The Revenge of Lord Eberlin (22 page)

“That is not at all true,” Lady Horncastle said, letting her lorgnette drop. “You may recall Mr. Hutton, who found himself suddenly in possession of seven thousand pounds a year after the death of his uncle, yet he did not bring up
his
family.”

“I should think not!” Mrs. Morton laughed. “I should think it impossible to bring up a family that practically swims in their handmade whiskey and considers poaching to be a sport! One cannot possibly compare the two families, madam. The Scott children
were born into a good Christian family and were brought low by the incomprehensible actions of their father. Of course the count would raise his sister up.”

“She has a daughter,” Miss Babcock said idly.

Lady Horncastle and Mrs. Morton’s heads swiveled around and their gazes fixed on the young woman.

Miss Babcock smiled prettily and held up the teapot. “Shall I refresh your tea?”

“What do you mean, she has a daughter?” Mrs. Morton demanded. “I had not heard she’d married.”

“I did not say she had married,” Miss Babcock said coyly.

Miss Babcock’s words hung like anvils over their heads, and Lily’s guests reared back, as if they feared they would be tainted by mere association.

“And how are you in possession of this knowledge, Miss Babcock?” Lady Horncastle asked. “I am certain I would have heard such news from the
many
contacts I maintain in London,” she said, clearly angered she had not been the first to hear of it.

“Mr. Fuquay mentioned it in passing,” Miss Babcock said, to which Mrs. Morton snorted. “He took a delivery of furnishings to Mayfair for Lord Eberlin. He happened to mention he’d made the acquaintance of both and that they are a handsome pair.”

“
Well,
” Lady Horncastle said. “Well, then!”

“And
she
will serve as his hostess?” Mrs. Morton was clearly appalled.

“As I understand it,” Miss Babcock said, obviously
enjoying her role as the fount of all knowledge regarding Charity Scott.

“It is not to be borne!” Lady Horncastle blustered, now quite pink. “It will only invite scandal and gossip-mongering. Count Eberlin must have a care for his actions! He must be aware of how he presents himself to the world. His actions reflect on all of us—have we not suffered enough scandal and gossip of late?”

If there was any gossipmongering that would result in this shire, Lily had no doubt that it would be these three women to do it. She said, “I hardly think it is the end of the world as we know it.”

“Some of us are perhaps more tolerant of bad behavior than others,” Lady Horncastle sniffed, and brushed the crumbs of her teacake from her bodice.

An awkward moment passed as Keira’s ghost hovered above the tea. “I am not intolerant,” Lily said calmly, to which Lady Horncastle flicked her wrist dismissively and looked away. “I feel very sorry for Charity Scott.”

“Why would you feel sorry for a woman who took no more care of her virtue than that?” Mrs. Morton asked.

“You are assuming she was careless, Mrs. Morton. I know only that she was scarcely older than me when her father died, and her mother soon thereafter. How would a girl without protection guard her virtue? She was quite helpless, and I cannot condemn her for that.”

Lady Horncastle blinked. “Do you mean to say you knew of this, Lady Ashwood?”

“Yes.” Lily glanced around at the three women. “I asked Eberlin and he told me what happened to his family after . . . after that summer.”

Her three guests exchanged a look. Lily did not care to talk about that summer to these women, and suddenly, she did not care to talk to them at all. They sat in their tidy houses in Hadley Green and gossiped, judging others by some ridiculous social standard. They could not begin to imagine the trials that other people endured!

“Well
I
shall be on tenterhooks to meet her,” Miss Babcock said, trying gamely to turn the conversation. “She’s down from London and I am certain she will be dressed in the finest fashion. I intend to make a proper acquaintance of her.”

“That is very shrewd of you, my dear,” Mrs. Morton said. “A man as rich and handsome as Eberlin will certainly look for a wife among women who are not put off by the misfortunes of his sister or his questionable occupation, will he not?”

