Amanda Scott (14 page)

There was another long silence. Margaret was sure he had not liked hearing such a home truth from her, and she had no wish to say more. She merely waited for his response. At last he muttered, so low she almost didn’t hear him, “I am their master. Their loyalty should be to me.”

She said nothing.

“Are you still there, Marget?”

“Yes. Are you still angry?”

Silence.

“Adam?”

He chuckled. At first she wasn’t sure she was hearing correctly, but the sound grew louder, and she knew she wasn’t mistaken after all. It never grew quite to a full laugh, but she knew everything would be all right. The key was still in the lock, and she turned it, opening the heavy door.

He stood just inside the door, framed by rays of sunlight from the small windows behind and on both sides of him. As the door opened, he put his hands to his hips and favored her with a stern look.

“I ought to put you across my knee,” he said evenly.

“You wouldn’t be so ungentlemanly,” she told him, smiling. “I might just as easily have left you here, you know.”

“I might still go to London,” he said, but she thought she detected a twinkle in his eye.

Ignoring it, she said flatly, “You won’t. Someone has tried twice to injure Timothy, perhaps to kill him.” She turned to lead the way down the winding stone steps, but he stopped her with a hand to her shoulder.

“What’s this? Tell me.”

So she told him then and there. And when she had finished, she looked him straight in the eye and said, “You won’t go away, will you? We need you here.”

His expression was grim again, and there was pain in his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, giving her shoulder a squeeze. Then he sighed deeply. “Ah, Marget, what you must think of me, even to ask such a question after all you’ve told me. I’ve behaved despicably and I’m not proud of that. My behavior might well have been responsible for Michael’s death, and now Timothy is in danger.”

“That is not your doing,” she said hotly. “Nor was Michael’s death.”

“Not directly, of course,” he agreed, “but I did little to avert disaster either time. When Michael fell ill I was too far away to help, not because I had pressing business, but merely because I am an idler, a do-nothing, a wastrel. And if I had taken Timothy into my own custody, as you suggested the moment I discovered Michael had appointed me his guardian, neither the accident nor the business with the medication would have occurred.”

“My, my,” Margaret said dryly. “I had no notion you had such a powerful influence over Fate. I might have suggested the possibility of your bringing Timothy here, but I’d have fought you the minute you attempted to remove him from the manor. I’ll fight you if you attempt it now. I have taken steps to assure his safety, and I shall make certain nothing happens to him. As for your belief that others depend upon you only at their peril, I take leave to tell you to your head that that is a result, not a cause. You can certainly take steps to become more dependable, if you will but do it. In the meantime,” she added swiftly, noting a harder look in his eyes, “now that we are warned, Aunt Celeste and I can take whatever precautions are necessary at the manor.”

“Aunt Celeste.” He said only the two words, but his mood lightened considerably as he said them.

Relaxing, Margaret grinned at him. “If she thinks it practical to remove him to the hall, sir, I daresay you will find him on your doorstep whether either of us wants it or not.”

He laughed. “I’ll certainly think twice before attempting to remove him without her approval.” Then he grew serious again. “Marget, I want you to know that I’ll do all I can to help. I have no intention now of going to London. Instead, I shall remain here and occupy myself with the land. You were quite right to point out to me that my tenants have more loyalty to that crazy old lady than they have to their rightful master. I have no right even to label myself in such a fashion when I have done nothing to earn the title.” He sighed, eyeing her ruefully. “I believe I have come to my senses, little girl.”

Margaret smiled at him, but she took his words with a grain of salt, believing that though he meant them at the moment, his habits were too strongly rooted to respond to mere good intentions. She would reserve judgment. Still, she was glad she had managed to stir him into a better humor, and she was more than glad that he would not leave at once for London.

In the days that followed, Abberley seemed to wish to prove to the entire county that he had taken the reins into his own hands at last, and with a vengeance. He was everywhere to be seen on the vast estate, and Lady Celeste pronounced herself well-pleased with him. He also made a point of visiting the manor at least once each day to look in on Timothy and to discuss the boy with Margaret. Timothy clearly looked forward to his visits, and she found herself beginning to watch for Abberley’s arrival and to feel an odd leaping in her breast whenever his name was announced. She told herself it was no more than pleasure in the fact that he was exerting himself to keep his promise to her, but there could be no denying the warm glow or the rush of color to her cheeks whenever he entered the room, holding out both hands to greet her.

