Lady Vengeance Read online

  ‘Oh, but I have not yet finished my champagne,’ Elinor forced her dry lips into what she hoped was a persuasive smile. ‘Also, my dear, your own glass is not yet empty.’

  Rowsell laughed gaily: ‘You have the right of it, my sweet,’ he declared, ‘we shall not leave until I have drunk one more toast!’ he picked up his glass and held it aloft. ‘Boreland, we must honour our delightful ladies. Fill your glass sir, and join me in drinking to the source of all our happiness.’

  James Boreland looked amused.

  ‘But of course, my dear fellow.’

  Elinor sat very still, outwardly calm, while inside her raged a tumult of emotion. Rowsell had turned in his chair to face her, his eyes glowing with happiness, his glass held up in readiness while he waited for Boreland. The seconds ticked by, Elinor summoning every ounce of willpower to remain still. The noise of the supper room seemed very distant, unreal: she watched in fascination as Boreland poured his wine, taking what seemed to Elinor an inordinate amount of care in pouring the claret and setting the decanter gently down upon the table while his wife chattered ceaselessly. At last he was ready and the two gentlemen faced their ladies. Rowsell smiled lovingly at Elinor.

  ‘To you, my dear. To us!’

  Elinor held her breath. She was surprisingly calm now. She watched while he raised the glass closer to his mouth, then suddenly she wanted to scream at him to stop, but it was too late, the words would not come and the glass was at his lips.

  * * * *

  Yet before he could taste one drop of the sweet, deadly wine, a group of revellers passed the table, one of them losing his balance and falling heavily against Rowsell. The glass flew from his hand and Elinor gave a small cry as the poisoned claret spilled over her petticoat. She watched in horror as the blood-red stain spread slowly across the white silk. With an oath Rowsell jumped to his feet, sending his chair crashing to the ground.

  ‘You drunken oaf. I’ll have an apology for the lady!’

  The man swayed on his feet, supported by a companion in much the same condition. He shook his head at Rowsell’s furious ranting.

  ‘T’morrow, sir – I’ll talk to you ‘morrow –’

  ‘No, by God, we shall settle this now!’ cried Rowsell in a towering rage.

  ‘George, my dear boy – give him your card,’ advised Boreland. ‘Can’t start a brawl in Derry’s supper room!’

  But Rowsell did not hear him: he flew at the offender, knocking him down with the first blow. For a few moments confusion reigned, ladies screamed and Lord Derry’s servants looked helplessly at one another, not at all sure what was to be done. As the reveller picked himself up from the ground it seemed that some of his intoxication had left him. A crafty gleam came into his eyes as he looked at Rowsell standing over him, fists clenched. The man came slowly to his feet, keeping his head bowed, then with a lightning move he snatched up a carving knife from a tray of ham on a nearby table. With a cry of warning, Boreland leapt to his feet and ran forward, but he was too late. Rowsell had closed with his opponent and even as Boreland and several of the footmen pulled the protagonists apart, Rowsell sank to his knees, the carving knife having been driven to the hilt up under his ribs and into the very heart of him.

  * * * *

  For a full minute there was silence, then several cries of Shame! Coward! As the killer was led away, Rowsell was laid upon the floor, but there was no flicker of life from his inert form and Boreland called for a cloth with which to cover the bloodied body. Some of the ladies in the room were crying, but looking up, Boreland observed that Madame de Sange was still sitting rigidly in her seat, her face immobile and those green eyes staring blankly at Rowsell’s lifeless form. He switched his gaze to his wife.

  ‘Take Madame de Sange away, Isobel. I will arrange matters here, and follow you when I can.’

  Mrs Boreland rose and went to Elinor, keeping her eyes averted from the still form lying not six feet from their table. Silently she helped the widow to her feet and guided her gently out of the room. As they neared the door, a gentleman stood before them. Viscount Davenham bowed slightly, but Elinor’s stunned gaze went through him, unseeing, and he stepped aside to let the ladies pass.

  ‘Poor child,’ murmured Lady Hartworth to her son, ‘how very distressing for her to lose an admirer in such a way.’

  ‘Really ma’am?’ he replied coldly, ‘I begin to think she is making a habit of it.’

