Page 58 of The Knight's Pledge
“It wasna me, lass,” Tommy said sadly. “I didna start the fire that took Sir Lucan’s parents and home from him. I was, by then, a long timeat Caedmaray.”
Effie nodded, trying to block the images of the burning hold, the devastated rage of young Lucan Montague from her mind—now was not the time to dwell on her own pain from that night. “I know.”
“But you didna return to Darlyrede House,” he guessed.
“I couldn’t. I knew my…my grandparents were evil. They’d lied to me, and although I couldn’t accuse them outright, I knew they’d had a hand in the disappearances in Northumberland. And I suspected one of them had killed Cordelia. I know now that I was right.”
Harriet and Lucan reentered the hall then, each of them bearing a tray. Harriet poured the drinks. “Lucan?” the handsome old woman prompted. “Youmust tell him.”
“Darlyrede is gone, Thomas,” Lucan said, his handsome face grave. “It burned. There is nothing left. Vaughn Hargrave was killedin the blaze.”
Tommy paled beneath his perpetualtan. “Padraig?”
“Padraig is well. And he was a hero that night,” Effie said, leaning forward. “He saved many who were gathered there for a feast. Including Iris Montague, Sir Lucan’s sister. They married the day after the fire.”
“My Padraig is wed?” Tommy’s lined eyes widened. “Harriet,did you hear?”
Harriet Payne tucked her chin with a please smile. “Oh,thatisgrand.”
Effie’s father stood and held his hand toward Lucan. “We’re practically family now, you and I.”
Lucan grasped the old man’s hand with his own. “Congratulations, Thomas. You seem to be amassing quite a number of daughters-in-law of late.”
Tommy nodded vigorously and sat down with a sigh. “Glad I am of it.Hoo.” He rubbed his trembling, callused palms over his face and then dropped his hands to his knees before looking once more at Effie, and she saw that his eyes were redder than they had been. “Vaughn Hargrave is dead.”
Effie nodded. “Caris survived. And she is why I have sought you.” She paused to take a long drink of the wine Harriet had set before her. “At first we thought she, too, had perished in the blaze. But she somehow managed to escape the ruin. Once she had, she abducted my son and stole away to London to seek King Henry’s protection.”
Tommy leaned forward slightly. “Your son?My grandchild?”
Effie nodded again and gave into the small smile that pulled at her lips. “George Thomas. He is six.”
“Harriet,” Thomas said to the old woman in voice full of amazement. “George Thomas.” He looked back to Effie. “And your husband—where is he?”
Effie pressed her lips together and drew a steady breath through her nose. “George’s father and I did not marry. He has come on this journey with us, however.”
Tommy was solemn, but he only nodded.“Go on, lass.”
“Caris Hargrave admitted privately to Sir Lucan’s sister—now Padraig’s wife—that it was she who killed Cordelia, and cut me from her body,” Effie said. “But she is still publicly blaming not only you, but me and the people I have resided with for the past fifteen years, for the atrocities committed across Northumberland. She has accused us both before the king, and Henry has taken guardianship of George.”
“That mad bitch,”Tommy muttered.
Effie couldn’t go on just then. She had never imagined that speaking aloud to a veritable stranger the words that meant George’s safety would be difficult, but now it was as if each dreadful revelation leading to the next was a herculean feat. She couldn’t help but look toward the tall man in black to have mercy on her.
He did not fail her. “The king still wants you, Thomas,” Lucan said. “And he plans to place Effie on trial as well before he decides what is to be done withyour grandson.”
“Holding him against our return, is he?” Tommy saidin a low voice.
Effie nodded and opened her mouth to explain, but Thomas gaveher no chance.
“I’ll go,” he said.
“Tommy, nay!”Harriet gasped.
“Aye. I will,” he insisted. “I’ll nae have Caris Hargrave within arm’s reach of my blood and kin. Had I known that Effie…all those years.” He paused a moment as if to collect himself. “I’d have pulled down Darlyrede with me bare hands. So I’ll nae stand by now and allow it,” he insisted, shaking his head and muttering a dark stream of Gaelic.
“Oh, my God, my God,” Harriet moaned into her hands and then slapped her palm on the trestle table, her face flying around to regard Lucan. “You promised, Lucan! You promised me!They’ll hang him!”
“Mistress Payne,” Effie interjected, half rising and placing a hand on the old woman’s forearm. “Do not lose hope.” The woman whipped her head around to Effie, but rather than retreat, Effie took hold of Harriet’s hand in both her own. “That satchel, just there on Lucan’s hip—it’s full of evidence, Harriet. Six months of evidence Iris Montague compiled while posing as Caris Hargrave’s personal maid. It will damn half the nobility in Northumberland for the atrocities they’ve committed.”
