The Sanctuary (A Spencer Novel) (23 page)

Chapter 42

The next morning, Clairece joined Anthony in the breakfast room. He glanced up and smiled, coming to his feet. “Good morning, my dear.”

“Good morning.” She returned his smile. After making her selections from the array of food on the sideboard, she took a seat next to his.

“I received a message from my cousin asking me to meet him at Roxbury Abbey. I won’t be gone long.” Anthony poured her coffee.

“I didn’t realize you had a cousin.” She added sugar and a splash of cream to her cup. “You’ve never mentioned him.”

“Gerald Wade, Baronet Roxbury, is the son of my late uncle, and my heir should I die without producing a son.”

“You’re close?”

“We were as children, but things changed some time back.” He laid his napkin aside and leaned back in his chair. Had she not been watching, she would have missed the brief look of regret.

“I offered to buy his estate. I suspect that’s why he’s asked to see me.”

“Is the estate near?”

“It was once a part of Sanctuary. Over one hundred-fifty years ago, it was parceled off and awarded to Gerald’s great grandfather for his loyal support. At that time, he was granted a Baronetcy from the King. Although the title is inherited, the land isn’t entailed. I am able to purchase the estate back without petitioning the Queen.”

“An abbey, you say?”

His features relaxed. “The architecture is superb with its leaded-glass windows, oak doors, and large rooms. Though not nearly as grand as Harding Hall, the monastery is remarkable in its own right.”

“Why would he wish to sell?” She sipped her coffee.

“At one time, I couldn’t imagine Gerald living anywhere else. He and I played there, teased the young maids and servants there, and got chased out of the kitchen more times than I can count.” He smiled a little sadly. She reached for his hand and squeezed.

“His father was a decent enough man, though morose after his wife died. Gerald and I were young, maybe seven or eight, when she passed.”

“Is Gerald’s incentive for selling monetary?”

“His lifestyle has changed. He seems to care little for his heritage and prefers a life of gaming and . . . other pursuits in London. He’s been living beyond his means for some time. I believe his debt is the reason he’s decided to sell.”

“Is there nothing you can do to help him?”

Anthony shook his head. “For some time, I’ve covered his gambling debts and made certain his rent in London was paid. I can do no more, nor will I. Gerald squanders the income he receives from the property instead of investing the money where it might do some good.” He refilled both of their cups.

“I see it troubles you.”

He sighed. “I’ve enabled his dissipation by covering his extravagances. I had hoped in time he would change his ways, but I’ve come to the conclusion, he will not.

“The Abbey has been left to decay. The roof is still sound, thank God, so the interior is not damaged by water. The gardens have gone to weed and the hedges are overgrown. The drainage ditches have collapsed in places and some of the fields are flooded. It will take a great deal of work and money to bring the estate back. He cares not for it, and I care more than I should.”

She set her cup down. “Then make it a part of Sanctuary once again.”

“Even if it means Gerald will be left with no ties to the land, and money he will soon fritter away?”

“Even if.” Clairece covered his hand with hers. “As much as you might wish it, you cannot save everyone.”

Anthony’s head jerked up and he met her gaze, then slid his hand from beneath hers. “How are preparations coming to receive our guests?”

An abrupt change of subject. She sighed. Obviously, their previous discussion was at an end. “We’re bringing in a tremendous amount of bedding, cots, and other linens, not to mention the extra foodstuffs. I’m afraid we might beggar you.”

He quirked a brow. “Not likely. Buy what you need without worry. How many guests might we expect?”

“Well, to start with, we filled the servants’ quarters to overflowing when we brought most of the household with us from London. The rooms off the nursery are to be cleaned and aired and beds placed in each for the maids and valets which will accompany my parents and whoever else shows up on our doorstep.”

“You’re enjoying the challenge, though. Admit it.” He grinned.

She wrinkled her nose at him. “I suppose I am. The grooms and several footmen are to sweep and clean the second story of the stable. The stove was checked and is working properly. The Cordova men and other coachmen should arrive soon.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve discussed sleeping arrangements with Mrs. Stedman.” She nibbled at her lip and glanced at him from the corner of her eye.

His eyes widened. “Surely there are enough rooms to accommodate everyone.”

“It will be tight, but we’ll manage.”

“The Hall has twenty-four guest rooms plus the family wing. Are we to have an onset of company I know nothing about?”

