Page 19 of Gentlemen of Honor (Bennet Gang Duology #2)

Traitor to the Cause

Lydia was annoyed that Elizabeth insisted on training the afternoon following the Netherfield ball. No one had slept well, Mrs. Oakwood’s caterwauling about her ‘baby’ being murdered lasting well into the wee hours of the morning before Mary slipped something into their mother’s tea, but Elizabeth insisted the whole incident merely emphasized the need for Lydia and Thomas to learn to protect themselves.

Lydia couldn’t argue with that. Even the way she’d finally won free of the masked man only emphasized Elizabeth’s stance. So Lydia went to the stable, despite how tight the bandages were on her neck and how, no matter what gown she tried, they stuck up high enough to be seen.

When she entered the cavern, after looking about to ensure no one was in sight as Elizabeth had taught her, Lydia was pleasantly surprised to find not only her and Thomas, but Jane. Her serene face was marred slightly by the dark circles under her eyes, but Jane appeared as calm and lovely as always, even though she held a rapier in one hand and a dirk in the other. Lydia entered and carefully closed the door behind her.

“There you are,” Elizabeth greeted with a smile. She wore one of the padded jackets, as did Jane, and held her own set of blades. “Jane and I thought we would demonstrate a sword fight for the two of you, to show you the skill we hope you will strive to achieve.”

“Girls don’t sword fight,” Thomas muttered.

“You have seen Elizabeth fight,” Lydia protested, joining him along the wall. “At least, you have tried to hit her with a sword and seen that you cannot. It wasn’t much of a fight.”

Elizabeth exchanged an amused look with Jane before saying rather blandly, “Perhaps we will ask Mr. Darcy or Colonel Fitzwilliam to give you a demonstration at some point, but for today, you will have to make do with us.”

Thomas’s eyes lit up at that, and he nodded vigorously. “I would like that, but I will watch you and Jane for now, even though women don’t use swords.”

Lydia raised her gaze to the uneven stone above in silent supplication.

Elizabeth and Jane moved to the center of the cavern, both taking up easy, almost lackadaisical stances.

“Would you like to count?” Elizabeth asked.

“You do the honors,” Jane replied predictably, and Lydia wondered if Elizabeth had known she would.

“Do not worry. I will take it easy on you so you are not embarrassed before our younger siblings.”

Amusement colored Jane’s expression. “Give the count, Elizabeth.”

“One…two…” Elizabeth launched forward as she said, “Three,” her burst of speed startling a yelp from Lydia.

Jane, apparently, was far more ready. She met the onslaught, countering both blades, one that seemed set on skewering her and one on slicing, and spun away.

They then launched into a battle so fierce and fast that Lydia could hardly tell what took place, other than an expert display of swordsmanship. Her sisters, who both appeared calm despite the ferocity of their attacks, seemed intent on murder, insofar as Lydia could tell. They took turns going on the offensive, moving forward and backward across the cavern. Several times, one would drop or roll or leap into the air in ways that Lydia was relatively certain were not actually possible. All she could do was stare, entranced. The one quick glance she spared Thomas showed his gaze fixed on Elizabeth and Jane, and his jaw hinged open. Thus reminded, Lydia closed her mouth.

Finally, in some mutual accord Lydia couldn’t see, the two stepped back, each crossing dirk over rapier before them, and bowed.

Lydia burst into applause. “That was amazing.”

Thomas stared at his sisters with wide eyes. “Who won?”

“Elizabeth did,” Jane said, lowering her weapons. “She always does, and she is in a particularly ferocious mood.”

“I usually do,” Elizabeth corrected. “And only when it comes to blades. Jane is a far better shot than I am.”

“You shoot?” Thomas asked Jane, clearly surprised.

“I do,” their eldest sister allowed as she crossed to the weapons rack to return the dulled blades she’d used. Lydia, who still used the ones both dulled and weighted, marked which dirk and rapier Jane preferred, in case she got the opportunity to use them.

