Chapter 24 #2
“And afterward?” She couldn’t leave matters so profoundly unsettled. “I can’t marry you soon, Brand.”
“I know.”
Did he? Did he really understand? “Not until after the baby’s born. After—”
He put his fingers over her lips again. “Trust me.”
He waited for her nod, then straightened and winked. “You’re lucky I’m a very patient man, Rosa Overton, or I’d be off seeking another woman to make me into her willing love-slave.”
Having reduced her to fiery blushes, he left, pausing only at the door to say, “Remember. Remember in the coming months that I love you, Rosa, till death us do part and into eternity. You will have everything you desire.”
“How?” she whispered, but thank heavens, he was already gone.
Tears threatened, but she controlled them and put all future problems to one side. Instead, she blew her nose, and rose to face this day, Digby’s mourning day.
When she emerged from her room, she found that Brand had already accepted responsibility for Edward’s death, and had taken his body with him to Lord Fencott, the magistrate.
He’d also dropped hints that the New Commonwealth was being investigated on many charges, including using poison to remove inconvenient people.
As a result, the gathering to escort Sir Digby on his final journey fairly buzzed with shock and speculation, but also with enormous relief. There was even laughter at times. She didn’t think Digby would mind. He was missed, and he’d know it, but he’d always enjoyed good cheer.
No one seemed to find Brand’s intervention suspicious. They all knew he’d met Digby at Arradale, and taken Edward away by force when he left. That story had been too good not to fly around the dale.
Did they suspect other things? She really didn’t think so. The servants at the dower house had kept their mouths firmly shut. Those at Wenscote who had suspicions were doing the same. Perhaps her plan, at least, would work—to bear the child secretly and find it a good home.
Then she’d marry Brand and have other children.
It would be enough.
The men of her family arrived—uncles, brothers, and brothers-in-law, as well as her father.
She felt bulwarked and secure, but couldn’t help wondering how they would treat Brand in the future.
Because he was an executor, she’d had to tell her father that her child was not Digby’s.
He’d not condemned her—she was sure he understood—but he’d sighed and shaken his head, clearly seeing the problems as she did.
Accepting her part in it didn’t mean that he’d accept Brand’s, but it didn’t matter if there was coldness. Once married, she’d live in the south. Looking out over the dales, she flinched under a raw new loss.
But she’d have Brand. It would be enough.
Digby was nailed into his coffin. Rosamunde put the flower garland she had made on top, and eight men took up the burden for the first stage down the dale. Rosamunde and Diana rode with the men behind. Her mother drove Mrs. Monkton in her chair, the bells removed for this journey.
All along the way, people came from cottage, field, and inn to bend their heads at the passing of a good man of Wensleydale, and as they approached Wensley in the afternoon, the church bell began to toll.
When they entered the cool church, it was packed.
Tears fell, but not really of sorrow. This was almost a celebration of Digby’s warmhearted, honest self.
She wept during the service, and as she watched him lowered into the ground, but he was already elsewhere, in a better place. She felt sure that the peace around her was his gift.
Brand was doubtless among the mourners, but she hadn’t looked.
As people passed by to give their personal condolences, however, she knew he would eventually be one of them and worried a little.
It passed without incident. He simply bowed and said, “I am honored to have been of some small service to you and Sir Digby, Lady Overton.”
She did not let her eyes follow him. Their time would come. It was not now.
Having paid his respects to the widow, Brand hovered, chatting to the various people he’d met at Arradale, but really standing guard in case anything should happen to disturb Rosa’s peace. He hoped he wasn’t giving anything away.
It was hard to stand here as a mere acquaintance, to leave her care and comfort to others. They’d had so little time together, and none of it peaceful.
He wanted more.
He couldn’t have what he wanted, however, and he was, as he’d told her, a patient man. He was used to starting land development and breeding programs that would take years to show results. He had ordered the planting of trees that would buy the pleasures of future generations.
A year was not so long.
At the moment, however, it seemed a damned long time, especially when they must hide their feelings for most of it. At least he could watch her, as long as he was careful not to let his heart show in his eyes.
