Bought for Revenge(39)

Chapter Sixteen


The days dragged on and nothing was heard from Lucas. Annabelle busied  herself with the chores and housework around the little cottage while  her father continued to give lessons to his students or read his books  in his study. An improvement in the weather towards the end of the week  encouraged Belle to put on her cloak and take a walk once she had  completed her morning tasks. She had heard that Elias Greenwood's wife  had given birth to a healthy baby girl and she decided she would walk to  the farm to see the mother and child. She regretted that she could not  take a basket, as she had done in the past, but she hoped that Mrs  Greenwood would still be pleased to see her.

She had not gone far when she heard her name and looked up to see Captain Duggan hurrying towards her.

'Miss Havenham, I was hoping I might see you! You are on an errand?' She  hesitated, and he rushed on. 'I need your help, madam, with my cousin.'

'Mr Blackstone? Is he ill?'

He spread his hands. 'He is … not himself, Miss Havenham. He is asking for you.'

'Yes, of course.' The Greenwoods were forgotten. Belle started forwards,  as if she would run all the way to Oakenroyd, then stopped. 'I should  tell my father-'

'I will go back and explain. You are dressed for walking, ma'am, and I  am sure you would prefer to keep moving. Continue out of the town and I  will hire a gig once I have spoken to your father. I shall soon overtake  you on the road.'

He was strangely agitated and would wait no longer, but dashed off in  the direction of Croft Cottage. Belle stared after him. Lucas must be in  a very bad way to make his cousin so anxious. Remembering Lucas's black  mood the other night, she began to hurry along the road towards  Oakenroyd, praying she would not be too late.                       
       
           



       

' … and that's it.' Lucas closed the ledger and handed it over to Elias  Greenwood together with a large purse. 'This should cover anything you  need. Have the tradesmen send their bills to my London address and keep a  tally for me of all that you spend. Stebbing will be back in a couple  of weeks to check on progress.'

'You are not coming back, sir?'

'No, not for some time.' Lucas busied himself with tidying Samuel's  desk. He had never really come to think of anything at Oakenroyd as his.  He picked up a much smaller purse and held it out, saying awkwardly,  'This is for you. Buy something pretty for Mrs Greenwood and that new  baby of yours.'

'That's very good of you, sir-'

'Aye, well, enough of that.' Lucas waved aside his thanks. 'You have my  attorney's direction in London, you can send word there if you need me,  but the work is progressing well enough, I do not foresee a problem.'

'Not until we are in a position to decorate the house and lay out the  gardens,' Elias pointed out. 'I ain't sure I could do that for you.'

'No, of course. That will not be necessary.'

Lucas hoped by that time the house would no longer be his  responsibility, but he did not want to share that thought. There would  be speculation enough when it became known that he was selling Morwood.  He wanted to be far away before that occurred.

He dismissed Elias and left the study, sending a footman running to  fetch his man. The hall was gloomy, but a cheerful fire awaited him in  the drawing room and by the time Lucas had poured himself a brandy  Stebbing had come in, closing the door quietly behind him.

'Is everything packed in readiness for the morning, George?'

'Aye, Major, we leave the house exactly as we found it, as you  instructed. I haven't told the staff you ain't coming back, but I think  they knows something's up.' He scratched his head, musing on this vexed  question for a moment. 'Anyway, they've been told to continue here as  normal until they hear from you.'

'Good. And Captain Duggan?'

'He packed his things and left this morning, just before you got back from Morwood with Elias Greenwood.'

'Then we are all done.' Lucas walked to the window and stared out. The  short winter day was fading and the low sun cast long shadows across the  valley before him. He could see the outline of the moors above the  trees at the edge of the park. Beyond that lay Morwood. Soon to be sold,  to pass out of his family for the second time. The last time.

'Where shall we go, George, when we have settled all this with the lawyers? What say you we try America?'

'That's an awful lot of water to cross, Major. I thought you was planning to make your home hereabouts.'

'Not any more.' He turned to find his servant eyeing him anxiously. Lucas forced a smile. 'I've been a damned fool, George.'

