Lady Sabrina’s Secret (2 page)

Deborah exhaled slowly. She felt so helpless, and so very, very angry, for there was nothing she could do to help, and she didn't even know where Richard was.

She thought about the letter. Richard had mentioned that she might read about it all in the newspapers. Perhaps she would learn more when she did. Then, depending upon what she discovered, she would decide what to do. Richard needed her, and she would not fail him, nor would she stand idly by and allow him to be the victim of others' villainy. If she felt that there was anything to gain by going to Bath to make inquiries of her own, then that was what
she would do. Her three years of self-imposed seclusion would be brought to an end in the cause of clearing her brother's name and bringing the real culprits to justice.

It was still stormy and overcast the next morning when Deborah awoke after a restless, virtually sleepless night. She'd tossed and turned anxiously because of Richard and had been lying staring at the tester over her bed for a long time when at last her maid came with the morning tea.

Amy Jenkinson had been with her ever since she'd married Jonathan and come to St Mary Magna, indeed the maid had been born in the village, and her family had served the Marchants for generations. She was a neat,
fair-haired
young woman with pale blue eyes and freckles, and she wore a fresh green-and-white gingham dress, a white apron, and a starched mobcap. She placed the tea beside her mistress's bed, and then went to draw back the curtains.

The pale March daylight brightened the room, but coldly so, and with a shiver the maid went to do what she could to poke the embers of the fire into more life. As Amy knelt before the hearth, Deborah sat up in the bed, reaching over the coverlet for her warm shawl and putting it around her shoulders. Her coal black curls tumbled over her
shoulders
,
and her gray eyes were tired as she picked up the dish of tea.

The room was the one she and Jonathan had shared and was the largest bedroom in the house. It faced over the walled garden and bowling green at the rear of the house and boasted no fewer than three embrasured windows set deep into the thick stone outer wall. Inside it was paneled, and there were tapestries depicting scenes from medieval romances. There were rugs on the polished wooden floor and a yellow brocade armchair by the fire. The four-poster bed was hung with white silk, and through the archway in the wall there was a dressing room where the same white silk had been draped over the dressing table. At the windows the curtains were made of yellow velvet, forming a bright frame for the gray March day outside.

At last Amy coaxed some flames from the fire, and quickly she selected a suitable log from the rack beside the hearth, pressing it firmly onto the fire before getting to her feet again and coming to the foot of the bed.

‘What shall you wear today, madam?'

‘Oh, the pink-and-white dimity, I think,' Deborah replied.

‘Yes, madam.' Amy hesitated, looking at her in some concern. ‘Is everything all right, madam?' she asked, taking in Deborah's pale face and tired eyes.

‘I didn't sleep very well, that's all,' Deborah answered. She hadn't said anything about Richard, nor did she intend to until she knew more.

‘Madam, I …' Amy couldn't say whatever was on her mind and lowered her eyes self-consciously.

‘Yes, Amy? What is it?'

‘I know it isn't my place, madam, but I was just going to
beg you not to go riding up on the cliffs to remember things today. It's very windy again, and it does you no good to go up there when it's like this.' The maid's face was red, and she kept her gaze lowered. ‘Begging your pardon for having spoken out of turn, madam,' she added.

Deborah managed a smile. ‘Thank you for your concern, Amy, and you may rest assured that I will not go up on the cliffs again.'

‘Yes, madam.'

As the maid turned to go through into the dressing room to select the pink-and-white dimity gown from the wardrobe, Deborah suddenly remembered what Richard's letter had warned her to expect. ‘Amy, has the newspaper arrived yet?'

‘Yes, madam. It awaits you in the breakfast room as usual.'

‘I wish to see it now, if you please.'

‘Now? Yes, madam.' Amy was obviously a little surprised by such an order, for it was always her mistress's custom to read the newspaper at the breakfast table, never in the bedroom.

As the maid hurried out once more, Deborah finished her tea and then replaced the cup and saucer on the little cabinet by the bed. Then she hesitated a moment before bending down to pull open the drawer in the cabinet and take out the package and letter that had arrived the day before. For a long moment she studied the timepiece again, and then ran her fingertips over the inscription. Whoever the mysterious Sabrina was, Richard was deeply in love with her still, even though she had chosen to spurn him and believe ill of him.

With a heavy sigh she replaced the things in the drawer, 
and then took out something else she always kept there. It was an oval gold locket on a chain, and it contained a
likeness
of Jonathan and a lock of his hair arranged like a feather. The portrait was an excellent one, bringing him to life again in a way which sometimes caused her pain. It was a head-and-shoulders representation of him in his naval uniform, set against a blue sky with white clouds. His green eyes smiled warmly at her, and the artist had captured his luxuriant chestnut hair so well that it was almost as if the sea breeze were ruffling through it.

She heard Amy returning and replaced the locket in the drawer. The maid brought the morning mail as well as the newspaper, and when she had given both to her mistress she went through into the dressing room. Deborah sat by the fire, and began to glance through the newspaper first. She did not have long to search before Richard's name seemed to leap out at her.

Deborah refolded the newspaper, and then leaned her head back against the chair. Well, at least she now knew exactly what her brother was accused of doing, and she had Richard's word that Sir James Uppingham and Lady Ann Appleby were co-conspirators against him. And very clever conspirators they were, too, for with evidence such as theirs, it was hardly surprising that the timid-hearted Sabrina believed herself betrayed and let down by the man with whom she'd planned to elope.

