Close to the Wind Page 12

  ‘George, I—’ For a second his icy façade slipped. Was that regret in his eyes? He lifted a hand as though to touch her but then let it fall. ‘I’m sorry.’ His voice was strained. ‘I shouldn’t have said I could help you.’

  ‘Why? What have I done?’

  ‘It’s nothing you’ve done. It’s what I’ve done – or they say I’ve done.’

  Her stomach clenched. ‘Why? What have you done, Harry?’

  He hesitated. Then, taking a paper from his pocket, he threw it on the washstand. ‘Read that.’ A muscle ticked in his jaw.

  Georgiana picked up the telegram.

  IVER STRANGLED ON EIGHTH STOP HANDKERCHIEF NEAR BODY STOP FLY STOP

  For a moment she could only stare at the paper. Her mind refused to work. Then she remembered his monogrammed handkerchiefs and the hairs rose on her arms as though brushed by a ghost. No wonder they’d tried to arrest him in the tavern. But now there were other questions, questions she wasn’t sure she wanted answered.

  ‘This Iver, why would someone think you killed him?’ she asked in a voice that shook.

  ‘I made a delivery to his house, on the eighth. The opportunity was there.’

  There was no evidence of guilt in his manner but there wouldn’t be – not if he was as cold-blooded as Walsingham. ‘But you didn’t—?’ The words jammed in her throat.

  ‘What? Kill him?’ His eyes held hers for a minute. ‘Do you really have to ask, George?’ She flinched at his tone but held her ground. With a shrug, he turned away. ‘He was alive when I left him.’

  ‘And the handkerchief?’

  ‘I left it at Elrington Manor where I met another man, Lord Walsingham.’

  Walsingham.

  At the name, the pit of her stomach fell away. She’d so hoped, had believed, it would never come to this. It was all a nightmare with no possible chance to wake. Georgiana’s hands shook as she put down the telegram. ‘How can you remember so clearly what happened to your handkerchief?’ She forced her voice to stay neutral.

  He never looked at her. ‘I lent it to someone.’

  She knew then he was definitely hiding something.

  ‘Why did you visit Walsingham?’ Her throat was so constricted it was hard to speak.

  Harry’s jaw hardened. ‘I had – business there.’

  ‘What sort of business?’

  Harry shook his head as he ground the words out. ‘It’s of no consequence, but if I hadn’t gone there, I wouldn’t have been caught up in this bloody mess.’

  The suppressed rage radiating from him frightened her. Still, there was information she desperately needed.

  ‘Why are you going to New Zealand?’

  He turned back to face her, his expression inscrutable in the soft light seeping through the shutters. ‘I have to find a man.’

  Any answer but this. It was almost impossible to breathe, let alone speak, but she had to continue. ‘You said going to New Zealand could make you rich. Is it linked with finding this man?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said in a low voice, ‘if I find this man, I could be very, very rich. Rich enough to save Sally.’

  Could he see her heart beating through the thin material of the gown? Still, she had to make sure. ‘So is the man you seek in New Zealand to do with Walsingham?’

  He hesitated and ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Yes, but there’s no time to explain.’

  She made an inarticulate sound which had him immediately looking at her again and for a second the familiar Harry was back. ‘Georgie, are you all right? You’ve gone white as a sheet.’

  He took her hands which, despite the warmth of the evening, were icy. ‘Your fingers are freezing,’ he said, his voice remorseful as he rubbed them. ‘It’s all my fault, I’ve upset you.’

  Unable to bear his touch while so many thoughts were whirling in her mind, Georgiana snatched her hands away. He flinched as though she’d struck him across the face and he took a step back. ‘Oh for God’s sake, George, I would never hurt you.’

  She couldn’t bear to look at him. Yet she couldn’t afford to let him out of her sight. Couldn’t allow him go across the world without her – to Charlie.

  ‘Then take me with you.’

