Susan Krinard - Lord of Legends

“Why do I think you’re about to get me into a situation I’m going to regret?”

“Will you do it?”

“Of course I will.”

Once again he offered refreshments and tea, but she declined and hurried away. If she were very lucky, there would be time to speak to Ash and prepare him for the visit of another stranger.

But once she got back to Donbridge, the opportunity never arose. The dowager, uncharacteristically attentive in spite of her usual hostility, made it impossible for Mariah to slip away from the house until after dinner. It was gone ten when the dowager finally retired. Mariah waited for another half hour, made certain the house was quiet, and then put on her simplest dress, a shawl and half-boots. She was halfway down the stairs when Nola appeared out of the shadows.

“Nola!” Mariah hid the pillowcase of newly hoarded food behind her back, though she knew she had little hope of keeping it concealed for long. Nola curtseyed, her face wreathed in concern.

“Begging your pardon, Countess,” she said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t. I was just going down to the kitchen. Why are you up and about so late?”

“I … I thought you might need help, your ladyship.”

“Help, Nola? I can find my way to the kitchen by myself.”

“I was just remembering what you told me, your ladyship,” she said. “About the prisoner and all.”

“I’m afraid my imagination ran away with me,” Mariah said with a strained smile. “You needn’t give it another thought.”

The maid bent her head, peering at the level of Mariah’s hip where the pillowcase protruded from behind her skirts. “You’re going to see him, your ladyship?”

Mariah began to feel that the girl might prove to be every bit as difficult now as she had been helpful before. “What makes you think I’m going to see anyone, Nola?”

“Just a feeling, your ladyship.”

A feeling . Mariah suppressed a shiver. “Is there something you haven’t told me? Something about the subject we discussed yesterday?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Then what I do is really none of your business,” Mariah said, more harshly than she’d intended. She immediately regretted it.

“I know your intentions are good,” she said, “but I’m really just trying to find out what’s going on. It would be better if no one else were involved.”

“But I saw Mr. Ware, your ladyship,” Nola said. “Out in the park.”

Nola’s tone was anything but sly, yet Mariah was very much on her guard. “And why were you creeping about outside, Nola?”

“I often go for walks at night, though Mrs. Baines doesn’t approve.” She performed another curtsey, which worked well to hide her expression. “I’m sorry, your ladyship.”

“I should avoid annoying Mrs. Baines, if I were you. As for Mr. Ware, he is known to do just as he wishes. Our grounds are considerably larger than his and have excellent prospects by moonlight. There is a full moon tonight. Perhaps he had an urge to view it.”

“Yes, ma’am. But.” Nola dropped her voice very low. “I could make sure she doesn’t see you.”

Mariah froze. Was that what the girl’s interference was all about? Did she—did all the servants—know what the dowager suspected of her daughter-in-law?

“I am not concerned about the dowager,” Mariah said sternly. “But I should not wish to disturb her. She has quite enough concerns as it is.”

“Then you are going to see the man who looks like Lord Donnington.”

Matters had proceeded to the point that denials would probably have little effect. She had begun this, and she could hardly blame the maid for behaving like the intelligent girl she was.

“Tell me, Nola,” she said, “why should you want to help me?”

“Because Lord Donnington’s going away wasn’t your fault, not like some people say.”

Good Lord . “You might find yourself in trouble if you gossip about such matters in the servants’ quarters.”

“But I don’t, your ladyship,” Nola said. “Never.” She glanced over her shoulder into the entrance hall. “What can I do, ma’am?”

Countering Nola’s stubborn resolve was no more likely than convincing her that her mistress had nothing to hide. “Stay here,” Mariah said. “If I find a way for you to help, I’ll certainly let you know.”

“I hope … I hope you will be very careful, your ladyship.”

“I shall.” Mariah held the girl’s gaze. “No matter what else happens, you must keep our meetings absolutely secret.”

Nola nodded solemnly. “I understand, your ladyship.”

“Very good. You go up to bed now, Nola.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Realizing full well that she was taking a very great risk, Mariah stood at the foot of the stairs until Nola had disappeared into the shadows. She could afford to delay no longer.

Outside, England’s lingering twilight had finally given way to darkness. Mariah kept the lantern as dim as she could and went directly to the folly.

Sinjin was already there. He wore dark riding clothes and carried his own lantern, unlit. His horse, Shaitan, grazed contentedly on the long grass beside the lakeshore.

Sinjin turned into Mariah’s light, hand raised to shield his eyes.

“Merry?”

“Sinjin! It isn’t yet eleven!”

“Sorry, but I was rather eager to see what this is all about.” He shifted slightly, and the lantern’s light caught metal near his waist.

A gun.

“For God’s sake, Sinjin!” she hissed. “There’s no need for that.”

“He might be a lunatic,” Sinjin said, unfazed.

“I never said—”

“If there’s a prisoner in the folly, there has to be good reason for it. A poacher, most likely. A temporary punishment—”

“A poacher who looks like Donnington?”

His eyes told her that he had not lost any part of his skepticism. “I am most eager to observe this resemblance.”

“Observe it, but don’t speak of it.” She reminded herself that what she was about to say was absolutely necessary. “You suspected that I had a theory about who might have done this to him. But it isn’t my theory, Sinjin. It’s his.”

“I thought you said he didn’t remember anythi—”

“He blames Donnington,” she said in a rush. “He believes that Donnington did this to him.”

Sinjin was too stunned to laugh. “Do you know what you’re saying?”

“I didn’t say I accepted his claims,” she said. “But you must be careful, Sinjin. Don’t question him about it. I don’t think he realizes how much he looks like … like the man he blames for what’s happened to him.”

“How is any of this possible?”

“I don’t know.”

Reflected light glazed the gun’s barrel as Sinjin gripped it reflexively. “I’m sorry, Merry, but I—”

“Put that away. You won’t need it.” She stared into his eyes. “Wait here until I call you.”

“Mariah …”

“Please, just do as I say!”

Sinjin subsided, though his expression was anything but sanguine. Mariah carried her pillowcase up the stairs, readying the key for the lock. She entered with every bit as much apprehension as she had the second time, half afraid of what she might find.

Everything was as she had left it. No one had been inside since she’d last come. Ash stood at the bars, his face turned so as to look beyond her, toward the square of darkness framed through the two doors.

“Who?” he demanded in a harsh voice. “Who is he?”

ASH SMELLED THE man before he walked into the room, his hand near his hip and the glitter of iron at his waist. He was dark-haired and brown-eyed, lean and well formed, and he wore a shirt, trousers and the overgarment that Ash remembered was called a “jacket.”