The Duke's Reform (20 page)

'No, nothing like
that.
It's
Bentley. I was woken by him talking to two ruffians outside my

room
. They were threatening him over his gaming
debts. Heaven knows what devil he owes money to.'

'God's teeth!
The man's an infernal nuisance.
Don't worry, my love, I shall have the intruders apprehended and settle
Bentley's debts this time. However, I shall make it abundantly clear I shall
not do so again.'

His face was hard—his eyes slate
grey. She felt sorry for the young man. 'Thank you, Alexander. I'm afraid I
can't like your cousin, but I must own I feel a trifle sorry for him. He seems
to attract disaster.'

'Return to bed, my dear, leave
matters to me.'

*

By the time Isobel eventually went downstairs
there was no sign of her husband or
Mr
Bentley. Bill
followed her to the breakfast room.

'Your grace, I am to inform you
Mr
Bentley has returned to London. His grace was
accompanied him but will be back before dark.'

"Thank you, Bill. Do you know
if the intruders were discovered?'

'No, my lady.
The outside men scoured the grounds
and outbuildings but found no one. I reckon they said their piece and then took
off.'

'I hope that's the case. They were
unpleasant men—not the sort of person own wishes to have wandering freely about
the place.'

Her husband returned at dusk and
Isobel was obliged to contain her curiosity until he had changed and joined her
downstairs.

'Alexander, I have sent for coffee.
Do you wish for anything more substantial, or are you happy to wait until we
dine?'

He flopped into an armchair and
stretched his booted legs towards the fire. 'Coffee will be fine, my dear. I'm
relieved to be back. Rufus is a magnificent animal but even he is shattered
after making a double journey to Town.'

'I've no wish to hear about your
horse, Alexander. Tell me at once what you've been doing all day.'

A footman came in to place the tray
on a convenient side table. Alexander nodded and waved him away. Not waiting
for her scramble up and serve him, he leant forward and picked up the silver
jug and poured himself a steaming cup of aromatic brew.

'That's better. Now, I can tell you
everything that transpired today. I sent Hill with Bentley to pay the debts. Three
hundred guineas is a substantial sum, but it could have been worse.' He
swallowed another mouthful of coffee and she watched the strong column of his
throat convulse.

'I can't believe you have ridden almost forty miles
today and are still upright. You could not have done so a year ago.' Her cheeks
flamed and she wished her incautious remark
unspoken.
'I beg your pardon...'

'Don't
apologise
to
me, sweetheart. You've every right to comment—after all, are you not my wife
and the future mother of my child?'

His eyes gleamed above the rim of his cup and
she smiled. 'I'm still waiting—stop procrastinating and tell me who the money
was owed to and what you did to poor Bentley.'

'Bentley wouldn't reveal that information
however much I tried to persuade him.' He frowned. 'There's something a bit
havey-cavey
about it. One would have thought Bentley would
be relieved to have me speak to the gentleman in question. But no, he was
adamant. He said he would deal with the matter himself and that we would not be
troubled again and I must take his word for it.'

'So Bentley wasn't waylaid by footpads but by
the two ruffians who came here?'

'Apparently so.
It hardly seems credible he could
have got himself in such a mess so quickly—I'm beginning to suspect he brought
the villains with him from his past.'

'Oh dear!
From your expression, Alexander, I
take it you don't intend to let the matter go?'

  'Hill is investigating for me. I intend to discover who sent
those men here. You may be very sure, my dear, they will regret their actions
by the time I've finished with them.'

She was woken in the night by her dogs barking.
What had disturbed them? She sat up to listen—
were
those footsteps outside her door? She was about to scramble out of bed when the
dogs settled. She must have been mistaken.

Chapter Fifteen

Next morning she was woken by a shrill scream,
the noise of smashing crockery and a series of thumps. This was followed by a
ghastly silence. The disturbance had come from somewhere in the main passageway,
it sounded as if someone had fallen down the main staircase.
Please God, let
no one be seriously hurt
.

 Without a second thought she
tumbled from the bed. She paused to adjust the belt of her robe as she no
longer had a waist to put it round. Satisfied she was decent, she ran into the
corridor but Alexander was there before her. She saw him vanish down the
staircase.

She reached the top. The remains of
her early morning chocolate
was
spilt all over the
boards. Her hands flew to her mouth, she reeled against the balustrade.
Alexander was crouching over what could only be
her own,
dear Sally.

     
'Isobel, stay where you're.
There's nothing you can do
here.' He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes glittered,
his
face was pale. Sally was dead—she'd been killed by the fall.

'I don't understand,
Alexander ,
she brings up my tray every morning. I insist
she uses the main staircase and not the back stairs in order to keep her safe.'
Her voice sounded strange, reed thin, as if someone else had spoken through her
lips. This was her fault. If Sally had used the servants' staircase she would
not have fallen to her death.

