A Lady Never Surrenders Part 19

"It's quite possible. So tell me about the gossip at the time. What did you hear of the Sharpes and their affairs that might have led to murder?" When she looked uneasy, he prodded her. "I understand that his lords.h.i.+p was ... indiscriminate with his affections?"

She colored. "Well, I don't like to speak ill of the dead, but..." She leaned forward. "He did have a lady friend or two."

He forced himself not to look at Celia for her reaction. After all, she knew of her father's indiscretions. "That must have upset her ladys.h.i.+p terribly."

"It did." She lowered her voice meaningfully. "Though there was talk that he wasn't alone in his entertainments. Some said that her ladys.h.i.+p had decided that what was sauce for the gander was sauce for the goose, if you take my meaning."

His blood pounded in his ears as everything Celia had told him flashed through his mind. The "mia dolce bellezza" could just as easily have been spoken by Lady Stoneville's lover, to tease her with words her husband might have used. That could have been why the woman got angry over it. And it would explain why her ladys.h.i.+p had been in the nursery when Mrs. Duffett came in. If his lords.h.i.+p had been there, he would have felt no need to leave. He would just have shooed his mistress out.

The way her ladys.h.i.+p must have done with her lover.

It would also explain why his lords.h.i.+p's valet had insisted that the man hadn't been involved with Mrs. Rawdon. Because he hadn't.

Apparently Celia had come to the same conclusions, for she jumped to her feet and said hoa.r.s.ely, "No, Mama would never have ... she could never ... it's a lie! I don't believe it!" She cast him a frantic look. "Jackson, tell her it's not possible!"

d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n.

"'Mama?'" Mrs. Duffett squeaked. "Wait, I thought you were Mr. Pinter's ... oh, dear, you can't be ... I didn't realize-"

"Forgive me for the subterfuge," he said hastily. "But as you've probably guessed, this isn't my sister. This, I'm afraid, is Lady Celia Sharpe."

And she'd just sent his interrogation all to h.e.l.l.

Chapter Fifteen.

Celia could tell from Jackson's stony expression that she'd ruined his plans for how this discussion should go, but she didn't care. She couldn't let such an idea stand! Mama would never have taken a lover. Never! Not when she hated Papa's infidelities so.

"Miss Celia?" Nurse squinted as she too rose from her seat. "Little Elf?"

"Papa was the one to call me Elf," Celia said absently, thumbing through her memories, trying to make sense of them in light of what Nurse was claiming about Mama.

"Aye. That's why we started doing it. It fit you then-you were such a tiny thing."

But she hadn't been a tiny thing in a long while. Even her siblings didn't call her Elf anymore, so it felt strange to have Nurse do so.

Nurse shocked her by seizing her in a great hug. "Oh, my dear girl, I can't believe it's you!" She peered at her with a misty gaze. "Look at you, all grown up. Why, you're so tall! And so elegant-looking, too. What a fine lady you've turned out to be."

"I ... I ... thank you." Celia was torn between wanting to embrace her old nurse and wanting to shake her for what she'd said. She stood there awkwardly, not sure what to do.

"Oh! I've got something to show you. Come!" Grabbing Celia by the hand, Nurse drew her to a trunk and opened it to reveal a trove of baby dresses and shoes and the like. "Your grandmother was always so kind about letting me keep a thing or two after you children outgrew it."

She began to rummage through the trunk. "Now where is it..." She picked up a worn primer. "Oh, look, this was your brother's. Master Gabe carried it everywhere after your parents ... Well, anyway, he liked the pictures."

Shoving it into Celia's hand, she searched some more. "And here is Miss Minerva's red handkerchief." She shot Celia a knowing glance. "Your sister always did like the colorful ones. You liked the dainty ones-lots of lace. You loved them to be pretty and feminine."

"Did she?" Jackson sounded surprised as he came to stand beside them.

She felt his steady gaze on her, but couldn't return it, her mind still too full of turmoil.

"Oh yes," Nurse said. "It was strange really. She liked girlish clothes, but she wasn't squeamish like most girls. She was curious about everything, even bugs and spiders. Minerva would scream at the sight of a snake, but Miss Celia wanted to pick it up and examine it. She wanted to know how things worked." She cast Celia a sly smile. "That is, until Master Ned caught her attention when she was nine. Then she turned all simpering and silly."

