Jack on the Box (13 page)

Chapter Nine

Now Jack had several reasons to attend dinner downstairs with Cecily and her cousin Alfred. At precisely the appointed hour, dressed in his coachman’s clothes, he made his way to the dining room. The servants were used to his mode of dressing now, and found nothing strange to say about it. Mr. Selby could not think it proper, it was true. But his clothes notwithstanding, Mr. Selby had to admit the young gentleman’s presence had caused a favourable improvement in Sir Waldo’s spirits of late. Mrs. Selby, too, had noticed some recent changes in her mistress’s behaviour. She was more likely to sing while she worked. So, even if they had their own objections to the young man—he was, after all, not quite what one was used to—they kept them to themselves. And when they pitted him against Lord Stourport . . . well, there was nothing more to be said.

When Jack entered the dining room, it was to find Alfred waiting impatiently. He was dressed in the extreme of Town fashion. His evening coat was blue and double-breasted, and bore a double row of large brass buttons. His breeches were elegantly tied at the knees, and his stockings were spotlessly white. As Jack entered, Alfred let out a slight cry and raised a quizzing glass to his eye.

“My good fellow,” he drawled. “You have obviously mistaken your entrance. The kitchen is round the back.”

“You must apologize to my guest, Alfred.” Cecily’s voice came quickly from the doorway. She had arrived just after Jack and was in time to hear Alfred’s remark. She presented Jack to her cousin, and he made a slight bow.

Cecily herself had decided not to dress elaborately for the evening. She would rather, she had decided, appear to disadvantage than to make Jack feel more uncomfortable because of his clothes. Therefore, she had worn a plain, white muslin gown, suitable enough for evening, but without any adornment. A fringed tunic in brown silk protected her from the chill.

“Your guest?” Alfred inquired, still quizzing Jack with his glass. His examination transferred to Cecily and took in the simplicity of her costume. “How novel, my dear Cecily. Since when has it become fashionable for one to invite common labourers to one’s dinner parties?”

Cecily’s eyes sparked in anger, but Jack calmed her with a good-humoured glance. “You are mistaken, Alfred,” she said through clenched teeth. “Mr. Henley is the only son of Sir Geoffrey Henley.”

Alfred was unabashed. “May I suggest then, my good fellow,” he said maliciously, “that you find a new tailor?”

Here Jack, seeing that Cecily had grown speechless with anger, stepped into the breach.

“You will naturally find my dress queer for the occasion,” he allowed. “But you see, I had a coaching accident, and my limb is so swollen that my own breeches will not fit over it.”

“Then you had much better have some made to the purpose,” Alfred said. “I, for one, should never think of appearing in public in such togs. One could easily mistake you for the coachman! I’m certain I did.”

There was a moment’s silence in the room. Jack, despite his intention to remain in good humour, could find no answer to this slur. If Cecily had not been there, he would gladly have admitted to being a coachman and challenged Alfred for his offensive remarks. But Jack perceived suddenly what an embarrassment it would be for Cecily for any of her family or friends to know that she had dined with a mail coachman. He swallowed the retort that sprang to his lips.

Cecily, for her part, was only bothered by Alfred’s poor manners, and was unwilling to expose Jack to it any longer than necessary. She begged them to take their places for dinner, and hastily changed the subject

But it was not long before Alfred had turned the conversation back to Jack. He had been observing Jack and Cecily through narrowed eyes, and had not missed the looks exchanged between them. That he was disturbed by Jack’s presence was evident.

“I do not believe you told me, Cousin, just how your injured friend came to be here.” Turning to Jack, he asked, “Were you visiting Sir Waldo when the accident occurred, or had you other business?”

Jack gave him a direct look. “Neither,” he said. “I was riding through town on the mail when the axle broke. Sir Waldo and Miss Wolverton were kind enough to take me in until my leg should heal.”

Alfred raised his quizzing glass again and regarded Cecily. “How noble of you, Cousin, to take in a complete stranger off the mail. He might have been anybody. I have often observed that the most peculiar mixture of humanity travels upon it. I have never had the pleasure myself, you understand. I really could not relish the thought of being at such close quarters with persons of questionable background.”