  Chapter Nine

  Madame de Sange receives comfort – and an invitation

  The journey to Knight’s Bridge seemed an endless one for Elinor. She sat in the carriage, staring fixedly before her, while Mrs Boreland remained at her side, patting her hands and making soothing noises. Not by nature a compassionate woman, she found it difficult to give succour to the young woman, who was obviously distraught by the death of George Rowsell. Had she but known it, the grieving widow was quite oblivious of her attentions, and was conscious only of a desire to reach the seclusion of her own room. At last they arrived at their destination. Madame’s footman was on hand to hold open the door, and Mrs Boreland led her charge gently but firmly into the lighted hallway. Almost immediately Hannah Grisson appeared, looking drawn and anxious.

  ‘God in heaven – what has happened!’

  ‘Your mistress has sustained a shock,’ Mrs Boreland led Elinor into the drawing room and guided her towards a chair. ‘There was a most distressing incident at Lord Derry’s supper party. Poor Mr Rowsell is dead.’

  ‘Lord have mercy on us!’ gasped Hannah, sinking onto a sofa, her face as white as her kerchief.

  ‘Yes,’ affirmed Mrs Boreland. ‘A group of monstrous low, rough fellows was in the supper room – I cannot think what Lord Derry was about, to let such people into his house. There was a most unseemly fracas, and poor Mr Rowsell was fatally wounded, struck down by a carving knife.’

  ‘He – he was stabbed?’

  Mrs Boreland looked impatient.

  ‘Have I not said so? Come, woman, your mistress needs attention. Will you not fetch her a cordial, or a little brandy – ‘

  For the first time since entering the house, Elinor spoke. ‘No, please, that is not necessary.’

  ‘But Madame, you are in distress. I would urge you to take something – perhaps a sleeping draught – ‘

  ‘No, I thank you for your concern, ma’am, but I swear I am much better now. Hannah shall fetch me a cup of hot chocolate, but I need nothing stronger.’

  Muttering anxiously under her breath, Mrs Grisson rose and went out of the room, leaving Mrs Boreland to hover solicitously around Elinor, who was still deathly pale, although the blank look had now left her eyes and after a short while she spoke again.

  ‘I must thank you for accompanying me, ma’am. I am most grateful for your support. Shall I order my carriage to take you back to Town, or would you like me to have a room prepared for you here?’

  ‘No, no my dear, there is no need for you to put yourself out at all.’ Mrs Boreland’s words were warm enough but, as ever, her smile was fixed, never reaching her eyes. ‘Mr Boreland said he would follow me here and take me up. But there is no need for you to sit up waiting for my husband to make an appearance. Here is your servant returned with the chocolate. Pray, Madame de Sange, will you not drink it and go to bed? A goodnight’s rest will help to ease your distress.’

  Elinor took the cup from Hannah with a word of thanks, but shook her head at her visitor.

  ‘You are monstrous kind, ma’am, but I could not sleep. For a while, at least.’

  ‘But of course, dear ma’am. I can understand that, after such a scene as we have just witnessed, you would wish to have company, lest your thoughts become too morbid and disturbing.’ Mrs Boreland nodded sympathetically. ‘It is unfortunate that you live so secluded. There is nothing like a little company to relieve the spirits.’ She paused, considering her words. ‘Forgive me, Madame. I hesitate to speak, and yet – pray do not be offended! Our acquaintance has been brief, I know, but even s
o I should be pleased to be of assistance to you, if you will allow it. Perhaps, ma’am, you would care to return with me to Weald Hall? I must go back there shortly, but I do not care to leave you in this house – you should not be alone at this time. And do not think I wish to throw you into a round of social engagements. Mr Boreland and I entertain very rarely, but even so I venture to think you will not find us too dull.’

  ‘I do not think Madame de Sange could consider such an idea at present –’ began Hannah, but Elinor silenced her with a wave of her hand.

  ‘Thank you, ma’am. Perhaps when I have had a little time to reflect….’

  ‘Of course,’ returned Mrs Boreland. ‘I do not mean to press you. Mayhap you would prefer to travel to Weald in a week or so – but you need not answer now, I shall come to see how you go on in a day or two, and we will discuss the matter more fully.’ She raised her head as there came from outside the sound of a vehicle approaching. ‘That will be my husband. He will be happy to see you have recovered a little, Madame.’

