Page 52 of A Lady's Wicked Revenge
Still, Sir James refused to speak. Even as eight eyes stared at him, begging for some measure of explanation, anything that would temper their wrath with mercy, he simply gazed at the black iron face of his desk safe. Colin shook his head, unsure if he was angrier at his stepfather or at himself for looking up to the man for so many years.
“Oh, James!” Priscilla wailed, drawing Colin’s eyes back to her. She covered her face with both hands even as she erupted into a second flood of tears. “Why? In God’s name, why did you do it?”
Then the door was kicked open by a squad of armed soldiers, and the room was plunged into chaos once more. If Priscilla’s question truly had an answer, it went unheard in the commotion of barked orders and chains that heralded the end of Sir James Leeson.
* * *
Had he been a man who was concerned with such things, it might have struck Jerome Arnold as bitterly ironic, the way the presumably final annual Leeson autumn ball came to a close. Though Sir James’ retainers put in a most valiant effort to keep the entry of the soldiers a secret from the partygoers, there was no stopping a crowd of curious onlookers from gathering as Sir James was led out of his own house in irons, followed by the shabby form of that accomplice of his named Bertrand.
He did always seem to be so concerned with winning everyone’s attention. Now I suppose he has it,thought Jerome with a cold smirk. He started, taken aback by his own thoughts; apparently, he did possess some appreciation for this situation after all, even if it gave him no joy to witness.
After all …He swallowed, stricken by a horrible question that seemed to have no ready answer.What will happen to Diana now? She is still unmarried, and with her guardian indisposed, action will need to be taken to secure her safety.
The question hung over Jerome like a pall even as he attempted to help Sir James’ staff clear the house of any remaining visitors. This was no easy labour, as everyone he encountered wanted nothing more than to extract information about this latest scandal. By the time the Leeson house was quiet once more, Jerome saw from the wall clock that it was already a quarter past midnight. He yawned, struggling to ignore the growling of his empty stomach and the creaking of his weary bones, and was just beginning to wonder how he might get home when he saw his wife standing patiently by the entryway wall.
“Victoria? I thought you’d gone home long—” Jerome was stopped mid-sentence by another colossal yawn.
His wife approached him and affectionately put a hand on Jerome’s thin cheek. “You always were a fool like that, Jerome.” She took his arm and began to walk him towards the door. “Wesley has had the carriage ready for us for some hours now. Let’s get home before the horses fall asleep as well, shall we?”
Jerome smiled and trudged down the carpet with his wife. Their sombre exit was paused when the pair ran into a lone figure standing in a regal posture in front of the door.
“Mister Arnold. Missus Arnold,” said Priscilla Leeson in a quiet voice. Still dressed in a matronly yet elegant gown of midnight blue, it looked to Jerome Arnold as though she were already dressed for mourning. “There is something I want to ask you. You and your good wife both if you do not need to return home immediately.”
Jerome looked to his wife, who was already nodding her assent. The trio made their way to a small salon on the ground floor, and after a brief and anxious scramble to have the room illuminated so they were not sitting in the dark of midnight, they were seated around a low table as quietly and calmly as if it were any normal evening.
For a long while, the three simply sat there while Priscilla Leeson collected her thoughts. She opened her mouth to speak several times, then closed it without a word. After a minute or two of staring out the darkened window and dabbing away tears with a blue handkerchief, Priscilla finally choked out, “I feel so awful for Diana.”
“As do we,” Victoria said, nodding sombrely. “I would ask if there were anything we could do to help … but I suspect that’s why you’ve invited us to speak at this late hour.” Jerome gave his wife an appreciative look; she had always impressed him with her keen mind.
Priscilla nodded, struggling to look the Arnolds in the eyes through her tears. “My husband … good God, I don’t know what will become of him. Of any of us. But I do know that he is as resourceful as he is clever. Even with your testimony against him, Mister Arnold, and with whatever evidence Diana and Colin managed to collect, it’s entirely possible that he may be released to return home at any time.”
“I would not be so certain of that,” Jerome said hoarsely. “Whatever the difficulties facing the crown nowadays, murder is still treated as a most grave affair, even for the wealthy.”
Priscilla shook her head slowly as though with great difficulty. “And my husband has many friends, Mister Arnold. Some of them may even be able to intervene on his behalf. And if he is allowed to return here, even for a brief time, and Diana remains under our roof …”
The implication sent a shiver down the collective spines of the room’s occupants.
“Clearly a situation to be avoided at all costs,” Victoria stated. The other two nodded hurriedly at this pronouncement. “What would you have of us, then?”
Priscilla took in a sharp breath, her face a mask of concern. “Mister Arnold, I am asking you to take over as Diana Hann’s guardian.”
The woman then carried on pleading her case, explaining that she understood there would be some legalities to settle, that she did not wish to burden the Arnolds, and so on. But from the moment this first sentence was uttered, Jerome knew that he wished to accept, and from the subtle squeeze of his hand he received from Victoria at his side, he understood she felt the same way.
All the same, Jerome thought over the matter … though even the act of thinking was difficult at this late hour, after all the evening had brought them. The woman made a compelling point, to be sure, and he and Victoria had often discussed how they wished they could be in the position of watching over Diana since her parents’ tragic accident. But as he looked at Victoria to voice his agreement to this proposition, the sight of the woman he loved brought a sudden thought to his mind.
“Missus Leeson,” said Jerome wearily, taking off his spectacles and cleaning them anxiously with his handkerchief. “I cannot find any flaw in your proposition … save one. If we are to take Diana home with us immediately, this very night, and keep her away from this place and your family for a time as you suggest …”
“What possible objection could you have to such a proposition?” asked Victoria impatiently.
Jerome replaced the spectacles on his nose and gave Priscilla Leeson a sympathetic look. “Madam, are you aware that Diana is in love with your son?”
Victoria snorted at this characterisation, but Priscilla merely nodded sadly. “And Colin is in love with her. Yes, I have known for some time. I fear I don’t know what is to be done about that, and I fear it will pain them both terribly to be separated, especially when they are both likely to need a sympathetic ear. Or hand. But I confess, I do not know what other course of action we have.”
“Nonsense,” Victoria put in brusquely. “Colin will stay with us as well, then. After all they’ve been through, they can stay in the same bloody room for all I care.”
He shook his head. “While that might be what they would choose for themselves, my dear, it would be no kindness to either of them. Certainly not to Diana.”
Jerome patted his wife’s hand, though he knew she would pull away from the patronising gesture. He smiled sadly as he was proven right, then continued, “The poor girl has already been the talk of London in all the worst ways. Lord knows what the newspapers will make of all this business. If it becomes known that she is sharing lodgings with a bachelor, even chaperoned by a pair of mouldering old creatures such as we, her reputation may never recover.”