It was the first time he’d seen her with people, almost the first time he’d seen her out of doors.
What a strange relationship theirs had been.
She was a little shy, he saw, even with neighbors.
A little reserved. She tended to tuck her head down sometimes, perhaps from a habit of hiding her scars, though the paint made them hardly visible now.
At some point in the past they must have been a terrible burden to her. He wished he’d been there for her then.
Despite shyness, she was kind and gracious to all, and clearly well loved.
He observed her family around her, pleased at the obvious closeness. Three tall, strong men were probably her brothers, and he’d liked Mr. and Mrs. Ellington when he’d met them at Arradale. Solid, sensible people who’d care for her well.
In fact, he liked the people of Wensleydale. They could be taciturn and sparing with their smiles, but there was a rootedness in them, a strength formed by one of England’s harsher climates.
With a start, he realized how much this was Rosa’s place on earth. She’d said her roots ran deep as rose trees, and it was true. He didn’t know what that was like. He was used to a wandering life, living in almost constant circuit of Bey’s properties.
The idea of roots was strangely pleasant. ’Struth, but Bey was likely to be put out if the plans forming in his mind came to anything!
Realizing his eyes had rested on her too long, he headed toward the inn’s stables. His control was faltering, so he’d better leave. He was paying the groom and preparing to mount when a voice said, “Young man.”
Brand turned and found Rosa’s father there, hands clasped behind him, weathered face bland.
“Mr. Ellington?” Brand wondered uneasily if Rosa’s brothers were nearby.
“I’d appreciate a word with you, if you don’t mind, my lord.”
Brand tethered his horse and moved into a more private spot. “Yes?”
Mr. Ellington eyed him like a farmer eyeing a bull at a sale. Or one at the slaughtering block. “Not to wrap it in silk, my lord, I gather my daughter is carrying your child.”
A hint of Malloren pride made Brand want to give a cool response, but instead he said, “So I gather.”
“Yet you seem to be leaving.”
Brand suspected those stalwart dalesmen brothers of hers were hovering nearby, possibly with cudgels in hand. “Rosa prefers it this way.”
“Women sometimes don’t know what’s best for them.”
“Really? I don’t find that. Are you saying you want me to marry Rosa now? I’m willing, but I don’t think it would be wise.”
The older man relaxed a bit. “Ah.”
“Mr. Ellington, Rosa and I will marry. However, the situation is delicate, as I’m sure you can appreciate. I ask you to trust me to arrange matters.”
The man relaxed even more. Slumped even. “It’s hard to see how it can be arranged, and that’s the truth, my lord. Perhaps if you marry her quietly and take her away.”
“I hope to do better than that. Tell me one thing. Some people may suspect that she carries a child. A few know I spent time with her. If given another story to match the facts, will they keep knowledge and suspicion to themselves?”
The man nodded. “For one of their own, yes, my lord.”
Brand put out his hand. “Then I hope to be welcome in your family one day soon, Mr. Ellington. Myself, Rosa, and our child.”
After a moment, the other man shook it. “Well, if you can pull that off, it’ll be as good as a miracle, my lord, but it’s good of you to try.”
Brand found the Three Tuns in the organized chaos of his brother’s removal. Bey’s own rooms were orderly, of course, despite constant traffic and a flow of crisp orders. While his people prepared for his journey, he was organizing the last moves against the New Commonwealth.
“I’ve put Cotter in hiding,” Brand said in a moment of privacy. “He had no idea what his overenthusiastic followers were up to. He thought all the convenient deaths were God’s will.”
Bey read a note and put it with others. “He doubtless doesn’t know either that some of the cursed fools were planning treason. They intended to do away with the Crown.”
“The deuce! So the King was right.”
“I’ll make sure to compliment him. They’d never have pulled it off, but it makes Cotter’s situation impossible. He’ll face charges of treason.”
“Be hanged, drawn, and quartered? He’s a good man, Bey.”
“He’s a naive fool.”