Closing her eyes for a moment, Deborah then turned her attention briefly to the mail. Almost immediately she saw a letter in the familiar hand of her old friend, Jenny Masterson, at whose residence Richard had been staying when the scandal began. Breaking the seal, she quickly began to read.

Deborah lowered the letter to her lap. Richard had evidently been as discreet as he claimed, for if Jenny suspected him of having a ladylove, then she would have mentioned it as confirmation of the unlikelihood of his
liaison
with Lady Ann. His wish to keep Sabrina out of it all had been granted, but at the same time so had the
malevolent
wishes of Sir James and Lady Ann.

With sudden resolve Deborah rose from the chair by the fire. Her mind was made up. She would accept Jenny's invitation and go to Bath. If it was possible, she would get to the bottom of it all and restore her brother's honor.

‘Amy, we will be leaving for Bath as soon as we can, and I wish you to pack for a stay of several weeks.'

The maid's jaw dropped, and she came to the archway of the dressing room to stare incredulously at her mistress.

Deborah nodded. ‘Yes, Amy, you did hear correctly. We're going to Bath, and we'll be staying at the residence of Mr and Mrs Masterson in Royal Crescent. I know that this is the first time in three years that I've decided to go away like this, but if you read this item in the newspaper, you will understand why.'

Deborah gave her the newspaper, knowing she could read because she herself had taught her.

Amy read, and her eyes widened. ‘Oh, madam!' she cried when she'd finished. ‘Mr Wexford is too fine a
gentleman
to ever do such a thing!'

‘Thank you for saying that, Amy. Yes, he is, and if I can prove him innocent, I mean to do so. Will you please inform Briggs that I shall shortly be writing a letter to Mrs Masterson, which I wish a messenger to ride to Bath with immediately.'

‘Yes, madam.'

‘And you may tell everyone below stairs the reason for my journey to Bath.'

‘Yes, madam.'

As the door closed behind the maid, Deborah went to the window to look out over the windswept garden and
bowling
green. A mounted messenger would travel the seventy or so miles to Bath before nightfall, but her carriage would 
take much longer. The byroads were far from satisfactory at this time of year, and if the weather turned to rain, then traveling would be made even more difficult, but she should be in Bath within a few days.

She found the prospect of emerging into society again rather daunting, for Bath at the height of the season was a hothouse of activity. It was going to be an ordeal for her after so long, but for Richard's sake she would do all she could. How she was going to go about exposing the lies of Sir James Uppingham and Lady Ann Appleby she really didn't know. Perhaps it would all come to naught, but at least she would have done her best.

It was the following morning before the carriage set off from St Mary Magna. Mercifully the weather was disposed to be kind, although it was still blustery and cold.

Deborah and Amy made themselves as comfortable as possible for the miles ahead. They both wore their warmest traveling clothes and were very glad indeed of the heated bricks wrapped in cloths that had been placed on the floor beneath their feet. Amy was a poor traveler and huddled on the seat opposite her mistress, the hood of her gray woolen cloak pulled up over her head and a lavender pomander in readiness for the inevitable motion sickness.

Deborah gazed nervously out at the last thatched cottage before the road began to climb out of the valley and then curve inland toward the north. In spite of her fur-trimmed gold velvet cloak and warm swansdown muff, she felt cold. She wished Jonathan were with her now, for he would have made her feel so much stronger. She slipped a hand inside her cloak to touch the gold locket around her neck and her unwilling gaze was drawn back to the cliffs above the cove 
where the
Thetis
had foundered.

No, she mustn't think of the past, for it was the future that was important now – Richard's future. When she reached Bath, she was somehow going to have to speak to Sir James Uppingham and Lady Ann Appleby. They were hardly likely to welcome any approach from Richard Wexford's sister, but maybe at first they wouldn't realize that the Mrs Marchant who presented her cards to them had anything to do with Richard. It was all she could think of so far, and she still didn't know what she was going to say to them. And then there was the mystery of Sabrina, whoever she was. In her heart of hearts Deborah had the feeling that Richard's secret love held the key to the whole puzzle, although she couldn't think in what way. How could a woman whose connection with Richard wasn't even known to Jenny be the answer to a plot dreamed up by Sir James and Lady Ann?

Deborah's glance moved a little guiltily to the valise she had brought with her for staying overnight at inns on the way. It contained not only her personal possessions, but also Richard's letter and the pocket watch. She bit her lip, for Richard had expressly requested her to keep the
timepiece
hidden at St Mary Magna, but intuition told her to bring it with her. She hoped her instincts would not play her false.

It was to prove necessary to stop overnight only once, at the Angel at Sherborne, for the carriage made better progress than expected. By five o'clock the following
afternoon
they had reached Chippenham, some thirteen miles short of journey's end. Deborah gazed out as they drove through the little market town, and as the houses began to
slip away behind, her attention was drawn to some
impressive
stone gateposts and a cedar-lined drive leading to a handsome redbrick mansion. There was a polished brass nameplate on one of the gateposts – M
ISS ALGERNON'S
ACADEMY
FOR THE DAUGHTERS OF GENTLEFOLK.