“Really, Alfred?” Cecily observed with great pleasure. “
I
had reason to take the mail quite recently and found it a delightful experience. You must try it sometime. It will do you a world of good.” She exchanged a secret glance with Jack, whose eyes danced warmly back at her.

Alfred was not pleased with her quick defence of her guest. “You must count yourself fortunate, Mr. Henley, for I observe you have been as well received as I was myself. And I, of course, am a blood relative.”

Cecily flushed uncomfortably. Alfred’s remarks had been made with just enough malice to encourage her guilt. “Mr. Henley and Sir Waldo share an interest in coaching, Alfred. He has been kind enough to sit with my grandfather on many occasions.”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted having spoken them. Alfred smiled disagreeably.

“You must let me visit your grandpapa’s room, Cecily. I shall be happy to entertain him.”

“Oh, no!” Cecily protested. Then as Alfred’s eyes narrowed dangerously, she amended, “That is, I don’t care to put you to the trouble, though your offer is very kind. Sir Waldo is rather particular in his interests and as much as he is an old dear, he can be rather difficult. He especially enjoys discussing coaching, and Jack indulges him by the hour. However, I doubt whether stories about Town would entertain him quite so well. He never was one to enjoy the Season, you know, and I shouldn’t like you to feel at a loss.”

Alfred’s smile turned into an expression of distaste. “It never ceases to amaze me, this fascination with pedestrian trades and common sports. One would think the Romans had all been coachmen the way the drivers are catered to. And the rest of the rabble—cockfighters, boxers and the like—it is more than I can fathom. You, sir,” he said to Jack, “perhaps you can explain it to me if you are a sportsman.”

Jack would not take offence. He smiled graciously. “I can well understand that a passion for sports would be inexplicable to you,” he said by way of reply.

Alfred tightened his lips, but remained unruffled. “I will accept that as a compliment,” he said. “I cannot think it worthy of the dignity of a peer to be found engaging in such lowly pursuits.”

“Perhaps not,” conceded Jack. “Nevertheless, most of them do. Perhaps one has to be born to it.”

This veiled reference to Alfred’s recent accession was clearly provoking, but Cecily stepped in before her cousin could respond.

“You do not look well, Alfred,” she said. “I noticed it this afternoon when you arrived. I hope you will get the sleep you require while you are here.”

Alfred allowed Jack’s remark to drop as a more pressing matter occurred to him. “Thank you, Cousin. I shall. But I must ask you to have your grandfather’s man—Shelby, isn’t it—tend to me while I am here.”

Cecily looked at him in amazement. “Why Alfred! You do not mean to say you have not brought Sudbury with you!”

Alfred blanched visibly as she said the name. “No. I have not,” he said shortly. “I had to turn him off. He proved to be the most unsatisfactory of servants. You see,” he added, attempting once again to ingratiate himself with his cousin, “it was not only your father’s servants with whom I have had to be firm.”

“But Sudbury?” Cecily persisted. “I thought he was essential to your happiness. Why, after the praise I have heard you heap upon him countless times, I cannot imagine your finding fault with him.”

Alfred looked at her coldly. “Then I shall simply say I was deceived in him.” He shuddered slightly. “If you have quite finished now, I had rather not pass the remainder of the meal in discussions about my personal servants. Mr. Henley will surely not be amused.”

Cecily pretended not to understand his intended slur on Jack’s mode of dress. “I am terribly sorry, Alfred, but I cannot ask Selby to attend you. He is occupied quite enough with my grandfather. The best I shall be able to do is to ask one of the footmen to assist you.”

Her cousin looked put out. “Then I shall have to shave myself? Certainly your Selby fellow could spare the time for that much?”

Cecily shook her head with an exaggerated show of regret. “I’m afraid not. Selby is also at Mr. Henley’s disposal, so he really cannot be expected to do more.”

Alfred’s pride was clearly offended. He vented his spleen by lifting his quizzing glass to his eye once again and examining Jack thoroughly. The object of his regard was not discomposed. “On that account, perhaps I would do well to dispense with his services.”