Timothy’s condition improved rapidly and by the third day after the incident with his medication, he was able to leave his bed, although sharp twinges of pain kept him from his normal activities for some days longer. Until it became possible once more for the boy to tolerate the walk to the vicarage, Mr. Maitland visited him every afternoon and seemed to enjoy the visits. The vicar informed Margaret and Lady Celeste quite seriously that he was not boggling the boy’s mind with real lessons but was reading to him instead from improving works. Timothy’s descriptions of those same works did not bear repeating in formal company, but Margaret knew the sessions would do the boy no harm and might even do some good.

Pamela Maitland often accompanied her father and whiled away the hour of his visit in pleasant conversation with Lady Celeste, Margaret, and Lady Annis. Jordan, when present, paid the young woman broad compliments, but his lack of sincerity was so obvious that Margaret finally told him without roundaboutation that his attentions to Pamela were offensive. His cheeks reddened painfully at the rebuke, but from that day forth, he took care to be otherwise occupied when Miss Maitland accompanied the vicar.

Abberley often paid his call at the same time and seemed not in the least put out by the need to await the vicar’s departure before looking in on his ward. He would enter the drawing room, accept a glass of Madeira from the hovering Moffatt, and seat himself to enjoy the company. His attentions to Miss Maitland were charming. He never failed to compliment her upon her gown, her hairstyle, or perhaps her excellent color. Margaret thought, rather grimly, that Jordan ought to take a lesson or two.

Nothing further happened to reinforce their worries about Timothy’s safety, and there was no other indication that anyone wished the boy harm. Still, Abberley and Margaret agreed that a close eye should be kept upon him in future. Therefore, Abberley had a stern talk with him, informing him that it would be at the risk of severe punishment that he would resume his private rambles about the countryside.

“You are to have someone with you at all times until I tell you otherwise,” he told the young man, and Margaret nodded approvingly. They were walking to the stables together at the time. Nothing having been said to Timothy about the thorn under his saddle, Abberley had allowed the boy to convince him that it would be all right to ride Theodore again once his arm had healed completely, despite the pony’s onetime show of bad manners. The three of them were going now to inform Theodore of his good fortune in being forgiven his lapse.

“I don’t need a nursemaid,” Timothy said, carefully keeping any note of impertinence from his voice. “I don’t like having people with me all the time.”

“I know that,” Abberley said, “but since your accident, your aunt and Lady Celeste worry about your safety. This precaution is for their benefit as much as for yours. A gentleman does not purposely worry the ladies of his family when he can avoid it.”

Margaret caught the earl’s gaze over Timothy’s head and smiled at him. “That is very true, Timothy. That is why his lordship wants you to be certain to take a groom with you when you ride and not to go off on your own without at least telling Aunt Celeste or me where you intend to go. And Melanie will continue to accompany you to the vicarage each day, although I know you are a big boy and can easily find your way alone.”

“I
am
a big boy. I am not a baby.”

“Which is why you will be very careful to do as you are asked,” said Abberley cheerfully, “so as not to worry anyone.”

“No,” said Timothy, glancing up at him with a sardonic twist to his thin lips, “I ’spect I shall do it ’cause you said you would make me wish I hadn’t been born if I don’t.”

Margaret chuckled, ruffling the boy’s straight hair. “As good a reason as any, brat. Now, where is Theodore hiding himself, do you suppose?”

When the boy had run off to find his pony, she turned to Abberley with a warm smile. “Thank you, sir. I doubt I could have gotten him to agree to such strictures without a much more strenuous battle.”

He returned her smile. “My pleasure. I believe he will obey me, but the danger seems to have passed, don’t you think?”