Jackson went rigid. "Ned Plumtree?"

Heavens, Celia had forgotten that her infatuation for Ned had started so early. Or that she'd often confided in Nurse about it.

"Yes, indeed." Mrs. Duffett patted Celia's hand. "How is your cousin? He made all the girls swoon in his day, and you were the worst, as I recall."

"Ned is fine," she said tightly, unable to meet Jackson's gaze. Swiftly she changed the subject. "What is it you were looking for in the trunk?"

"Oh!" Nurse rummaged a moment more, then pulled out a bedraggled fas.h.i.+on doll with one gla.s.s eye missing and half its hair worn off. "Do you remember this, dearie?"

"Lady Bell!" Tears stung Celia's eyes. "But I threw it away!"

"I know. I fished it out and kept it in case you missed it. You loved that doll so."

Celia held it close, her heart full as she stared at the ragged leather arms and the wax cheeks with the pink worn from them. "I remember the day Mama gave it to me. She'd returned from a shopping trip to London with gifts for us all."

But that was the Mama of her fondest memories. Not the frustrated woman who might have stood in the nursery making an a.s.signation with a man other than Papa. She blinked back her tears.

Could it be true? Mama and another man, together?

Nurse touched her arm. "Forgive me, dearie, for gossiping about your mama. I am so very sorry."

"No," she said hastily, seizing Nurse's hand. "Don't be sorry. It's important that I hear it, even if it means..."

It was time to grow up, time to look at her parents with a hard eye. That's what it might take to find their killer.

Celia swallowed hard. "I'm not a little girl anymore. I need-" She glanced at Jackson. "We need to hear the truth. Please tell us whatever you remember. Any piece of information might be crucial."

Nurse stared into her face with worry in her eyes, then nodded. "Well then, come sit down. I'll see what I can recall."

When they were seated, Celia asked, "Was there ever any evidence that Mama had a ... lover? Or was it just gossip?"

The old woman sighed. "Cook claimed she saw her ladys.h.i.+p kissing a man in the pantry late at night, but couldn't see who the man was. She knew it wasn't your papa because he had already gone to bed."

And sadly, their previous cook had been dead for some years.

"When did she see this?" Jackson asked. "During the house party? Or some other time?"

"She never said. Or if she did, I don't remember."

"Did she have any idea who it might have been?" Jackson prodded.

Nurse shook her head no. "We joked that it was Mr. Virgil. He always spoke glowingly of her ladys.h.i.+p."

"Not always," Celia put in, remembering her dream.

Her memory?

"Nurse, on the day my parents died, did you and Mr. Virgil discuss it while you rocked me to sleep?"

"You remember that?" Nurse said, looking startled.

A chill coursed down Celia's spine. "I think so. Mr. Virgil called Mama a coward, and it made me cry. And then I asked you to sing 'William Taylor.'"

Nurse grew very agitated. "Oh, dearie, that fairly gave me goose b.u.mps."

"Why?" Jackson asked.

Both Nurse and Celia eyed him askance.

"I'm not familiar with the song," Jackson said defensively. "I asked my aunt about it after you mentioned it, Lady Celia, but she didn't know it either."

"It's an old English ballad that used to be one of our favorites," Celia explained. "William Taylor is on his way to be married when he's impressed. His bride-to-be dresses as a sailor and goes hunting for him in the navy. She serves aboard a s.h.i.+p, and in battle it's discovered that she's a woman."

Nurse took up the tale. "The captain asks why she's there, and she says she's looking for her true love. He tells her that her true love has married another, and she can find him walking the beach nearby. So she lies in wait for William, finds him with his new bride, and shoots him." She cast Celia a long glance. "It was downright spooky that you asked for that, dearie, given what had just happened."

"Not at all," Celia said. "You and Mr. Virgil were talking about people being shot. That was the only song I knew about such things. Besides, I always liked it because of what happened to the woman who shoots William." Celia gave Jackson a rueful smile. "The captain makes her the commander of a s.h.i.+p."

Jackson arched an eyebrow. "That would appeal to you."

"The important thing," she said, "is that it means my dream probably isn't just a dream."

"Probably," Jackson agreed.

