The Hazardous Measure of Love: Time Into Time Book Five Read online

  There was an, ‘Ough!’ a thump and a cry of ‘Papa!’ which was drowned in the sound of the branch I was on giving up the struggle and breaking off.

  It wasn’t far down to the water, and I managed to kick free of the branch before it dragged me under. James contrived to fall in “helping” me out and we collapsed in a sodden, muddy heap on the bank.

  Luc was decidedly white about the lips, but his voice was steady as he set his son on his feet. ‘What do you say to Miss Lawrence, Matthew?’

  ‘Thank you very much for rescuing me, Miss Lawrence,’ he managed. ‘An‘ I’m very sorry, Papa.’

  ‘What did you promise me about the moat?’ Luc demanded, still seated. I suspect he didn’t trust his legs.

  ‘Not to go within six feet of it, Papa. But I wasn’t. That’s more than six feet ’cos I measured it with a long stick and then the ruler, just like Mr Prescott taught me.’

  You had to hand it to the child, he was nothing if not bright. He even succeeded in silencing his father who just sat there, eyes closed, probably counting to one hundred in German.

  ‘Miss Lawrence! Do come inside and get out of those wet clothes.’ It was Lady Radcliffe carrying Charles and followed by a small battalion of household staff, all armed with towels.

  She set Charles down and, miraculously, all his tears had gone. He grinned at his twin and rushed up to wrap his arms around him.

  Luc opened his eyes and got to his feet. ‘Thank you, Cassie.’ He held out his hand and hauled me up.

  Lady Radcliffe gave a faint shriek at the sight of me. ‘Hopkins! A towel for Miss Lawrence! The largest one.’

  * * *

  We finally reconvened in the drawing room rather early for dinner, but bathed, changed and respectable again. Luc was looking frazzled after a prolonged session with the twins, extracting promises on moats, trees, fences, roofs and just about any hazard he could imagine.

  ‘Are they all right, though?’ I asked. ‘They had a terrible shock. Poor Charles was distraught. He seemed far more upset than Matthew.’

  ‘He was terrified for his brother,’ Lady Radcliffe said. ‘Fear is always worse if it is someone you love who is in peril.’

  I put down my glass of sherry with a thump on the side table, almost breaking the fragile stem. ‘That’s it! She isn’t afraid for herself, she is terrified for someone else.’

  ‘Arabella Jordan?’ James asked.

  ‘Yes. That is what is wrong with her and why she won’t leave. What good would that do if the threat isn’t to her?’

  ‘Then who?’ Luc asked. ‘She grew up with the Prescott boys…’ He looked across the table to me and we both said, ‘Jerald!’

  ‘Explain,’ Lady Radcliffe said crisply. ‘The boy isn’t courting her – his brothers are.’

  ‘Jerald is closest to her in age,’ I said, working it out as I went along, feeling all the puzzle pieces clicking into place. ‘He was willing to accept his Uncle Alexander’s sponsorship to an excellent banking career and then suddenly, and very stubbornly, refused to go. I’ll bet that refusal coincided with Arabella becoming betrothed to Lord Tillingham.’

  ‘But if she is in love with Jerald, why didn’t she refuse Tillingham?’ James asked.

  ‘Because she is a well-bred little mouse. She is sweet, she is obedient, she is dutiful. I imagine it would never occur to her that she could defy her parents once they had secured such an excellent match for her,’ I said. ‘I’m not even certain she is in love with Jerald, not as utterly convinced of it as he is, anyway. Perhaps she sees him as nothing more than her best friend, or she had a fairy tale idea of love which, when she was confronted with reality, crumbled away.’

  ‘So, she accepts Tillingham,’ James said, nodding. ‘Jerald writes a threatening anonymous note to his cousin, who puzzles over it. Perhaps he half-recognises the handwriting. Or perhaps he does know who sent it, but doesn’t take it seriously. Yet he would want to keep it, just in case he had to take action to prevent Jerald becoming a nuisance. He took his role as head of the family seriously: he would not want to cause a family scandal and I expect he would dismiss it as a youthful infatuation. As a threat it wasn’t very awe-inspiring.’

  ‘That leads Jerald to believe he is ignored by his cousin, the Viscount,’ Luke said. ‘That would fester. He wants to be treated as an adult, a worthy contender for Arabella’s hand. Instead, he believes he is dismissed, treated like a child.’

  ‘His uncle berates him for his failure to take up the position he has secured for him, but how can Jerald go and leave the field completely open to Tillingham? And then the will is read and, not only has he been left a generous legacy, which may well have pricked his conscience, but Arabella also receives a significant addition to her dowry and his brothers decide to court her,’ I continued. ‘And the day before yesterday I actually heard him repeat the warning in the note that was in the clock Leave her alone! I knew there was something else nagging in the back of my mind besides Marcus’s description of Court dress. Percy was talking about wooing Arabella and Jerald flared up at him.’

  ‘No wonder that girl is in such an emotional state,’ Lady Radcliffe said, pushing away her glass. ‘Either she suspects Jerald is a murderer or he has even told her that he is – Look what I have done out of love for you. If he has been so cruelly thoughtless, then she probably blames herself for it all.’ She rang the little bell beside her plate and when the footman entered told him to hold dinner until further notice. ‘My apologies to Cook.’

  When he had gone out she looked around at our grim faces. ‘I couldn’t manage to eat and talk about this.’

  ‘Jerald must be quite unhinged,’ James said.

  ‘He is now,’ Luc said slowly. ‘I suspect it all began with an act of impulse. There he was, all rigged out in Court dress looking, and feeling, thoroughly impressive and adult. He decided to have it out, man to man, so he climbed over the fence and went to Henry’s study window. Henry would have dismissed his declaration as youthful nonsense, of course. Jerald flared up – a second’s loss of temper and control and Henry is dead at his feet. In that moment he must have felt powerful, as though he had defeated his enemy in a duel for the hand of his lady.’

  We sat silently digesting this and it was clear that we all found it convincing.

  ‘I think we have the explanation for the mysterious message to Alexander Prescott,’ Luc continued, twisting the stem of his glass between his fingers. ‘It was Jerald’s revenge for the way his uncle had been nagging him – insulting him, as I expect he saw it – over his refusal to take up the position in York.’

  ‘And then the exhilaration wore off and reality hit him,’ I said. ‘I think it began to sink in when we saw him that morning at Tillingham’s house. Now he is enmeshed beyond hope and I expect he knows it. So does Arabella. What do we do? Send for the nearest magistrate?’

  ‘And if we are wrong? We still have no hard proof. There’s the anonymous note – the handwriting could be checked. Possibly there is some footman who recalls when Jerald arrived at the reception, but that is all.’ Luc tossed back the dregs of his wine. ‘We would be sending the officers of the law into a house of mourning, with a desperately sick man at its heart, on the basis of only circumstantial evidence and our own deductions. I will go and talk to Jerald, see if I can get him to confess, then tell his father and uncle and hope we can remove him from the house without distressing the ladies.’

  I rolled my eyes at that. Distressing the ladies? They were going to be pretty distraught when the truth came out, however it was revealed. Unless the family could convince a judge that Jerald was insane he would go to the gallows. Even if he didn’t, the prospect of a Regency madhouse was enough to make anyone wish for the noose.

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ James said.

  ‘And me. In case Arabella needs me,’ I added when Luc looked ready to refuse. I had no intention of staying in the parlour patting her hand, but I knew better than to try and defy outright the Georgian male’
s sensibilities about the protection of ladies.

  ‘I don’t think we can leave this overnight, not if Jerald is in as precarious a mental state as we fear.’ Luc pushed back his chair. ‘I am afraid we must desert you, Mama. Do not wait dinner for us.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  We changed before we set out for Tillingham Hall. As James said, if we had to grapple with an unhinged murderer, he was damned if he was doing it in his decent evening suit and indoor shoes. I also had the suspicion, seeing the care with which they arranged themselves when we got into the carriage, that they both had assorted knives and pistols hidden about their persons. I took the precaution of bringing a substantial reticule, which was a handy weapon in itself, and wore stout shoes, ideal for shin-kicking. Thinking of practical things like that helped, a little, with the sick feeling inside. I had liked Jerald, but I could see nothing that was going to save the troubled young man: not here and now in 1807.

