Margery, erstwhile Duchess of Gwyndonmere, rode like a mad woman. She took the twists and turns of the mountain trail past the old willow at a pace that would have challenged her horse on the flat, trying to keep up with Warner’s bay.
The bay was longer legged, and it was used to bolting out of places at a dead run. This was not the first time its owner had needed to flee the premises.
Margery slashed at the mare she rode with her riding crop, urging the little horse to greater speeds. When she leaped over a gate at a pace that allowed the animal no time to recover, she held the two of them together for both the jump and the landing with skill that came only from hours and years of practice.
The mare staggered a little. She was not a hunter, just a lady’s hack. But she collected herself and kept on running. Warner had already disappeared around the bend. Sounds of his running horse encouraged Margery to greater efforts.
As she rounded the bend, a figure wearing a mask stepped from the bushes, startling the already panicked horse. She shied, stepped on a rolling rock, and fell heavily. Margery fell with her, foot trapped in the stirrup of the sidesaddle. When the mare came down, Margery’s legs and hips were pinned awkwardly beneath her.
“Margery! Margery, love,” the masked man cried out, kneeling beside her.
“Roddy,” she said dazedly, “Why are we running away? You said if I let you make me pregnant that I could make people think it was the Duke’s. It would look enough like him since you are brothers.”
“I’m sorry, Margey. It all came apart. Something has gone awfully wrong. The Revolutionaries, the coin press, and all the plant stuff is gone. There’s just you and me left, and there won’t even be that if we can’t get away.”
“So I let you make me pregnant for nothing? So now I will die in childbirth, just like my mother did. Just for a whim, a plan that went wrong.
“Oh, Margery, no you wouldn’t die. Not with the first one. You would be fine. Anyway, I did it so you could inherit. Don’t you see, Margery, it’s really all mine. I’m the late Duke’s first-born son, I! But because my mother wasn’t a prissy peer, I was nothing in his eyes.”
“I know that, Roddy. But I tried. Your mother tried. But my father would have none of it. He said ‘wrong side of the blanket’ and some other uncomplimentary things. He insisted that I marry the ‘right brother’. He didn’t care whether I loved him or not.”
The masked man laughed, a harsh sound with a sob behind it. “The right brother. He could never have loved you as I do. He would never have understood. Oh, my sweet, my little flower, I never meant for any harm to come to you. But it has all gone wrong, and I’m not sure why.”
“Oh, Roddy. How could you make such a mess? I will be punished for making vows I had no right to make. And you are in even greater danger. You will be tried as a murderer, and so will your mother.”
“My mother. That old hag has been taking care of unwanted babies for years now. But that Sally Ann would have none of it, and look where she is now! Oh, love, I was that close to securing the castle and this valley for the two of us.”
“And that,” said Inspector John Ravensgard, coming around the corner of the trail, and sliding from the back of his horse, “is just about as close to a confession as ever I’ve heard.”
“Who are you? Where did you come from? I . . . I did nothing. I’m just soothing her, she is frightened.”
“Well, I’d be frightened, too, if I were trapped under a horse being hovered over by a madman.”
The tall young man who had been following the Inspector slipped up behind the masked man, seized him, and secured his wrists behind him with rawhide thongs.
“Now, then,” said the Inspector, “let’s see who you really are.” And he removed the mask assembly. “Roderick Warner, the Duke’s valet. Naughty Roddy, the ventriloquist, opium peddler, pickpocket, and thief. Likewise, illegitimate brother to Jonathan Harper, and husband to the presumed Duchess. Posing as a valet to the Duke. Who better to poison a man of rank than one who should have been his most trusted companion?”
“Is that how you would have secured the castle and valley to us, Roddy? By poisoning Jonathan? Roddy, that’s awful.” Margery struggled to sit up. “My legs! I can’t feel my legs!”
“I’m sorry to tell you, Your Grace, but when your horse fell, she crushed something. Best you should lie still until we can get someone here to tend you.”
Margery began to cry. Softly at first, then harder and harder. “All I ever wanted,” she sobbed, “was to have fun. To go to parties, to give parties. Being a Duchess wasn’t really any fun at all. I don’t want to go to gaol.”
The Inspector sighed. “Well, we shall see what happens,” he said. “It is certain you are not going very far, for I suspect the horse crushed your pelvis.”
The stableman who had been following them all at a more discreet pace now caught up with them. He dismounted and quickly went to the horse. After examining all four legs, he said, “Only strained, I think. If some of you fellas can help me, let’s see if we can get her up and off the Duchess.”
With the help of two of the constables, he was able to ease the mare up onto her belly, then onto her knees with her hind quarters supporting her, and finally into a standing position. Blood ran from beneath the Duchess, and Warner cried out at the sight. Her skirts billowed out around her making it impossible to discern the extent of her injuries.
“Leave the mare, and ride for help,” the Inspector directed. “We will wait here with the Duchess.”
The stableman, who had blanched at the sight of human blood, gulped once, then followed the Inspector’s directions. Roderick Warner stood quietly beside the constable, his face blank.
The wait was long. The inspector knelt on one knee beside the Duchess, who was quietly sobbing, until she, too, fell silent. Shadows thrown by the afternoon sunlight grew long.
Suddenly, the constable gave a shout as Warner threw the rawhide thongs from him and took off running into the trees.
The Duchess smiled. “That’s my Roddy, always looking out for himself. Run, Roddy, run!” Then she closed her eyes and lapsed into unconsciousness.
