A Suitable Husband Read online

  ‘Of course, my love, as soon as he is dry and clean, I will have him brought straight up.’ Sarah prayed the searchers would find the dog alive and her lie would remain undiscovered. For the moment Edward was satisfied with her explanation and sank back into a semi-conscious state.

  Sally appeared at the bedside. ‘Beth and I will sit with Master Edward, madam if you wish to attend to the captain.’

  Sarah jerked round. ‘The captain? Is he injured?’ Sally and Beth exchanged glances. Beth spoke. ‘He’s in a bad way, madam. He collapsed outside and has not regained his senses yet.’

  Sarah suppressed the whimper of agony that threatened to escape. She prayed as she ran across the room. “Please God, not Oliver. He is a good man, and I love him!’ Jenkins was blocking her view of the bed and its occupant. The servant stepped aside and Sarah could see the man who meant more than the world to her. He was lying with closed eyes, his face as white as his sheets.

  ‘Darling Oliver, please do not die. I love you so, and I do not wish to live my life without you.’

  Sarah threw herself on the bed and placing a hand on either side of Oliver’s face lowered her head and kissed his cold lips.

  To her astonishment his mouth opened under hers and two remarkably strong arms enfolded her. She was unceremoniously rolled across the bed until she was trapped beneath him. He was very much alive. When he finally raised his head Sarah had no breath to speak. She gazed, spellbound, into blue grey eyes that blazed with love, and sighed with pleasure.

  She smiled. ‘Oliver, I have been such a fool. I did not fully understand until I thought I had lost you just how much you mean to me.’

  He dropped his head and kissed her again; a slow, gentle exploration, with no sign of his previous urgency. He pushed himself up onto one elbow and traced the shape of her lips with one finger. With a lazy, contented smile he finally broke the charged silence.

  ‘I have loved you for weeks, my darling. I’ve been waiting for you to recognise that you had been similarly smitten.’

  Reluctantly Sarah sat up. ‘I must return to Edward, he is still not fully recovered. I fear he will not get better until Rags is back with him’

  Instantly Oliver’s face sobered. ‘God, how could I forget? I’m coming too. I must wash of some of the salt and change my clothes, and then I will join you.’

  ‘Are you sure you are well enough to get up? Beth thought you at death’s door.’

  His mouth curved into a lopsided grin. ‘I’m sorry to have scared you. I merely swooned; it would appear to be a family failing!’

  Sarah, who had regained her feet, shook out her crumpled skirts. Then a faint sound behind her made her jump and a fiery blush surged from her toes to her crown. She had forgotten that they were not alone. With horrified eyes she looked at Oliver, who openly laughed at her discomfiture.

  Jenkins grinned and turned away.

  ‘You are impossible, Oliver. I cannot imagine why I love you.’

  Oliver swung his legs on the bed and prepared to stand up. ‘Can you not, my darling? If you remain for a while longer I would be delighted to show you.’

  She stormed out of the room, bristling with righteous indignation. Oliver nodded, pleased annoyance had replaced the pinched look on her face. ‘What did you do with the body, Jenkins?’

  ‘It’s stored in the barn, sir. What are you going to do about his lordship? He can’t be allowed to get away with it. He’s behind all this.’

  ‘I’ll deal with him later. The man’s a cripple, without Symonds to do his dirty work he’s helpless. But have two men guard his quarters, just in case.’

  ***

  Sarah and Oliver sat quietly beside their sleeping son. The doctor had examined him and declared him in no imminent danger of death. However he warned that lung congestion and fever could set in, so they would have to wait and see. Occasionally the child opened his eyes and smiled and asked yet again when his dog was coming. Then receiving no news of Rags fell back into a restless doze.

  It was late in the afternoon when they heard voices and heavy footsteps approaching the door. Oliver frowned and stood up, alert to possible danger. It banged open and Jack, a grin splitting his face, walked in, an enormous, wet, hairy bundle in his arms. ‘We found him, sir. He must have been washed ashore a mile or so up the coast. I’ve given him a bit of a clean-up but I thought as young Master Edward would want to see him right away, wet or not.’