“Pardon?” Miss Babcock asked.

“
Arms,
my dear,” Mrs. Morton said. “The man trades in
arms.
”

“Oh! How very disagreeable,” Lady Horncastle exclaimed.

Miss Babcock faltered for only a fraction of a moment, then turned a bright smile to Lily. “Lady
Ashwood, have you heard the Darlingtons have come? The duke and duchess and their infant daughter, Lady Allison, as well as the dowager duchess. Rumor has it that Lord Christopher will join them, as well.”

“Now
there
is a man for you,” Lady Horncastle said. “Lady Ashwood, you should set your sights on him. He is as fine a match as you would ever hope to make, and he is a man of high morals.”

“Yes, yes, it would be a perfect match of fortunes and holdings,” Mrs. Morton eagerly agreed. “And what beautiful children the two of you would make!”

Lily felt hot. She tried to smile but failed.

“You will make his acquaintance, won’t you?” Mrs. Morton pressed.

“Of course she will! I shall see to it myself,” Lady Horncastle said. “I take great pride in my ability to match young people.”

As Lady Horncastle nattered on about her incomparable ability to pair young lovers, Lily thought that at the very least, Mr. Fish would be made happy by the arrival of the Darlingtons.

Neither the Tiber Park ball, nor the arrival of the Darlingtons, occupied Lily’s mind over the next few days. She was preoccupied with Lucy’s imminent departure, which also overtook any thoughts of how she might find the jewels.

Worse, Tobin had managed to dispel her idea that a kind human being existed beneath his hard exterior.
One morning, Louis escorted Agatha into the study, where Lily and Mr. Fish were reviewing the accounts. Agatha’s news quickly deflated them.

“He’s got a granary in Eldagirt,” she reported nervously. “He’ll carry grain to it and store it free of charge for anyone who promises to mill with him in the summer.”

Mr. Fish’s face darkened. He looked at Lily. “Free granary now?” he said sharply and tossed some papers he was holding onto the desk before stalking to the windows.

“Thank you, Agatha,” Lily said.

“He is
vile,
” Mr. Fish said after they’d gone. “I fear I will fail you, Lady Ashwood. I am not skilled in combating such a virtueless man.”

“We mustn’t fret,” Lily said, although she sounded unconvincing to herself. “As he has not yet begun to store grain, we have a window of opportunity, do we not?”

Mr. Fish looked dubious. “I think our best opportunity is your introduction to the Darlingtons.”

“That may be, but I am also determined to find the missing Ashwood jewels,” Lily countered. “If I find them, our financial problems will be solved. It’s at least as good a chance as wooing some gentleman to make an offer.”

Mr. Fish arched a brow. “You do know that many have tried to find the jewels and have failed?”

“Yes, I know. But that means they are still out there
somewhere, Mr. Fish, and I daresay no one can possibly be more motivated than me to find them.”

He shook his head, much as Tobin had done. “I hope, for your sake, that you are successful, madam. But I must caution you from putting your hopes too high—those jewels are likely in many pieces and now scattered.”

Lily was not going to let that strong possibility dissuade her or discourage her. She had to find them. She remembered what Tobin had advised her the night he’d been snowed in at Ashwood, and she asked Mr. Fish for the books.

“I doubt you will find anything particularly illuminating in them,” he said as he led her to the ledgers that chronicled years of expenditures and income for Ashwood. “I have reviewed them many times myself.”

But he hadn’t been searching for clues to the jewels’ whereabouts.

It proved to be tedious work—the business of the estate went back more than two hundred years, obscure details duly recorded in those ledgers, day by day, and week by week. Mr. Fish was probably correct that she’d find nothing—she hardly even knew what she might look for—but she had to start somewhere.