Thomas followed Jane eagerly. “Can I learn to shoot? ”

Jane crossed to the rack of padded jackets, her lips pursed. “I am not certain. I have a great deal of planning to do for the wedding breakfast, and I promised Kitty I would help with Mama.” Jane shrugged free of the padded jacket, sorrow squeezing her features. “Mama is very upset over what happened.”

“As she should be.” Elizabeth turned to Lydia as she spoke. “We told her as little as we could. She does not know that you were harmed. Unless you feel she should know, it is probably best to keep it from her.”

“Do you have a gown that will hide the bandages?” Jane added.

Lydia shook her head as her sisters converged on her. “This one has the highest neck.”

Jane frowned. “Maybe my coral shawl? It will match most of your gowns.”

“No one wears a shawl tied around their throat,” Elizabeth countered.

“Mama won’t notice Lydia’s bandages.” Thomas said, joining them. “She never pays Lydie any attention.” He turned to Jane. “You and Mr. Bingley could take me shooting.”

Lydia glared at her brother, his words stung…and were true.

“Perhaps,” Jane said. “For now, I am off to help Kitty persuade Mama to take tea.”

“And you two will take up the weighted swords and go through your stances,” Elizabeth said in her commander-voice.

Lydia liked when her sister used that voice. It made Thomas do as he was told. It had made the staff do as they were told as well, last night. Maybe she should practice a commander-voice of her own. Or would Elizabeth teach her?

Elizabeth made them repeat all the stances she’d taught them, for defending and attacking, and then added four new ones. They executed those over and over, Elizabeth circling them and correcting their techniques. Lydia was certain she received fewer corrections than her brother, a trend which continued when they moved into defending themselves without a weapon.

Thomas finally pleaded hunger, and Elizabeth, after taking a peek through the panel in the door, declared that she would take Tuck out to stretch his legs. Lydia remained. Her arms were so worn out, she could hardly lift the weighted swords, but she retrieved one and started through the stances again. She was determined to learn. Someday, she would fight the way Elizabeth and Jane did, and if anyone grabbed her and put a knife to her throat, she would break their nose with her elbow, as Elizabeth had shown her she might be able to do, being so tall.

If only she’d been able to break Lord Franklin’s nose. That would be much more difficult for him to explain away than a bruised foot. Still, Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy had seen him limping, and knowing that he was filled Lydia with grim satisfaction. That would teach him to torment her.

Finally, her arms shaking, Lydia put up the practice sword. She’d long ago shed the padded vest, since she was alone, so all that was left to do was to extinguish what candles remained, and replace the burned down ones from the supply her sisters kept. As she did so, she wondered if candles were the sort of things for which they used their pin money. No wonder Jane never had any new ribbons. And to think, Lydia had so often wheedled her sister into spending on her. Shame washed through her.

A touch of anger, too. If they had simply included her, she would already know how to fight, and Lord Franklin wouldn’t have escaped, and she wouldn’t have pressed Jane to buy her so many baubles.

Grumpy with the thought, Lydia finished with the candles and went to the door to peer out. The stable was empty of people, and Tuck’s stall of him. Mr. Darcy’s horse was absent as well, and Lydia wondered when he’d come for it. She hadn’t heard anything from inside the cavern, but the stacked stone that made up the stable wall, coupled with the actual stone of the hillside, kept out nearly all sound. Certain now that opening the secret door was safe, she closed the spy hole and went out, leaving the extinguished lantern.

After stopping for a moment to pet Mare Marian and Robin, Lydia quit the stable, her stomach growling enough to make her hurry along the path to the house. A figure walked away from the kitchen door as she drew in sight of it, too far away for her to see his face but in familiar livery. The footman Lord Franklin had sent before with a letter for Thomas.

Lydia hurried her stride, entering the kitchen to demand, “Did that man bring a letter for my brother?”

Their cook and the kitchen maids all turned to look, and several nodded. Pointing with a wooden spoon, Cook said, “Sarah took it up to him.”

