The Disgraceful Mr. Ravenhurst Page 16

  All the laughter had gone from her, all the trust, replaced by regret and wariness. He should have listened to his head, not to his heart. Listened and settled for what he had, not what he hoped for. She could give him friendship and laughter and her courage. But not her love.

  And now she was miserable and he was lonely again. So lonely. He had not realised how wide and deep that hole had been until she had come into his life and filled it. Now it gaped blackly under his feet.

  ‘I’m sorry, Nell.’ She did not move. ‘Compromise is not right for us.’ A nod. ‘I just thought it would be companionable, you and I together. Can we be friends again? Have I ruined things?’

  ‘No. No, of course not.’ She turned and walked back to him, put her arms around as much of him as she could manage and hugged hard, then stepped back and smiled. Well, that settles it. Hugged like a brother. The smile was a little wary, but it was genuine, he saw it in her eyes.

  ‘What have you got to eat in that bottomless satchel of yours?’ she asked. ‘Or do we have to snare a rabbit if we aren’t to go hungry?’

  ‘I went and charmed some food out of the cook. That was why I was late,’ Theo confessed.

  ‘Good.’ She nodded towards a dense thicket. ‘I’ll just go and, um…’

  Theo knelt down and began to unpack the food. Nell’s sketchbook lay open where it had been dropped. He reached across and tore the sketches clean out, looked at them for a long moment, almost hearing the ghost of the children’s laughter, then slipped them inside his own book, tying the strings into a knot it would be impossible to open without a knife. All the portraits of their children who would never be.

  Elinor reached the shelter of the bushes before her legs gave way and she sank down on the turf. To have a good weep was tempting, but pointless. She would have to emerge, nose red, eyes bleary—and what could she say? I love you, of course I’ll marry you, even if you love someone else? I’ll marry you because you want a companion and feel sorry for me so I’ll do? She prided herself on common sense and stoicism; now was the time to exercise those qualities.

  After all, she was no worse off than she was a few weeks ago, she told herself, selecting a nice dense bush and checking for thistles, adders and stinging nettles.

  Adjusting her clothing again, she decided that actually she was worse off. Much worse. If you had never eaten strawberries, you had no idea what you were missing. But once you had, you never forgot the taste and always yearned for them. Theo was strawberries and cream and every sensual pleasure she had ever experienced and he was here, now. Not safely out of the way, but a constant reminder, a constant temptation.

  There was only one way to get through this and that was to stiffen her backbone and just endure until they parted company. ‘Well,’ she said brightly as she emerged from the thicket, chin up, shoulders back, ‘I hope you did well with the cook, because I am starving.’

  They ate chicken legs and crusty rolls, cheese and apples, all washed down with cider. ‘I’m sleepy,’ Elinor confessed.

  ‘Sleep, then.’ Theo took off his coat, rolled it up and set it down as a pillow. ‘Go on.’

  ‘You, too.’ Elinor stretched out on the short grass in the shade of the big tree where Theo had laid out the food. ‘We both need our sleep if we are to search that chamber in the cellars tonight.’

  Theo stopped, halfway into a sprawl, and propped himself on one elbow, looking at her. ‘I am searching alone, you are not…well.’

  ‘I am perfectly well. It isn’t an illness.’ Elinor shut her eyes and snuggled into the Theo-smelling soft wool. ‘And it certainly isn’t an excuse for missing the fun.’

  ‘Fun?’ She could hear him yawning. Perhaps he had managed as little sleep as she had last night. ‘And what are we going to say if we are caught down there, pray?’

  ‘That we are rather, er, sophisticated in our tastes and wanted to make love at the scene of the infamous orgies?’ she suggested sleepily.

  There was a gasp of laughter from Theo. ‘Now that is another image you have put into my imagination that I really, truly, did not want there.’

  A person would need to be not sophisticated, but downright perverse, to want to be anywhere near this chamber, let alone making love in it, Elinor decided, shivering in the semi-darkness at two the next morning. Theo was pacing, muttering under his breath; she was perched on the unpleasant stone slab, waiting to do something useful.

  ‘If I was conducting a semi-ritualistic orgy,’ he announced at length, ‘I think I would want as much drama as possible.’