  Oliver pointed to the bed. ‘Put him down on there, Jack, next to Edward.’

  Sarah had been about to protest but the words died on her lips as her son reached out and buried his hand in the dog’s sandy coat. His long pink tongue flopped out and kissed the boy’s face then both fell into a deep, restorative slumber.

  ‘I think we can safely leave them now, Oliver. Sally and Beth can watch Edward between them.’ Sarah yawned and stretched, sitting still for so long had made her tired. ‘I am going to take a stroll on the terrace, the fresh air will wake me up. Will you join me?’

  Oliver didn’t answer until they were in the corridor outside. “There are still unresolved issues I must deal with, sweetheart. And, forgive me, but I must insist you remain in your sitting-room for the present.’

  Sarah nodded. ‘I realize you have to catch Symonds. I also understand Lord Fitzwilliam was behind all this, but I do not know why he should wish either of us harm.’

  ‘Neither do I, but I’m going to find out. And don’t worry about Symonds, he’s dead, Jenkins shot him.’

  ‘Good! I would have done so myself if I’d had the opportunity.’

  ‘I seem to remember you hate violence of any sort, Sarah. What has changed your opinion so radically?’

  Sarah stood on tiptoe and kissed him. ‘It’s being married to you, my love. Some of your ruffian like tendencies must have rubbed off.’ He pulled her into a fierce hug, returning her kiss in full, then released her and guided her, unresisting into the sitting-room. ‘Take care, Oliver. Lord Fitzwilliam might be a cripple but he can still hold a pistol.’

  ‘I will be careful, sweetheart, I always am. Stay in here, whatever you hear, do you promise me?’ Sarah did and Oliver bounded downstairs to confront the earl and discover the answers to the puzzle.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  The sea continued to sparkle in the distance but Sarah’s delight in the spectacle had gone. She wanted to return to Rowley Court and the green tranquillity of the countryside. She wished to live in a house where the kitchens were not so distant all the food arrived stone cold and where it didn’t take an hour to walk from one’s bed-chamber to the gardens. She hated the fact she was residing under the roof of the man who had been the instigator of all the murder attempts.

  Although she and Edward were out of danger she was neither secure nor comfortable here. She could never be happy living at Westover; the establishment was too huge, too impersonal. There were so many staff it would be impossible to ever know them all by name.

  Her eyes filled with unexpected tears. Would Edward’s status mean they would be obliged to live here? She remembered what Oliver had said about responsibilities. Westover could not be left empty or the staff would be unemployed. Angrily she rubbed her eyes and straightened her shoulders and feeling a sharp reminder of the previous day’s misadventure.

  What was Oliver doing downstairs? Would he kill the earl? Surely not in cold blood? Her husband was not a murderer and, however evil, the man was old, and a cripple. Oliver could have Lord Fitzwilliam confined in his quarters, guarded by his own men, otherwise what was to stop his lordship recruiting a second person to carry out his murderous instructions?

  The soft swish of material on the polished floorboards made her pause in her restless pacing.

  ‘Master Edward’s awake, madam, and would like to see you.’ Beth told her quietly.

  ‘I expect he will b
e hungry. Please go down to the kitchen and find him some broth.’

  ‘Would you like anything, madam? You haven’t eaten all day.’

  Sarah considered. ‘Yes, I would like some bread and cheese, and cold cuts. And we still have the fruit basket up here to accompany that.’

  Edward, the dog still stretched out beside him, grinned happily as she entered. ‘Rags likes being up here with me, Mama. Can he sleep here always? There’s plenty of room for you as well.’

  ‘I am not sharing my bed with a dog, my love, even if you wish to do so. And Rags may remain here for tonight only. Then he must return to the stable where he belongs. ‘

  ‘You will have to sleep in Papa’s room and then you will be kept awake by his snoring.’

