Read An Unusual Bequest Online
Authors: Mary Nichols
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #General
An Unusual Bequest (8 page)
Lord Darton was the last to be accommodated. He paused on the threshold of the room whose door she held open for him. She did not speak. ‘Now that we have been formally introduced, you can have nothing against speaking to me, can you?’ he asked, breaking the silence. The teasing light in his eyes was still there, but now she interpreted it differently. Now she saw it as lascivious, like the gleam of speculation in the eyes of Sir Roland Bentwater and MrAugustus Spike, but infinitely more dangerous because she was repulsed by them, but not by this man. Viscount Darton was undeniably attractive and if she let down her guard, she might find herself liking him, responding to his teasing. And that would never do.
‘I am your hostess, my lord, and not so impolite as to ignore you.’
‘Ah, yes. It is an odd world, is it not, that brings a host of strangers together in one place to get along as best they may?’
Was there more to that simple comment than the words themselves suggested? Was he suggesting they might not all get along? Did he have any idea of her predicament? ‘If you say so, my lord.’
‘Oh, I do. It must be fate.’
‘Oh, I think it more likely that Lord Hobart issued an invitation you could not resist,’ she said lightly.
‘There is that,’ he agreed. ‘But when I set out, I had no idea you would be here.’
‘My lord, Easterley Manor has been my home for the last twelve years, why would I not be here? Now, please excuse me, I have much to do.’
She turned and left him, walking sedately along the corridor to go back downstairs to help in the kitchen. The servants were hard-pressed and, in their haste, falling over each other and causing mayhem. She stopped to help them, taking the platters of food into the dining room herself, where some of the guests were already assembled. Cecil was there, strutting like a peacock, full of bonhomie, pressing food and wine on to them. Not that they needed pressing; they were eager and greedy. She put down the dishes and went over to her brother-in-law.
‘My lord,’ she murmured. ‘I must speak to you. In the library where we may be private.’
‘Certainly, my dear, let us be private.’ He grinned round at the company as he excused himself, then led the way from the room, along the hall and into the library. She followed him in, but did not close the door. Being shut in a room with him was something for which she had no relish.
‘Well, what is it?’ he asked, leaning back against the desk, a desk cluttered with papers. She supposed they had been left by Mr Hardacre, but, judging by the way they were scattered about, the contents had not pleased her brother-in-law.
‘My lord, how long will your guests be staying?’
‘Anxious to be rid of them, are you?’
‘They are a drain on your resources and the servants cannot manage without more help.’
‘Then you help them.’
‘I am doing so, but I cannot be everywhere at once.’
‘Now, do you know, I thought that you could.’ It was said with a sneer. ‘Here, there and everywhere, that is my dear sister-in-law, one minute in the house, overseeing the servants, making a fuss over her precious daughters, the next jaunting about the village, trying to teach the children of peasants to think themselves better than their masters. And cavorting on the beach with them.’ He grinned at her shocked expression. ‘Oh, do not imagine your antics go unnoticed. Now, I suggest you forget all about the village and concentrate on this house and making its idle servants earn their keep.’
The only person who could have told him about seeing her on the beach was Viscount Darton and she resented it. What reason could he have for doing that, except to discomfort her? ‘We need at least two more kitchen maids and two chambermaids, and an extra woman in the laundry room,’ she said, determined not to be side-tracked.
‘Hire them, then, but don’t come to me for their wages. Now, I must rejoin my guests or they will think that you and I are disporting ourselves and neglecting them.’ And with that he left her.
She was about to follow him when she heard him cry out jovially. ‘Why, cousin Stacey, found your way, have you? Come into the dining room and have some refreshments. Then I will tell you of the entertainment I am planning for this evening.’ Standing in the doorway, she saw them go off down the hall arm in arm. Once they were out of sight, she went up to her room, grabbed her cloak and went back to the pandemonium of the kitchen.
‘My lady, have you seen what he has ordered for dinner?’ Cook demanded, waving a sheet of paper. ‘It can’t be done. I’ve only one pair of hands. And though Betsy is a good girl, she i’n’t blessed with any more neither.’
‘I’m going to the village to see if I can hire some help,’ Charlotte said, swinging her cloak round her shoulders.
‘Thank the good Lord,’ Cook said. ‘The sooner the better.’
Charlotte left the house by the kitchen door and made her way on to the lane into the village. There were men and women there who would be glad of employment, but she could not ask them to work for nothing. Oh, they might come eagerly enough, but when they discovered the kind of people they were serving and learned that the new Lord Hobart was not as scrupulous about debts as his late father, they would think she had deceived them. They trusted her and she did not mean to betray that trust. The new servants must be paid and the ones already there too, even if it took every penny she had.