      Suddenly the
entrance hall was full of people. Mary arrived, and close behind were Bill and
Sam. Alexander remained where he was shielding the body with his own. Only when
someone else could take his place did he turn and bound up the stairs to her.

'My love, your abigail tripped and
toppled backwards. She broke her neck, she will have felt no pain, but have
died instantly.'

Isobel heard his words but could not
take them in. Her head felt light and she fell forward into darkness.

****

Alexander caught her. He was shocked she
weighed little more than a child in spite of her advancing pregnancy. The
stress and the shocks she'd endured might prove too much for her delicate
health. Whatever her objections, from now on he would remain at her side and
take care of her. He strode back to her apartment his precious burden held
close to his heart. She had no
abigail
to attend her
so he must do whatever was necessary himself.

      He placed her
tenderly on the bed,
then
sat chaffing her hands and
calling her name. With considerable relief he watched the colour return to her
ashen cheeks and her eyes flicker open. Withdrawing her hands, she turned her
head away trying to fight back her sobs.

      'My darling, let
me hold you, this has been a terrible shock. It's a tragedy such a lovely young
girl should lose her life in this way. Let go of your grief— it does not do to
bottle it in.'

      She stiffened,
rolling further from him. He must ignore this, she needed comfort and he was
the only one who could give it to her. 'Sweetheart, let me hold you, you'll
feel better if you cry.'

      Gathering her up
he
returned to the daybed with her cradled in his
arms. For a further moment she was rigid, resisting, but then she relaxed and
rested her head on his shoulder. He stroked her hair, her back, her face as she
sobbed. Eventually she was quiet, her breathing even. Thank God, she'd fallen
into a deep, restorative slumber. He was then aware the housekeeper was in the
room.

      'My lord, if you
would care to place her grace in bed I shall take care of her now. You're
needed downstairs.'

      The woman's tone
was terse; she had not forgiven him for what he had done to her beloved
mistress. 'Thank you,
Watkins,
I know she's in capable
hands. This is a wretched business
indeed,
I don't
understand how this could have happened.'

      Downstairs was
quiet; a reverend hush had descended over the building. The poor girl's mortal
remains had been removed and both the butler and Sam Watkins were waiting to
speak with him.

      'My lord,
there's something you need to see. This is a strange business and no mistake.'
Watkins led him to the top of the stairs and pointed to the boards. 'See here,
Sally's slippers have made marks where she lost her footing.'

      Alexander
dropped to one knee in order to examine the place the man gestured to. There was
a smear of something on the top step. He dipped his finger in the mark and
touched his tongue to it. As he'd thought— somehow the unfortunate girl had
trodden in lard and this had caused her feet to slip on the polished surface at
the top of the stairs. How this had come about he'd no idea, but servants were
in and out of the kitchen all the time. All it took was a careless scullery
maid and the deed was done.

       'Do you
see this? You were right to draw my attention to this grease
mark,
at least it explains how this tragedy occurred.'

      The butler, who
had accompanied them to the top of the staircase, shook his head. 'It's right
peculiar, my lord. If Sally had walked in fat, then why did she not slip as
soon as she left the kitchen?

      Alexander
frowned. 'The girl must have walked on the central carpet, and then, when she
stepped on the boards at the top, her foot slid out from under her. She would
have had no chance of saving herself as she was carrying a tray.' Even as he
spoke he knew this was not a satisfactory explanation. Walking on carpet would
surely have rubbed off most of the grease? However the other two appeared to
accept his explanation.

 'It's a very sad day, my lord.
If ever I discover who was the cause of this death they shall be dismissed on
the spot and no references to take with them neither.'

      Alexander
straightened and patted the butler's shoulder. 'It would do no good to take
such action. Accidents happen—you must put it behind you, Brown.' He turned and
addressed Watkins. 'I can rely on you to take care of funeral arrangements? Has
she family that need to be informed?'

      'No, you grace,
Sally was an orphan, that's why she was so pleased to be taken on as a lady's
maid. Her grace will be devastated, she and Sally got on so well. My Mary must
take care of her
now,
this is no time to employ a
stranger to look after her.'

     
'An excellent suggestion, Watkins.
I assume there is someone
who can take over the role of housekeeper?'

He nodded. 'Yes, your grace. You may
have no fear on that score.'

These matters were not Alexander's
concern. He must go and see how Isobel was faring. He was sure a shock of this
sort could bring on a miscarriage—she would be devastated if this baby was
lost.

****

'Sally? What time is it?' Then Isobel
remembered, her maid was dead and the accident was her fault. Her throat
clogged and she could not stop fresh tears from soaking her pillow.

     
'There, there, my dear, all this crying will do no good to your baby. Sally
wouldn't want you to make yourself ill on her account.'

