The Baron's Wife Page 12

  She opened a letter of thanks from the women’s committee; everyone enjoyed her speech, and they asked if she would open the annual flower show this spring. She set about replying. Laura murmured her surprise at the next. Her old university chum, Howard Farmer, had sent his belated best wishes for her marriage. They had often debated together, and he’d once come to play tennis with her at Wimbledon. He now taught classics at the University of London. If she ever wished to see him, she was not to hesitate to contact him there. She smiled, glad for him.

  The last was addressed to Nathaniel. Why had Rudge brought this to her? The envelope bore one line, a hasty scrawl: His Lordship, the Baron Lanyon. One word in the corner caught her attention: Urgent! Laura hesitated for a few seconds, then seized her pearl-handled opener and sliced through the envelope, removed the letter and smoothed it out. It was exactly like the envelope. A scrawled, brief message, not dated, nor signed.

  Baron, the man you sought has been seen in St Ives. He may plan to return to Wolfram. I pray the Lord protects you and yours.

  The signature was impossible to decipher.

  Her stomach tightening, she read it again. Protect them from what? Her hand shook as she tried to think what she should do. Should she contact Nathaniel? Would he disapprove of her opening his mail? It appeared too urgent to ignore, even if the writer did enjoy a dramatic turn of phrase. There wasn’t a telephone at Wolfram, but there was one at the post office in the village. Nathaniel had given her a number to call in an emergency. Would he consider this urgent? She gathered up her letters, aware that she couldn’t leave it for his return.

  In her bedroom, she took out her riding habit and rang for Agnes. Was it possible to install a telephone at Wolfram? She hated to be so isolated when Nathaniel was in London.

  When a knock came at the door, she held her bodice together, expecting her maid. “Come in.”

  Rudge stood at the open door. “Your morning tea is served in the rose garden, my lady. As you instructed.”

  “I find I have to go out, Rudge. I need to telephone his lordship. Send Agnes to me, will you?”

  “Certainly, my lady.” Surprise registered on Rudge’s chiseled features before he returned to his usual impassive expression. Surely he must have known the urgent letter would be dealt with? Why else add it to her correspondence?

  In her green habit, Laura hurried to the stables where the groom saddled her horse. Trotting toward the causeway, she saw a man crossing from the village onto Wolfram land. She reined in her mount and waited for him to reach her. He walked with a confident swagger. Dressed in nankeen trousers, with a tan leather jerkin beneath a cloth jacket, he swept off his hat. Blond hair gleamed in the sun. He had a good-looking, rather insolent face.

  His eyes swept over her approvingly. “You can only be Lady Lanyon.”

  Laura’s horse pinned her ears, disliking the delay. “You know who I am, but I’m at a loss to know who you are, sir.” Annoyed by the familiarity of his tone and the bold look in his brown eyes, Laura steadied her mount, anxious to get to the post office.

  “Theo Mallory at your service, my lady.”

  “The head gardener at one time, Mr. Mallory, were you not?”

  “The very same, my lady.”

  “To what do we owe this visit, Mr. Mallory?”

  Mallory frowned and replaced his hat. “I have business with Lord Lanyon.”

  “His lordship is in London. He’s not expected back until Saturday.”

  He walked beside her. “Then I’ll see him then. I’ve taken a room at The Sail and Anchor.”

  Curious, she watched his expression. “I believe you lived in a cottage on the grounds at one time.”

  Theo’s laugh possessed a scornful ring. “I did, my lady. Thank you for reminding me.”

  What was he doing back in Wolfram? Something about him made her uneasy. “I bid you good day, Mr. Mallory.” She urged her horse into a trot. The tide lapped at the granite rocks just below the road. “How long before high tide?” Laura called back.

  “An hour or so.”

  “Then I must hurry.” Laura nudged her mount.

  He followed behind her. Mallory’s manner was too informal, disrespectful, and although she was curious, she had no time to give to him now. She rode into the village, going over the conversation she was soon to have with her husband. It would not be an easy one.

  At the crank of the telephone handle, a hollow voice came over the line. Laura asked the exchange for the number Nathaniel had given her. Would he consider this to be important enough for her to call him? Shouting into the mouthpiece, she repeated her request.

  Moments later, she heard Nathaniel’s voice come on, sounding as if he was on the other side of the world. She had planned to be brief, but hearing his deep voice, her emotions got the better of her. She relayed the contents of the letter in a breathy voice. “The letter was marked urgent!”

  There was a pause, and when he spoke it was impossible to judge his tone. “I’ll be home by Saturday evening. Wait a moment.” His voice grew fainter as he spoke to someone with him. “Laura? There’s a vote in the House. I must go. I’m sorry. Sweetheart…” The line crackled.

  “What? I can’t hear you,” Laura yelled.

  “…miss you.”

  “Oh, Nathaniel, I miss you too,” Laura cried. Had she heard him correctly?

  The crackling on the line ended, and suddenly his voice was so clear he might have been standing there with her. “I’ll attend to the matter when I return home. Goodbye, sweetheart.”

  She hung up the phone, relieved Nathaniel hadn’t expressed anger at her opening his mail. Outside the post office, Theo Mallory leaned against a lamppost smoking a cheroot.

  He threw it down and straightened. “Did you settle the matter which had you in such a hurry, my lady?”

  “Please don’t concern yourself with my affairs, Mr. Mallory.” Her lips firmed as she beckoned the lad to bring her horse.

  When she took the reins, Mallory came to her side. “Allow me to give you a leg up, Lady Lanyon.”

  “Thank you.” It would be a direct snub to refuse him, and with a group of villagers watching she didn’t like to. She placed her booted foot in his clasped hands, and he threw her up. She arranged her skirts over the sidesaddle. “Do you intend to remain in Wolfram long, Mr. Mallory?”

  “That depends. I have important business here.” He touched his hand to his hat in what should have been a respectful gesture, but his brown eyes held an overly familiar expression that drew her ire. “Such a picturesque place, Wolfram.”

  His smirk made his meaning plain. Her fingers itched to raise her crop to him. She quickly turned her horse’s head and rode toward the causeway. The water was alarmingly close to overflowing onto the road. She rode back to the abbey, relieved that Nathaniel had not seemed concerned about the letter, although it was impossible to be sure. In a few days, he would be home. She tamped down her impatience to see him.

  At the bright prospect, she urged her horse into a canter.

  At dusk, wrapped in a warm shawl, Laura walked in the gardens before dinner. The cool evening was a favorite time when the scents of flowers and trees intensified, the birds calling as they nestled in the trees. She went down the steps, skirting around the abbey to the gate leading into the graveyard. After a pause, she entered and walked beneath the magnolia. The grass and weeds needed to be scythed. Some of the old gravestones were almost covered. Laura bent down to read the inscriptions on some of them. She located Nathaniel’s father, but strangely, his mother was not there. Farther down the hill, she discovered the one she admitted to herself she’d come to see.

  Amanda Elizabeth Lanyon. Born: 1868. Died: 1897.

  Her soul has now taken flight

  To glorious mansions above,

  To mingle with angels of light

  And dwell in the kingdom of love.

  A posy of dead wildflowers lay beside the grave.

  Could Nathaniel have put them there befo
re he went to London? Was it he who chose the beautiful epitaph? The salt-laden breeze strengthened, stirring the branches above her. She shivered and wrapped her shawl more closely around her shoulders. Strange to feel like an intruder, but she did as she closed the gate.

  The sound of voices made Laura pause at the steps. Theo Mallory stood some distance away, his foot resting on the stone seawall. His back to her, he was deep in conversation with one of the grooms. The groom raised his hands, his manner apologetic, his mutterings carried away on the wind.

  Mallory straightened. “See that it’s done,” he ordered, his voice loud enough for her to hear.

  The groom nodded.

  Laura hurried through the gate before they caught sight of her. What brought Mallory here? As she climbed the steps to the front door, a thought made her gasp. Mallory had acted as if he was the master of Wolfram.

  After dinner, Laura took her usual spot in the library, thinking about what she’d seen. Finally, she rose to search the shelves for a book to make the night seem less long. She discovered a slim volume with a red leather cover. It appeared to be written about a garden, so without opening it, she took it upstairs with her to bed.