She went to the homes of those whose menfolk were out of work and, though it was not the kind of work they were used to, she offered two of them work as footmen to fetch and carry for the guests, and at two other homes she found women to come and work in the kitchens. They were not trained housemaids, but Cecil could not expect experienced servants at such short notice. She would promote Betsy to chambermaid; she was big and strong and not likely to attract the men as a young maid might and she would look after the other maids.
By the time she returned, there was barely time to see Lizzie and Fanny and instruct Quinny to keep them to their own quarters before the dinner gong sounded. She changed quickly and went down to join the guests as they trooped from the drawing room into the dining room.
‘There you are, Charlotte,’ Cecil said. ‘Where have you been?’
‘Hiring more help for the house,’ she said.
‘Good,’ Sir Roland put in. ‘I had to send twice for hot water. It nearly made me late for dinner.’
‘And I asked for a bottle of cognac and was offered sherry wine,’ another said. ‘Don’t your servants know the difference, Hobart?’
‘My apologies, gentlemen,’ Cecil said, as he led the way into the dining room. ‘It will not happen again.’
‘And my maid could not get my gown pressed,’ Lady Grey put in. ‘I have been obliged to wear it all crumpled from being packed.’
‘You would never know it, my lady,’ Stacey said. ‘It looks charming, as you are yourself.’
‘Why, you old flatterer,’ she said, laughing and digging him in the ribs with her fan. ‘For that, you may escort me into dinner.’
He gallantly offered her his arm, but he was aware of Lady Hobart, standing close by, ready to follow the last of the guests. He had been hanging back in order to escort her himself, but unless he wanted to alienate Adelia Grey and, more importantly, his host, he could do nothing but comply.
Lady Hobart appeared perfectly calm, though he could tell by her pallor, and the way her whole body seemed tense, that she was far from easy with the situation. Poor thing! Staying in the village as he had, he had soon confirmed that she was indeed the sister-in-law he had heard Cecil speak of, heard her praised for her goodness, her generosity to those less fortunate, her commitment to educating the children, who all loved her. She was, according to the villagers, a paragon of virtue.
She had intrigued him from the start and he had found himself wondering about her, but, remembering Julia and his errand on her behalf, was prepared to leave. He had been in the inn’s parlour, eating a meal before continuing his ride, when John Hardacre came in and ordered a meal and a room for the night. Stacey knew him well; he had been legal adviser to the family for years.
Finishing his business with the innkeeper, the lawyer had turned towards Stacey. ‘Viscount Darton! I never thought to see you in such an out-of-the-way place.’
‘I was on my way to Ipswich and was forced to stop when my horse threw a shoe.’ He laughed. ‘The pace of life is wondrous slow in this part of the country. It has taken more than a day to fashion four shoes, though to be honest I don’t suppose they see a horse like mine very often. And I was in no great haste. What reason have you for being here?’
‘Lord Hobart lives close by. He is my client. I had business with him.’
‘Oh, yes, I had heard he was back from India to take over the estate. But did he not offer you accommodation?’
John smiled. ‘The business was not of long duration. I had no need to stay.’
‘But I heard you order a room.’
‘Yes. I also have business with Lady Hobart.’
A waiter brought food and Stacey, his curiosity aroused, nodded towards the chair opposite him. ‘Please join me, I would be glad of company.’
‘Thank you.’ He lowered himself into the chair and watched as the waiter put out the food. Neither spoke until he had gone.
‘Lady Hobart,’ Stacey began, apparently casually. ‘I have been hearing about her, and nothing but good. Tell me, is she as virtuous as they say?’
‘She is a true lady, and I fear for her up at that house. I should not say this, but I do not think Cecil Hobart will treat her kindly. And there are a couple of loose fish up there I would not trust an inch.’
‘Ah, Sir Roland Bentwater and Mr Augustus Spike.’
‘You know them?’ the lawyer asked in surprise.
‘Hobart made us known to each other in the coach when we travelled out of London. Can’t say I liked the fellows.’
‘You were right. I would say they were toad-eaters, but if they are, they will find little to pick at up there.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘I should not be telling you this, but you I have known you since you were a young shaver and I know I can trust you.’
‘Indeed you can.’ He had listened in astonishment as Hardacre recounted the terms of the late Lord Hobart’s will. ‘You mean he has inherited the estate, but no blunt?’ he asked.