“Look, he wants to take his message to America. Can we do that? Get him and his family away?”
His brother thought for a moment. “We don’t need any more heads on Temple Bar. Will he compromise enough to wear ordinary clothes?”
“I think so.”
“Very well. On your head be it if he ferments treason in the colonies, too. They’re restless enough as it is.”
Bey dealt with another report and issued instructions while agreeing in passing to some question from Fettler about his baggage.
“Get Cotter and his family to Liverpool,” he said when they were alone again. “Bryght should be able to find a safe ship. We have a number that sail that route. Then return here and pick up the agricultural pieces.”
At Brand’s silence, he looked up. “You object?”
“You didn’t notice my recent absence? I do have concerns of my own. Sir Digby Overton is dead, and Lady Arradale says he was poisoned by his nephew.”
Bey went still. “I’m sorry for it. I never thought he’d go that far. What does the countess have to do with it?” It seemed a strangely sharp question.
“She observed Lady Overton feed the remains of Sir Digby’s last meal to an old hound. It died.”
“So we have evidence if we need it.”
“You won’t. Edward Overton is dead, too. The countess shot him.”
Bey stared, clearly, for once, almost shocked. “What an interesting time you’ve been having.”
“Don’t be too impressed. She was aiming for me.”
“Is she admitting that?”
“We didn’t discuss it. Bey, Lady Overton is my mysterious lady.”
His brother was singularly unastonished. “I had put the pieces together. So, what are you going to do? She can’t keep Wenscote.”
It shouldn’t surprise him that his brother had the whole matter clear. “She doesn’t want to.”
“What does she plan for the child?”
“To bear it in secret and find it a good home.”
Bey looked at him. “And you agree to that?”
“No, but to preserve her husband’s memory, she insists that it never be known as hers. I have to agree with that.”
“I will raise it for you if you wish. A bastard, but a Malloren.”
Brand nodded. “Thank you, but I hope to do better. In fact, that gives me an idea.” He turned it in his mind for a while.
“She plans to remove immediately to Harrogate to pass her early mourning there. Before the baby shows, however, she’ll need to go farther.
I can’t play an obvious part. Will you see to her travel from there to some safe and quiet spot? ”
Bey became suddenly interested in his ruby signet ring. “It would seem your lady is very discreet.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Bey looked up. “Is it likely that one day you will tell me the whole story of this mysterious affair? Having met Lady Overton—briefly, alas—I find it hard to imagine the details.”
“You’ve met her?”
“That is why I called her discreet. She hasn’t told you.”
Though Brand would trust his brother with his life, a chill crept down his spine. “Told me what?”
“I tried to take her into custody. Purely for her own safety, though I confess that the idea of restraining the woman who had brought you such suffering had its appeal.”
“You … And failed?”
“Lady Arradale summoned her forces and defeated me. I mention it, only because Lady Overton may not care to travel in my care.”
Brand could read his brother somewhat. “What did you do to her?”
“I seized her neatly and efficiently. However, despite the lessons Elf has taught me, I seem to be in the habit of underestimating apparently conventional young women. She made an excellent attempt at escape. I stopped her, and in the process I could have caused her an injury. I should have let her go.” He shrugged. “I was angry with her on your behalf.”
No wonder Rosa had seemed frightened of Bey, but it wasn’t Brand’s way to rant over matters past and done. “If she had come to harm, it would have driven a wedge between us. As it is, I’m sure she will forget it if you do.”
“A tolerant woman. You will suit.”
It was, in its way, a blessing. Brand wasn’t sure his brother would approve of all his plans, but he’d fight those battles later. They quickly arranged the details, agreeing that their sister Elf was the best one to handle Rosa’s affairs. No one could be afraid of Elf. No woman, at least.
After that, Brand settled to healing a small wound.
Bey had, in his own way, confessed to mishandling a situation and apologized.
He must be bleeding. Brand poured wine from the decanter and passed a glass to his brother.
“As penance for abduction, relate to me exactly how Lady Arradale overwhelmed you.”