She couldn’t agree with him. Something deep inside her warned against complacency. Still, she couldn’t deny that she felt safe when he was nearby, just as she always had from the days of her childhood. There was an intimacy growing between them again that had been lacking for some time, and she enjoyed it. It was good to be back on close terms with Abberley. With Michael gone, she told herself, she had more need than ever of a protective big brother to take her problems to and to discuss even minor difficulties with. Having Abberley so close at hand was comforting. But just as she had convinced herself that life was moving along nicely, the day came when Abberley failed to put in his expected appearance. Not until the following day did Margaret learn that a number of guests had arrived at the hall.

Mary Muston was her informant. Mary had been working at the manor as a parlormaid since the day after their visit to the Muston cottage, and Mrs. Moffatt had been very glad to have her. But once Abberley began putting his affairs in order, he had begun to renew the strength of his household staff, and one of the first requests from his housekeeper had been a near demand for her erstwhile assistant’s return. Though Mary had agreed, Lady Celeste, aghast at the reductions the parsimonious Lady Annis had made in the manor staff, refused to part with a single servant unless someone else could be found first. So it was that the morning after Abberley failed to put in his appearance Mary approached Margaret somewhat hesitantly in the drawing room.

“Begging your pardon, Miss Margaret,” the maidservant said, dipping a brief curtsy, “but Mrs. Puddephatt has sent to learn if I can be spared immediately. Mollie West, from near the village, is to come here tomorrow, so it will only be the one day, and there seems to be a small crisis at the hall.”

“Indeed, Mary, what has occurred?” Margaret asked quickly, fearing something dreadful might have happened.

“A number of his lordship’s friends—both ladies and gentlemen—arrived early yesterday afternoon, miss. Mrs. Puddephatt believed she could cope with the new staff alone, but it seems it’s one of his usual rowdy parties, you know, and things often get out of hand. I’m asked to go at once if it won’t inconvenience you too much.”

M
ARGARET WAS ANNOYED, BUT
her annoyance had nothing to do with Mary, and she willingly gave the woman permission to leave. Abberley sent his excuses later in the day in the form of a brief note delivered by a six-foot-tall footman in gleaming silver-gray livery.

“Goodness, how handsome he is!” exclaimed Lady Celeste when that worthy had taken his departure. “I’ve a mind to move back to the hall, Margaret dear. We have nothing like that here.”

“Celeste, really,” admonished Lady Annis, “you should not say such outrageous things, you know. It is not at all becoming in a woman your age.”

“Fustian. Just saying what you was thinking yourself, Annis. Or what you ought to be thinking if you haven’t already got one foot in your grave. Why are there no handsome menservants here, I ask you? That Archer fellow, who’s the only one left but for Moffatt, is downright muffin-faced.”

“I certainly had nothing to do with that, Aunt Celeste,” Margaret said, laughing despite her ill humor. “There were a number of good-looking chaps here before I left for Vienna. I don’t know Archer. He certainly wasn’t one of them.”

“Archer accompanied me from Little Hampstead,” said Lady Annis grimly, “and anyone who has ever run an efficient household will tell you that one can get ten times more work out of a maidservant who isn’t making sheep’s eyes at a handsome footman.”

“Ah,” said Lady Celeste wisely, “there’s the answer. You turned them all off so that mush-mouthed son of yours would have a clear field.”

When Lady Annis returned an indignant denial and, shortly thereafter, left the room, offended, Margaret said gently, “That was not very kind, ma’am.”

Lady Celeste grimaced. “Very true. I deserve a scold, I suppose, but there’s no denying young Jordan has made his mark among the maidservants, and Annis knows it.”

“Very likely, she does, but I think the maids can take care of themselves, you know. It isn’t as if he wields any power over their lives. If he were master here, it might be different, but as it is, he’s harmless, don’t you think?”

“Makes a nuisance of himself, whatever the case.” Lady Celeste turned a sharp eye upon her grandniece. “What has annoyed you, my dear? Surely not the fact that I have distressed Annis again.”

“No, of course not. I think if I were honest with myself, I’d admit that I’m hoping one of your sharp remarks will send her back to Little Hampstead in high dudgeon.”

Lady Celeste’s lips twitched in appreciation, but she kept to the point for once. “Then, what is it, my dear?”