Seventeen

Just where have you been?" Jarvis Fairchild railed at his daughter as she tiptoed through the front door of Stanover House at the crack of dawn.

Felicity clasped a trembling hand over her pounding heart and peered intently through the murky shadows in an effort to locate her parent. She finally saw him ensconced upon the settee. She tried to smile, but the best she could manage was a grimace. Her father's face was a mask of pure rage, and even in the gloom she thought she could see dark shadows beneath his eyes. "Papa, what are you doing down here in the parlor? I thought you'd have been upstairs sleeping. You nearly frightened me to death!"

Jarvis leapt from the settee and strode irately across the room until he stood before her. Their noses almost met as he lowered his face to hers. Even in the shadowy room, his flaring eyes vividly evidenced his rage.

"I asked you a question, girl, and I want an answer, if you'd be so kind! Do you realize your mother and I haven't slept a wink all night? When you didn't come home, I rode over to the Elstons' to inquire into your whereabouts, but a servant said Roger hadn't returned either. Then I raced over to the homes ofthe other two young ladies who went with you, but they were both quite bemused as to where you were since Roger had said he'd be bringing you back here. For all your mother and I knew, you could've been abducted, possibly even ravished, whether by Roger or some other foul debaucher was anybody's guess. Now you come skulking into your grandfather's house as if you were no better than a thief about to make off with the silver plates. I want an explanation, girl. Now, if you don't mind!"

Felicity made another attempt to smile, but once again, it fell short of her mark. It was noticeably pained, much as she was. She was bruised, sore, and thoroughly repentant for having gone against something she had first deemed foolishness. Yet, after everything had been said and done, it was much too late to do anything about it.

"Papa, I know you had every hope that I'd marry an aristocrat, but after learning that Lord Randwulf and Lady Adriana were pledged, and with the viscount pining for her, there seemed little chance of that happening. Roger is becoming very wealthy, Papa … and … well, ah, we took the liberty of getting married here in the county. Then we went to an inn. That's where we've been."

"Surely you weren't that foolish!" Jarvis railed, becoming thoroughly incensed. "Where's the bloody beggar? I'll slice his cods out right now." Filled with a sudden desire to reap vengeance, he peered intently beyond her to see if his new son-in-law was hiding like a conniving little weasel beyond the front door.

"He's not here, Papa. He thought ‘twould be better if I told you first, and then the two of you could meet after you had calmed down." Felicity twisted her fingers together worriedly. Her smile was no less pained. "As for gelding him, Papa, ‘tis too late for that. Our marriage has already been … ah … consummated."

"You've betrayed me!" Jarvis bellowed, grinding his teeth as he strode irately about the parlor. He shook his tousled head in outrage as he lamented his dashed dreams. "All this time, Ibelieved you'd marry above your station in life. I did everything I could to bring that event into realization. No bookkeeper's daughter ever dressed so well, nor had so many of her wishes granted! Now, ‘tis all for naught. You've undone me, girl! You went behind my back and betrayed me by marrying a young whelp of an unlearned man!"

"But, Papa, they're wealthy! Roger promised to array me in riches and costly jewels…. The mill will be his shortly. He's sure of it." In spite of her bridegroom's many promises, they did little to assuage her anguish over being ravished on her wedding night. She had made the mistake of drawing away from Roger and asking him to give her a chance to ready herself, but her request had only provoked his temper. He had started yanking at her clothes in his impatience to mount her, and then had held a hand clasped over her mouth as he raped her, thrusting into her so brutally that the sheets had been well-bloodied by his cruel abuse.

"And just who will pay off the moneylenders after Edmund Elston takes off or passes on?"

Clasping a trembling hand to her throat, Felicity stumbled back in stuttering surprise. "Wh-what do you mean, Papa?"

"I mean that Edmund Elston has either been losing large amounts of money from the mill or pilfering it for his own uses. There's no telling how little will be left to go into your new husband's coffers once his father dies."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"One who is in a position to know visited me recently with a proposition that if Edmund … or Roger … is forced to sell because of the dwindling resources in their accounts, he could almost warrant that the mill would be sold at a particularly economical price that I could afford. If that should happen, then I'll no longer be beholden to your mother or your grandfather. I'd have a mill of my own, to do with as I please."

