Chapter Fifteen #3
Against her lips, he murmured, “Indeed. And speaking of life’s mysteries, I need you in ways that have nothing to do with getting an heir.”
As her body responded to his husky whisper, she allowed herself a tiny bit of hope. Need wasn’t love, but it wasn’t indifference either. She wrapped her arms around her husband. “Perhaps you should elaborate on your needs.”
They left Cariford after two more days. Kieran had overseen the removal of most of the wreckage by then, and the villagers themselves reached the grim consensus that the sea had washed all the bodies ashore that it would.
They returned a week later for the memorial service honoring all those lost. Iona and Barclay came with them. Kieran’s aunt proved predictably unimpressed with the rapport that Diantha had developed with the survivors.
“It is not necessary to enter into their every feeling.” She declared this after watching Diantha speak with a number of villagers and their children. The older woman stood waiting by the landau which was ready to carry them back to the house.
At tea that afternoon, a tremendous quarrel broke out between Kieran and Barclay.
Kieran wanted to attract fishermen from other villages by offering a share of each vessel’s profits, with the chance to take over ownership of the new boats.
Barclay considered that too complicated. He paced the rug in front of the drawing room fireplace. “Why not just tear down some of the poorer crofts and send the families to the village? You’re the landlord. Act like it for once.”
She and Iona listened to the increasingly acrimonious argument for several minutes, until Barclay flung himself out of the room in a rage.
After he left, Kieran’s aunt had addressed him sharply. “Why must you be so excessively rude to Barclay?” She shot a triumphant glance at Diantha’s slim waist. “He is still your heir, you know.”
Kieran drew himself to his full height. “Then perhaps he should remember that he inherits responsibilities to others, Aunt.”
* * *
Kieran decided to return to the village a few days later so that he could propose his plan to the survivors. The night before he left, he assured Diantha that he would be back by dinner the following evening.
Barclay went with him despite their earlier disagreement, much to her husband’s pleasure. He thanked his cousin repeatedly for lending him his support.
That afternoon, Barclay returned alone with a message from Kieran that he had been delayed and needed to oversee a few more things in Cariford. “I will be more than happy to carry any messages you might have for my cousin.”
Diantha, remembering the lies the soft-spoken man had told about Kieran before, declined to take advantage of his offer.
After hearing nothing from Kieran for three days except vague messages via his cousin, Diantha took matters into her own hands. She wrote her husband a short letter, telling him that she and his mother both missed him, and asking if she had done something to anger him.
Sealing it in an envelope and writing his name on it, she left her room to go downstairs in search of a messenger.
She did not trust Barclay to deliver it to his cousin.
Perhaps Archie or Billy Green would oblige her.
Not wanting to be spotted by either Iona or Barclay, she walked down a narrow hall just beyond the main staircase.
It led to the kitchen and stable yard doors, and would hide her from her husband’s relatives.
Or so she thought. When she noticed the estate office door sat slightly ajar, she started to tiptoe past. Mr. Johnstone, the bailiff, might not have any reason to comment on her presence in this part of the house to Barclay, but she did not want to take any chances.
“I dinna want to murder the man.” She did not recognize the voice, but the words stopped her in her tracks.
“Odd that you didn’t mention your moral objections when I offered to rescue you from the hangman’s noose.” Diantha pressed a palm against her mouth for fear she would scream, or gasp. That soft contemptuous voice belonged to Barclay.
Hardly daring to breathe, she strained to hear more.
“ ‘Tis no’ murder to rid yourself of a cheatin’ wife. But to slide a dirk into a man what’s always spoke polite to me is. I want more money for it. You’ll have enough after you kill his lordship!”
Something scraped against the floor. She guessed it was a chair, for footsteps sounded inside the room. Diantha gathered her skirts to run.
A long sigh sounded. “I should have known better than to set a nincompoop like you to guard him, even for a few days.” Barclay’s voice became reflective. “The thing is, in order to get the money, I’ll have to get rid of my cousin’s wife as well, because she’ll inherit before I do.”
He paused. “What are you willing to do for more cash?”
Diantha did not wait to hear more. Terrified, she inched back in the direction she had come, afraid a heavy breath or a rustle of her skirts would cause Barclay and his henchman to look out of the office.
She had to save Kieran, but had no idea how to do so by herself. If she simply reported the conversation she had overheard to the local authorities, Barclay could charm his way out of an arrest.
She needed advice from someone who knew Barclay and Duncarie, someone loyal to Kieran. Hoping she did not look like someone scared out of her wits, she made her way to the entry hall and out the front door. Going around the side of the house, she headed straight for the stables.
As she hoped, she found Archie Green in the stable yard.
Drawing him out to a paddock on the pretext of wanting to discuss Dancer, she repeated in a low voice the conversation she had overheard between Barclay and his henchman.
They stood by the fence, careful to watch for anyone who might linger and overhear them.
The ghillie nodded, eyes seemingly focused on a mare frolicking with her colt. “I think you should leave the house before he can do you any harm, my lady.”
Her heart leaped at the thought of getting away from Barclay. She frowned as she considered the idea closely, though. “Where can I go where he won’t find me? Ulladale is small; he’ll find me there in no time. And what about his lordship’s mother? I can’t just desert her.”
Archie’s massive eyebrows furrowed as he considered her points. “I’m no’ sure Barclay thinks of her as a threat. And once I moot word of this into a few trusted ears, we’ll find his lordship afore that yellow git knows what we’re about.”
He straightened. “Hie yourself to my cottage. The wife and I can keep you there for a few days while I have a look round. But you’ll have to walk. Folks will notice you on horseback.”
Pushing away from the fence, he tugged a forelock as though she’d just given an order. “You’d better haste.”
He was right. She needed a walking dress, not the silk gown she wore right now.
She half-expected Barclay or his manservant to pounce on her when she returned to the house.
However, escaping proved to be only a matter of asking Florette to assist her in changing into a serge walking suit and sturdy shoes.
Disclosing her plans to the maid, Diantha urged her to find a safe place to hide from the two men as well.
The older woman nodded as she shook her head over the grass-stained hem of the silk gown. “I think MacAdam will help me.”
Despite the seriousness of her situation, Diantha raised an eyebrow at her servant. “Oh?”
Florette looked up innocently. “He speaks French very well, milady.” Only the tiniest of smirks ruined her poise.
Diantha slipped out a side door without the least trouble and set out across the valley.
Tea time found her sitting down to bread and butter across from Lily Green, a short bustling woman who accepted Lady Rossburn’s appearance at her front door without turning a hair.
Their son’s wife Nan joined them, on Lily’s recommendation.
A sturdy fair-haired young woman, Nan’s steady nature fit in well with her in-laws.
She ruled her brood of small Greens with affectionate despotism, from Wee Archie, a nine-year-old version of his grandfather, down to ten-month-old Baby Andrew.
When Archie and his son arrived after dinner, they brought no news of Kieran, but assured Diantha that eyes and ears in the house and on the estate were searching for him.
Archie chuckled. “The household had a bit of fuss when your ladyship didna appear for dinner. That Frenchie of yours nearly got that cailleach Iona to send out search parties before Barclay could stop her. The man looked flat panicked, I tell you.”
She took what comfort she could from the news. But when she crawled into the bed Lily devised under the eaves of the cottage, she prayed that Kieran was still alive, and would be found before Barclay could hurt him.