'As so many have been before you, sir.'

'Is that supposed to make me feel better?'

George Stebbing gave him a slow grin. 'Nay, Major, 'tis only to tell you that you're not alone.'

Lucas shook his head. He felt more alone now than he had ever done. He  emptied his glass and returned to the sideboard to refill it, saying as  he crossed the room, 'I have a fancy to book a passage and leave this  cursed island behind me. What do you say, will you and Rudd come with  me?'

'Aye, Major, you know we'd follow thee to the ends of the earth, if you asked it.'

Lucas looked around. 'I know that tone, George. Out with it, man, what is your objection?'

'Only that you was so set upon making your home at Morwood, sir.'

'That is no longer the case.'

'And … ' Stebbing coughed. 'Miss Havenham, Major?'

Lucas's jaw tightened. 'Not that it is any of your business, but she  will be moving back here, with her father. We shall not see her again.'  He saw the speculative look in his servant's eyes and swore roundly.  'Damn you, George, it is for the best.'

'Is it, now?' murmured Stebbing, not noticeably abashed. 'Best for who, I wonder?'

Lucas's eyes narrowed, but before he could retort he was interrupted by a light knocking on the door and Gibson entered.

'I am sorry to disturb you, sir, but a note has just been delivered and it says it is urgent … '

The butler came across the room, holding out a silver tray upon which  lay a folded paper. Lucas gave it a perfunctory glance. It was in his  mind to send the butler away with his damned notes, but he picked up the  letter and broke the seal. His eyes scanned the untidy writing once,  then again.                       
       
           



       

'Thank you, Gibson. That will be all.'

'Trouble, Major?' asked Stebbing, when the butler had retired.

'What makes you say that?'

The man rubbed his nose, saying reflectively, 'I've seen that black look o' yours before, Major.'

After a brief hesitation Lucas held out the letter. George took it and read it aloud.

'"Miss H. is waitin' for you at the Boar's Head. Come alone. Tell no one."' He handed it back, frowning.

'That's my cousin's writing,' said Lucas. He turned the paper over and  studied the wax seal. 'He wrote it here. What is the damn fool up to  now?'

'Whatever it is I don't like the sound of it,' muttered George. 'The  Boar's Head is a ramshackle place, used by drovers mostly, their last  stop before they cross the moor to Oxenhope.'

Lucas refolded the note and propped it on the mantelshelf. 'Send a  message to the stables to have the bays harnessed to my curricle.'

'You ain't going alone, Major!'

Lucas fixed his hard eyes on the old soldier. 'What do you think?'

'Is Mr Blackstone not at Oakenroyd?'

Annabelle asked the question as Captain Duggan swung the gig around a  bend and away from the road to her old home. She had been in such a  ferment of anxiety that she had not hesitated to climb up into the gig  when Captain Duggan pulled up beside her.

'No.'

'Is he hurt, then?' she asked quickly. 'Has he had a riding accident?  This road leads nowhere but to the moors.' When he did not answer her,  she said more sharply, 'Where are we going, Captain Duggan?'

He glanced towards her, giving her a distracted smile.

'There is an inn further on; we will find my cousin there. You know how he has been recently, I am afraid for his safety … '

He let the words hang and a chill ran down Belle's spine. She remembered  the pistol lying on the sideboard the night she had visited Oakenroyd.  Annabelle kept her eyes on the road as it wound upwards and the green  pastures were replaced by a much bleaker landscape. the moors stretched  ahead of them while to each side was only rough grazing land with a few  sheep like white dots in the distance. At last she saw the gable of a  stone building at the side of the road. An inn, with a number of  outbuildings surrounding it. the substantial nature of the property  argued a large hostelry, but as they drove up she could see that the  painted sign was cracked and faded and the buildings were run-down, with  grass and weeds growing between the cobbles.

'Is this where he is?' she asked, frowning.

'Aye. The Boar's Head.'

'But I don't understand. What would bring him here? How did you know-?'

'I'll explain all that later,' he interrupted her, bringing the gig to a  halt on the cobbles. 'Let us go in and pray we are not too late!'