She searched the ledgers for one that encompassed the year 1793. When she found it, she took it from the cabinet and opened it on the desk. Dust mites swirled out from the pages and sent her into a fit of sneezing. With her eyes watering, she opened to the frontispiece.
The recording had begun in November of 1792, just a few months before Mr. Scott’s demise in June of 1793. Lily ran her finger down the entries on the page, finding nothing remarkable. What had she expected? That she might find an entry:
Sold, to a curator in London, one ruby coronet, one ruby necklace, one pair of ruby earrings, the sum being the gift of King Henry VIII to the first earl of Ashwood?
Hardly.

There was nothing in the pages of that ledger but the purchases made over the years on behalf of Ashwood: a dozen head of cattle, beeswax for candling, flour and fowl and linens and carpets and new livery uniforms. The rents also were recorded, with each tenant’s name listed each month, the amount of rent due, and the amount of rent that was owed. And there was, as Mr. Fish had explained, a steady increase in expense and a decrease in revenues.

Lily slowly turned the pages until halfway through, her eye caught the name Mr. Walter Minglecroft. He had been paid a sum of five hundred pounds in the spring of 1793, a generous amount by any measure. Yet there was no mention of what Mr. Minglecroft’s services had been. Lily was not surprised—there seemed to have been a lack of accurate record keeping through the years. She found two more entries for comparable sums paid again to Mr. Minglecroft in 1798 and in 1799, both without mention of the services he’d performed. How odd.

Lily wondered if Mr. Minglecroft was a vicar, or
perhaps a merchant of some sort. It was also curious that there was a gap of five years between the first payment and the last two.

She continued her search in the next ledger.

Curiously, Minglecroft appeared again. From 1800 to 1803 she found two payments, the last being for one thousand pounds. Then from 1804 onward, a full two years before the old earl went missing, the payments to Mr. Minglecroft ceased. Now curious as to when they had started, Lily pulled out earlier ledgers and discovered that the payments to Minglecroft had begun in 1791.

But that was all. The entries did not provide a hint of where the jewels might have been. It was more likely that Minglecroft was just some merchant or tradesman and nothing more. Disappointed, Lily put the ledgers away.

But what trade? Lily wondered as she made her way upstairs. She was mulling that over when Linford entered the study with a tea service. “I beg your pardon, madam, but Mrs. Thorpe had asked that you take your medicinal tea.” He moved a bit crookedly to place it on a small table near the desk.

“Linford, have you ever heard the name Mingle-croft?” Lily asked as he readied the tea.

“Can’t say that I have,” he said. “But my memory isn’t as keen as it once was.” He poured tea.

“I found his name in the estate records. Who might know who he was?”

“Mr. Fish, I should think. He seems a rather clever young man.”

“But he was not in service at Ashwood at that time.”

Linford thought for a moment. “There was Mr. Bowman. He was the estate agent for many years. Although I have heard recently that he has been afflicted by a stroke.”

Lily remembered Mr. Bowman quite well. He was the one who had interrogated her the morning after the jewels had been discovered missing. He’d sat her in a chair and asked her what she had seen and precisely when she’d seen it as the earl had stood with his back to her, gazing out the window.

There was something else, too,
Lily thought, trying to recapture that sliver of memory. What was it?

“Before him . . .” Linford frowned in concentration. “Mr. John Valmont, I believe. Goodness, I am pleased that I should recall that name, it’s been so long ago. He was an affable fellow, really. I rather liked him.”

“What became of him?” Lily asked as Linford set the cup of tea on the desk where she was sitting.

“I think the earl did not much care for him. The man was young and eager and asked quite a lot of questions. His lordship did not care to be questioned.”

Lily could certainly believe that was true. “When was Mr. Valmont dismissed?”

“Not long after you came to us, as best I can recall.” He clasped his hands at his back and bowed. “Please do
drink your tea, if I may be so bold, mu’um. I dare say neither of us will want to face the wrath of Thorpe.”

Lily picked up her tea. “For our sake, Linford,” she said gravely, but when the old butler had shuffled out, Lily put the foul-smelling tea aside.