She noted the laughter in his eyes and smiled in return. “With my relatives, one never knows. There are only eighteen inhabitable rooms. Six are in the unimproved wing.”

Clairece started as Anthony’s features hardened. He leveled a sharp glance at Hodges and both the butler and footman exited the room. “Are you asking to change those rooms?” His tone had turned glacial.

“I’m suggesting you let go of the past. Your mother would not want you to build a shrine to her. She would—”

His eyes narrowed. “When did you become the best judge of what she would have wanted, or, for that matter, what I want?”

Surprise, dismay, and pain warred with each other and settled like a tight band around her heart.

“Those rooms will stay as they are. Is that understood?” Anthony visibly trembled with rage.

Clairece came to her feet, squared her shoulders, and lifted her chin. “I understand perfectly, my lord, just as I am certain you will understand this. You are an ass.”

His mouth gaped open.

“If you will excuse me, I have things to do.” Clairece heard him call her name as she left, but she was too incensed to stop.

Halfway up the stairs, he took hold of her arm to stay her. She stared at his hand until he released his hold.

“I’m sorry. I should not have spoken as I did,” Anthony said.

“No, you should not have, but it’s your home to do with as you please.” Perversely, she felt a sense of regret when he flinched.

“It is yours as well, Clairece.” She knew he expected a response but she could not give one. “Dammit, can we at least agree to talk about this when I return?”

“When you let go of the past, we can discuss the future and whether this is my home or not.”

“That is not fair and you know it.”

“None of this is fair. Now, if you will excuse me, I must find a quiet place to work.”

He frowned in confusion. “Work?”

“Yes, work. There is correspondence from Philadelphia which requires my attention, and inquiries regarding Roger’s book to address. I have yet to discover a place where I don’t feel the need to pick up everything and move before I’m finished.”

“Have Hodges show you some suitable locations.”

“Are you to approve my choice?”

“No, dammit. Choose whichever room you wish and have it redone to your liking. But not in that wing,” he ground out.

“Of course.”

“Is there anything else you require?” Anthony said stiffly.

“Not at present,” Clairece responded just as stiffly.

He sent her a searching look but she kept her features expressionless. After a moment in which she was certain he would say something else, he turned and descended the stairs, ordering his horse to be brought around.

She watched as Hodges handed Anthony a saddle holster and pistol. “Which do you prefer, my lord, a groom or footman to ride with you?”

For such a man, having a bodyguard would be irksome, but Anthony had set in place rules he expected everyone to follow.

“I will be riding with Lord Anthony.” Jason strolled into the front hall. “I took the liberty of having a horse saddled. This seems as good a time as any to see the property.”

Anthony glanced briefly in her direction, placed his hat on his head, and stepped through the front door with Jason.

Clairece waited until the muted sound of men’s voices and the clang of shod hooves on the cobblestone faded, then turned and trudged upstairs.

Chapter 43

Clairece swept into her room and retrieved a sheet of parchment from the small writing desk. Quickly, she perused her agenda. Before she met with Mrs. Stedman, she wanted to find Hodges and decide on an office space for herself. Later in the day, a planning luncheon was scheduled with Anthony’s aunts and Mrs. Dobbins. Folding the list, she slipped it into her pocket and exited the room.

As she gained the entry hall, Hodges opened the front door to admit two men. She smiled a greeting at Philippe and turned to the other man. “Dr. Farris, what a pleasant surprise.”

“Lady Harding, a pleasure to see you looking so well.” Farris bowed over her hand. “My apologies for dropping in unexpectedly. You left Town before I had a chance to make certain you were recovering well.”

“You are most kind. Unfortunately, the attempts on my life continued until the move became urgent.”

“Is Lord Anthony available?” Philippe handed his heavy cape and hat to a waiting footman.

“He had an appointment. I’m not certain when to expect him,” Clairece replied.

“Was he accompanied?”

“Jason is with him.”

Philippe offered a short bow to Benjamin Farris. “It has been a pleasure.”

“Mine as well,
Don
Philippe.”

As Philippe mounted the stairs, Clairece escorted Dr. Farris to the small sitting room, taking a seat near the fire. The doctor sat across from her.

His gaze scanned her frame. “You mentioned more attempts. Were you injured in any way?”

“No, but a footman was killed. Later, Anthony and I traveled by train and he was attacked with some kind of cudgel. He received a cut on the head and his arm and shoulder still show signs of bruising.”

“Perhaps I should examine him while I’m here.”

