Chapter 21 #2
‘Your word is my command, Josephine,’ he breathed heavily, ‘and neither of us will ever forget this day of … friendship.’ Then, tugging at his silk cravat, he backed away towards his appointed tree, looking as though all the gods had smiled on him at once.
Fluttering her eyelids as though her life depended on it, Josephine made her way behind the willow, where she pressed back against the gnarled bark, her heart thumping fit to leap out of her chest altogether.
Yet this was the moment it had all been about.
Craning her neck, she glimpsed another flash of colour further down the lakeside – Fred and Matilda were on the move.
She swallowed, never more aware of the outrageousness of her plan, and never more committed either. Then there was the sound of a faint splash.
‘Are you ready, Francis?’ she called, suppressing a smile at the thought of Matilda’s grimace now she was within listening distance.
‘I am, my love,’ he cooed, ‘and already in the water. It is as refreshing as we imagined, and time for you to join me.’
She drew a deep breath before rounding the tree and looking out at the cool rippling water, where a very naked Olympian gazed back.
‘But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun—’ He broke off. ‘Yet my sun is still clothed?’ he quizzed playfully.
‘Your sun is a little shy!’ Josephine called ‘But she will join you, if you turn like you promised?’
Within seconds, Sir Francis had spun in the water, giving Josephine a clear view of his golden back.
It was a sight that might have mesmerised her once, but now it only made her roll her eyes.
Turning, she made her way to Sir Francis’s tree, behind which she found a neat stack of clothing, together with a dancing-eyed Fred and Matilda.
With a swift smile at her siblings, she scooped up the clothing, and re-emerged lakeside with a far cooler air.
‘You may turn, Sir Francis!’ she called with a reversion to her previous formality.
Then he turned with a smug smile that faded as he realised his sun was still clothed.
‘I don’t understand.’ He smiled again, though with less certainty as he spied his clothing in her arms. ‘Have you changed your mind, my love? Do you wish me to come out and help you, perhaps?’ he added flirtatiously.
‘Not at all,’ Josephine returned flatly. ‘But you can help me, Sir Francis, beginning with telling me exactly how you knew Eliza Pellham.’
At this utterance, his expression changed completely.
‘Eliza Pellham?’ he repeated, and for the briefest of moments it seemed as though her name was whispered on the breeze.
‘Never heard of her!’ he declared with his next breath, though his smile had disappeared and he looked a little pale around the mouth.
‘Listen, why don’t you join me for a bathe, and we can talk afterwards?
’ he wheedled. ‘This was your plan, remember?’
‘It was,’ Josephine conceded, her lip curling, ‘and it has worked beautifully. So, if you wish to leave the lake and regain your clothing with any degree of self-respect, I suggest you start by telling me how you knew Eliza.’
‘I told you, I don’t know the name!’ he snapped. ‘And you forget we are quite alone, Josephine. I can leave this lake whenever I—’
At this precise moment, Matilda stepped out, halting Sir Francis mid-flow. Josephine passed her his neat stack of clothing, before she left with a cheeky wave.
‘Hey!’ Sir Francis roared. ‘Bring back my clothing! It’s my property!’
‘It is,’ Josephine agreed, ‘and, quite aside from the theft of your clothing, Knightswood Lake is notoriously cold, so unless you wish to suffer with severe chills later, I suggest you listen carefully. You are going to tell me exactly what you know about Eliza Pellham, the death of Lord Huntingly’s father and the subsequent duel, and, if you satisfy my questions, I will permit you to leave the lake and tell you where Matilda has hidden your clothing.
However, if you don’t, I shall tell Sir Thomas that you brought me here, removed your clothing and tried to entice me to do the same. Do you understand?’
At this, Sir Francis emitted a noise which sounded something like a cross between a cackle and a charging bull elephant.
‘And who’s to stop me leaving now?’ he repeated scornfully. ‘Your sister was hardly a threat and don’t be fooled into thinking I have any consideration left for your so-called innocence—’
‘I will,’ Fred replied seriously, emerging from the trees.
‘So I suggest you co-operate, and swiftly too, for Josephine was not jesting about the cold. I also believe my eldest brother would be extremely interested to know about your behaviour towards his sister, given the circumstances. It’s not looking good, Francis. ’
‘B … but Alfred!’ Sir Francis appealed. ‘Do consider that a swim was your sister’s idea. She brought me here!’
At this, Fred tipped his head back in unbridled laughter. ‘Try telling anyone that!’ he jeered in a tone Josephine barely recognised. ‘Jo never learned to swim! Now answer her questions or I’ll wade out there and choke the answers out of you myself, so help me God!’
Sir Francis’s face contracted in visible shock, while Josephine felt she’d never been prouder. Then there was a moment’s silence where he opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, putting her in mind of the actual fish in the lake, before he finally forced out some words.
‘I met Eliza … once or twice,’ he muttered with effort. ‘Huntingly knew her. Her father was his steward, or something. She was … not like us. That’s all I know, now kindly return my clothes, please.’
‘But that’s not all you know, is it?’ Josephine challenged, finally airing the suspicions that had been fermenting since Fred mentioned Sir Francis’s friendship with Huntingly. ‘You built a friendship with Eliza, didn’t you…? In fact, something more than a friendship?’
Sir Francis’s expression darkened, and Josephine knew she’d touched a nerve.
‘So, what if I did?’ he threw sullenly. ‘She was different … wild … always in the wood … met her there a couple times.’ He shrugged. ‘There’s no law against it, is there?’
‘No, but there is a law against murder,’ Josephine replied coldly.
At this, Sir Francis baulked, before laughing in a distinctly unconvincing way. ‘I most certainly did not murder Eliza Pellham,’ he muttered scathingly. ‘The typhoid did that. You really should read fewer novels, Miss Fairfax.’
‘I’m not speaking of Eliza,’ Josephine replied unflinchingly, never taking her eyes off Dashton. ‘I’m referring to old Lord Huntingly – Alistair’s father.’
Fred took a sharp breath while Sir Francis fell silent, his eyes narrowing to shards.
‘Clever Miss Fairfax,’ he replied softly, making Fred curse before Josephine shot out a steadying hand. ‘I always said you had all the Fairfax brains. No, I did not kill Lord Huntingly … Eliza did.’
His accusation seemed to ripple across the lake and whisper into the rustling trees, before he started to move forward. ‘You wanted to know the truth, and now you do, so…’
‘Wait right there, Dashton!’ Fred challenged with a heavy scowl. ‘It’s very convenient to blame someone who can’t defend themselves. What do you mean, Eliza killed Lord Huntingly?’
Dashton considered his friend carefully, before drawing a deep breath. ‘Exactly what I said.’ He shrugged coldly. ‘She ran out into his path, his horse reared, the rest you know.’
‘Except the reason she was running was you!’ Josephine accused, knowing he’d subjected Eliza to the same attentions he’d tried to foist upon herself.
Sir Francis scowled. ‘She was wild, I tell you! Spent days and nights in the woods… She ran from everything and everyone.’
‘You mean you scared her with your attentions, and then you let George Pellham cover for his sister.’ Josephine enunciated slowly, never more certain of Sir Francis’s guilt.
‘Huntingly then discovered the gift to Pellham in his father’s will, and assumed the worst…
You let them duel, knowing neither was responsible!
Which leads me to wonder about Huntingly’s pistol accidentally backfiring too. ’
‘Well, that was Eliza, if you must know!’ Sir Francis blustered. ‘She was odd, a wild cat. Never cared for anyone but her brother – tampered with Huntingly’s pistol so it backfired.’
Josephine stared as the final piece of the puzzle slotted into place. ‘So, Eliza tried to protect her brother … in a duel that would never have taken place if old Lord Huntingly hadn’t tragically died … because she was running from you,’ she concluded, feeling Fred’s open-mouthed admiration.
‘What … no! You can’t blame me for everything!’ Sir Francis objected furiously. ‘It wasn’t my fault! She seemed interested, and then she changed her mind. I didn’t do anything!’
‘On the contrary, Sir Francis,’ Josephine countered, feeling as though a great weight had finally shifted. ‘You started it all.’