He was a gentleman, therefore he could not work, but as a landowner he had no enterprise. Elizabeth, his Lettie, had that, clearly. Why not apply yourself to rescuing the family fortunes by some honest means, you foolish woman? Guin thought, accepting a biscuit from the plate Theo offered and nodding earnestly at the tale of how young Master Charles Quenten had mastered his latest Latin text.
‘His tutor must be an excellent instructor,’ she remarked.
‘He studies with the Vicar,’ Mr Quenten said. His wife cleared her throat. ‘A notable scholar in his time,’ he added hastily.
Beside Lord Huntingford sat the latest arrival, Sir Andrew Hewson. He had be
en introduced as an old friend of the Earl’s, travelling from Nottinghamshire to some business in Newcastle and breaking his journey for a few days. They were, Guin thought, most convincing with their occasional mentions of student life at Oxford and mutual acquaintances.
Sir Andrew seemed a trifle vague in manner, but the sleepy grey eyes showed some amusement when they settled on Theo and Guin found them uncomfortably assessing when she met his gaze for a few moment.
They had got through dinner the night before, and the day so far before the arrival of the Quentens, and then Sir Andrew, by the simple expedient of rigorously formal good manners with the widowed Lady Ravenlaw. No-one made any attempt to overcome Bella’s antipathy and now Guin watched for signs that she knew what was in her friend’s mind. There seemed nothing, no covert exchange of glances, no attempts to go off and talk more privately.
‘I understand that condolences are owing to both you ladies,’ Sir Andrew said suddenly. ‘I had heard, of course, of my friend’s tragic loss.’ He inclined his head towards Bella’s elegant black draperies. ‘But I understand from the newspapers that you too are recently bereaved, Lady Northam.’
Guin, who was wearing deep blue lustring with blonde lace and paler blue ribbons, guessed that this lack of tact was all part of the plan. Jared had been sparing with detail. ‘My late husband disliked ladies wearing mourning. I choose to follow his wishes.’
‘Lady Northam was hardly out of mourning for her first husband when she married Northam,’ Lord Huntingford remarked.
‘Lady Northam has been most unfortunate,’ Bella remarked. ‘I do feel for her.’
But what is it that you feel? Guin wondered, inclining her head in acknowledgment. ‘As we are amongst friends,’ she said with a complete disregard for the reality, ‘I can admit that my first marriage was a disaster from start to finish. I allowed myself to be seduced away from home by a scoundrel, made a Scottish marriage and then lost him to an accident.’
‘Dashed bad show,’ the Earl said, taking a large bite from a macaron. ‘But all for the best, eh? If he was such a shady cove, that is.’
‘Absolutely,’ Theo said, cheerfully heaping coals on the blaze. ‘The man sounds a complete wastrel, one of those charming types who prey on innocent young ladies. But if it hadn’t been for him then I would never have acquired such a delightful aunt, would I?’
Guin saw Jared shift in his chair as though to adjust the cushion at his back. He was looking at Mrs Quenten, she realised, and risked a glace in that direction.
Her former sister-in-law sat perfectly still, the picture of rather stolid respectability pretending to ignore the somewhat tactless comments of the gentlemen. Her eyes were blank, expressionless, and fixed on Guin.
Guin put down her cup and saucer before the instinctive recoil sent tea everywhere. That had not even been hate in those blue depths, only a nothingness, a horror of emptiness. Augustus had told her that he had once been on a ship when the sailors had caught a shark and hauled it up onto deck still alive. He had said its eyes had held nothing but the utter blankness of something devoid of conscience, devoid of anything but the instinct to kill. It had given him nightmares for a long time, he had said with a shudder.
This woman, so close she could touch her, had willed Augustus’s death, had harassed and frightened Guin, had schemed to see Theo hang for her crimes.
Chapter Twenty Four
‘Excuse me,’ Guin said to Theo who was sitting next to her. ‘I have a slight headache. I must step outside for some fresh air, I think.’ She gestured to the gentlemen to resume their seats and stopped beside Bella’s chair. ‘Would you be so kind as to show me how to get out onto the terrace, Lady Ravenlaw? Perhaps we could stroll for a few minutes.’
‘Of course.’ Bella stood and went to the door. ‘We can go out this way.’
They paced along the terrace side by side for a while, then Guin said, ‘Is Mrs Quenten quite well, do you think? She seems strangely subdued to me.’
‘She lost her brother some time ago. It affected her deeply.’ Bella did not look at Guin.
‘How sad.’
‘I think you would describe him as somewhat of a loose screw,’ Bella added drily. ‘I never met him.’
They reached the edge of the terrace and turned. ‘But they lost their parents young and Lettie was more a mother to him than anything and she doted on him,’ Bella continued. The amusement had gone now. ‘She is a fiercely loyal woman. Her brother, her sons – I think she would do anything for them.’
Does she suspect? Is she afraid that her friend has stepped over the boundary into obsession and murder? ‘That can be admirable, if not carried to extremes.’
‘Yes.’ They walked on a few more steps. ‘It is very lonely here,’ Bella said abruptly. ‘Sometimes it gives me the shivers. One makes friends where one can.’
‘Allerton Grange belongs to Theo now. I have to admit to being quite pleased that I can retreat to London and leave it to him to decide whether to come up here in the winter.’
‘They say… Forgive me, but the rumours… They say he – ’