  ‘Impossible!’ he said. ‘Don’t you understand? This is why Sally was fired upon. Iver was a very influential man. His murderer must be brought to account. I’m a danger to everyone around me – I’ve sensed it from the moment we left England. As a consequence I’ve sent Sally to South America where she should be safe until I can sort this damnable mess out. It would be madness to take you. The journey is risky enough as it is without having to worry about looking after you. You’d just be a liability. So as I cannot take you with me, I am compelled to send you back.’

  ‘Back? Back where?’

  He would not meet her eyes. ‘Back to your aunt.’

  Her hands balled into fists. ‘But you can’t. You promised.’

  Even to her own ears, it sounded like a wail.

  Harry’s tone took on the patience of one talking to a petulant child. ‘Look, if you go back now, no one will ever know about what you did. Your aunt will be able to scotch any rumours and your reputation can be saved. You need never fear indiscretion from myself or any of my crew.’

  Furious, betrayed, fearful, she turned away to lean on the windowsill. ‘I don’t care about my reputation.’

  ‘That’s because you are a green girl.’ He sounded impatient. ‘You simply have no idea.’

  She remained obdurately silent.

  ‘Georgiana look at me.’

  When she didn’t move, a hand came onto her shoulder. It wasn’t heavy but the pressure was inexorable and slowly she turned. His eyes bore into hers and his voice was low and urgent.

  ‘There is no other option, can’t you see? You can’t travel with me and obviously you cannot go alone. You must go back. Don’t turn your back on all that your aunt can offer you. I realise it isn’t easy or enjoyable, but believe me, the alternatives are worse, infinitely worse.’ His grip on her shoulder tightened. ‘The world is very harsh, especially towards women. You can ask Consuela about that. I know. My own mother led a wretched life. I would never abandon you to such a miserable fate.’

  Then his hand dropped away and he stepped back a pace, becoming brisk and businesslike. ‘By good chance I met a captain this afternoon with an excellent reputation. He has agreed to take you back to England under his protection on the Marigold and will ensure your safe delivery to your aunt.’

  ‘No!’ Georgiana cried, but Harry did not pause. Used to being obeyed, he simply overrode her objection. ‘I’ve paid your passage and he’ll call on you tomorrow morning to finalise things. Consuela has found a couple of dresses for you so you’ll have some clothes for the voyage.’ He dug into his pocket and pulled out a wad of notes which he held out to her. ‘This is the money you earned as a ship hand. You’ll be able to buy a few things you’ll need for the trip home.’

  Georgiana made no move to take it so Harry reached for her wrist and pressed the money into her palm. Unresisting, her fingers closed around it. Everything was happening too fast. She needed to think. Some of her bewilderment and perhaps her fear must have shown on her face, for Harry’s voice softened.

  ‘I’m sorry it isn’t more. I’m sorry about this whole damnable mess.’ Then he became brisk once again. ‘But listen, Georgie, give me your brother’s details and I’ll find him for you. I’ll make sure he’s safe and well and will send word back to you, I promise.’

  He hadn’t made the link! Georgiana felt limp with relief as her brain finally began to work again. Why should he? Whatever she did now, she mustn’t arouse Harry’s suspicions. He must never suspect, not for a second, her brother’s true identity. Squaring her shoulders, she drew in a breath.

 
‘Don’t apologise, I understand. You said on the ship that I was a liability. Well, I won’t continue to be one. You have more important things to worry about. As for my brother, I have to confess he isn’t quite as ill as I’d pretended. I’d really just wanted to escape my aunt. I’ll write when I get home and arrange to travel out as you suggested, as a sister, not a boy. I see now I’ve been very foolhardy.’

  Her voice was steady but the strain of tamped down emotions could be heard in it. Suspicion and relief warred in Harry’s expression. He did not trust her sudden capitulation but she could see he wanted to. With a shaky laugh, she picked a flower out of the vase in front of her to play with so she need not meet his eyes. ‘Who knows,’ she said, ‘we may yet meet up again in New Zealand.’