"But where would you get the funds to purchase such a mill even at a bargain?" Felicity quizzed in bemusement. "Mama warned me not too long ago to be careful of every farthing, andto be content with the clothes I have, and here you are declaring with a certainty that you'd have the moneys to buy the Elstons' mill."

Jarvis presented his profile to his daughter as he raised his head aloft. "Never mind where the money will come from; just be assured I have enough to make such a purchase."

"Perhaps this man you know is merely speculating in hopes of winning your confidence in another venture. I only say that because Edmund's mill is becoming very productive under Roger's management."

Throwing up a hand, Jarvis turned aside and strode across the room as he offered a conjecture. "Perhaps Edmund is tucking portions of his wealth safely away and is planning on leaving Roger with the responsibility of paying his workers after he flees to unknown destinations with what he has taken."

"But … but Roger's father is bedridden, Papa."

Jarvis jerked sharply about with a condescending brow raised. "How convenient for Edmund. He can pretend to be in a stupor and avoid having to answer his son's questions … that is, if Roger ever discovers his hope for the mill is being squandered by his father and that the funds are dwindling in their accounts." Jarvis stalked to a front window and gazed out upon the city for a long moment. The darkness of the past hours had already started receding before the onslaught of the approaching dawn. Thoughtfully peering over his shoulder at his daughter, he asked, "Have you ever wondered how Edmund came to have such wealth?"

Felicity frowned in deepening bemusement as she related what she had been told. "Why, I believe Roger said his father's second wife died and left him everything that she had inherited from old Mr. Winter."

"Died?" Her father laughed caustically. "Murdered, more likely."

Felicity's hackles rose. Angry or not, her parent had no right to defame a man who was at best a stranger. "How can you laysuch foul charges upon the man when we weren't even living here when she died? And how can you possibly know enough about Mr. Elston even to insinuate such a thing?"

"Once upon a time, Roger's mother was my aunt's closest friend. It seems that while they were living in London, Edmund abandoned her and their young son and started making the rounds with all sorts of loose women. He seemed able to charm them all; though it has always befuddled me why even a simpleton would believe anything he'd say. Along about the time his wife was killed, he was helping an old friend drive liveries. My Aunt Clara just happened to witness the incident in which Roger's mother was run down by one. At the time, she was convinced that the driver, although masked by a scarf against the cold, was none other than Edmund Elston. Of course, before my aunt got up enough courage to report the incident and her suspicions to the authorities, she was killed in much the same manner. None of the rest of us ever dared follow up on her version of Mrs. Elston's death for fear of being run down in the same manner."

"You mean Edmund Elston is a murderer?" Felicity asked, much agog.

"If you have a care for our lives, girl, you will never repeat what I've just told you, not even to Roger. He may shush you up by similar methods if you jeopardize his chances to wrangle some lucre from his father, though surely he's the one to be pitied, considering there's a strong likelihood that nothing will be left once his father expires or vanishes mysteriously into the dark of night."

"Papa, why didn't you tell me all this before?"

"I didn't know you'd marry the bloody beggar," Jarvis shot back. "The last I heard you had attracted Lord Harcourt's attentions."

Felicity waved a hand to make light of that particular story, which had been much of her own making. "I was mistaken."

Jarvis was curious. "Where are you and Roger going to live now?"

"In his father's house, of course."

"And what if Edmund decides to murder you like he murdered his two wives?"

Felicity shivered at the very idea. "Well, I guess I'll just have to make sure that doesn't happen."

"You'd better start tucking away some funds for yourself, girl. I'd rather not have to support Roger's whelp in my old age."

Felicity lifted her chin and dared to point out a recent fact. "Seems to me after Grandpa and Mama caught you laying off workers and pocketing their wages that Mama's the only one doing the supporting now. The mill is thriving again after they hired back everyone you had laid off."