  They heard a knocking upon the door, and moments later James Boreland strode in. His big frame dominated the room and, as Mrs Boreland stepped forward to greet her husband, Hannah moved across to stand beside Elinor’s chair, protectively close to her mistress. Boreland bowed to the ladies, and spoke first to Elinor, who was still sipping at her chocolate.

  ‘Madame, my condolences to you. I know how close you were to poor Rowsell.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’ Elinor’s voice was scarcely above a whisper.

  ‘How do matters stand, sir?’ asked his wife. ‘Did you see Lord Derry before you left?’

  ‘Aye. He’s most upset about the whole business, naturally. The young fellow who quarrelled with George has been apprehended. He was drunk, of course, but that does not excuse his actions.’ He shook his head, ‘Dashed pity about Rowsell, though. I always said he should make efforts to curb that temper of his –’

  ‘Yes, well, never mind that now, sir. We must go back to Town, and leave Madame de Sange to rest. Unless, that is, Madame, you wish me to remain to keep you company?’

  ‘You are very kind,’ returned Elinor, summoning up a smile, ‘but I have Hannah, and I shall be well now that I am home. My thanks to you both for your trouble.’

  ‘No, no do not get up,’ said Mrs Boreland, pushing Elinor gently back into her seat. ‘We will leave you now, but I shall call again in a few days. Now, come along, Mr Boreland, we must be on our way!’

  So saying, the couple went out, leaving Elinor and her companion alone in the drawing room. They sat in silence, listening to the sounds of departure, but neither woman moved until they heard the Borelands’ coach moving away from the house, then Hannah threw herself at Elinor’s feet in great distress.

  ‘Oh Miss Nell, Miss Nell, what mischief are you about?’

  Elinor put down her empty cup, her hands trembling a little.

  ‘I am sure I don’t know what you mean.’

  Hannah took hold of those hands, giving them a little shake.

  ‘Oh my dear child, will you deny that you wanted revenge upon the gentleman? After you had gone out, I went to your room to return the petticoat ‘pon which I had mended a torn flounce, and what should I discover hidden in a corner of your cupboard but a pair of old kid gloves, darkened with juice, a stained muslin handkerchief and a small bag that had recently held berries. One or two even remained. Devil’s Cherries, Miss Nell, deadly nightshade …’ She broke off, wiping her eyes, ‘You were so eager for the rain to cease, to go out into the garden alone - I made sure you had planned to poison Mr Rowsell, and I have been in dread here since, expecting any moment to hear that you had been clapped up for murder!’

  Elinor gazed down at her companion, a strange look in her green eyes.

  ‘But I poisoned no one, Hannah. I confess that it was my intention to kill George Rowsell, for what he had done to me,’

  ‘Oh my poor, poor child!’ wailed Hannah, burying her face in her apron.

  ‘I discovered the nightshade growing amongst my roses. What could be easier than to collect the berries and put their juice into a little bottle that would fit into my pocket? I even managed to drop the poison into his drink.’ Elinor paused, looking at the dark stain upon her petticoat. ‘I did everything, Hannah, everything I had planned, to avenge myself upon George Rowsell, and it was all … unnecessary.’ She began to giggle, then to laugh hysterically.

  Hannah stared at her, aghast.

  ‘Stop it, Miss Nell.’ She took Elinor by the shoulders and shook her. ‘You will do no one any good by this. Stop it, I say!’ To Hannah’s relief, the wild laughter abated, to be replaced by a flood of tears. Hannah embraced her, crooning to her and gently stroking her hair, much as she had done when Elinor had been a child. At last Elinor grew calmer, and Hannah drew her gently to her feet, keeping one arm tight about the widow as she helped her up the stairs to her room.

  * * * *

  A few days later Mrs Boreland paid a short visit to Knight’s Bridge and came away feeling very well pleased with the results of her labours. She returned to the elegant apartment she and her husband had hired for their stay and entered it wearing a satisfied look upon her rather hard features. She received a grim smile from her husband, who was writing at a small desk by the window.

  ‘Well, madam,’ he greeted her, ‘what business have you been about, that you should resemble a cat that’s taken the cream?’