  Harry took the flower out of her hand and pulled her close. Putting his fingers under her chin, his eyes searched hers. She was conscious of his height, the strength of his hold, though his hand was gentle. Warmth emanated from his body, but she could not be distracted, not even with his beautiful mouth only inches from hers. Not for anything would she give Charlie away. She looked back with deliberately wide, innocent eyes. Harry would never take advantage of a naïve girl.

  For a minute they stood thus, the tension between them unbearable. Could he feel her heart with its slow thud? He bent his head and for a wild moment she thought he might kiss her, but his lips only brushed her ear as he whispered, ‘I wish it could have been different. Take care of yourself, Georgie. And no more foolhardy schemes, promise.’

  She nodded.

  His voice was hoarse. ‘Promise!’

  ‘I promise,’ she whispered and heard him sigh.

  ‘Good girl,’ he said. His fingers slipped from her chin to touch the chain around her neck. ‘Remember, the griffin guards treasure.’ In the muted light it seemed that his smile, whilst ironic, was also tipped with tenderness.

  Then, with a light tousle of her hair, he was gone.

  She listened to his soft footsteps go down the stairs and waited for the muffled click of the front door before she slowly uncrossed her fingers – the child’s way out of a promise. It felt as though a part of her had just been ripped out. The telegram still lay on the table. Greater than her grief, however, was cold resolution. On no account could she return to England while he set sail. If he should beat her to finding Charlie …

  She shuddered and turned to the window where she leaned her forehead against the glass to look out into the swiftly gathering twilight. How long ago their meal together now seemed. Had she really thought she might confide in Harry? What a narrow escape, but now there seemed no hope of either stopping Harry or of reaching Charles. Slowly she closed her fingers over the gold griffin.

  ‘I’ve lost him, Grandmother,’ she whispered, but she wasn’t sure whether she was speaking of Charles or Harry. She began to cry in great wrenching sobs which were partly out of desolation, and partly out of fury with herself for having craved the kisses of a man who might even now be on his way to murder her brother.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The next morning Georgiana was up at sunrise, emotionally wrung out. Throughout the long hot hours of the night she had swung from despair, to fury, to grief. It was impossible to say which was strongest; her terror for Charlie, her rage at having been abandoned or her pain at losing Harry. She was also furious with herself, having sworn after Jasper never to trust a man again. She’d come close, so perilously close, to confiding in Harry. As it was, she had no one to blame but herself for her pathetically bruised and aching heart.

  By dawn, however, these violent emotions seemed to have consumed each other and she was left with nothing but a yawning emptiness where just yesterday there had been levity and hope.

  Having nothing better to do, she slipped out of the pension and walked listlessly down to the harbour. Seagulls wheeled in a grey-tinged sky, their cries shredding the air. The berth where Harry’s Australian-bound ship had been was now empty. A few new ships which must have come in during the night were anchored in the bay, and further down the wharf she could see the Marigold, a large, solid-looking ship.

  Beyond the harbour, vast oceans wrapped around the earth and at the far end of their reach lay Charlie, battling illness and ignorant of plots for his murder. She had completely failed him. There was a small hope that if she sent him a letter it might reach him in time. But would he believe it? He was far more likely to greet such notions with a shout of laughter and treat the whole story as a hoax. Indeed, even having overheard Walsingham, having read the telegram, it all still seemed fantastical.

  For the umpteenth time she did the calculations in her head. Walsingham had visited Jasper on the 7th. Iver had been murdered some time during the 8th, the day she’d spent travelling towards Scotland then doubling back. Georgiana felt pangs of guilt. She should have realised that dealing with meant killing Iver. Could she have got a message to him, saved his life? She had barely spared him a thought, being entirely focussed on Charlie … Well, it was too late now.

  Her thoughts veered horribly towards conclusions she still fought. She could no longer deny that Harry was somehow embroiled. She thought of Harry’s long fingers and imagined them closing around Iver’s neck, choking the life out of him. He undoubtedly had the physical strength, but surely he wasn’t capable of doing such a thing. He’d also denied it. But of course a murderer would never confess his crime. And what was this secret that filled him with such repugnance? Had his own actions appalled him?

