"Oh. That is because he is one of the undergardeners. I am afraid I don't know his name. I was asking him about the fruit trees. I was not sure what kind they are. I was hoping there were cherries there, and I wondered when they would be ripe. I do so miss Hannah's cherry pie, don't you?"
"Yes, I do." Miranda smiled. "And what did he say?"
"Excuse me?"
"Are there cherries and when will they be ripe?" Miranda explained. She was beginning to worry about her stepmother.
Elizabeth had been acting odd ever since they had come to Darkwater. Elizabeth stayed in her room, pleading headaches and stomachaches and various other forms of ill health far more often than she had in the past. She had always been somewhat invalidish, but never this much. She was fond of eating and rarely missed a meal, but in the past few weeks she had eaten her supper on a tray in her room as often as at the dinner table. Miranda had more than once found her sitting in her room or somewhere else in a brown study, staring at the floor or off into space with a frown upon her face. This whole thing with the undergardener was odd, too. It was not like her to tramp through the garden and seek out one of the gardeners to ask about the cherries. True, she did love cherry pie, but she was not fond of exercise. It would have been simpler, and would have entailed far less walking, if she had sent one of the footmen to ask or had simply sent a note to Cook requesting a cherry pie.
"Oh," Elizabeth said. "Yes, there are cherries, and they are already ripe."
"Good. I shall tell Cook to make a cherry pie one night this week."
Elizabeth smiled. "You are a dear." Impulsively, she stepped forward and hugged Miranda tightly. "Have I ever told you how much I love you? You are like a daughter to me."
Miranda squeezed her tightly. "Yes, you have told me often, and I appreciate it. I love you dearly, too. However, you are far too young to have a daughter my age. I think you are more an older sister."
Elizabeth smiled. "All right. I shall be a very fond older sister."
They linked arms and strolled back inside. "I am going to the library. Would you like to join me?" Miranda asked.
The look of horror on Elizabeth's face was enough to make Miranda giggle. "Oh, no, I cannot. I, ah..."
"Never mind, you do not have to conjure up an excuse. I know you are not fond of reading. It is quite all right. I will see you at lunch."
"Miranda..." Elizabeth looked at her, her brow drawn into a frown. She seemed to be struggling to say something, but then she smiled and patted Miranda's arm. "Never mind. You go ahead."
She turned and walked away.
Miranda looked after her, puzzled, then shrugged and started toward the library.
Strong was waiting for her there, looking vaguely uncomfortable, as he usually did around her. In general she let Hiram handle most of the dealings with him, because he seemed unable to cope with a woman discussing business. He was not as tongue-tied around Hiram, which was fortunate, as many of his entries needed to be filled in verbally, being somewhat sketchy at best.
"Talking to him," Hiram said, "I think the man knows his job. It is just that he's not terribly good with the written word."
This fact seemed to Miranda to be something of a problem for the manager of a very large estate. She had asked Dev's uncle once what qualifications Mr. Strong had for the job, and he had looked at her blankly and said only, "His father was estate manager before him," as if this were answer enough. Since Devin had been with them at the time and had said nothing, only nodded in agreement, she supposed that to the British aristocracy this was apparently an adequate reason for someone to have a job. She suspected that once she started trying to turn the estate around, she would have to replace the man, although given Rupert and Dev's reaction, she would probably have to leave him as estate manager and invent a new tide to give to someone to supervise Strong. In all fairness to Strong, she thought, perhaps the man sensed this opinion on her part and that accounted for his discomfort around her.
"Hello, Mr. Strong," she said, putting on as winning and reassuring a smile as she could. "I am afraid that Mr. Baldwin has a few affairs of my father's to attend to today, so I thought you might help me with a few questions."
"Yes, Lady Ravenscar."
"Good. Now, I was looking at a topographical map of the area the other day." She picked up a rolled map and spread it on the desk top, anchoring it at all four corners with books. "Now, this area of the estate."
"Yes. Apworth Mountain and the land around it." He nodded.
"What does the area look like?"
He looked nonplussed.' 'Well, rocks, miss—I mean, my lady. It is hilly and rocky. Not very good for anythiing that I know of."
"I understand it is part of the Roaches, which are in turn the tail end of the Pennines."
"That's right."
"What has this area been used for?"
