“The earl of Lancaster was Thomas’s father, wasn’t he?”
Lord Kipper shrugged, eyes dead again. “I know that Madeleine played him false one time. Was he Thomas’s father or was his father Madeleine’s lover? I don’t know. I don’t really care. Yes, William will learn everything from me, his real father. He is still very young. He will not disappoint me.”
Meggie said, “If he doesn’t learn, will you kill him, too?”
“Shut up, you stupid girl. You paint me as a monster, but I’m not. I want my son to have what should be his. I’ve been planning this for a very long time. Once he is the earl of Lancaster, I will marry Libby and adopt William, so that when I die, he will also gain my title and lands. No one will ever know that he is a bastard. It will be our little family secret.”
“Is William, I wonder, bereft of any sort of human decency, like you, his father?”
He stepped toward her, his fist raised, then stopped. He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter what you think, what you say. I merely do what I must, no more, no less. Actually, as it turned out, it wasn’t such a bad thing that Thomas met you and fell in love with you—ah, that’s a stupidity, isn’t it? This love business that doesn’t exist in this benighted world. But that’s not at all to the point. You brought him a splendid dowry—that is what’s important—and that will mean all the more money for William and his heirs.”
“I will wager you that right this minute Thomas knows you are the evil behind all this. He is right now searching for you.”
“No, you’re wrong, not yet, not yet. But it will be close. I will mourn your loss, Meggie, you may count on that. Yes, I must move quickly now. I’m sorry for your death, but in the long run you’re not really important.” He saw that she was shaking her head at him, that she was so pale, she already looked dead. Such a pity, but no choice. “Listen to me,” he said. “I could not allow you to have a child, and the good Lord knows that would certainly be the outcome since the two of you are consumed with lust for each other. And imagine, you a vicar’s daughter. Yes, you having a child, that would have complicated matters far too much. You must die now, Meggie, common Jenny with you.
“Thomas, well, I suppose I myself must see to his removal since Bernard doesn’t have the guts to. Perhaps I will let him go easily, an accident in his curricle, perhaps. That will do nicely. Yes, Bernard is a coward, when all is said and done.”
Talk, she had to keep talking, slow down time itself. “What really happened to Marie?”
“Ah, I forgot that you and Thomas were both there, witnesses to our little drama. It was I who had to string Marie up by her neck after that fool Bernard had killed her when she dished out too many insults on his head—not that he didn’t deserve all her rage—the lazy sod. No, he strangled her, then didn’t have the guts to hang her up. He cried and carried on the whole time. Then when I saw the carriage stop outside the inn, I hit him on the head and left him on the kitchen floor for you to find. Imagine, it was Thomas and his new bride who walked in the inn. I have smiled a bit over that.”
“You decided to blame it on the Grakers.”
“That is what Bernard wanted to do. I told him no one could be so stupid as to believe any of that nonsense, but he insisted, said the legends claimed the Grakers hanged their enemies. The next day he was evidently consumed by guilt and got himself blithering drunk, and spewed it all out, luckily only to that wretched stable boy, and he knew he had to escape, and so he did. He came here. I will remove Bernard when all this is done and over.”
“What happened to the stable lad?”
Lord Kipper shrugged. “Bernard strangled him and buried him behind the stable, at least that is what he told me. Now, enough, Meggie. It’s time for you to say farewell to this life. Your father is a vicar, a man of God. I assume he raised you in his beliefs. Do you believe in God, Meggie? Do you believe in a splendid afterlife for all those who are worthy?”