failure to antic.i.p.ate her reaction. Thus he had inadvertently alienated her. She would likely refuse to see him again.
He must remember this lesson in the future, he noted in an aside. He could not accuse anyone without shackling his hands. They were already tied too well by his kins.h.i.+p with John.
So he had two problems. He still needed her help. And now that he had removed John from the picture, he wanted her in his bed. But she would require wooing-especially after this fiasco.
Yet even wooing wouldn't work if she refused to see him. So he must convince her to join his investigation. It would provide frequent contact. By the time they discovered John's killer, they would have reestablished their friends.h.i.+p-and more.
”We have drifted far from the subject,” he said, injecting as much respect as possible into his voice. ”Please accept my apologies for allowing my emotions to control my tongue. John's insinuations had been eating at me, for I had not expected that from you. But that is no excuse for my unmannerly display.”