  Sarah felt her face colour; she hoped it would not be Oliver’s snoring that kept her awake that night. ‘Sally can sleep in here with you. We can have a truckle bed put up for her.’

  Sally shook her head. ‘No, there’s no need, madam. The bed’s big enough for six to sleep in comfort. I’ll put a bolster down the middle and have plenty of room.’

  ‘Thank you Sally; it will be easier for me to rest knowing you are here with Edward.’

  ‘Where’s Papa? I have something important to ask him.’ Edward chimed in.

  ‘He is busy downstairs, Edward. I am sure he will be back later to see you. Can you tell me instead?’

  ‘Oh, very well. But Papa will have the answer, he always does.’

  ‘I am sure you’re correct, my dear. What is it you wish to ask me?’

  ‘After Mr Symonds pushed me into the hole he said something I don’t understand. He said that the earl could now die happy knowing a blackamoor would not inherit the title. What do you think he meant, Mama?’

  ‘A blackamoor?’ She repeated, for a moment as puzzled as her son. Then it all fell into place, the reason behind the attacks became obvious. ‘Do you remember me telling you about your great-grandmother?

  Edward screwed up his face. ‘That she was an Indian princess, and that’s why I have darker hair and skin than you do?’

  ‘Yes, darling, that’s exactly what I mean. For us, such an important ancestor is a wonderful thing, but to Lord Fitzwilliam it is an insult to his title. He wanted Mr Fitzwilliam to inherit because his ancestors were all English. Even though you have only a small amount of Indian blood, to some people this would make you an unsuitable heir to a great estate.’

  Edward mulled this information over for a moment. ‘I think Mr Symonds and Lord Fitzwilliam must be touched in the attic to think such a stupid thing.’

  ‘I agree, Edward, you’re absolutely correct.’ She smoothly changed the subject not wishing her son to dwell on such an unpleasant notion. ‘Are you hungry, I have sent for some broth for you?’

  ‘I hope you have asked for something for Rags. He’s hungry too, aren’t you boy?’ The dog thumped his tail, but was still too exhausted to raise his head from the pillow.

  ***

  Oliver found Jenkins and Peters on guard outside the earl’s private quarters. ‘Any trouble, Jenkins?’

  ‘None, sir. Not a peep from in there.’

  ‘Can servants access the apartments from another entrance?’

  ‘No, Captain, I sent Murray and Ned to guard the servants’ door. No one’s been in or out.’

  ‘Come with me, both of you. We might not expect trouble, but it’s as well to be prepared.’

  Oliver handed his pistol to Jenkins and heard it being primed and cocked, ready for action.

  The external door opened silently on well-greased hinges and Oliver stepped in, ready, his eyes scanning every corner for a possible attack. The vast reception room was empty; Lord Fitzwilliam’s high chair deserted.

  Oliver gestured towards the closed doors at the far end of the room and silently the three men moved forwards with the ease of long practice. At the doors they stopped and Oliver pressed his ear against the wooden panel. Still no sound. He had never entered their quarry’s private quarters and had no idea what labyrinth of rooms and passages might lie behind the door.

  He clasped the polished knob and, standing sideways, using the door’s bulk as protection, slowly pushed it open. The room was also empty. Three further closed doors faced them. This was obviously a vestibule. The thick carpet muffled their booted footsteps and Oliver whispered to his men.

  ‘Murray, check the door on the left, Jenkins, you take the one of the right, and I will go to the centre.’ In unison they crept forward and repeated their previous cautious procedure.

  Oliver carefully opened the central door and peered through the gap and then relaxed. ‘In here, lads. No need to look any further.’ He stepped into the room, a study, and walked across to examine the figure slumped across the desk.

  ‘Saves us a job, Captain.’ Jenkins observed dispassionately.

  Oliver stared down at the man, his corpse already stiffening, and was unmoved. He noticed a paper open on the desk and picked it up. As he scanned the contents he understood why the earl had been driven to end his own life. The letter was from an informant in London telling him his plot had been discovered. Fitzwilliam had taken the only way out.