“Thank you,” Lydia replied, rushing across the kitchen. Last time, she hadn’t been quick enough to see the letter, and she’d never quite believed Thomas about what it had said. This time she took the steps two at a time, bursting free of the back stairwell to the sight of the maid, Sarah, coming down the hall.

“Thomas is in his room?” Lydia demanded as she ran down the hall with a lack of decorum that had Sarah gaping.

“The schoolroom, miss,” the maid blurted .

Lydia nodded, racing onward through the upper halls.

She burst into the schoolroom to the sight of Thomas holding a page out to the flames and cried, “Give me that.”

He turned to her, startled. His eyes narrowed as she rushed across the room. He turned back to the fireplace.

Lydia lunged, grabbing the page.

Thomas yanked. The paper tore as he pulled it away, tossing the bulk into the fireplace.

Clutching the piece she had, Lydia leaned forward, trying to read the rest before it charred into nothingness. All her eyes caught was, ‘-ave him is within your po-,’ before the words shriveled away in a blaze of blue-white heat to reveal the malevolent orange glow of the flames.

“Why did you do that?” she demanded. She smoothed the piece she’d torn free, but all it held was a salutation and, ‘Greetings, Cousin Thomas. Please accept my apology for taking the liberty of writ-.’ Lydia met Thomas’s scowl with a glare.

“That is mine.” He snatched the scrap from her hand and tossed it into the fireplace.

“Why did you burn it?” Lydia repeated. “What did it say?”

Thomas chewed on the inside of his cheek, then shrugged. “It was only taunting. About Matty.”

“Did Lord Franklin threaten you?”

“Ah, yes. That too. You are next, and all that.”

Lydia threw up her hands. “Why didn’t you keep it? That was evidence.”

Thomas’s eyes widened, as if he truly hadn’t thought of that. “Ah, I—”

“Master Thomas, Miss Lydia, excuse me.”

They turned to see a footman standing in the doorway.

“Yes, Kenneth?” Thomas asked eagerly.

He’s happy with the interruption , Lydia realized.

“There is a Master Nathan Hargreaves below, asking to speak with you, Miss Lydia.” Kenneth, several years older than Lydia, looked back and forth between them. “I do not know who to ask what to do with him. Miss Elizabeth is out riding, Miss Mary is with Master Matthew, and Miss Bennet and Miss Kitty are with Mrs. Oakwood, and we were told not to trouble her. Hector told young Master Hargreaves that the family is not at home, but he is very insistent.”

Lydia exchanged a look with Thomas, then turned back to the footman. “I will speak with him.”

“Not alone,” Thomas said quickly. “I will go with you. ”

Lydia shrugged. She had no need to speak with Nathan Hargreaves alone. She only wished she weren’t so disheveled from practicing. Not that it mattered if she looked pretty for a Hargreaves. Even the handsome one. “Put him in the front parlor.”

“Yes, miss.” Kenneth bowed and retreated down the hallway.

“What do you think he wants?” Thomas muttered.

“I will ask him, and then we will send him away,” Lydia said as she started across the room, but what she truly wondered was, if Nathan was on his way, why have a footman deliver the note to Thomas? Did that mean that Lord Franklin didn’t know his brother was here?

They went down to find Nathan standing in the middle of the small front room, watching the doorway anxiously. His shoulders dipped down away from his ears as they entered, for all the world as if he was relieved to see them, and he hurried forward to bow.

“I-that is, rumor has reached Netherfield Park that your younger brother was set upon yesterday evening?” he blurted as he rose. His gaze went to Lydia’s neck and his eyes widened. “Are you injured, Miss Lydia?”

Against her will, she touched the bandage that peeked from under her gown. “The man who broke into our home and poisoned Matthew put a knife to my throat.”

“Not that it’s any of your business, Hargreaves,” Thomas added, glaring up at Nathan.