‘No, but when he marries and has children, he will have the managing of their legacy. He wants me to overturn it, but it will take many months, and so he is looking for a compliant wife.’
‘Not Lady Hobart?’ he asked, appalled.
John gave a wry smile. ‘No, I doubt she would be compliant enough, but she is dependent on him. There are two children, little girls. ’ Tis a pity one was not a boy, there would never have been all this trouble. He would have been the heir…’
It was then Stacey had decided to accept Cecil’s invitation and see for himself what was going on. Julia was happy and well cared for at Malcomby Hall and a few days’ delay would make no difference. He was glad he had come, for no sooner had he presented himself, than other guests began to arrive, guests whose behaviour appalled him. He found himself feeling very sorry for Lady Hobart and meant to see she came to no harm, but to do that, he must go along with Cecil and pretend to be in accord with the rest of the company. He could not tell Lady Hobart that, she might inadvertently give him away, and at the moment she was looking daggers at him. He smiled at her over his shoulder as he led Lady Grey into the dining room, but that only made her thrust her chin even higher into the air and turn away from him.
‘Come on, Stacey, why are you dawdling?’ Cecil called to him. ‘There will be time for dalliance later.’
He sighed and followed the company into the dining room.
C
harlotte wished with all her heart that Cecil’s uncouth guests would leave. For all their extravagant dress and superior airs, they were no more than riffraff. Even Lady Grey, if she really was a lady, was loudmouthed and frequently foxed. The only one who even made a pretence at gentlemanly behaviour was Viscount Darton, though even he sometimes indulged in Cecil’s favourite pastime of baiting her.
‘Come, Lady Hobart,’ he said, one evening at dinner. ‘Can you not find a smile for your guests?’ And he gave her a wink that brought the colour flooding to her face and made the rest of the company laugh, particularly Mr Spike, who brayed like a donkey.
‘You are Lord Hobart’s guests,’ she said, tight-lipped. ‘Not mine.’
‘You would not give us house room, is that what you are saying?’
‘I—’ She stopped. ‘It is not my house.’
‘No, it is not,’ Cecil concurred. ‘You, too, are a guest. It behoves you to behave like one.’
‘Drink too much, gamble and abuse the servants, you mean,’ she said with a snap. ‘I am sorry if I do not conform, but I have been brought up differently. And I thought you had. Your father—’
‘Ah, my father,’ Cecil said. ‘I begin to wonder just what my revered father meant to you. You seem to have been able to wind him round your thumb. If you wish to remain my guest, I suggest you resist the urge to bring his name into every conversation.’
She was about to make a sharp retort when she saw Stacey out of the corner of her eye slowly shaking his head, his eyes warning her to still her tongue. Although he had pretended to drink deeply, she noticed he had taken less than the others and was perfectly sober. Far from reassuring her, it put her more on her guard. What was his game? ‘Yes, by all means let us refrain from speaking of the late Lord Hobart,’ she said, standing up. ‘Gentlemen, I will leave you to your port wine and cigars.’
She left the room, but the ladies did not follow her to the withdrawing room as they would have done in polite society, but stayed to continue drinking with the men. Later, after the table had been cleared, they would call for more wine, spread another cloth and fetch out the playing cards. It had happened every evening of the two weeks they had been at Easterley Manor.
In that two weeks, life at the Manor had become almost unbearable. Although the arrival of the extra servants had eased the situation a little, Charlotte was still expected to oversee them, to make sure the guests’ many and frequent demands were met, that meals appeared on time and to inspect the guests’ rooms to see that the cleaning and laundry had been properly done. That last was the most tiresome of all. The house party gambled and drank until the early hours of the morning and were still abed at the time most chambermaids would be busy making their beds and tidying their rooms. And woe betide any young girl who entered an occupied room. Even Betsy had come shrieking from Sir Roland’s bedchamber at eleven in the morning, cap all awry and face scarlet.
Charlotte had been so busy she hardly had time for her daughters, let alone the freedom to go to the village to take her classes and visit the old and sick. They would think she had deserted them. Nor had she heard from Mr Hardacre and that was worrying her. Did it mean he could not persuade his fellow trustees to release some of the girls’ money to her? Were her plans all to come to naught?
She was alone in the drawing room, sitting beside a small table on which stood all the paraphernalia for making tea, the little stove and kettle, the teapot, cups and saucers, when Stacey sauntered into the room and moved over to the hearth, where a low fire burned, and stood with his back to it, looking down at her. She became disconcertingly aware of his masculinity and her breathing quickened. He was very tall and muscular, his complexion was bronzed, with fine lines about his dark eyes. His mouth was firm, his nose straight and his chin was thrust forward almost belligerently. For all that, he appeared slightly ill at ease, as if he wanted to say something, but was not sure whether to do so or not.