  Settling against the pillows, she opened the volume and sighed with impatience. It was an old Arabian text translated into English and not at all what she expected. Something made her persevere, and soon the sensual pleasures detailed in the prose made her breath catch in her throat and her face burn. She closed the book as if fire leapt from its pages and gazed again at the title: The Perfumed Garden. She had never known such a book existed; it was so blatant and undeniably arousing. A graphic and beautiful account of sexual love. Intrigued, she opened the silken pages again. She read until the candle guttered, then tossed and turned in the dark for hours as her imagination placed her and Nathaniel into the scenes in the book.

  ***

  After Laura’s phone call, Nathaniel’s fingers remained clenched around the handset for several minutes before he hung up. He should have been there. Laura’s voice had faded in and out, the line atrocious. His blood drummed in his veins while he hoped the bad line had hidden the surprise and horror in his voice. Would Mallory turn up at Wolfram? He had enough gall to do it. It was doubtful he’d arrive before Nathaniel, but if he did, Laura was unlikely to meet him. Still, he would count the hours until he could return. The only calming thought was the knowledge that Hugh would do as Nathaniel requested and keep his eye on Laura.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Laura still felt uneasy the next day. She stared out of her bedroom window, her restless gaze taking in little of the landscape. What had happened to her dreams of a rich, cultured life, sharing her husband’s thoughts and dreams? Annoyed with herself, she stared upward, where wisps of cloud drifted across the pewter blue sky. The weather in Cornwall was so changeable: calm with blue skies one day, stormy the next. It mirrored her thoughts.

  As there was no sign of storm clouds lurking out over the horizon, she decided to ride to the estuary. Nathaniel hadn’t had time to show her more of the coastline said to be a beautiful part of Cornwall.

  After breakfast, Laura set out alone, taking the road which led away from the village into undiscovered terrain. Now familiar and comfortable with her roan mare, Velvet, a good-natured horse, she rode past fields of cows and horses. A dray loaded with produce passed by on the way to the house. The driver smiled and touched his hat. Laura decided she must visit the home farm next.

  Trotting along a road heading west, she called “good morning” to a man who straightened from his garden and removed his hat. Farther on, a woman bobbed as she walked to the market with a basket over her arm.

  “It’s a fine day, isn’t it?” Laura called out.

  “That it is, my lady.”

  The cottages grew sparser, and then the road followed the rivulet, which fed into a wide lake alive with bird life. Long-legged, wading birds flocked noisily over the reeds. Wild grasses covered the rounded, sandy hills dotted with wildflowers. Laura left the road and urged her horse up a trail over the hillocks. Buffeted by the wind, the ocean’s roar in her ears, she peered down upon a sheltered bay, which looked like a giant had taken a bite out of the coastline. Laura dismounted and tethered her horse to a spindly tree. She walked over soft sand to the deserted shore.

  At the water’s edge a set of footprints crossed the damp sand. Someone had walked here not long ago, for the waves were now sweeping the sand clean.

  A gust whipped off her hat. Laura grabbed it as the strong wind toyed with the bun at the nape of her neck, unraveling her hair from its pins. She gave into it, removing the remaining pins and combs while staring out to sea, her locks and her skirts billowing around her. The horizon was a hard line of dark metallic gray beyond the turbulent water. She took a deep breath and felt alive in a way she’d never experienced before. The ocean was so vast it was both humbling and awe-inspiring. With a rush, she realized that Wolfram had become home to her. Her passion for this small piece of England, and for Nathaniel, filled her heart. She hugged herself with her arms. Shelley’s poem, Mont Blanc, rushed into her mind, and she murmured a line:

  And what were thou, and earth, and stars, and sea,

  If to the human mind’s imaginings…

  “My, my. We have an educated lady among us.”

  Furious, Laura swung around. With that insolent smile, Theo Mallory had emerged from a pile of boulders and retraced his footprints across the sand.

  Laura disliked being alone with him. More annoyed than afraid, she kept her features deceptively composed as he approached, destroying her peace. His manner, coupled with what Cilla had told her about him, made her wary.

  She nodded, coolly polite. “Mr. Mallory.”

  “Lord Lanyon does have excellent taste, I’ll give him that. Your hair is like a red sail at sunset,” Mallory said with a bland half-smile. He held up a hand, as if he wished to stroke her hair.

  “Your opinion is not welcome, Mr. Mallory.” Laura attempted to gather her hair into some semblance of order. “I came here to enjoy the beauty and solitude.”

  He laughed. “This is not Lanyon land, my lady, although I admit there’s very little around here that isn’t. I have as much right as you to enjoy the scenery.” His gaze roamed over her body.

  Laura resisted the urge to cover her chest with her arms. “It appears my pleasure has evaporated.”

  Having twisted her hair into a rough bun, she secured it with combs and turned away to walk back to her horse. On the crest of the hill, Hugh Pitney appeared on his chestnut.

  “It seems you have company,” Mallory said, eyeing him.

  So, Nathaniel had asked him to keep an eye on her. Right now, Laura could only be glad. Curious, she looked back at Mallory. Praise generally worked on an arrogant man. “I believe you worked closely with the former Lady Lanyon in the design of the rose garden.”

  His gaze sharpened. He smoothed back his golden hair. “That’s correct.”

  “Then I must congratulate you. The arbor is a work of art.”

  He shifted his feet. “We had great plans for the Wolfram gardens, Lady Lanyon and I,” he said softly. “Many plans.” He stared up at Pitney again, who’d made no move toward them. “They crumbled to dust when someone killed her.”

  Laura took a sharp breath. “What makes you think she was murdered? The coroner’s finding was accidental death.”

  He scowled. “Am… Lady Lanyon was nervous of the cliffs. She would not have gone too close.”

  “You were not her ladyship’s confidant, surely.”

  “That I was.”

  Why Amanda had allowed such familiarity from this man was beyond her. “I find that difficult to believe, Mr. Mallory. Why you?”

  He shrugged. “Why not me? Perhaps there was no one else.”

  She ignored the insult aimed at Nathaniel. “Who would want her dead?”

  He looked at her, his eyes distant. “Ask your ice-cold husband, my lady. He may well know the answ
er.”

  Mallory strode away before Laura could reply. Not that she could have, for words had dried up in her throat. He disappeared behind the rocks, as she stood gasping with anger. Mallory’s heated response could well be an attempt to hide his own culpability. She was about to mount her horse and join Mr. Pitney when something in the water caught her eye.

  “Oh!” A glossy seal’s head emerged from the water, so foreign and strange that she laughed. Its sleek gray body rode the waves. Transfixed by the amazing creature, she failed to see the ship that had rounded the point until it was almost in front of her. The three-masted vessel sailed close to shore. She had seen it before, when on the cliff with Nathaniel. Laura raised a hand to shield her eyes against the glare, but she couldn’t make out anyone on board. The ship sailed out of sight around the point. She’d never seen a vessel of that size moored in the harbor, only fishing boats.

  She ran back and took up the reins, leading Velvet to where Mr. Pitney waited.

  “That Theo Mallory is a bad man, my lady,” he said, as he helped her to mount.

  “In what way?”

  “Not my place to say. But I’d keep him at a distance.”

  She drew up the reins and turned her horse toward home. “I have every intention of it.”

  Mallory’s attack on Nathaniel must be pure spite. What did he have against him? Cilla had said he was in love with Amanda. That was certainly possible. But how did Amanda feel about him? Although Laura found him obsequious, she could see how some women might enjoy his flattery and flirtatious manner.

  The painting of Cilla’s with the scarlet-dressed woman sprang into Laura’s mind. Laura was certain there wasn’t a crimson dress in Amanda’s closet. She seemed to favor colors which suited her blonde hair and blue eyes. And she would hardly wear a dress like that during the day. Might Cilla have painted Amanda in scarlet because it added color to the painting, or could it have been a condemnation? Laura sensed a mystery and was impatient to learn more. Might it be the key to unlock Nathaniel’s reserve? Or was she becoming fanciful?