  ‘I have been to visit Madame de Sange,’ she replied, stripping off her kid gloves. ‘And I have secured from her the promise that she will come and stay with us over Christmas.’

  ‘The devil you have!’

  Mrs Boreland’s hard eyes snapped.

  ‘You knew it was my intention to invite the widow to Weald Hall – do you now object to the arrangement?’

  ‘Not to your arrangement, my dear, but to your timing. I have to go to the Continent very soon, though I expect to be back before Christmas. However, I have plans afoot that require discretion and I’d as lief have no prying eyes at Weald during the winter.’

  The lady shrugged. ‘I would have taken her down with me when I leave Town, had she been agreeable, but the lady was not to be persuaded. Perhaps it is for the best, however, for I shall now have time to prepare Andrew. As to your own affairs, you need not trouble yourself about our guest. I will ensure that Madame is well entertained, with Andrew’s assistance. After all, I want her to know just how pleasant it is to be mistress of Weald Hall.’

  Boreland looked amused.

  ‘You think you can make a match between our son and the lady?’

  ‘That is my intention.’

  ‘You were born an optimist, Isobel.’

  ‘What is so outrageous in my plan? The poor child has suffered a severe loss with Rowsell’s death. She has no family or friends here to support her, nor, as far as I can ascertain, has she anyone to advise her. The alternatives are for her to return to France, or to make a life for herself here. And what could be more natural than that she should be drawn towards those of us who knew George Rowsell and loved him as a brother?’

  ‘A brother!’ he repeated, laughing, ‘I didn’t think you ever cared much for the hot-headed fool!’

  ‘We will not speak ill of the departed,’ replied his wife, unperturbed. ‘The widow needs a refuge and I intend that she shall find one at the Hall. If, at the same time, she can be persuaded to bestow her hand –’

  ‘And her fortune!’ he put in dryly.

  ‘To bestow her hand upon a member of the family that has taken her to its bosom, I shall of course be delighted.’

  ‘I applaud your ambitions, Isobel. I daresay if you had been born a man you would have been a powerful force to reckon with.’

  She gave him a thin smile.

  ‘As it is, sir, I leave that rôle to you. I believe you have not been entirely unsuccessful in it.’

  ‘Thank you. And if this latest trick can be brought off –’ He paused, gazing thoughtfully into s
pace, then he recollected himself and smiled across the room at his wife. ‘I hope you succeed with your match-making. Andrew needs a wife and the girl would be a monstrous good catch. Her fortune is not tied up in any trust, I believe.’

  ‘I have already ascertained that her money is under her own control. She is her own mistress.’

  ‘And a devilish handsome one, too.’ remarked Boreland. ‘A widow with no ties or constraints upon her fortune – ‘tis an ideal opportunity for Andrew. She looks somewhat familiar,’ he added thoughtfully. ‘I cannot quite place her…’

  ‘Possibly you knew her mother.’

  Boreland’s keen eyes rested upon his wife, challenging her to say more, but she remained silent. At length he shrugged, saying carelessly, ‘I daresay I did.’

  She watched him tidying the papers on his desk, then he moved towards the door, collecting his hat upon the way.

  ‘You are going out?’

  ‘Yes. I have business to attend to at the coffee house. Pray do not enquire the nature of it,’ he spoke quickly, forestalling her question. ‘It is safer for you to know very little that I do. Apply yourself to finding a wife for our son, and leave other matters to me.’

  * * * *

  The golden shades of autumn were fading into winter and Elinor decided that until her visit to Weald Hall she would withdraw from society: in the fashionable salons and drawing rooms that she had visited so briefly, it was whispered that Madame de Sange was so overset with grief at the death of her lover that she had taken to her bed and was in decline. Hearing this, Viscount Davenham assured himself that it did not concern him. After all, he reasoned bitterly, if one could tell a man by the company he kept, the same must surely apply to a lady and her lovers. Yet as November wore on he found himself unable to banish the lady from his mind, and on a bright but chilly morning, he rode out to Knight’s Bridge.

  News of the visitor was brought to Madame as she sat at her dressing table, where Hannah Grisson was putting the finishing touches to her hair. The servant’s shrewd old eyes did not miss the delicate flush that mounted to Elinor’s cheeks before that lady said coolly: