Greville's voice called suddenly from inside the house. "Megan?"
Rollo's concentration was interrupted, and the ladder dove to the ground like an unsteady arrow, striking earth on the other side of the wall. Oliver gave a loud wail as he was catapulted through the layer of snow and ice covering some deep muddy water by one of the derelict buildings of Great Eastern Street. The water was so cold that it snatched his breath away, and all he could think of was somehow hauling himself out. For a moment he floundered about, but then his clawing hands closed upon a jagged piece of old floorboard. Panic lent him superhuman strength, and he scrambled out, then hobbled as fast as he could for his curricle. His teeth were chattering as much from terror as the cold, and his face was as white as a sheet as he climbed aboard, then drove like the wind for his lodgings.
Meanwhile Rollo had run to kneel in the snow beside Megan. "Open thy eyes, mistress! Please, I beg of thee!" he cried.
Greville appeared from the house. "Megan?" he called again, not able to see her lying by the summerhouse because some shrubs obscured the view.
Rollo stood urgently. "Make haste, master! Make haste!" he implored.
The supernatural plea was so intense that it pierced Greville's consciousness. He turned sharply, and glimpsed a fold of Megan's cloak on the snow. With a cry of dismay, he began to run toward her. He was not alone in the house, for Evangeline and Rupert had just returned as well, bringing Chloe and her father with them. They all heard Greville cry out, but Evangeline had heard Rollo's voice as well.
"Oh, my sainted lord!" she breathed, and caught up her skirts to run out into the garden, where Greville was now kneeling beside Megan. Everyone else followed her, and Chloe gave a horrified gasp as she saw Megan.
"Oh, no! Please, no!" she sobbed, and turned tearfully into Rupert's sheltering embrace.
Rollo had been hopping up and down in anguish, but rushed forward when he saw Evangeline. "Oh, lady, lady! Come quickly! Mistress Megan has been killed!"
Greville felt for Megan's pulse. "She's still alive!" he cried.
"Oh, thank God, thank God," Evangeline whispered, leaning weakly on Sir Jocelyn's arm.
Greville lifted Megan from the snow, and gazed down at her pale face for a long moment before raising her head a little so he could put his lips to hers. "Whoever did this will not get away with it, I promise you, my darling. When I have finished with him, he will wish he had never been born," he whispered, then began to carry her into the house.
Rollo was quite overcome to know Megan was alive after all. "She lives? Oh, praise be! Oh, I vow that I will be avenged upon her murderous cousin. He did it! I saw it all!"
Evangeline's lips parted. "Cousin? What do you mean, Master Witherspoon? What cousin?" she demanded as everyone followed Greville toward the house.
Rupert, Chloe, and Sir Jocelyn exchanged dismayed glances, thinking that this was definitely not the time for such things.
Rollo answered Evangeline. "Why, lady, I refer to that spawn of Beelzebub, Master March! He is Mistress Megan's cousin, the very one who threw her penniless from her home!"
Evangeline was astonished. "Mr. March is her cousin?"
Greville turned in the doorway. "Yes, he is," he said calmly, "and if he is the one who did this, I will tear out his evil heart with my bare hands." Then he looked at the other three. "Perhaps you should also know that Master Rollo Witherspoon is very much with us, and is definitely not a figment of Aunt E's imagination."
They all stared at him, Rollo included. Then the ghost murmured, "By all the saints and demons, he knows of me!"
Chapter 31
On entering his lodgings, Oliver was startled to find Ralph waiting for him. The two friends looked bemusedly at each other's appearance. Oliver was taken aback by Ralph's colorful chin, and Ralph was astonished to see Oliver's soaking, muddy clothes, grazed forehead, battered nose, bruised chin, ashen face, and limping walk. To say nothing of the way he trembled from head to toe as if he had just seen a ghost.
"Oliver, what in God's own name has happened to you?" Ralph gasped.
Oliver's man had entered the room with him, intending to divest him of his wet clothes, but now Oliver waved him away. "Give us five minutes," he said.
"Sir." The man withdrew, and closed the door.
Oliver went over to the decanter of cognac and poured himself a very large measure, which he drained in one gulp. Then he poured another, and closed his eyes as he tried to quiet the terror that still pounded through him. The cognac burned its way down his throat, and he began to master himself. He had imagined it all! Yes, of course he had. Ladders were inanimate objects! It was all the fault of Ralph's eastern tincture, a little of which he had found in his valise and had foolishly sampled before going out. What happened to Megan was the fault of the tincture as well. It certainly wasn't his fault…
"What happened?" Ralph asked again as he helped himself to the decanter.
"I might ask the same question of you," Oliver replied, and flung himself on a sofa.
"Sophia happened to me," Ralph said.
"And an overturn in the curricle happened to me," Oliver murmured. "When did you and Sophia arrive?"
"Ah, well, that's a vexing point," Ralph replied. "I'm here, but she isn't. I have decided she needs a little punishment."
"More than the mere fact of being your wife? What can she have done?" Oliver remarked dryly.
Ralph colored a little. "If you must know, it's about that business in Bath. Sophia thinks I pounced upon my dear mama's damned companion!"
"As if you would be guilty of such a heinous crime," Oliver murmured.
"I can't believe I gave her a second glance, for she is a very drab piece."
"A drab piece who just happens to be my cousin," Oliver said.
Ralph stared at him. "Your what?"
"My cousin. Oh, don't fear I will call you out on her behalf, for nothing could be farther from my mind. Indeed, I wish now that you had succeeded in having your way with her, for it is no more than she warrants. The little viper has caused me a great deal of trouble."
"I-I had no idea she was your kinswoman."
"Nor did I at first. When you originally told me about events in Bath, you didn't mention her name. I soon realized, however, when Lady Jane Strickland's former companion turned up here in Brighton, having been employed by Lady Evangeline Radcliffe, that she was in fact my cousin."
Ralph's jaw dropped. "Here in Brighton, you say?"
"I fear so, and doing very nicely, for she appears to have caught the eye of no less a fellow than Sir Greville Seton."
"Seton? But he could have his pick!"
"I know. Quaint, is it not?" Oliver murmured, and shook his glass at Ralph to refill it. "However, perhaps it would be prudent of you to keep out of his way for the foreseeable future, because one simply never knows what he might have been told."
Ralph was liberal with the cognac, and then went to the window to look out. "I intend to keep well out of everyone's way while I'm here, not just his. I wish him well of her."
"My sentiments precisely," Oliver said, swirling his cognac and thinking about Megan lying so very still in the snow. He didn't know if she was alive or dead, and now that the cognac was giving him courage, he didn't care. No one had seen him at Radcliffe House, so no one would connect him with what befell Megan Mortimer.
Ralph drew a long breath. "Anyway, I've come here secretly, in the hope that you and I could enjoy an idle Christmas together. Unless, of course, you intend to mope around after that Holcroft wench to the detriment of all else?"