"So now ye know," Bess said, breaking the silence after a moment.

"That she came to see you because she wanted you to rid her of the babe she was carrying? Yes, I know. But the journal ends with that entry. The pages are all blank after that point. What happened that night, Bess?"

Bess closed her eyes and turned her face up to the sun. "What happened was that I killed her, God save me."

Sophy nearly dropped a handful of dried melilot flowers. She stared at Bess in shock. "Nonsense. I do not believe that. What are you saying?"

Bess did not open her eyes. "I did not give her what she wanted that night. I lied and told her I did not have the herbs that would rid her o' the babe. But the truth was, I was afraid to give her the kind of help she demanded. I couldn't trust her."

Sophy nodded in sudden understanding. "Your instincts were wise, Bess. She would have had a hold over you, if you had done what she asked. She was the kind of person who might have used the information to threaten you later. You would have been at her mercy. She would have come to you again and again, not only to rid her of future unwanted babes but to supply her with the special herbs she used to stimulate her senses."

"Ye know about her usin' the herbs for that reason?"

"She frequently wrote in her journal after having eaten opium. The entries are a wild jumble of meaningless words and flights of fancy. Perhaps it was her misuse of the poppy that made her act so strangely."

"No," Bess said quietly. "Twas not the work of the poppy. The poor soul had a sickness of the mind and spirit that could not be cured. I expect she used the syrup of the poppy and other herbs to give herself some relief from the endless torment. I tried to tell her once that the poppy was very useful for physical pain but not for the kind of pain she suffered, the kind that comes from the spirit. But she wouldn't listen."

"Why do you say you killed her, Bess?"

"I told ye I sent her away that night without givin' her what she wanted. She went straight to the pond and drowned herself, poor creature."

Sophy considered that. "I doubt it," she finally said. "She had a sickness of the spirit, I'll grant you that, but she had been in her particular condition on at least one previous occasion and she knew how to obtain the remedy she sought. After you turned her down, she would have simply gone to another who would have helped her, even if she'd been forced to return to London."

Bess squinted at her. "She got rid of another babe?"

"Yes." Sophy touched her own stomach in an unconscious gesture of protectiveness. "She was breeding when she returned from her honeymoon with the Earl. She found someone in London who made her bleed until she lost the babe."

"I'll wager 'twas not Ravenwood's babe she was tryin' to shed the night she drowned," Bess said with a frown.

"No. It was one of her lovers." But Elizabeth had not named him, Sophy recalled. She shivered a little as she finished tying up the last of her selections. "It grows late, Bess, and if I am not deceived, a bit cool. I had best be on my way back to the Abbey."

"Ye have all the herbs and flowers yell be needin' for a while?"

Sophy stuffed the small packets into the pockets of her riding habit. "Yes, I think so. Next spring I believe I will put in an herb garden of my own at the Abbey. You must give me some advice when that time comes, Bess."

Bess did not move from her bench but her aged eyes were keen. "Aye, I'll help ye if I'm still around. If not ye already know more'n enough to plant yer own garden. But somethin' tells me ye'll be busy with more that gardenin' come next spring."

"I should have known you would guess."

"That ye're breedin? Tis obvious enough for them that has eyes to see. Ravenwood sent ye back to the country for the sake of the babe, didn't he?"

"Partly." Sophy smiled wryly. "But mostly, I fear, he has banished me to the country because I've been a great nuisance to him in town."

Bess frowned anxiously. "What's this? Ye have been a good wife to him, haven't ye, gal?"

"Certainly. I am the best of wives. Ravenwood is enormously fortunate to have me but I am not always sure he realizes the extent of his good luck." Sophy picked up her horse's reins.

"Bah. Ye be teasin' me again. Go on with ye now, afore the air gives ye a chill. Be sure to eat hearty. Yell be needin' yer strength."

"Do not concern yourself, Bess," Sophy said as she swung up into the saddle. "My appetite is as large and as unladylike as it ever was."

She adjusted the folds of her skirt, making certain the small packets of herbs were safely stowed and then she gave her mare the signal to move off.