"How do you know that?"

"I came downstairs late one night to get a book that I had left in the parlor, and I overheard you arguing with Mama. I assumed that's why you've been sleeping down here ever since."

"Your mother thinks she knows better than I…."

Felicity wouldn't let him go very far with that claim. "I believe I overheard her pleading with you to reconsider what you had done, and to return the money to Grandpa's coffers. You refused."

"He's old and rich," Jarvis shot back. " ‘Twouldn't hurt him none to share some of that wealth with his offspring."

"Papa, you're not his offspring, Mama is, and she's very careful to return every farthing or tuppence to his purse after she pays Lucy and the other servants. From what I understand, you deliberately went out of your way to pilfer funds that were not yours. Mama taught me well enough as a child that that is thievery. So if you know what's good for you, you'd better make amends. I've come to realize that she and Grandpa have a nasty way of paying out retribution. You could just find yourself back in London at the same old counting house you left if you try to outsmart the pair of them. In fact, I've heard stories from Grandpa's friends and foes alike that he has a special way of serving up justice on a large platter to those who deserve it. He calls it, appropriately enough, dispensing a bit of wisdom to those in dire need."

"Bah, he's doddering and senile."

"Not nearly as much as I once thought or even as much as you'd like to imagine, Papa. In fact, I don't know that I've ever met a more perceptive man. You'd do well to heed my advice or you may be forced to suffer the consequences, because you're not nearly as clever as you think. The pair of them have it over you by a wide margin."

"You dare instruct me, girl?"

Felicity managed a bleak smile. "Better a gentle urging, Papa, than a harsh recompense, would you not agree? Or as Grandpa would say, a bit of wisdom dispensed to one in dire need?"

Without waiting for his response, Felicity took her leave through the front door. After all, now that her father knew she was married, there was no further need for pretense. But then, she wasn't so dense that she hadn't known he'd be waiting up for her after Roger kept delaying their departure from the inn. It seemed her groom had a sadistic fetish for forcing what was unnatural upon a woman and, even after his brutalizing rape of her, had refused to leave their room until she had yielded to some of his demands. It had either been that or stay there with him forever. The whole experience had been a horrible nightmare wherein she had found herself the victim of a monster posing in the innocent facade of a handsome lad.

Felicity quietly approached the bed wherein Edmund Elston had been confined since his first seizure some months ago. This was the first chance she had had to visit her father-in-law's room with some measure of privacy since her marriage five weeks earlier. There was always someone around, precluding that possibility, if not Roger, then the servant who had been hired to tend the elder. Staring down at the man, she couldn't imagine how her father had ever arrived at the far-fetched notion that Edmund had somehow been able to deceive Roger. Before his health had collapsed, she had only seen Edmund in passing, but she vividly recalled him as having been a robust, rather handsome, if ill-bred, individual who had seemed impressed by his own importance. His tasteless and flamboyant attire had ofttimes made her thankful her own mother had cautioned her against overt showiness. Still, his attire had seemed to go right in line with the personality of the man.

The difference between her initial impression and what she saw before her now was as sharply dissimilar as midnight from noon. Only a thin layer of wrinkled flesh seemed to cover Edmund's skull. His hair was gone, and his hollowed cheeks bore a strange, whitish hue. Beneath parchment-thin lids, his eyes gave every appearance of having retreated back into his head. Or perhaps the dark shadows encircling them was partly to blame for that perception. His mouth hung agape, and his gauntness made the previously narrow space between his badly stained teeth far more pronounced. Dried saliva had left a whitish trail where it had earlier drooled from a corner of his lips and trickled down the side of a badly emaciated cheek.

"Papa Edmund … are you awake?" she inquired diffidently, not knowing what to expect. If her father's warnings were justified, she was probably endangering her life, yet the debility of the man could not be denied. If he weren't already at death's door, then he was close enough to smell the netherworld.

A flicker of movement behind an eyelid assured her that her inquiry had at least been heard, but whether it had actually penetrated the invalid's awareness, she could not determine.