“T-they say it was a Boney Bandit?” His voice held so much hope.

Thomas looked to Lydia.

She shook her head. “It was not a Boney Bandit, and I think you know that.”

Nathan took a step back, to sink down into a chair. “He sent a rider to Nottinghamshire,” he said, looking up at them with worried eyes. “My brother, that is. He sent a rider with all haste, and then he was late to the ball, and he arrived limping.”

Lydia shook her head, uncertain what Lord Franklin sending a rider had to do with anything, and unwilling to give a Hargreaves information.

“Lydia stomped on his foot,” Thomas said, much to her annoyance. “That is, she stomped on the man who cut her neck.” The look her little brother gave her seemed almost…proud?

Nathan scrubbed his hands over his face. “I see. So it…it was my brother. He came here, to your home, and attacked you.” The eyes he raised to Lydia were haunted.

“The man who came here was wearing a mask,” she allowed. Thomas opened his mouth but Lydia cast him a quelling look and moved to take the chair beside Nathan’s. She perched on the edge of the seat, facing him. “Do you know what he gave Matty?”

Nathan looked down, his face red.

“Please tell us.” Lydia wriggled closer, so their knees nearly touched. “He’s my baby brother.”

“I do not know ,” Nathan whispered, his gaze locked on his hands, which squeezed his knees so hard, Lydia bet there would be bruises. “Not for certain.”

“You must,” Thomas began.

Lydia glared him into silence.

Nathan had talked to her more than to any of the others, by far. And he truly had seemed apologetic that day in the garden. Maybe he didn’t want to be evil like his siblings. Maybe there was good in him.

She very much wanted there to be. He was kind and gentle and quiet, and far too nice to be evil.

“But maybe you can guess?” she suggested softly.

He looked up, his gray-green eyes meeting hers. “There is a lichen that grows in the Sherwood Forest, near our home. It only grows in wet, dark places, like the underside of logs or in old stumps. The Hargreaves have used it for…for generations. It is a poison with which few are familiar.”

Lydia sucked in a breath. “You think he sent for some?”

Nathan shook his head. “He always carries some. I think he sent for the antidote, which is made from an herb that grows in the forest as well, and has to be fresh.”

“At this time of year?” Thomas scoffed, gesturing to the window. Without, under the leaden sky, there was not a leaf in sight, the trees in the front lawn raising their stark limbs as if reaching desperately for any hint of the sun.

“The lichen will only grow in the forest, but we cultivate the herb in our orangery. The Oakwoods do as well, so Franklin has not troubled to use the poison made from the lichen in years.”

Lydia’s mind recoiled from the horror of that sentence, able to guess at how many Oakwoods and Hargreaves had died to make Lord Franklin the earl’s heir. Rather than follow that dark path, she reached for a flicker of hope. “If he sent for the antidote, he must mean to give it to Matthew.”

Nathan shook his head. “The lichen is dried and needs to be powdered and mixed into brandy or other liquid, because it is deadly to inhale. He may have sent for the antidote in case he poisoned himself while preparing the dose he gave to your brother.”

“Or he plans to give Matty the antidote, like Lydia said,” Thomas said slowly. “In exchange for…in exchange for something.”

Lydia shook her head. “For what?”

Thomas looked away, shrugging, but turned back to ask, “He didn’t give Matty that lichen stuff the first time?”

His expression wretched, Nathan shook his head again. “No. In that flask, he had a poison he purchased from a trader in London.”

Lydia gasped, Nathan’s betrayal like a slap. “Then the cognac was poisoned, and you knew it.”

“I did not know. I swear. I was trying to warn you.” Nathan sounded as desperate as he looked. “Later, I saw him clean out the flask, and I found the packet of poison in his room. I-I wanted to see what it was so I could tell you, but the label was in a language I do not know.”

“You could have brought us the packet,” Lydia said, sitting back in her chair, away from him.

Nathan grimaced and looked down again. “If I took it, he would know it was me.”