‘Are you tired of the company in there, my lord?’ she asked, inclining her head towards the dining room where a loud gust of laughter penetrated the walls. ‘Would you like some tea?’
‘Tea?’ he asked absently, his mind on how self-possessed she seemed, but did that hide a vulnerability? After all, with few exceptions, ladies were dependent on their male relatives who could make their lives as pleasant or unpleasant as they wished. They could not handle their own money, even if they had any. He found it difficult to believe the late Lord Hobart had left her entirely at the mercy of his rakeshame of a son. Would she leave if she could? Or did she not mind what Cecil did so long as she had a home? It was an imposing and comfortable house if you did not mind its isolation. She was looking up at him, her face a picture of puzzlement and he realised he had not answered her question. ‘Yes, please, my lady, that would most acceptable.’ He threw up the tails of his coat and sat on the sofa opposite her, tucking his long legs under him.
She poured the tea and handed the cup to him with hands that were not quite steady. ‘Are the others going to join us?’ she asked.
‘I doubt it. They are enjoying themselves too much where they are.’
‘Why did you leave them?’
‘I volunteered to fetch more wine. According to Cecil, your new footman does not know a good Bordeaux from rough mead.’
She smiled. ‘I don’t suppose he does, he’s a farm labourer—when he’s in work, that is. It’s been so wet of late, the land is unworkable, and he was stood off.’
‘Ah, his need for employment were more important than the needs of Lord Hobart and his guests, is that it?’
‘I cannot be expected to find trained servants in a small place like Parson’s End, my lord, especially at a moment’s notice,’ she said sharply. ‘My brother-in-law’s friends must be satisfied.’
‘I doubt anything will satisfy them.’
‘And you, my lord, have you come to find fault? After all, you are one of them.’
He opened his mouth to deny it, but changed his mind. It was too soon to tell her the truth, that he was there because of what John Hardacre had told him, that he had at first been curious, which had turned to a surge of compassion when he arrived and had seen what was happening to her, and now wanted to protect her. She would laugh in his face if she knew. He wondered at it himself. ‘No,’ he said slowly. ‘I do not wish to find fault. I appreciate your difficulties.’
‘Oh, I do not think you do,’ she said. ‘Or you would not have told my brother-in-law about seeing me and the children playing on the beach. You may have thought it a fine joke, but he used it to taunt me.’
‘I did nothing of the sort,’ he said sharply. ‘If Lord Hobart knew of it, it was not I who told him. There are others in the house, you know, and he could have seen you for himself.’
She realised he was right and her sense of fairness demanded an apology. ‘I am sorry, my lord. I should not have jumped to conclusions.’
‘No, things are not always what they seem, are they? I concluded you were a schoolteacher and I was wrong about that.’
‘Not entirely, my lord. I do teach at the school in the village. It is something I like to do.’ She stood up. ‘If you come with me, I will find more wine for you, and, rest assured, I do know Bordeaux from mead.’
He put down his cup and followed her from the room, down the hall beside the main staircase, along a narrow corridor that led to the kitchens, pantries, dairy, laundry room and cellar. She stopped to light a candle standing on a small table and, opening a door, carried it down the cellar steps, sure-footed from years of practice. She knew every inch and cranny of the old house and could find her way about easily, even in the dark. At the bottom of the steps, she lit a lantern from the flame of the candle and handed it to him. ‘Come, let us see what there is.’
He watched her precede him, tall, elegant, self-assured. She had a good figure, he noted, and the candle held before her added a soft glow to her hair, making a halo of it. He did not know how old she was, guessing she must be about thirty, but she was far from matronly. Without the unrelieved black she wore, she could easily be taken for a much younger woman. She stopped suddenly and he almost collided with her. He put out a hand to steady her and found himself touching the bare flesh of her arm. It was soft and warm. He felt her flinch and knew she had suddenly realised how dangerous it could be down here, alone with a man, a man she did not trust.
He took a step backwards, though the temptation was great to move forward and enfold her in his arms, to soothe her with soft words, to caress her. Even try the taste of her lips. He pulled himself up sharply—whatever had put that idea into his head? She was not a lightskirt, not like Lady Grey, who would undoubtedly allow him into her bed if he were to suggest it, but a gentlewoman. He guessed she was probably the daughter of a man of business, or a sea captain, genteel but undistinguished, which was why she saw no harm in teaching poor children. No doubt she had been elevated by her marriage to a baronet.
