The Regency Season: Blackmailed Brides: The Scarlet Gown / Lady Beneath the Veil. Sarah Mallory
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Midsummer’s Eve. Lucy felt a little chill run down her spine. So Lady Adversane had died on the night of the performance. No wonder he had not wanted them to play there last year. Surely their appearance would bring back unwelcome memories? She glanced across at her host. There was no telling what he was thinking from that stern, inscrutable countenance.
An uncomfortable silence began to fill the room, and Lucy was thankful when Ariadne stepped into the breach.
‘And when shall you and Judith be coming to stay, Adam?’
‘Three weeks’ time, Cousin. On the nineteenth.’
‘Oh?’ Ariadne sounded surprised. ‘But that is when the other guests are expected.’
‘Adversane suggested it.’
‘Yes,’ said Ralph shortly. ‘There will be no need for you to arrive weeks in advance this year.’
Adam turned to Lucy to explain.
‘In the past we spent a deal of time at Adversane, it was almost a second home. My wife was a great help to Lady Adversane, especially with all the arrangements for the summer house party. We would spend weeks here so that Judith could assist her, but of course Cousin Ariadne is taking care of everything this year, and she has you to support her, Miss Halbrook.’
‘Precisely.’
An awkward silence followed Adversane’s curt response. Mrs Dean rose and quietly invited Lucy to come with her to the drawing room. She said nothing as they crossed the hall, but immediately they were alone in the drawing room she burst out with unwonted spirit, ‘If Judith Cottingham did anything to help anyone I should be surprised. Whenever I’ve seen her here at Adversane she has either spent her time lying down in her room, or wandering about the garden, looking forlorn.’
Lucy blinked at her.
‘Why, Ariadne, I have never heard you speak in such a forthright manner before.’
‘No, well, usually I am prepared to give anyone the benefit of the doubt, but to hear Adam talking in that fashion—!’ Her pursed lips and frowning expression told Lucy just what she thought. She continued scathingly, ‘Judith Cottingham is a poor little dab of a woman with a perpetual air of gloom about her. And I did not think Helene was ever that fond of her. In fact, I think she resented her interference, because she told me once that she could not prevent Adam and his wife from coming here so often because they were Ralph’s nearest relatives. Heavens, to listen to Adam you would think Judith was essential to the running of Adversane!’
‘Mayhap Mr Cottingham is very much in love with his wife. I believe such affection can blind one to a partner’s faults.’
Her companion gave a most unladylike snort. ‘The only person Adam Cottingham is in love with is himself! His father was a wastrel, you know. Quite profligate, but thankfully he went to his grave before he lost everything. However, although Adam managed to keep the house at Delphenden, there was never enough money—at least not to keep Adam in the manner he wished. Even his marriage did not bring him the fortune he expected, so Ralph set up an annuity for him. Not that Adam was ever grateful. It is my belief that he envies Ralph his fortune and his lands, although I doubt he appreciates just how hard Ralph has worked to make Adversane so prosperous.
‘Adam positively haunted the place while Helene was alive, for the house was always full of visitors and that gave him the opportunity to shine, which there is no doubt he does in company. But since the accident I believe he has not been near the house, when you would have thought he would be here to support his cousin in his grief. As Ralph’s heir I think he should have done more to help him over the past two years, rather than to stay away. To my mind it shows a sad lack of family loyalty—but there, it is not my place to say so, and Ralph has not encouraged visitors for the past two years. He was in great danger of becoming a recluse, you know, which would have been a very bad thing for the family, so we must be grateful that he is holding the summer house party again this year and I shall say no more about Adam’s behaviour.’
Lucy was inclined to think Mrs Dean a little harsh in her judgement of Mr Cottingham. Despite his propensity for flirting, as the evening progressed Lucy decided that he was a very friendly, cheerful gentleman and a complete contrast to his cousin, whose unsmiling countenance and taciturn manner were even more marked than usual.
* * *
Lucy found only Mrs Dean in the breakfast room the following morning, Lord Adversane having already gone off to Ingleston on business with Harold Colne. Her thoughts turned to the forthcoming house party.
‘Is there anything you would like me to do, ma’am?’ she asked.
‘I rather thought we might go over the arrangements together later today,’ said Ariadne. ‘I have several urgent letters that I must write this morning so Byrne can have them taken to catch the mail. I am sorry, my dear—’
‘No, no, that suits me very well,’ replied Lucy. ‘It is such a lovely morning that I thought I might walk to Druids Rock.’
‘Alone?’
‘Of course, alone. It is Adversane land, I believe, so surely it is safe enough.’
‘Well, yes, my dear, of course it is safe, as long as one does not ascend the rock itself—but I have always thought it such a forbidding place, especially since Helene’s accident...such tragic memories.’
‘It holds no such memories for me, although I admit I was reluctant to ask Adv—Ralph to take me for that very reason.’
‘If you will only wait until later I will come with you—’
Lucy chuckled. It had not taken her long to discover that while Ariadne liked to busy herself around the house, her idea of exercise was a gentle stroll in the shrubbery.
‘No, no, ma’am, I would not dream of troubling you,’ she said now. ‘Besides, it promises to be very hot later, and we would be better employed indoors than walking in the midday sun. No, I shall go this instant and thoroughly enjoy myself.’
Shortly after, attired in her sensible boots and carrying a shawl in case the breeze should be fresher on the moor, she made her way out of doors, pausing only to ask directions from one of the footmen, explaining with a twinkle that she did not wish to lose her way and put the staff to the trouble of finding her.
‘Nay, ma’am, that’s not likely, for Hobart’s Moor ain’t large and the path is well marked.’
‘I believe the lane leading from the wicket gate will take me there,’ she prompted him.
‘Aye, ma’am, that it will. Follow the lane through the trees and that’ll bring you to Hobart’s Bridge. Cross that and you’ll be on t’moor. There’s a good track then that brings you round to Druids Rock.’
Armed with this information, and the footman’s assurance that she could not miss her way, Lucy set off. The gate was in fact wide enough for a horse and she guessed the path through the trees had originally been intended as a ride. However, the undergrowth now encroached upon it and the trees grew unchecked, their branches almost meeting overhead. She was glad of her shawl for the morning shade was cool. The trees ended where the ride joined an ancient track that curved away around the belt of woodland in one direction and in the other it stretched out before her, winding down across a picturesque stone bridge and cutting through the distant moors.
She walked on and crossed what she guessed to be Hobart’s Bridge, pausing to look over the side at the fast-flowing little stream that tumbled over its rocky bed. Lucy followed the track, striding out briskly beneath the cloudless blue vault of sky. The path ran around a natural ridge in the moor, the land falling away to gorse bushes and the stream on one side while rugged slopes covered with rough grass and heather rose up on the other.
As the path wound onwards the views of Adversane were left behind and the dramatic landscape of hills and steep-sided valleys unfolded before her. She stopped several times, taking in the view and thinking how much