  ‘I agree,’ Elinor nodded vigorously, trying not to speculate about what was making scuffling noises in a far corner.

  ‘So—I produce the Chalice and all the other items of plate with a flourish. From where?’ He frowned at her. ‘Would you mind very much lying down?’

  ‘As the sacrifice?’ He nodded, looking as happy about it as she felt. ‘All right. Like this?’ Elinor lay down and stretched up her hands to catch the iron rings. Theo seemed to tower above her in the flickering light, the shadows making a mask out of his face and the focused light from the dark lanterns setting his hair aflame. It took an effort of will to remember that this was play-acting. He threw up his arms dramatically as though commanding an audience.

  ‘Now what? I wouldn’t bend down, that loses impact. There is nothing in front of me…’ He spun on his heel, coat tails flaring out behind him, and flattened his upraised palms against the stonework. There was silence. ‘Elinor, come and help me—there is something here.’

  She came and stood beside him, the two of them feeling the stone, running their fingertips along the mortar lines. He was right—there was something odd about the feel of that patch of wall, but whatever it was, it was well hidden.

  ‘I give up,’ Elinor said after ten minutes, standing back to suck at a torn nail.

  ‘Damn it.’ Exasperated, Theo thumped the wall with his clenched fist, then swore with the pain of it. There was an odd grinding noise and there, in front of him, was wood. ‘That’s a keyhole.’

  She saw the gleam of his teeth as he smiled at her, then the picklocks were clinking in his fingers and she stepped back to give him room. It seemed to take for ever, and it seemed too that the ghosts of the chamber were crowding in behind them, eager to see their treasures again, rustling and breathing in the darkness.

  Fighting her lurid imaginings, Elinor kept her gaze firmly on Theo’s hands until the panel swung open on to the gleam of precious metals, the sparkle of gemstones and the dull sheen of leather. ‘Is it there?’ She craned to see past his shoulder.

  ‘Yes. You should not look at it.’ He sounded oddly breathless.

  ‘Well, I am going to! For goodness’ sake, Theo, you cannot expect me to close my eyes now.’

  ‘Very well.’ He reached in and lifted it out, a vast vessel that took both his hands to bear, and set it down on the stone platform. ‘Just don’t ask me to explain anything.’ Elinor crouched down and studied it.

  From the square base four columns, uneven and yellowish white in colour, rose from pairs of great oval opals to support the silver cup itself. There were six sides, each etched and chased and each with a scene in almost full relief of small figures sculpted in gold, The arched lid rose above it, ribbed, with sprawling figures tumbling down in utter abandon.

  Elinor reached out a hand and touched the supporting shafts. ‘Ivory, with a pair of opals at the base of each.’ The shafts were oddly veined and ridged and she ran her hand down one, marvelling at the tactile finish. ‘It’s a—’ She got a grip on her voice, even as she snatched her hand back. ‘They are all male, er…members.’

  ‘Yes.’ She could not look at Theo, but neither could she tear her eyes away from the object. The tiny, perfectly detailed figures were men and women and—animals? Some scenes she could understand, some, as she turned the object slowly around, mystified her. It was arousing, disgusting, beautiful and beastly. She wiped her fingers on her skirts as though they were sticky. The s
ound of Theo’s breathing was harsh.

  ‘Are the receipts there?’

  ‘Yes.’ He had gone back to the cupboard and was staring into it, some papers in his hand.

  Elinor ducked under his arm. There were cups, a great platter, coils of leather she realised with a jolt were whips, and more ivory objects. ‘More male members?’ she queried as Theo shut the door, twisting the picklock to make it fast.

  ‘Don’t even think about it,’ he said tersely. ‘Help me wrap this thing up in my coat.’

  They were crouched over it, padding the stem with the coat sleeves, their backs to the room, when the attack came. Filthy sackcloth descended in a smothering blanket, she heard Theo swearing and struck out with her nails, ripping against the cloth, then something hit her head, hard, and she went down into even deeper blackness.

  Chapter Fifteen

  ‘Nell! Nell, wake up.’ Someone was calling her, which was most unfair when her head hurt so. Besides, she could not have overslept, it was still dark outside and the candles were lit.

  Consciousness came back with a rush. She was sitting on something cold and hard and her hands were at full stretch over her head, which ached abominably. She was in a small stone chamber lit by guttering candles set side by side against the far wall and she wanted, rather badly, a drink, a privy and to ease the desperate ache in her arms.

  ‘Nell!’ It was Theo. Somehow she managed to turn her head and found he was chained beside her, his arms shackled as hers were, although as he was on his feet he was able to lower them so his elbows were bent.

  ‘What happened?’ she managed and saw raw relief on his face as she spoke.

  ‘Someone hit us over the head—two people, it must have been.’ So, it hadn’t been her imagination or the ghosts of the past she had heard behind her after all. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘My head hurts and I would kill for a drink, but otherwise I’ll feel better if I can just stand up.’ The relief when she scrambled to her feet, pushing up against the rough wall to help her shaky legs, was enormous. The chains sagged and she could clasp her hands together in front of her. ‘Oh, that’s better, my arms were coming out of their sockets. How are you?’ Theo looked very white and there was blood on the shoulder of his shirt.

  ‘I’ll do,’ Theo said, his mouth grim. ‘At least they didn’t want us dead.’

  That was true. ‘And we’ll see who they are when they come back,’ Elinor pointed out, nodding towards the candles. ‘Two people—does that mean it is the Traceys after all?’

  ‘Or Leon with a servant. Or Ana, with John, her groom, who has been noticeably absent from sight.’

  ‘Even if we knew, it doesn’t get us much further forwards, and it doesn’t help us get out of here. What I don’t understand is why they didn’t just knock us out, take the Chalice and leave.’ Elinor lifted her hands and peered at the heavy metal cuffs around her wrists. ‘Where are your picklocks?’

  ‘In my coat pocket.’ And the coat was lying beside the candles.

  ‘Oh.’ Elinor reached out for him, finding that the chain ran freely through whatever it was secured to, high on the wall above. If she let one arm rise, she could straighten the other, almost as far as Theo. ‘Can we hold hands for a little while? I’m feeling a bit shaky.’ His hand clasping hers was warm, the fingers reassuringly strong and steady. ‘Mama will want to know where we are.’

  ‘That’s true. And Hythe. He knows we are searching. I wish now I’d risked having him help me, but it would have been even harder to explain him if we were found than it was with you.’ Theo’s smile was obviously meant to be reassuring, but she was not at all sure he placed much confidence on his aunt thinking to search the dungeons, which was where they must be. ‘It will take a while, though, for Aunt Louisa to start to worry and then to think of speaking to him. Plenty of time for you to tell me all the family news.’

  It was a good attempt to keep her spirits up, although nothing was going to happen for a few hours, she was certain. Meanwhile, given the number of Ravenhursts, telling the news was a task that would take some time.

  ‘And both Bel and Eva were expecting when we left England—the babies may even have been born by now,’ Elinor was saying when Theo stiffened.

  ‘Listen!’

  Someone was coming. A key grated in the lock and the door swung open. ‘Madame, Julie—thank goodness!’ Elinor slumped back against the wall in relief. ‘You’ve found us. Someone hit us, dragged us in here…’ Her voice tailed away as she saw them more clearly. Both looked grim, both were clad in old, dark clothes and neither made any move to approach them. ‘Please, let us out of here.’

  ‘You will be going nowhere, Mademoiselle Ravenhurst,’ the countess said harshly. ‘You have chosen to pry into my business, now you pay for that.’

  ‘You took the Chalice from Theo?’ Beside her he was silent, but she could feel the tension running through him as though he had touched her. If they came close enough…

  ‘I did.’ It was Julie. ‘I had been following him ever since Paris. He did not know me, even if he had seen me. And, of course, he did not expect me.’

  ‘Then what happened to the late count?’ It was hard to believe these two elegant Frenchwomen could be responsible for this, but there seemed no denying the evidence of her own eyes and ears.

  ‘My late husband would have dragged us into notoriety and scandal again, releasing that dreadful, sinful, object on to the world. My son Leon is the first de Beaumartin for decades about whom one hears no sniggers, no repetition of the gossip. At last the past was buried, we could hold our heads up once more—and then Charles drags it out into the open again.’

  ‘Scarcely, Madame,’ Theo spoke at last. ‘The Chalice was to go to a private collector.’

  ‘Who would brag to his select friends, I have no doubt.’ The countess took an angry pace closer, still a wary distance from their reach. ‘Charles would not listen, would not hear my plans for a suitable marriage for Leon.’

  ‘To Mademoiselle Julie, no doubt?’ Theo waited until the younger woman nodded, her thin face intent and tense. ‘No doubt he wanted a better match for his son?’

  ‘She is like a daughter to me and she will make him a good wife—and one who will work to restore the family name. Charles would have him marry some society girl with no backbone, no commitment.’

  ‘And your husband sold the Chalice to restore the family fortunes despite your objections and fear of scandal?’ Elinor stared at the countess’s implacable face. ‘Did you kill him?’

  ‘It was an accident,’ Julie said passionately. ‘We were arguing in Paris, when I was trying to help her convince him it was wrong to sell the Chalice. He shouted that I was a nobody, that Leon should marry someone worthy, someone with a title and wealth to bring to the match. But I love Leon,’ she said in a whisper, ‘God help me, I love him.’

  ‘So who killed the count?’ Theo asked. Elinor was beyond words, staring at the two women in disbelief.

  ‘It was an accident,’ the countess said, her voice harsh. ‘We struggled over the receipts, over the money. He tripped. When we saw he was dead, Julie followed you and took back the Chalice.’

  ‘And where is it now?’

  ‘Back in its hiding place, where it will stay for ever. Now I have found the inventory, I know nothing else is missing.’

  ‘And you expect us to keep quiet about this?’ Elinor demanded. ‘Even if the count’s death was an accident, you owe Lord X the money, you have assaulted us—’

  ‘You will stay here,’ the countess said, her voice eerily calm now. ‘We will lock the door and we will not come back.’

  ‘You would leave us here to die of hunger and thirst?’ Elinor could hardly say the words.

  ‘Let Elinor go,’ Theo spoke over her. ‘Let her go and she will promise to say nothing and I will give you access to all my money.’

  ‘No! Leave you here? No!’ She reached out for him, the chains tearing into her wrists as they stopped her, inches fro
m him.

  ‘I am not a cruel woman,’ the countess said, placing a pitcher on the floor just within reach and stepping back. ‘There is enough poison in there to kill you both, quickly.’

  ‘Without blood on your hands?’ Theo demanded.

  ‘Exactly. I have no confidence I could kill you humanely by any other method.’

  ‘You are a monster,’ Elinor said with conviction. ‘But my mother is not, and she will search for me and never stop.’

  ‘I would do anything for my son’s name.’ The countess turned towards the door. ‘And everyone, your mother included, will believe you two have eloped. In the morning all your clothes and possessions will have gone.’

  The door closed behind her and the key rasped in the lock. Elinor turned and faced Theo, struggling to find calm somewhere in the sick turmoil of panic. ‘Mama knows we do not want to marry, she will know something is wrong at once.’

  ‘I agree. And together with Hythe they make a formidable team—but I do not intend staying here for however long it takes them to find us.’

  ‘Good.’ Elinor swallowed hard. ‘Because I have to confess I feel just a touch…apprehensive.’

  ‘When we do get out of here,’ Theo said, smiling at her, his mouth a little crooked, ‘remind me that you said that. Now then, let us be certain we cannot reach my coat and the picklocks.’

  Fifteen minutes later, their wrists raw, they gave up every possible combination of stretches. The coat remained inches out of reach.

  ‘Right.’ Theo leaned back, peering up through the gloom at the point where their chains were suspended. ‘I think these have been dropped over a hook, not run through a loop.’

  ‘Which means if we can unhook them we can move about the cell and get to the picklocks.’ Elinor tried to throw up the chain, but it slumped back, jarring her sore wrists. ‘That won’t work, it is too heavy.’

  Theo stood, thinking, then knelt down, one knee raised. ‘Climb—if you can get high enough, you might be able to do it.’

  She could get her feet on his knee all right and up to a crouch, her fingertips scrabbling at the wall for purchase. ‘Now what?’ He held out his clasped hands. Gingerly Elinor put one foot on to the linked fingers.