"Used for? Nothing, my lady. I mean, people go to look at it. It's sort of grand, in a way, but it's not good for anything that I know of."
"You know, one often finds mineral deposits in this sort of terrain."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Coal, iron ore, even precious minerals. Has anyone ever tried to mine there?"
"No, my lady, not that I know of." He looked at her doubtfully.
"It's something I want to research. It would be nice to be able to add to our revenues from the tenant farmers."
"Yes, my lady."
Miranda sighed inwardly at the man's passivity. "All right, let's look at the books. I have been looking at the overview Hiram prepared for me, and I am definitely beginning to see a pattern. Take this Bigby land..."
The next two hours passed slowly. The maid came in toward the end of that time, bringing the cup of hot chocolate that was usually Miranda's treat after a few hours of working. She took a sip and decided that, delightful as it was, it could not possibly be reward enough for talking to Mr. Strong.
Devin came in at that moment, providing a welcome break. He looked tired, with shadows under his eyes, and she wondered if he had spent much of the night before as sleeplessly as she had. He was going to the abbey ruins today to paint, he told her, and would be gone much of the day, returning home after tea. Miranda nodded, thinking that she would love to go with him, but he did not ask her.
She wondered if the growing sexual frustration between the two of them was going to destroy the rapport they had been building the past few weeks. She remembered her thoughts of earlier that morning: that she should not demand fidelity of him before she would sleep with him. Even a half marriage like that would surely be better than his growing to hate being around her.
He left, and she returned to the books, taking a sip of the hot chocolate.
There was a tentative knock on the library door, and a moment later Elizabeth sidled in. She looked from Miranda to Mr. Strong as her hands clenched and unclenched. Miranda stood up, concern rising in her.
"Elizabeth? Are you not well?" She walked over to the older woman quickly and took her arm. "Here, sit down. Mr. Strong, would you be so good as to pour my stepmother a glass of water?"
Mr. Strong jumped up to go to the sideboard, where a pitcher and glasses stood. He poured out a glass of water and hurried over to Mrs. Upshaw with it, his forehead knitted in concern.
"Are you feeling all right, ma'am?" he asked.
"Yes, yes, I'm fine. Such a bother over nothing. Really. Oh, is this hot chocolate? Perhaps a little sip of that."
"Yes, of course." Miranda slid the cup over to her stepmother, and Elizabeth drank from it.
She set the cup back in its saucer and gave Miranda a forced smile. “I am sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt I just thought we could talk a little. I can come back another time."
"No. Of course we can talk now." This was precisely the sort of odd behavior that Elizabeth had taken to exhibiting. She and Elizabeth had been together less than an hour or so earlier, and Elizabeth had indicated then that she was not interested in talking. Now here she was looking as if she was about to fall apart if she did not talk to Miranda.
Miranda turned to Strong. "Why don't you go back to work, Mr. Strong? I need to talk to my stepmother for a while."
"That is so sweet of you, dear," Elizabeth told her as Mr. Strong bowed and swept the books up under his arm, leaving the room. "But you did not need to. I could have come back another time."
"It's all right," Miranda assured her. "You have saved poor Mr. Strong another hour of pain, that's all. Think of yourself as his guardian angel."
"Poor man. He always looks so...distressed."
"I know. He thinks I am an ogre. I am finding that people in England have a grave mistrust of change."
"Yes, no doubt," Elizabeth agreed somewhat distractedly. She glanced around the room, looking up at the balcony, then quickly away.
"Now," Miranda said, "what brought you to see me? I know you don't enjoy the library."
"Well, I can't help thinking, every time I come in here, of you falling." Elizabeth waved her hand toward the balcony, where a sturdy new railing had been installed. "It is so dreadful."
"No harm done."
"Perhaps, but still...to think of what could have happened! It makes my blood run cold." She shivered as she took another sip from the cup.
"I know. But you mustn't worry about it. Nothing like that will happen again, I assure you. That sort of thing happens once in a lifetime."
"I supposed. It's just...I don't much like it here, Miranda. Joseph is so happy with his renovations, but, well, don't you find it a trifle boring? No parries or balls or opera or theater."
"Yes. It is a bit rural," Miranda agreed. "I am sorry if you are bored. Papa and I are busy working on the renovations. I didn't really think how little you would have to do."