Tea arrived along with a tray of pastries and small sandwiches. Clairece poured, adding a splash of cream to each. “Do you take sugar?”

“No, thank you.” Farris accepted the tea and added a chocolate pastry and a sandwich to his plate.

“Do you treat women’s ailments, Doctor Farris?” she asked over the rim of her cup.

“I do. A large number of my patients are female. In my profession, it’s wise to be proficient in as many areas as possible. Is there a specific reason for your question?”

“I . . .” Doctor or no, what she wanted to discuss was personal.

He set his cup aside. “Please don’t feel uncomfortable. You may discuss anything you wish and trust it will remain private. Doctor-patient privilege, and all that.”

She nodded, grateful for his understanding. “I was with child some years ago. I lost the babe as a result of a fall and almost died. The doctor did his best for me but he didn’t know . . .”

Farris’ expression softened and he patted her hand. “You want to know if you are able to carry a child.”

She nodded and swallowed past the lump in her throat.

“How far into your pregnancy did you miscarry?”

“Seven months.” She blinked back tears.

“I understand you were married for some time before your husband died. Did you conceive again during those years?”

“My marriage was not . . . we didn’t—” She broke off, uncertain what to say without explaining more than she wanted.

“May I assume your relationship with Lord Anthony is different?”

Her cheeks heated at the question. “It is. I thought I might be with child but last night discovered I wasn’t.”

“For some couples, it can take time to conceive. With the trauma to your body these last few weeks, I’d be surprised if you were increasing.”

“I see.”

Farris set his plate down. “Let’s take one thing at a time, shall we? I should be able to tell if there was significant damage, enough to prevent you carrying a child.”

“How long can you stay?”

“I’m due a small vacation. A week or so should not be a problem.” He leaned back and picked up his cup. “Do not worry needlessly in the meantime.”

A thought suddenly occurred. “Doctor, how are you at working with an elderly lady who may require new spectacles?”

Clairece followed Hodges up and down halls on the main floor, peeking into each and every room. The library was large enough to accommodate her needs, but she would have people strolling in and out at various times throughout the day.

“All the rooms I’ve assessed appear to be in use. I’m reluctant to take one of those.” She tapped a finger on her bottom lip. “We could investigate possible locations upstairs, but I had hoped to stay conveniently located to the library.”

She glanced at Hodges. “The other night, I came across a locked door just down there.” She pointed toward the end of the corridor. “If I’m correct, it would look out onto the back gardens and the lake.”

“That space is not used.”

Nettled, she stated firmly, “I would like to view the room. Will you show me, or must I call Mrs. Stedman?”

Hodges’ chin rose. “As you wish, my lady.”

More secrets, more ghosts she was certain still haunted her husband. Clairece followed Hodges to the door in question, and waited while he withdrew a skeleton key from his waistcoat pocket, disapproval evident in every movement.

A musty, unused smell assailed her senses as the door opened. Hodges strode past her and pulled back the heavy draperies covering a set of French doors. Light flooded the room. Marks on the hardwood floor gave testament to where a desk once stood. She knew with a certainty what this room had been.

Oak bookshelves, now devoid of all but a few large tomes, towered floor to ceiling on either side of the doors. Clairece stood before a set of mullioned windows and gazed out at the grounds. A wide windowsill, undoubtedly once used as a seat, spanned the entire length of the casement. Fingering the velvet material of the window hangings, her hand came away covered in dirt and dust.

She ambled around the perimeter and imagined the terrors once inflicted on a young boy unable to protect himself. Those memories needed swept away and replaced with new and hopeful ones for the future. “Why is the door kept locked? This is a wonderful room.”

“Lord Harding wishes it so.”

“I know what happened in here. I will not relinquish my husband’s wellbeing to the past, or to a madman who should have cared for him but did not. My husband gave me permission to choose a space for my office. I choose this one.”

Hodges drew himself up in silent protest.

“You do not approve?”

“No, my lady.”

“How long have you been in Lord Anthony’s employ?”

“Since he was a wee lad.”

“So you knew the late earl.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll not ask you to break Lord Anthony’s confidences, Hodges, for I know you would not. He shared a great deal with me regarding his life as a child, and I’m not willing to let his past destroy his future. A future I hope to build with him.”

Varying degrees of emotion flickered briefly in Hodges’ eyes.

“I ask that you help me with this room,” she entreated softly. “I plan to replace my husband’s every cruel memory with a happy one. It cannot be done with locked doors.”