  The footman who answered the door looked understandably surprised at our arrival at such an hour. ‘The family is shortly to go in to dinner, my lord.’

  ‘It is a matter of some urgency. Please ask Mr Jerald Prescott if we could speak with him.’

  ‘I regret that Mr Jerald is not with the rest of the party in the drawing room, my lord. It may take me a while to find him.’

  ‘In that case, Mr Alexander.’

  ‘Of course, my lord. If you would care to wait in here.’

  We were ushered into a small reception room with a number of doors in it. Through one I could hear the muffled sound of conversation, which was presumably the family gathering before going in to eat.

  Through another, opposite the first, came the unmistakeable sound of sobbing.

  ‘That’s Arabella,’ I said and opened the door onto what looked like an antechamber of some kind.

  Arabella was standing in the middle of the room, wringing her hands. She turned a tear-drenched face towards me. ‘Miss Lawrence?’

  Behind her I could see Jerald, immaculate in evening dress, his face as white and haggard as an old man’s.

  I kept my voice as calm as I could. ‘Do come through here, Arabella.’ I held out my hand and smiled and she took a hesitant step towards me. I think I might have got her then, but the door swung completely open, revealing the room behind me to Jerald.

  As he saw Luc and James he jumped forward, seized Arabella’s wrist and dragged her to the door into the hall. ‘You won’t take her from me!’

  ‘Jerald – ’

  But it was too late. She hesitated, then let him pull her out of the room.

  I ran after them and burst out into the hallway as James and Luc emerged from the other room – and Alexander Prescott stepped out from the drawing room, talking to the footman who had admitted us. He was followed by the entire Prescott family on their way to dinner. One of the ladies gave a faint shriek.

  ‘What the devil?’ Alexander spluttered and two footmen came forward, clearly unsure what they were supposed to be doing with these intruders.

  They got between me and the fleeing pair, but they also blocked the way to the front door. Jerald spun around and, dragging Arabella behind him, ran up the stairs. Luc and James overtook me as I stopped to gather up my skirts.

  I found Alexander at my side, his hand on my arm. ‘Miss Lawrence? What is going on?’

  ‘Jerald killed Lord Tillingham,’ I said as I shook off his grasp and began to climb. I did not keep my voice low enough: there was a female cry of anguish below us. Too late to stop and explain now.

  Ahead of me the chase continued and, with Alexander beside me, I finally emerged onto an uncarpeted landing, just in time to glimpse a pair of booted legs vanishing up a staircase at the far end.

  ‘Where does that go?’ I demanded, breathless.

  ‘The roof.’ This time Alexander’s grip was too firm to be dislodged without violence. ‘Are you certain about this?’

  ‘Yes. I am so very sorry. We have only circumstantial proof, but he ran as soon as he saw us. I do not think there can be any doubt.’

  He nodded, his face grim. ‘It should be a shock. I find it is not. You had best go down, Miss Lawrence.’ He released me and ran for the stairs and I followed. No way was I leaving my menfolk on a roof with a murderer.

  The stairs led to a low door that opened on to the flat leads of the roof between the two flanking towers. A quick glance over Alexander’s shoulder showed me no other way out and that this area of roof was bounded only by a low ornamental parapet, no higher than my knees.

  Jerald, Arabella pulled close to his side, was about six feet from the front parapet, his back turned to it as he tried to watch both Luc and James who were facing him from the centre of the roof. They had spread out, the better to distract him, I assumed. Twilight was deepening: we had to get her away from him before darkness fell.

  Alexander ducked out under the low lintel, circled around to stand between the brothers and spoke calmly and authoritatively. ‘Jerald, let Miss Jordan go. You are alarming her.’

  ‘Another lecture from you, Uncle dear?’ Jerald was defiant, driven beyond reason or, I suspected, much grasp on reality. ‘Arabella loves me. If we cannot be together in life, then we will be joined forever in death!’

