Chapter 18
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Cedric excused himself and returned to Ballyclose. At Sir Jasper's urging, Lucifer stayed to dine at the Grange.
The meal was a family affair. All present were subdued, reflecting on Phyllida's near escape. Even Lady Huddlesford spoke rarely, and then in a quiet tone quite different from her usual imperiousness. The only moment of interest arose when Percy declared he'd decided to leave the next day for "the congenial company of some friends in Yorkshire." The announcement was met with blank silence, then everyone returned to his meal.
When the ladies retreated to the drawing room and the port was set upon the table, Percy excused himself and retired to pack.
Frederick moved to a chair next to Jonas. "I say, terrible business. Is there anything I can do?"
The question-surely the first intimation that Frederick thought of anything beyond himself-arrested the three other men. Then Sir Jasper harrumphed, but kindly. "Nothing I can think of, m'boy. Nothing to be done-nothing we can do at present."
Lucifer wasn't so sure. His gaze on Jonas, he spoke to Sir Jasper. "I wonder, sir, if I might have a private word."
Jonas rose. "Come on, Frederick. Let's go pot some balls."
Frederick murmured his farewells and followed Jonas out of the room.
His face tight with worry, Sir Jasper turned to Lucifer. "Thought of something, have you?"
"In a way, yes. Lady Huddlesford mentioned earlier that you were expecting guests tomorrow."
Sir Jasper looked blank, then consternation filled his face. "Damn! Forgot. My sister, Eliza, her husband, and their brood arrive tomorrow. They come for a few weeks every summer." He looked at Lucifer. "Six children."
"Although I'm sure she'll declare otherwise, I doubt Phyllida is up to coping with such an invasion at present."
"Indeed, not-the four girls are a handful. Drive us insane. They tend to cling to Phyllida."
"Not this time."
"No. You're right. Although how to keep them from bothering her…" Sir Jasper shook his head. "I won't hide it from you, m'boy-I'm deuced worried about Phyllida."
"As am I. Which is why I'd like to suggest that Phyllida stay as a guest at the Manor for as long as this murderer is on the loose, for as long as we have reason to think her in danger. I realize the suggestion is somewhat unusual, but I've already made plain my intentions toward her and they haven't changed. For her part, Phyllida is aware of them."
"She hasn't refused?"
"No, but she has yet to agree." Lucifer sat back. "However, in this, I'm thinking primarily of her safety. After the incident of our nighttime intruder, I ordered locks for all the doors and windows at the Manor. They've arrived-Thompson started installing them yesterday. He's completing the task as we speak. Once that's done, the Manor will be thoroughly secure. The Grange is not." He shrugged. "Most country houses aren't."
"True. So little need, generally speaking."
"Exactly, but this isn't a usual case. There's also the fact that my staff have no other guest to deal with, so they'll be on hand to ensure Phyllida is cared for and protected at all times. Of course, I would imagine Miss Sweet would accompany Phyllida; thus, the proprieties will be observed."
Sir Jasper humphed. "Very neat. For myself, given the seriousness of the situation, I'm grateful for the suggestion and to hell with the proprieties. But the ladies set such store by 'em, best to do what we can to preserve them."
"My thoughts exactly."
Sir Jasper looked at Lucifer, then nodded. "As I said before, whatever permission you need, consider it given." He paused, then asked, "Do you think she'll agree?"
Lucifer's expression remained impassive. "You may leave that to me."
"Where are you taking me?" Phyllida looked up, into Lucifer's face, and waited for an answer. With her cradled in his arms, he was striding through the shrubbery. They'd set out for a moonlit stroll around the back lawn, but then he'd scooped her up into his arms and turned between the hedges.
Her throat was still sore; despite having slept for half the day, she was tiring. She'd only just remembered to give orders for rooms for her aunt and family to be prepared for their arrival tomorrow. While she'd been talking to Gladys, Lucifer had chatted to Sweetie, then strolled up and inveigled her into believing that a turn about the gardens in the cool of the night would help her still difficult breathing.
An image of Sweetie's face as, parting from Lucifer, she'd turned to go upstairs suddenly glowed in Phyllida's mind. She tightened her arms about Lucifer's neck. The end of the shrubbery was approaching. "Stop."
He didn't. He kept straight on through the gap in the hedges and onto the path through the wood.
Phyllida inwardly sighed. She relaxed her arms. "You're taking me to the Manor. Why?"
For a moment, he didn't say anything; then he stopped in a spot where the moonlight beamed down. He could see her face bathed in silver; she could barely see his as he looked down at her.
"You're going to let me take care of you."
She wasn't sure there was a question involved. She tried to think what her answer should be. She was the one who cared for everyone else-she couldn't remember the last time someone had set themselves to care for her.
He shifted her weight in his arms, gathering her closer, tightening his hold-not enough to make her feel trapped, just enough to make her feel totally secure. Totally safe.
"You have to let me protect you."
Those words were softer, more like a plea.
She tried to read his eyes, but couldn't. There was, however, no one more capable of protecting her than he.
And she knew she needed protection.
She'd wondered how she was going to fall asleep, tired though she was. The fear and panic that had swamped her in the cottage hovered, a shadow at the edge of her mind. She would sleep much better knowing he was near.
Besides, if she wanted a marriage of sharing, of give and take, then perhaps this was one of those times she should give… and take. "Very well." An instant later, she added, "If you wish to."
His soft snort suggested, strongly, that her qualification was absurd. He started forward again.
"Sweetie's packing your things. She'll stay, too, so there'll be no scandal. She'll drive around in the carriage. We'll be safe through the wood-no one could know we'd be out here."
Phyllida considered that. "Our man-the murderer-has been like that, hasn't he? All his attacks have been carefully planned. Even that time at Ballyclose, it was almost as if he'd been watching. It was all too neat."
Lucifer nodded. "He knew we were looking for brown hats and that Cedric had a shelfful, and that you'd know Cedric wore brown hats. Everyone knew we'd both be at Ballyclose that night."
"That suggests the murderer knows the Ballyclose household well. He knew where Cedric kept his hats."
"True, but you mentioned that Sir Bentley was ill for some time. I take it he held court in his bedroom and that many of the local gentry attended."
Phyllida grimaced. "Yes, but the murderer also knew of Molly. He knew she existed and that I knew her, too."
Lucifer frowned. "You're right."
Some minutes later, he stepped out from the trees. Ahead, the Manor stood pale and solid, a modern castle. Welcoming lights shone from the kitchen; one hung over the back door, which swung open as they neared. Mrs. Hemmings looked out and beamed.
"Welcome, Miss Phyllida, and right glad we be to see you safe and sound." She stood back and let Lucifer past, then followed hard on his heels. "Now, you just let the master carry you on up to the old master's bedroom-it's the biggest and I've done my best to make it seem homey. The bed's nice and big. All you need do is lie back and let us all take care of you."
The eager anticipation in Mrs. Hemmings's voice was impossible to mistake. As Lucifer started up the stairs, Phyllida looked into his impassive countenance-and wondered just what she'd agreed to.