  ‘At least the bastard did the right thing, in the end, sir.’ Murray said quietly.

  Finally Oliver spoke, his tone urgent. ‘Get this cleaned up, Jenkins. Put the body in bed and cover up the head. No one else must come in here, is that clear?’

  Jenkins nodded. Oliver looked at the blood spattered walls and stained carpet. It was going to take more than a scrubbing to remove the evidence. ‘Get rid of the carpet and replace it. Paint the walls, if you have to. I want this room to look unsullied. I’ll not have my son’s inheritance tainted by this scandal.’

  Jenkins nodded. ‘But what about the death certificate, sir? The doctor can hardly write natural causes, when half the man’s head is missing.’

  Oliver’s smile did not reach his eyes. ‘The quack will write what I damn well tell him to. I’ll announce tomorrow morning that he died peacefully, in his sleep, after we have him safely banged up in his coffin.’

  ‘I’ll get Billy and Jack to find the box. Nobs always have these things ready, so it shouldn’t be hard to track it down.’

  Oliver nodded towards the bloody remains. ‘Clean the pistol he used and replace it in its case. Check all the doors are locked before you start. How long do you think it will take?’

  ‘If we work all night it’ll be done by morning, sir. I’ll send word up when we’ve finished.’

  ‘Excellent. It’s six o’clock now. It won’t be dark for another four hours. Be careful how you go; this matter must be kept secret.’

  He left his men to their grisly task and made his way back upstairs. He could hear the sound of laughing and the clatter of cutlery coming from Sarah’s room. He quickened his steps and walked in. For a moment he was too moved to speak. The sight of Sarah and Edward, sharing a plate of steaming broth, their dark heads touching, lifted his heart and temporarily banished his grim thoughts.

  ‘I hope there’s enough for me; I’m famished.’ They looked round at the sound of his laughing comment and both faces lit up with joy on seeing him. Sarah held out her hand, her face radiant. ‘Come and join us, my love; the broth is, for once, hot and the bread freshly baked. Beth has fetched enough to feed all of us. There’s plenty for you.’

  The maid handed Oliver a full bowl and spoon and he perched on the edge of the bed to eat it.

  The meal was declared the most appetising one that they had eaten since arriving at Westover. Edward yawned and rubbed his eyes.

  ‘It is time we all got some rest, Edward. It has been a long and difficult day.’

  ‘It’s still light, Mama. Do you go to bed in the daytime too?’

  ‘When we are tired, yes, my love, we do.’ Oliver
hugged his adopted son, knowing this would be the last night the boy would be if known as Master Edward. In the morning he would be a different person; he would be Lord Edward Fitzwilliam, Earl of Westover.

  Sarah kissed her son too. ‘Sleep well, darling. Sally will be here if you need anything. And Papa and I will be next door. Goodnight and God bless.’

  Oliver slipped his hand around her waist, drawing her closer. ‘Goodnight, son.’Holding his beloved wife to his side he led her through the communicating door and into the majestic bed chamber. With his free hand he turned the key behind him.

  ‘Sarah, darling, look at me.’ He placed his finger under her chin and gently forced her to meet his eyes. ‘If this is moving too fast for you I will understand. I can sleep elsewhere, if that’s what you wish.’

  She smiled, her eyes huge. ‘No, it’s not that; I love you, Oliver and do want to be your true wife. But I find I can’t relax until I know exactly what happened downstairs.’

  ‘The earl’s dead. He blew his brains out.’

  ‘Is that a good thing?’

  His mouth twisted wryly. ‘I honestly don’t know. If word ever comes out he committed Suicide, Edward’s name will be besmirched. It can take generations to live down such a scandal.’

  ‘Do you believe he did it to cause us more grief?’

  ‘I’m certain of it, sweetheart. But with luck we will come out of this unscathed.’ He explained exactly what he had set in motion downstairs and she was impressed.

  ‘Lord Fitzwilliam was in his eighties. I’m sure no one will question his sudden death. I suppose we will have to stay here now, at least until you’ve sorted everything out here?’