She shook her head in disbelief. 'And you think my gentle father could be guilty of such a crime?'
'Damn you, I do not think, I know!' He turned on his heel and strode away.
Annabelle remained rooted to the spot, shocked by the violence she had seen in his face. She was saddened, too, by the pain she had seen there and by the thought of that little boy losing both his parents in such a terrifying ordeal.
She watched him march out through the lychgate and on an impulse she turned and went back to the monument where she had first seen him. As she suspected, it was the tomb of the Blackstone family, with the names of Maria and Jonas Blackstone carved into the stone beneath a long line of ancestors.
Annabelle told no one of her meeting with Lucas, but it stayed with her through the evening and long into the night. For five-and-twenty years he had believed her father responsible for the fire that killed his parents. Even if he read her father's letter, it was unlikely that he would change his mind now. But she was her father's daughter and Samuel Havenham was a great believer in the goodness of human nature, so she, too, believed it might happen. She had to hope. But even if Lucas could be brought to believe Samuel was innocent, she knew now he was not the Lucas Monserrat who had captured her heart, the one who had brought her alive with his kisses. That man was an impostor, a charade conjured up to beguile her.
That Lucas was gone for ever.
'Mr Blackstone to see you.'
Annabelle was in the morning room, setting stitches in her embroidery when Gibson made his announcement and it caused her to prick her finger.
'Surely he wants to see my father.'
'He asked for you, Miss Havenham.'
'Oh. Then you had better show him in, Gibson.'
She set aside her embroidery and rose, absently putting the punctured finger to her lips as she waited for her visitor.
The first thing Lucas saw as he entered the room was Belle with one finger pushed against her full, cherry-red lips. He did not for a moment think she was trying to entice him, but it was a damned alluring image, and it shook him to realise just how much he had missed her during the months he had been away. He put his hat and riding crop down carefully upon a chair and stood, stripping off his gloves while he pulled himself together.
She watched him for some moments before saying with a touch of haughty impatience, 'How can I help you, Mr Blackstone?'
'You can tell me if your father has any hope of paying me off at the end of the month.'
Her brows rose. 'Surely that is a question you should put to him.'
'Let us not play games, Miss Havenham, I am well aware that you are in your father's confidence.'
Her eyes slid away from his. 'No.' She uttered the word quietly, no longer aloof. 'I fear we will lose Oakenroyd.'
That was the answer he was expecting. He had worked hard these past two years to make sure of it. He moved across to the empty hearth and turned to face her. 'Then I have a solution for you.'
Her eyes flew to his face again and he had to steel himself not to weaken when he saw the naked hope there. He cleared his throat. 'Marry me.'
Silence.
'I-I beg your pardon?' The words came out in a husky whisper.
'I said marry me. As my wife you can continue to live at Oakenroyd, at least until Morwood is completed, when we would make that our home. And your father could spend the rest of his days here. You have my word on that. There will be no need for anyone to know the financial details of our arrangement. As far as our neighbours are concerned they may think it a marriage of convenience, but nothing out of the ordinary.'
She sank down on to a chair. Her face was as white as the muslin fichu about her neck.
'I-I do not understand.'
'At Michaelmas Oakenroyd will be mine. That is four weeks' time. There is time for us to marry before that, then you and your father can carry on here, as before.'
'But you will be master.'
'Yes.'
'And this is part of your plan for revenge?'
It was his turn to look away. He found he could not meet those clear grey eyes.
She continued quietly, 'Your plan is to take from Papa the things he loves most.'
That had indeed been his original plan, but not any more. He would not be taking anything from the old man, save the knowledge that he had got away with murder. She should be grateful for that.
'Your father would lose nothing. He would continue to live here, as would you.'
'But I would be your wife.'
By God, she was scorning him! He heard the contempt in her voice, saw the disdainful curl of her lip. He might as well have offered her a carte blanche.
'You will not find me ungenerous,' he said coldly. 'You will still be mistress here. And there is Morwood Manor to be furnished and decorated. You may have a free hand to do with it as you wish.'
The colour returned to her cheek, matched by an angry sparkle in her eyes. She rose, drawing herself up to her full if diminutive height.
'You think I care for such things when you have ruined my father? Goodbye, Mr Blackstone.'
As she walked past him he caught her wrist.
'Be careful, madam. I think rather I am saving your father. His life will not change a jot.'
She tried to pull herself free, but he held on, drawing her close. Beneath his fingers her pulse was racing, but she regarded him fearlessly, a haughty curl to her lip.
'What, you expect him to share a house with you, knowing you think him a murderer? And his daughter is to sacrifice herself for this privilege?'
He frowned. 'I am offering you a solution to your problems, madam,' he snapped. 'If you do not accept, then at Michaelmas you and your father will have to find somewhere new to live, and on a fraction of the income you now enjoy. I do not see you have a choice.'
Her eyes positively flashed at that, sparks of green fire flew at him. She tore herself from his grasp. 'I will not be part of your petty revenge. I would rather starve than marry you!'
'Then starve, madam.' Angrily he thrust his hands into his gloves. 'It is your choice, but you might wish to discuss it with your father.' He walked to the chair to collect his hat and his riding crop. 'The offer remains upon the table for the rest of the week. After that-' He reached into his jacket and pulled out a package, which he tossed on to the side table. 'Your gloves, Miss Havenham. I thought you should have them back. It might be some time before you can afford to buy another pair.'
Chapter Ten
Annabelle remained on her feet until the door closed behind him. Only then did she collapse on to a chair, trembling. How dare he, how dare he add this insult to the rest? She would not cry, this was beyond tears.
When the trembling ceased she went into the gardens, but even there it was impossible to think clearly. The heady perfume of the roses, the beautifully scythed lawns, every scent, every image combined to bring home to her just what she would lose in a few weeks' time.
Unless I marry Lucas Blackstone.
That was a price she would not pay, but even as she told herself so another voice told her she must at least consider it. Her decision would affect not only her life but her father's, and everyone at Oakenroyd. She could remain mistress here, her father's comfort would be assured.
And the alternative?
She exhaled and looked up, staring at the cloudless blue sky. It was all very well for her to choose to live in penury, but could she expect her father to do so? His health was not good. What if he became ill? There would be doctors' bills, medicines. Could she risk his health when all that was asked of her was that she marry Lucas Blackstone? The irony was that before the truth of his identity was known, before she had learned his outrageous plans for revenge, she would have been only too pleased to comply.
Belle went into the house to look for her father. She found him in his library, reading. He roused himself when she came in, greeting her with a kindly smile.
'My love, have you come to tell me it is time for luncheon already?'
'No, dear Papa, we have a while yet, but I wanted to talk to you.'
'That sounds serious.'
'It is. I presume there has been no further news from Mr Telford?'
'No way out of our difficulties, if that is what you mean. But there is some good news. Telford tells me that Blackstone has written to assure him that he means to keep on all the staff at Oakenroyd, if they wish to remain. Everything is to continue just as it is. So that will be a comfort, will it not? I was very much afraid that my improvident spending would mean they would all be turned off.'
She tried to smile. 'That is indeed a relief, sir.' She took a chair opposite him. 'Papa, what if … ' She clasped her hands together. 'What if there was a way we could keep Oakenroyd?'
He gave a wistful smile. 'Ah, if only.'
She took a deep breath. 'Papa, what if I were to marry Mr Blackstone?'
There, she had said it.
'Marry Lucas Blackstone? What is this, my love?'
'He came here this morning and-and made me an offer. He said if I married him then we could carry on living here, as before. Of course, when Morwood is finished he and I would move there, but you would be able to live on here, as you have always done.' She stopped and waited for him to speak.