"Dream?" Nurse asked.

Quickly Celia described the entirety of it, starting with what had happened that morning.

Nurse looked troubled. "To the best of my knowledge, that's a fair account of what happened that day. I didn't realize anybody was in the nursery with her ladys.h.i.+p that morning, but I suppose it's possible."

"Even if it is," Celia said, "we still don't know who it was. And we can't be sure he had anything to do with the murders. Why would he shoot Mama if he was in love with her?"

"I have some theories about that," Jackson said enigmatically. "But I'll need more information." He rose. "And we should be getting back anyway."

Anne came in just then, with an amply loaded tray. "You're leaving?" she said, disappointment on her face.

"Not yet, they aren't!" Nurse exclaimed. "You just put that tray down over here on the table," she told her granddaughter with a stubborn set to her chin. "We're going to have tea, we are."

"Mrs. Duffett, I do regret this, but-" Jackson began.

"Come now, you can't leave yet. I've barely had the chance to talk to my little girl here." She seized Celia's hand as she faced him down. "I want to hear all about the family-what they've been doing, how everyone is faring ... what the people they married are like..." She brightened. "Did they come with you to town, Mr. Pinter? I mean, what with Lady Celia being unmarried, I know you didn't come here alone with her."

Celia shot Jackson a warning glance. "The family is back at Halstead Hall, I'm afraid, but we brought my maid. Unfortunately, she was famished, so we left her at the coaching inn down the road, since we weren't sure how long our visit to you would take."

Nurse seemed to swallow that tale whole, thank heaven. "Well then, no need to run off, eh? And you must be pretty famished yourself by now. Stay for tea at least."

Celia appealed to Jackson. "Can we? Perhaps Nurse will remember more details as we talk. And I have so many questions still unanswered, so many possibilities to-"

"It's past noon already," he warned.

"If we stay an hour, we'll still get home around three. People will barely have been up."

He glanced from her to the expectant faces of the other two ladies and sighed. "All right. An hour. But only an hour, do you hear?"

Celia nodded. It wasn't much time to unravel the secrets of a lifetime, but it would have to do.

TWO HOURS LATER, Jackson was torn between wanting to strangle Celia and wanting to comfort her as she said her tearful good-byes to Mrs. Duffett. He understood why Celia had dallied. She was clearly still reeling from the news that her mother might have had a lover, and she was trying to find any crack in that tale.

But if they didn't return to Halstead Hall before their absence was discovered, she'd be ruined. A young unmarried female couldn't just go off on a trip, no matter how short, with an unmarried gentleman. They'd have to marry.

Yes-they would, wouldn't they?

A powerful longing swept him as he watched her hug Mrs. Duffett. For one fleeting moment, he indulged the fantasy of being Celia's husband.

He would return to Cheapside every day after work at Bow Street to find her, his wife, waiting in his home to greet him with a kiss. They'd have a pleasant dinner, then walk down to Blackfriars Bridge and stroll across the Thames to watch the sun set in summer or the moon rise on a chilly night in winter.

Once they returned home, he'd write up his reports as she darned his socks- A harsh laugh clogged his throat. As if a lady like her would ever darn socks. Or be satisfied with a simple walk across a bridge in the moonlight instead of a night at the theater.

You could afford a night at the theater from time to time, and new socks anytime your old ones get holes.

But only if he became Chief Magistrate. And once the children came along...

Children? That was quite the leap forward, considering that a marriage between them was impossible. d.a.m.n Mrs. Plumtree to h.e.l.l.

"Lady Celia," he said, more sharply than he'd intended, "we have to go."

She broke away from Mrs. Duffett with a parting smile. "Yes, of course, Mr. Pinter."

At last they were walking back to the livery where their horses were stabled. He waited for her to speak, but she remained quiet while they fetched their horses and headed out of town.

After a few furlongs, he could no longer wait to broach the subject. Unlike this morning, when the road had been busy, it was practically deserted now, midafternoon. "I've been considering what Mrs. Duffett said in light of your memory of that morning."

She sighed. "So have I."

"And what conclusions have you drawn?"

"I simply can't believe Mama would have been unfaithful to Papa after how she railed at him for his own infidelities. It makes no sense."

"Celia..." he began in a low tone.