"Do you want anything? Perhaps some cider or even a little tea?"

"Wa … ter," he rasped in a whisper so faint she could barely make it out.

Turning to the bedside table, she poured a small amount of liquid into a glass from a carafe a servant had left there. "Here, I'll help you," she offered, slipping an arm beneath the man's frail shoulders as he tried to lift his head. His breath was foul, and in sharp repugnance she averted her face. Still, she had recently discovered there was within her a sizable measure of her mother's fortitude. She was a married woman now, and shehad come to realize in that brief, month-long marital hell she had been forced to endure that she would have to look to the security of her future … and to that of her offspring. Although Roger was the father, she considered the growing entity within her womb entirely hers. She wanted the child; her husband did not. In fact, there were times when he was so rough in his lovemaking that she could believe he was trying to make her miscarry. If that ever happened, she had already promised herself that she would leave him and plead with her family to shelter her until she could find a haven far from his vindictive revenge.

Edmund's condition was far more serious and repulsive than her grandfather's. That was clearly evident. Yet there were things she had to find out for herself, and to get to the truth of the matter while there was still time, she had to go to the only likely source who had that knowledge. If the man expired, her chances of obtaining the truth would be sharply reduced, if not altogether negated.

Edmund revived ever so slightly after taking a deep sip and, upon collapsing back into his pillows, stared up at her in bemusement. " ‘Oo are yu? From what I can recollect, I've ne'er seen yu ‘ere afore."

"I'm your new daughter-in-law, Felicity. I'm here to help you get well, Papa Edmund."

His ashen lips quirked upward in a frail smile. "‘Tis a cer … tain … ity yu're not Mar … tha Grim … bald."

"No, Papa Edmund, I don't even know who she is."

"Just … as … well. Ye … would … na … be … impressed."

"Was she someone Roger was supposed to marry?"

"I'll leave …'at … for ‘im … ta be … sayin', girl. Just … know … yu're … a … damned … sight … prettier."

"How are you feeling? Is there anything I can get for you? Some food perhaps? A little port?"

"Don't … agree … wit' … me. I've ‘ad too many spirits in me life, an' they're eatin' away at me innards."

"What about some food? Perhaps some medicinal herbs from the apothecary."

A thin finger fluttered upward weakly, drawing Felicity's attention to the fact that the nail was strangely streaked. The hand itself seemed scaly, as if the skin were actually in the process of drying … or dying.

"Mayhap … a … bit … o' porridge … or puddin' … just ta … soothe the … misery in me … gut. ‘Tis … so … unbearable … at times … I … yearn … ta die."

Carefully avoiding contact with the man's skin, Felicity laid a hand gently upon his arm where the nightshirt covered it. "I shall ask Cook to prepare you some porridge and pudding immediately. Is there anything else I can get for you in the meantime?"

"Where's … Roger?"

She watched the man closely, wondering if she'd see anything in his reaction that would be indicative of his concern over the mill's accounts as she led him on. "I believe he's looking over the books. There seems to be a discrepancy somewhere. Just where, I can't imagine. I can only repeat what I've heard, that there are apparently more coins going out than coming in."

Edmund struggled to push himself up on his elbows, but quickly collapsed upon the mattress, too weak to leave it. Rolling his head on the pillow, he gulped as he sought to take a breath. "Roger'd … do better ta manage … the mill … an' leave … the books ta me, girlie."

"But, Papa Edmund, you've been too ill even to know what day it is, much less tally the mill's accounts."

"Tell ‘im … ta leave off … till I'm … on me feet … again."

Leaning over the man, Felicity offered him a smile as she patted his arm in a motherly fashion. "I will tell him what you said, Papa Edmund. Now rest yourself. There's certainly no need for you to get in such a dither about the accounts. ‘Twould seem like such a small matter for Roger to worry you about … unless, of course, you happen to know why theycan't be balanced. If so, you should consider letting him know … to save him endless searching."

"Just tell ‘im ta leave off, girlie. ‘E has … no head … for tallyin'."