Behind her Bess sat on the bench, watching horse and rider until both disappeared into the trees.

The mare needed little guidance to find the shortcut back to the main house. Sophy let the animal pick her way through the woods while her own thoughts strayed once more to the reading she had done during the night.

The tale of her predecessor's downward spiral into something very close to madness had not been particularly edifying but it had certainly made compelling reading.

Sophy glanced up and saw the fateful pond as it came into sight through a stand of trees. On a whim, she halted the mare. The animal snuffled and began searching about for something to nibble while Sophy sat still and studied the scene.

As she had told Bess, she did not believe Elizabeth had taken her own life and the journal had revealed the rather interesting fact that the first Countess of Ravenwood knew how to swim. Of course, if a woman fell into a deep body of water wearing a heavy riding habit or similar attire, she might very well drown regardless of her skill in water. The enormous weight of so much water-logged fabric would be hard to handle. It could easily drag a victim under the surface.

"What am I doing pondering Elizabeth's death?" Sophy asked the mare. "It's not as if I am bored or without enough to do already at the Abbey. This is foolishness, as Julian would no doubt be the first to tell me, were he here."

The horse ignored her in favor of munching a mouthful of tall grasses. Sophy hesitated a moment longer and then slipped down out of the saddle. Reins in hand, she went to stand at the edge of the pond. There was a mystery here and she had an intuitive feeling now that it was not unrelated to the mystery of her sister's death.

Behind her the mare nickered a faint welcome to another horse. Surprised that anyone else should be riding along this portion of the Ravenwood lands, Sophy started to turn around.

She did not move quickly enough. The horse's rider had already dismounted and moved in too close. Sophy had a brief glimpse of a man in a black mask carrying a huge, black, billowing cloak. She started to scream but the folds of the cloak swept out to engulf her and then she was imprisoned in a muffling darkness.

She lost her grip on the reins, heard the mare's startled snort and then the sound of the creature's hooves striking the ground. Sophy's captor swore viciously as the horse's hoof beats faded into the distance.

Sophy struggled frantically within the confines of the cloak but a moment later strong cords were passed around her midsection and her legs, chaining her arms and her ankles.

The wind was knocked out of her as she was thrown across the pommel of a saddle.

"Would you kill me at this late date for what happened nearly five years ago, Ravenwood?" Lord Utteridge asked with a world weary sigh of resignation. "I did not think you were so slow when it came to this sort of thing.

Julian faced him in the small alcove off Lady Salisbury's glittering ballroom. "Do not act the fool, Utteridge. I have no interest in what happened five years ago and you know it. It is the present that matters. And make no mistake: what happens in the present matters very much."

"For God's sake, man, I have done no more than dance with your new Countess. And only on one occasion, at that. We both know you cannot call me out on such a flimsy pretext. It will create scandal where there is none."

"I can understand your anxiety about even the mildest conversation with a husband, any husband. Your reputation is such that you are unlikely to be comfortable in the company of married men." Julian smiled coldly. "It will be most interesting to see how your attitude toward the sport of cuckoldry changes once you, yourself, are married. But as it happens, I seek answers from you, Utteridge, not an appointment at dawn."

Utteridge regarded him warily. "Answers about what happened five years ago? What is the point? I assure you, I lost interest in Elizabeth after you put bullets in Ormiston and Varley. I am not a complete fool."

Julian shrugged impatiently. "I do not give a bloody damn about five years ago. I have told you that. What I want is information on the rings."

Utteridge went unnaturally still and alert. "What rings?"

Julian opened his fist and revealed the embossed black ring in his palm. "Rings such as this one."

Utteridge stared at the circlet of metal. "Where the devil did you get that?"

"That need not concern you."

Utteridge's eyes lifted reluctantly from the ring to Julian's expressionless face. "It is not mine. I swear it."

"I did not think it was. But you have one like it, do you not?"

"Of course not. Why would I want such an unremarkable object?"

Julian glanced down at the ring. "It is singularly ugly, isn't it? But, then it symbolized an ugly game. Tell me, Utteridge, do you and Varley and Ormiston still play those games?"