By the time Isobel eventually went downstairs there was no sign of her husband or Mr Bentley. Bill followed her to the breakfast room.
“Your grace, I am to inform you Mr Bentley has returned to London. His grace was accompanied him but will be back before dark.”
“Thank you, Bill. Do you know if the intruders were discovered?”
“No, my lady. The outside men scoured the grounds and outbuildings but found no one. I reckon they said their piece and then took off.”
“I hope that’s the case. They were unpleasant men—not the sort of person own wishes to have wandering freely about the place.”
Her husband returned at dusk and Isobel was obliged to contain her curiosity until he had changed and joined her downstairs.
“Alexander, I have sent for coffee. Do you wish for anything more substantial or are you happy to wait until we dine?”
He flopped into an armchair and stretched his booted legs towards the fire. “Coffee will be fine, my dear. I’m relieved to be back. Rufus is a magnificent animal but even he is shattered after making a double journey to Town.”
“I’ve no wish to hear about your horse, Alexander. Tell me at once what you’ve been doing all day.”
A footman came in to place the tray on a convenient side table. Alexander nodded and waved him away. Not waiting for her scramble up and serve him, he leant forward and picked up the silver jug and poured himself a steaming cup of aromatic brew.
“That’s better. Now, I shall tell you everything that transpired today. I sent Hill with Bentley to pay the debts. Three hundred guineas is a substantial sum but it could have been worse.” He swallowed another mouthful of coffee and she watched the strong column of his throat convulse.
“I can’t believe you have ridden almost forty miles today and are still upright. You could not have done so a year ago.” Her cheeks flamed and she wished her incautious remark unspoken. “I beg your pardon...”
He grinned at her inadvertent use of Bentley’s irritating expression. “Don’t apologise to me, sweetheart. You’ve every right to comment—after all, are you not my wife and the future mother of my child?”
His eyes gleamed above the rim of his cup and she smiled. “I’m still waiting—stop procrastinating and tell me who the money was owed to and what you did to poor Bentley.”
“Bentley wouldn’t reveal that information however much I tried to persuade him.” He frowned. “There’s something a bit havey-cavey about it. One would have thought Bentley would be relieved to have me speak to the gentleman in question. But no, he was adamant. He said he would deal with the matter himself and that we would not be troubled again and I must take his word for it.”
“So Bentley wasn’t waylaid by footpads but by the two ruffians who came here?”
“Apparently so. It hardly seems credible he could have got himself in such a mess so quickly—I’m beginning to suspect he brought the villains with him from his past.”
“Oh dear! From your expression, Alexander, I take it you don’t intend to let the matter go?”
“Hill is investigating for me. I intend to discover who sent those men here. You may be very sure, my dear, they will regret their actions by the time I’ve finished with them.”
She was woken in the night by her dogs barking. What had disturbed them? She sat up to listen—were those footsteps outside her door? She was about to scramble out of bed when the dogs settled. She must have been mistaken.
Chapter Fifteen
Next morning she was woken by a shrill scream, the noise of smashing crockery and a series of thumps. This was followed by a ghastly silence. The disturbance had come from somewhere in the main passageway, it sounded as if someone had fallen down the main staircase.
Without a second thought she tumbled from the bed. She paused to adjust the belt of her robe as she no longer had a waist to put it round. Satisfied she was decent, she ran into the corridor but Alexander was there before her. She saw him vanish down the staircase.
She reached the top. The remains of her early morning chocolate was spilt all over the boards. Her hands flew to her mouth, she reeled against the balustrade. Alexander was crouching over what could only be her own, dear Sally.
“Isobel, stay where you’re. There’s nothing you can do here.” He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes glittered, his face was pale. Sally was dead—she’d been killed by the fall.
“I don’t understand, Alexander, she brings up my tray every morning. I insist she uses the main staircase and not the back stairs in order to keep her safe.” Her voice sounded strange, reed thin, as if someone else had spoken through her lips. This was her fault. If Sally had used the servants’ staircase she would not have fallen to her death.
Suddenly the entrance hall was full of people. Mary arrived and close behind were Bill and Sam. Alexander remained where he was shielding the body with his own. Only when someone else could take his place did he turn and bound up the stairs to her.
“My love, your abigail tripped and toppled backwards. She broke her neck, she will have felt no pain but have died instantly.”
Isobel heard his words but could not take them in. Her head felt light and she fell forward into darkness.
Alexander caught her. He was shocked she weighed little more than a child in spite of her advancing pregnancy. The stress and the shocks she’d endured might prove too much for her delicate health. Whatever her objections, from now on he would remain at her side and take care of her. He strode back to her apartment his precious burden held close to his heart. She had no abigail to attend her so he must do whatever was necessary himself.
He placed her tenderly on the bed then sat chaffing her hands and calling her name. With considerable relief he watched the colour return to her ashen cheeks and her eyes flicker open. Withdrawing her hands, she turned her head away trying to fight back her sobs.
“My darling, let me hold you, this has been a terrible shock. It’s a tragedy such a lovely, young girl should lose her life in this way. Let go of your grief—it does not do to bottle it in.”
She stiffened, rolling further from him. He must ignore this, she needed comfort and he was the only one who could give it to her. “Sweetheart, let me hold you, you’ll feel better if you cry.”
Gathering her up he returned to the daybed with her cradled in his arms. For a further moment she was rigid, resisting, but then she relaxed and rested her head on his shoulder. He stroked her hair, her back, her face, as she sobbed. Eventually she was quiet, her breathing even. Thank God, she’d fallen into a deep, restorative slumber. He was then aware the housekeeper was in the room.
“My lord, if you would care to place her grace in bed I shall take care of her now. You’re needed downstairs.”
The woman’s tone was terse; she had not forgiven him for what he had done to her beloved mistress. “Thank you, Watkins, I know she’s in capable hands. This is a wretched business indeed; I don’t understand how this could have happened.”
Downstairs was quiet; a reverend hush had descended over the building. The poor girl’s mortal remains had been removed and both the butler and Sam Watkins were waiting to speak with him.
“My lord, there’s something you need to see. This is a strange business and no mistake.” Watkins led him to the top of the stairs and pointed to the boards. “See here, Sally’s slippers have made marks where she lost her footing.”
Alexander dropped to one knee in order to examine the place the man gestured to. There was a smear of something on the top step. He dipped his finger in the mark and touched his tongue to it. As he’d thought— somehow the unfortunate girl had trodden in lard and this had caused her feet to slip on the polished surface at the