  That had me out of the doorway before I had time to think. With his attention on ranting at the men, he did not see me as I slid along the wall towards the front parapet, then edged my way beside it until I was almost behind him. I looked down, the ground far below seemed to swim up to meet me, and then I forced myself to turn away, to ignore the crumbling brickwork.

  Jerald had Arabella clasped against his chest on the right side. She was facing me and I could see her eyes open wide as she realised I was coming to help her. Her left arm was free and I held out my hand as I edged gingerly towards her.

  ‘Why did you do it?’ Luc demanded.

  ‘She is mine! I told him so and he lectured me. I had gone in Court dress – he could see I was a grown man, someone who could make my own way in Society, but he spoke to me as though I was a little boy dressing up. He said love was a child’s notion, that he was making a proper marriage, a fitting one for himself and Arabella and that he was the head of the family. I must obey.’

  I slid forward another six inches. Broken brick from the parapet crunched under my shoe and I froze.

  ‘And so you stabbed him.’ That was James, forcing him to look to the other side.

  ‘I don’t know how it happened.’ For a second his voice wavered, childlike. ‘I was angry and then the sword was in my hand and he told me to stop playacting! And then he fell down and he said, You’ve killed me. He groaned. And I saw that I had.’

  ‘Then what did you do?’ Luc kept his voice calm. Alexander, thankfully, had the sense to stay quiet. I glanced down at my feet, saw the leads were clear and inched forward again. Arabella’s eyes were huge, catching the last glimmers of light from the setting sun.

  ‘I went back, over the gate, the way I came in. I had thrown my cloak over, so my clothes were all right.’ Eerily, he had calmed down again. ‘I wiped the sword on some sacking I found in the mews, then I walked to the Palace and I thought about you, Uncle Alexander, and your endless nagging and I thought how I could make you stop.’

  Alexander made a strangled sound and Jerald shifted again. ‘So I wrote that note and off you went like his lapdog. I thought I’d give you a nasty shock but it was even better – they thought you might have done it.’

  ‘You tried to make us think Madame Vaillant was guilty,’ Luc said. ‘You could have had her hanged.’

  I was almost there.

  ‘She was a greedy whore.’

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Luc move, then James, both of them, I guessed, trying to keep Jerald’s attention away from me. I crooked my fingers and Arabella reached out until our fingertips touched. One more step and I had her fingers locked tight with mine. As Luc saw us make contact he produced a knife from his sleeve, swept it in front of him and J
erald shifted round to follow the glint of the blade reflecting the dying light.

  As he moved I pulled hard, reeling Arabella in towards me. It jerked Jerald off-balance and swung him round, but he did not let go of her. Now it was a tug of war with Arabella as the rope. He was stronger than me and she was too panicked to help. As he backed away I was dragged too – and then he was on the parapet, leaning back to pull her in.

  ‘Let go,’ I yelled. ‘You’ll both go over.’ A whole brick fell away beneath his heel. There was a distant thud.

  ‘We will be together! Always.’

  Arabella was screaming now. He had her close enough to grab with his other hand. My feet slid over the lead as I was dragged towards the edge.

  Then someone fell on me, wrapped his arms around me and heaved. Luc, I realised as another figure dived for Arabella, caught her around the waist and bore her to the ground, breaking Jerald’s hold on her wrist.

  He flailed his arms, but he was beyond the point of recovery now. The silence after he vanished seemed to last for minutes, then there was a sickening thump.

  Alexander was on his knees, his hands over his face. James sat up, pulled Arabella into his embrace as though she was a crying child and rocked her gently back and forth, crooning to her.

  Luc rolled off me. ‘Are you hurt?’

  ‘No. Oh. Yes, my wrist a little. I think I have sprained it. Nothing worse. You?’

  We clung together, talking calmly, shaking with reaction, until there was the sound of cries and raised voices from below. Luc took my face between his palms and kissed me. ‘I love you,’ he said fiercely. ‘Always.’

  ‘I know.’ I said. And then I let myself cry.

  * * *

  It was past midnight before we returned to Rook’s Acre. Lady Radcliffe was sitting up waiting for us. ‘You are injured.’ She was on her feet, hastening over at the sight of James’s bandaged hands, my strapped-up wrist.