"It's all right. That's not what I wanted to talk to you about. I've been in my room, thinking. Miranda..." She set down the cup and leaned closer to Miranda, putting her hand on Miranda's arm, looking intently into her eyes. "Dearest, are you happy?"
“What? Yes, of course." Miranda smiled at her and patted the hand Elizabeth had laid on her arm. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"I don't know. I worry. You looked so...tired and melancholy this morning when I was talking to you."
"I did?" Miranda said, surprised. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize..."
Elizabeth nodded earnestly. "It worried me. I went up to finish that crewel work I began the other day, but I found I could not concentrate on it. I kept thinking of your face, Is—is he making you unhappy?"
“Devin? Oh, no, Elizabeth, not at all. You must not think that. I am very glad I married Devin."
"Really?" Elizabeth looked doubtful. "I worry that it was a mistake. I fear that Joseph pushed you into it."
"Elizabeth, you know that no one pushes me into anything. I married Ravenscar because I wanted to. And I am quite happy. I am only a little tired this morning from the party last night."
"Yes. I confess I am a little tired myself. I haven't danced that much for years. But I could hardly turn down that nice young doctor, and of course..." she grinned like a schoolgirl confessing a secret, "it is always magical dancing with your father."
Miranda, who had danced with her father many times, found it an indication of Elizabeth's considerable love for him, that she could deem his dancing magical.
Elizabeth took another gulp of the chocolate. She had taken a handkerchief out of the pocket of her skirt, and she was worrying it between her fingers now, twisting and pulling and wadding it up. Miranda's gaze went down to the poor abused bit of linen.
"There is more, isn't there? That isn't all that brought you here."
"Well...oh, dear. I don't know how to say this."
"Just say it"
"I know you will say I am being foolish."
"I won't. I promise."
"Well, I—I—I'm just so worried!" she broke out finally, and Miranda realized with dismay that the older woman's eyes were swimming with tears.
"Elizabeth, please..." She leaned over and laid her hand over her stepmother's hands, to still them. "Are you in some kind of trouble?"
"No!" Elizabeth laughed a little shrilly. "It's not I who is in trouble. It is you!"
"Me? Whatever do you mean? I am doing quite well, I assure you."
"No. No, you aren't. Miranda, I think—" She turned her hands up and clutched her stepdaughter's, squeezing them as if they were a lifeline. She stared into Miranda's eyes, her own gaze filled with acute pain and fear. "Miranda, he is trying to kill you!"
Chapter 16
Miranda stared back at her stepmother blankly. "What? Who? What are you talking about?"
"Your husband. Lord Ravenscar."
Miranda's jaw dropped. Had Elizabeth completely lost her wits? "Dev?" she finally gasped.
"Yes. Dev. Miranda, think!" The light in Elizabeth's eyes was a little unnerving. Involuntarily Miranda thought of the mad old man who had barged into their house in London, ranting about Devin murdering his granddaughter, and she shivered.
"There have been several attacks on your life since we came here," Elizabeth went on earnestly.
"What? Elizabeth, what are you talking about?"
"You fell from that balcony."
"Because I was foolish enough to lean on a railing that had been eaten by woodworms. That was all."
"What about when you went riding and the chunk of rock almost killed you and Joseph."
"That was an accident, too," Miranda said soothingly.
"How can you say that?" Elizabeth replied agitatedly. She finished off the cup of hot chocolate, her hand trembling so that the cup rattled in the saucer when she set it back down. "You could have been killed either time."
"Yes, but I was not. And there is nothing to say that they were not simply accidents."
"Two such 'accidents' in a row!" Elizabeth's voice rose to a squeak. "Don't you see? He is trying to hurt you. Get rid of you. The man is wicked!"
"Elizabeth!" Miranda straightened, her face growing cold and set. "I cannot allow you to speak that way about my husband."
"He has blinded you to his faults. I knew he would." Tears sprang into her stepmother's eyes.
"Elizabeth, please..." Miranda said more gently, putting her hand on Elizabeth's arm in a soothing gesture. She knew that she should not allow her stepmother to anger her with her comments about Devin. It was obvious that something was affecting Elizabeth's mind, and Miranda told herself that she must be gentle with the woman. "You are upsetting yourself over nothing. I know that Dev had a bad reputation, but that is not who he is. He is a good man. I am sure of it. He would not try to kill me."
"You don't know. You don't know
him!"