  Suppose Harry were the assassin. Then clearly Walsingham had not alerted him to her disappearance. Yet, she couldn’t just tell Harry of her true identity in hopes of convincing him that there was no reason to kill Charlie because she’d never in a thousand years contemplate marrying Jasper now. An assassin surely had to kill anyone who knew his identity. But just as surely, her heart whispered, Harry could never kill her. He could never murder anyone. The fact, however, remained. The law believed he was their man and had the evidence to prove it.

  Utterly defeated, Georgiana sank down onto a bollard and buried her face in her hands. Why did everyone she love, leave her? With her parents’ death, she’d lost half her world. Then when Charlie went to New Zealand, she’d been bereft and deserted. And now Harry had abandoned her. Not that she loved him of course. But an immense loneliness, such as she’d never experienced before, now engulfed her. Never had she felt quite so abandoned and so completely without hope.

  Grandmother, what now? she thought. Where is the path I need to take?

  A shadow fell over her and a voice asked, ‘Excuse me, but are you all right?’

  Caught by surprise, Georgiana’s head jerked up as she tried to see who had spoken so solicitously. A man was standing above her with the sun behind him, and for a split second all she could see was his black silhouette. Then he dropped to his haunches so his face was level with hers.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,’ he said, ‘but when you sat down so suddenly like that, I thought you were about to faint.’

  He was a tall, strongly built man with a friendly face – square, ruddy and finely freckled. His voice carried the warm tones of the Norfolk countryside. Georgiana tried to smile. ‘Thank you for your concern, but I’m fine.’

  He smiled back at her. ‘Would you be terribly offended if I told you that you didn’t seem to be?’

  This made her laugh shakily. ‘I was just feeling a bit … helpless, that’s all.’

  ‘We all feel like that sometimes. Could I be forward and ask what the matter is?’

  Georgiana hesitated, but the need to confide in someone was too great and the man seemed genuinely concerned. ‘I was travelling to New Zealand to join my brother, but the ship I was on sailed without me.’

  ‘Oh?’ The stranger sounded surprised, but he was gentle as he continued. ‘Well now, why don’t you tell me the whole story. Maybe I can help, for
you see, I’m headed that way myself.’

  ‘Really?’ Hope flared in her voice and the stranger smiled. ‘But yesterday there were no ships going to New Zealand.’

  ‘Aye, we came in last night. It’s only the briefest of visits, for we sail again in the evening. Now, you say the ship left without you?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. I was travelling with my cousin who became sick and had to go back to England. I didn’t want to go back with her so I – I found a captain who said he would take me, but he sailed off a day early with my fare and most of my belongings.’

  It was the weakest of stories and inwardly Georgiana winced. If only she’d had some time to think up something more convincing.

  The man was appalled. ‘That’s terrible! What was the name of the ship? Have you reported it to the police here? We need to track this captain down immediately. When did he leave?’

  ‘No! I don’t want the police,’ Georgiana said hastily. ‘I don’t want to get caught up in investigations. He’s probably halfway to the Caribbean, by now. I don’t mind about my things – I still have a few clothes with me. I really just need to get to New Zealand.’

  The man regarded her for a minute and then, as though he’d made up his mind, he patted her hand. ‘Well I just may have the answer to your problem. I take it you don’t have enough money to pay another fare to New Zealand?’

  ‘I have some money, but I don’t think it is enough.’

  ‘On our ship there is a widower, a Mr Taylor, with two children. They are … a bit of a handful, shall we say, especially as Mr Taylor is inclined to seasickness. I think that he – and all the other passengers, I might add – would be grateful if they had someone to take care of them. Do you like children?’

  ‘Why yes – well, to be honest, I don’t really know. I’ve not had much to do with them, but I’m certain I could manage.’

  ‘Then I’ll go and talk to Mr Taylor and the captain right away. Will you wait here for me?’