He’s terrified of his brother. Lydia wrestled with the sympathy that realization stirred.

“Is Lord Franklin sick?” Thomas asked. “Does he need the antidote? Does he have it yet?”

“He does not seem sick,” Nathan said. “Nor has the rider yet returned. It is a great distance to Nottinghamshire.”

Lydia pursed her lips. “I don’t believe you.”

Nathan turned to her. “It is. It is far to the nor—”

“No,” she cut in, angry. “I don’t believe any of this. Strange lichen from Sherwood Forest. Magical curing herbs that must be retrieved from the north. This is all to get me to tell my sister to stop looking for a way to save Matty.”

“It is all the truth.” Nathan raised his hands, palms up, pleading. “I swear, it is all true.”

Lydia glared at him. She would not believe him, because that would mean that only Lord Franklin could help Matthew, and only if his stupid herb arrived in time. It was, as Nathan said, a long way to Nottinghamshire. If he was to be believed, the man had departed days ago, but he still must make it back.

“I-I will tell you the moment Franklin’s man returns,” Nathan mumbled, once more dropping his gaze .

“What does this herb look like?” Thomas asked. He looked out the window again and said, without any real conviction, “Maybe we can find some in the woods.”

“Like this.” Nathan withdrew a much-folded page from his pocket. “I took this from my brother’s room. I do not believe he will miss it. He already knows what the herb looks like. I already searched the forest near Netherfield Park. I saw none. I do not believe it grows outside of Sherwood.”

Lydia took the page, leaning over it along with Thomas. She had never seen a plant like this.

“We should show it to Mary,” Thomas said.

Nodding, Lydia folded the page and slipped it into her skirt pocket, not caring if Nathan wanted it back. “How long?” she asked, studying him intently. “How long does our brother have to live if he doesn’t get this imaginary herb?”

“It is slow acting.” Hope touched Nathan’s voice. “Maybe ten days?”

“But he’s already sick.” Thomas looked from Lydia to Nathan. “He was only just getting better.”

Fresh anger rose in Lydia. How dare these Hargreaves come here and poison Matthew? Over some title her brothers hadn’t even known about.

She stood, startling Nathan to his feet, and snapped, “You should go.”

He raised his hands in an almost prayer-like gesture. “I want to help.”

“How? By telling us stories about packets you cannot read and herbs you do not have?”

His arms fell to his sides. “I do not know how, but I want to help. I do not want your brother to come to harm. Either of them,” he added, gesturing to Thomas.

“I am perfectly capable of avoiding harm without your help, Hargreaves,” Thomas said stoutly, the declaration only slightly dampened by the fact that he was nearly a head shorter than both Lydia and their unwanted guest.

The tumult and pain in Nathan’s eyes seemed genuine, but Lydia had recently learned how duplicitous so-called gentlemen could be. Still, grudgingly, she said, “If you want to help, be ready to help.”

“How?” Nathan asked eagerly.

“I don’t know how, but when I figure it out, you had better not disappoint me.” Lydia locked gazes with him, glaring.

“I will not,” he said stoutly. “I swear.”

“The word of a Hargreaves,” Thomas muttered.

Nathan’s shoulders sagged .

“I think you know the way out.” Lydia jabbed a finger in the direction of the doorway.

Nathan nodded, then bowed. When he straightened, he studied her face, opened his mouth, then closed it again. Finally, he moved past Thomas and left the room.

In mutual accord, Lydia and her brother went to the doorway to watch as Nathan’s outerwear was brought and he was let out. He didn’t look back at them, his shoulders hunched forward and his gaze down, but Lydia imagined he knew they were there.

Once he was gone, she said, “I will go tell Mary what he said and show her the picture.”

Thomas nodded, already crossing the room to the window. “I’m going to watch to make certain he really leaves.”

“That’s a good idea,” she said, relieved. She didn’t want Thomas to accompany her, because she also wanted to tell Mary that he’d received that letter.