She pretended not to notice his touch, though it had sent shivers down the back of her spine, but pointed to rows of shelves where bottles of wine were stored. ‘There is hardly any left. Last week that rack was full. I wonder you can play cards at all with the amount of wine and brandy you put away.’ ‘Me?’
‘You and the others. I do not think there is much to choose between you.’
He did not like being lumped with Cecil’s cronies, but, as he had done nothing to make her think any differently of him, he let it go. ‘One becomes used to it,’ he said. ‘Especially abroad in the army when it is often unsafe to drink the local water.’
‘You were in the army?’ She picked up two bottles and handed them to him.
‘For many years I was a professional soldier.’
‘I am surprised. Are you not the Earl of Malcomby’s heir?’
‘Yes, but my father was a soldier too. It was how he earned his earldom. I simply followed in his footsteps.’
‘But you are not serving now?’
‘No. There comes a time when it is necessary to stop and turn one’s thoughts to duties at home.’
‘Your wife?’
‘I have no wife. She died many years ago.’
‘I am sorry.’ She paused before mounting the steps to the ground floor. ‘Is Cecil really your cousin?’
‘He is the son of my father’s cousin, so the relationship is removed.’ He gave a low chuckle. ‘He seems to think it is important.’
‘He thinks you are well up in the stirrups and has every intention of relieving you of some of your wealth.’
He laughed. ‘He may try.’
‘You do not think he will succeed?’
‘I know he will not. He is a very poor player.’
‘And the others?’
‘They are a different matter. I fancy they have Cecil in so deep he does not know which way to turn and he is afraid.’ He paused, then added softly. ‘Men in that situation can be dangerous, my lady. I beg you to take care.’
She turned sharply to see his face, wondering why he should take the trouble to warn her. Not that she needed it; she knew very well the precarious situation she was in. But she had no choice. Until she heard from Mr Hardacre and could find a new home, she was stuck. For her children’s sake she had to endure it. She could not tell him that and so she did not answer. At the top of the narrow stairs he turned to help her negotiate the last step just as Cecil hurried along the corridor towards them.
‘Stacey, it is taking you a devilish long time to find a couple of bottles of wine. What have you been doing?’ He stopped suddenly and laughed. ‘Oh, I see. Dallying with my sister-in-law, are you? There’s a time and place for that sort of thing, don’t you know? And it is not now. We are waiting to begin.’
Instead of releasing Charlotte, Stacey, put his arms about her and drew her close. ‘Trust you to come along and spoil things, Cousin,’ he said jovially.
‘You’ll get nowhere with her,’ Cecil said, relieving Stacey of the wine. ‘Cold and stiff as a corpse, that one.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. She was thawing very nicely before you came and spoiled it.’ He felt Charlotte squirm, trying to pull herself away, but he held her closer and before she could protest, had put one forefinger under her chin and tipped her face up to his, so that he could kiss her.
She started to struggle and then the sensations that coursed through her, sensations she had not felt for over eight years, overcame her resistance and she leaned into him so that their bodies touched and seemed to fuse. She did not seem able to pull herself away, though her head was telling her she was being foolish in the extreme. His lips were caressing hers, making little currents of warmth journey up and down her limbs, until they ended in one great whirlpool of desire. Her legs felt weak and she would have crumpled in a heap if he had not been holding her.
He lifted his head at last, but only to whisper in her ear, ‘Do not act the outraged innocent, my lady. Remember what I said and take care.’ And with that he kissed her soundly on the cheek and let her go. ‘Come on, Cousin, back to the gaming table.’
Before she could find her voice, Stacey had taken Cecil’s arm and propelled him along the corridor, leaving her breathless and shaking. And mortified that she had allowed herself to succumb. Now he would think he could take whatever liberties he liked. What was his game? Why did he stay? Surely not so that he could indulge in kissing her? She had no doubt he could make free with any of the other ladies if he so chose and they would not demur, they would encourage him openly.
Did he imagine there was money to be made from gambling with her brother-in-law? How disappointed he would be when he discovered Cecil had nothing. But that did not explain why he had come to the drawing room to talk to her, nor why he had pretended to be flirting with her. That was the outside of enough! She leaned against the door jamb for support, touching her cheek where he had kissed her. It felt hot. She should have slapped his face, given him a set-down; instead, she had meekly stood and allowed it. He must think her very weak, frightened of him perhaps. But whatever she felt for him, it was not fear, not in the way she feared Cecil and the others.