Cecily had not quite finished her meal, but she rose at that remark. “I shall be having tea in the drawing room if you care to join me after your port. Mr. Henley? “

Jack rose, also, and made his bow to Alfred. “You will excuse me, I hope, Lord Stourport. With this leg of mine I dare not dip too deeply. I will join Miss Wolverton directly.”

Alfred stared back and forth between them for a moment and then smiled disagreeably. “Of course, dear fellow. Although I will admit I had rather looked forward to a little manly chat. If you have not the stomach for it, however, I quite understand. I shall not tarry.”

He made this last promise to Cecily, who offered her arm to Jack. The two of them passed slowly from the room.

“Phew! “ Jack said, once they were out of earshot. “He
is
a poisonous creature. I can certainly credit Sir Waldo’s suspicions of him.”

Cecily turned to him in surprise.

Jack looked at her apologetically. “Your grandfather confided his thinking to me this afternoon. I hope you do not object. He is quite worried about you, you know, and cannot do anything to help in his present condition. I believe it was a comfort to him to know I would be watching out for you.”

Cecily flushed, but he could see that she was not really displeased. “No. I do not mind,” she said, after a moment’s hesitation. “And if, by his suspicions, you mean the theft of my father’s will . . .”

Jack nodded.

“Then,” she continued, looking at him directly, “I suppose I share them, although my grandfather and I have never spoken of it. I’ve often wondered if the notion had occurred to him.

“And I would gladly have told you myself if I did not fear dragging you into our private family matters. They do not concern you, and you must not feel under any obligation to take an interest in them.”

Jack frowned. “I believe Sir Waldo realizes I am more than simply in his debt.”

Cecily hastened to amend what she had said. “Of course. Sir Waldo thinks of you as a guest in his house. He has taken to you considerably. It is just,” she said, lowering her eyes, “that you will have to resume your employment once your leg has healed. You will have no time to investigate the matter, even if you were kind enough to wish to do so.”

Jack was silent. What she had said was true. His leg was healing. Another week, perhaps two, and he would have to return to his work—if the mail would have him. He stifled a sigh. He had to admit he had no desire to take it up again.

But Cecily interrupted his thoughtful silence. “In any case,” she said, “there is little anyone can do. Unless the will is found, things will have to remain as they are.”

Putting aside his own troubles for the moment, Jack asked, “Could it really be possible that your cousin made off with it? Was he in the house when your father died?”

Cecily nodded. “Yes, indeed. My father was ill for about a week before he died. Realizing that he might not live much longer, and knowing Alfred to be his titular heir, I thought it best that I should inform my cousin of his illness. Alfred posted down with Sudbury immediately, and was there when he died. But I could have sworn that Alfred did not go near my father’s library. It was not locked, mind you. We had no reason to think there was a need for it. It is just that Alfred spent the majority of his time inside my father’s room when he was not attending to his own daily needs. I remember being quite put out that he did not allow me sufficient time alone with my father. But he did offer to sit with him whenever I had to leave the room, and I could only be grateful at the time.

“Grandpapa ought not to have mentioned his suspicions to you, and I should not indulge in them myself.”

“And yet, you do not want him to visit your grandfather?”

Cecily’s lips twisted. “My father was unconscious and could not really know who was with him. Grandpapa would sooner die of apoplexy than let Alfred cross the threshold.”

Jack raised his brows significantly, showing that he understood her meaning, but then turned thoughtful. “I can see that proving his guilt would be quite difficult. If no one saw him enter your father’s library, then there is nothing to go on.”

Cecily shook her head. “There really is nothing. We ought not to be speaking of it. The servants were questioned thoroughly by my father’s solicitor, but none of them could attest to having seen him anywhere in the vicinity of the library. And they all would have been happy to do so,” she said wryly.

Jack chuckled. “He’s already my favourite candidate for a villain, and I’ve just now met him.”

He was happy to see that her spirits had risen while they talked, despite the sad topic. “If I had a glass before me,” he ventured, “I would make a toast to the day when both our fortunes are restored. But a cup of tea will have to do, I suppose.”

They had reached the drawing room by now and found the tea tray waiting for them. Cecily poured them each a cup and they raised them in mock salute. Then she smiled, as their eyes met.

“We
have
both experienced rather odd twists of fate, have we not?” she said comfortably.