     
Isobel sniffed and dried her eyes on the sheet. 'Mary, what are you doing here?
You should not be looking after
me,
you have the house
to run. Ellie will do very well.'

     
'Bless you, my
lady,
I've not let anyone else take
care of you. It's only a small establishment, young Bill can manage everything
as well as I can.'

      'It
will be a comfort having you close, but only until I've recovered from the
shock, then you must return to your duties.' Isobel was heavy eyed, her throat
raw from crying and she had no idea what time it was. Pushing herself upright
she stared at the mantel clock.

'Good grief! It's almost noon, I
must get up at once.'

      'His
grace insists you remain here, my lady. He is taking care of everything, the
funeral will be held tomorrow and all the staff
are
to
attend.'

      'I've
no wish to
cause
you any distress, Mary, but I am not
remaining in bed. I feel perfectly well. I'm deeply grieved but won't break
down again. I am the mistress
here,
I should be on my
feet not malingering here as if I am an invalid.'

      Mary
had no chance to remonstrate for she threw back the covers and hurried into the
dressing room. She had a pressing need to use the chamber pot. Twenty minutes
later she was in her
parlour
waiting for a tray to be
brought up. Once clothed, her desire to go downstairs became less urgent. She
kept seeing the limp body
spreadeagled
at the bottom.

      The
door opened and her mouth rounded. 'Good heavens, Alexander, you're the last
person I expected to arrive with my luncheon.'

      He
smiled, but his eyes were sad. 'I wished to speak to you, my love, and thought
I would share your repast.'

His gesture reminded her of the
night before her marriage and her gaze softened. 'There's certainly more than
enough for both of us on there. Mary has cleared the table so you can place
your burden there.'

      He
did as suggested then smiled at Mary. 'If you would care to return to your
duties, Watkins, I shall be here for the remainder of the afternoon.'

      Mary
curtsied; she didn't smile but she looked slightly less disapproving than
usual. 'Thank you, my lord. My lady, I shall be back before it gets dark.'

      When
they were alone he approached her, his expression reflecting his concern.
'Sweetheart, how are you now? Your eyes are red - have you been crying again?'

      'I am
recovered, thank you. It's my condition; according to Mary, it makes me more
tearful. I haven't eaten since dinner last night and I am hungry. Tell me, what
delicacies has Cook sent up on the tray?'

     
Removing the snowy white cloth he examined the plates. 'There's a tureen of
soup - from the aroma I would say
it's
leek and potato
- and there is fresh bread and butter to go with it. Then we have what looks
like game pie and chutney, a decent wedge of cheese and a generous slice of
plum cake.'

Her mouth watered as he listed the
food, then her stomach gurgled loudly much to his amusement. 'It all sounds
delicious, please may I have soup and some bread; no butter. Did Cook send up
lemonade?'

He removed the small beaded cloth
from the jug and sniffed the contents. 'Yes, it appears we are both to drink
this for there isn't anything else on the tray.'

He sounded so offended she giggled.
'Honestly, Alexander, it will be to your taste. Far better than wine or beer, I
can assure you.'

      The
meal did much to restore her, and his kindness and attention warmed her heart.
'I am
replete,
I could not eat another morsel. Between
us we have almost cleared the tray.'

     
'Excellent— your Cook is an
asset,
I had forgotten
what good plain food tasted like. My
chef de cuisine
smothers everything
with a rich cream sauce so most of it is unrecognizable.'

      'And
I don't remember ever having a meal served hot.'

     
'God's teeth!
You're quite correct; what nonsense to have a
kitchen so far away from the dining room everything arrives inedible.' He
brushed off the crumbs and carried the tray into the corridor. She thought he
might leave but he returned and folded himself back on the chair with a sigh of
what could have been contentment.

      A
stab of guilt jolted her. How could they be sitting here enjoying each other's
company when

poor
Sally was in her coffin? 'Where is the service
being held tomorrow?'

     
'In the family church, where else?
She will be buried in the
churchyard alongside all the staff
who
have died in
our service. That's something I wish to discuss with you, my love. Have you any
suggestions for what should go on her headstone?'

      'Let
Mary decide, she would know better than I what Sally would like. This whole
episode is most upsetting.'

      He
stretched out his legs towards the fire and she noticed his breeches were no
longer stretched taut across this thighs, she was not the only one to have lost
weight recently.

      'I've
decided to reopen Newcomb
immediately,
Watkins and
George have gone to select sufficient staff to run the place for us. Maynard
and Foster are to remain in Grosvenor Square with the rest of my people; they
can take care of Bentley. I've told him to accept invitations on my behalf and
enjoy himself. This will be his first experience of the
ton
,
I thought to let him benefit from
my absence.'

      She
shook her head in disbelief. 'I've no wish to live next door, you may move
there if you so desire but
I
am remaining here.'