“You have done fine enough with that on your own,” he said, and she flinched.
“Perhaps it would be better to focus on something different,” she said, softly sinking down upon the rock where she had been sitting earlier. “You are correct in saying my reputation counts for very little at this point. Thankfully, I am no longer a Lady, so my being compromised by a man such as your brother is only a sad tragedy and a fact of life for one such as me. I am only a servant, after all.”
“You could never be ‘only’ anything,” he ground out harshly. “Though why I am obsessed with you I do not know. My brother may have acted dishonorably but you have clearly made your choice. It is for you to live with the consequences.”
“Oh la, how generous of you, Your Grace. I am surprised you did not leave me upon the ground, kneeling at your feet, taking the obeisance as your due,” she said, and pulled the cloak around her tighter, trying to disappear entirely within the warm folds.
“Will you cease your incessant prattling, and listen for a change?” He threw up his hands in frustration and she winced. “I need to know exactly what is being planned within the village. My men cannot get close enough to the locals to find out, and my guests arrive tomorrow. Your father wanted that list for something, and when he could not find it, he came back to the house to get what he was lacking. Or am I wrong?”
Alicia bit her lip and thought a moment before answering. “You are not wrong,” she said softly.
“Then for the sake of those innocents who have no part in this ridiculous feud, will you tell me what I need to know? Or shall you be responsible for the spilling of more blood?”
She flinched. “I truly do not know. We never understood…when my brother…when the Ribbonmen were at Garvagh, they had no thought of revolution. They only wished for the fine Englishman to notice them, to understand that they were not welcome. It was only a tavern…none of the men were even armed…”
“Someone did,” he said harshly. “Someone betrayed you all, and as a result how many Irish suffered from that protest? For I will tell you now, there wasn’t an Englishman who suffered so much as a scratch from that altercation. Do you honestly wish to see it happen again?”
She was crying now, her the cloak pulled up to hide her face. “My brother died because of Garvagh,” she said between sobs. “I would not have another family suffer what we did.”
“Then tell me what you know.”
“You will only beat it out of me, I suppose,” she said on a long sigh. “That is the way of men…”
He reeled back as if he were the one who was struck. “If that were the truth, you would have felt the back of my hand long before this,” he growled and came over to kneel before her, brushing the hood of the cloak back from her face with the back of his hand before she realized what he was about. She froze there, as he studied her in the moonlight.
“Tom had said you were injured, but I had not realized he had marked you. It was your father in the library, after all. And his musket that you held. You refused to confirm the fact when I said it before, so I shall say it again. You cannot protect him forever.”
She stared at him, blinking back the tears, seeing only the tenderness and concern on his face. It was impossible not to see the way he frowned, the way the lines drew together upon his forehead when he looked at her. She swallowed hard, and whispered a single word. “Aye.”
He brushed at the tears upon her cheeks and let her go, moving back almost reluctantly, giving her a moment to herself, she realized.
“You will find that not every man is a monster. I would not have beat the answers from you for anything, nor would I ever raise a hand to a woman, regardless of my right to do so. I am not one to take something that is not freely given. The man who does otherwise is a coward,” he said. “Though I will ask again, what are the Ribbonmen planning?”
“Truly, I do not know. They sent me to watch, but I am not privy to all their meetings. Some things are only for the men to know, and even then, only a select few. In the past they have caused all manner of bedevilment of the Englishman, but there is something going on, something that feels more serious than the cutting of a crop or the breaking of a fence to set the animals free.”
“They are like as not behind the ruination of our dairy,” he muttered, and let out an angry breath. “But you have the right of it. A guest list is not needed for pranks such as those.”
Alicia chewed on her lower lip as she thought. “I could…”
“No.”
His answer was immediate and she glanced up at him in surprise. “I have not even made the suggestion yet, Your Grace.”
“Whatever it is, you have done quite enough already. Had you not been there today I like as not might have killed my own flesh and blood. Even now my brother is nowhere to be found—”
“You might ask Meghan. She is a maid who works at Ravencliff.”
He blinked. “Why would a maid at Ravencliff know something that I would not?”
Alicia’s lips twitched in amusement. “Your Grace, I wager there is much the servants at Ravencliff know that you do not.”
His look was rueful. “Point taken.”
“As for Meghan, let us say that she is more knowledgeable of your brother than any of us. If any were to know, she would. Though you would be well advised to use a…gentler…tone in your questioning, and perhaps a promise that she will not lose her position within the house, where she to answer honestly.”
Jacob’s eyebrows shot up. “It will be as you say. But what of you?”
“I will go home. It is there I will find the one man who can answer all of our questions. I suspect he is responsible for much more than I have credited him for.” Alicia stood up, and brushed off her skirts, and shook out the cloak.
“He will hurt you!” Jacob protested.
“No, he will not,” she said softly, though she could not hide the trace of doubt in her voice. “I won’t allow him to hurt me again. He always says he’s sorry afterwards, and I have put up with his brutality thus far, as there has never been another option. But he will not strike me again. If he does, he will receive my wrath, and I have enough gathered over the years to prove myself a mighty adversary for once…”
This time when he reached for her hand she did not pull away. “Promise me you will not do anything dangerous. If he…if he is violent, you will leave. There is nothing so important that it is worth your life.”
Her heart beat wildly in her chest, as his fingers twined around hers. “I promise. I will only defend myself where necessary, and if he leaves me no further option,” she said softly, aware of just how close they were standing. “I should go…”
“The boy will take you back on his horse,” he said, releasing her hand so slowly she felt the loss of each finger individually.
“Aye. I expected he would,” she said, and fled through the trees to where the boy stood waiting, knowing if she stayed another moment she would lose the courage to do so.
* * *
Behind him, a figure stepped from the trees. “You heard?” Jacob asked softly, his voice little more than a whisper.
“Every word.”
“Watch over her. Keep her safe.”
Tom nodded and melted into the underbrush, moving so silently he might never have been there in the first place.
Chapter 31
He had missed dinner, but the group was still at play as he entered the drawing room. Jacob stood a moment, watching the couples whirl about the room gaily as one of the ladies played a lively tune upon the pianoforte. This was an impromptu dance, he could see, with much laughter and a relaxed air that made him long for London. As an officer, he had been to many such gatherings, and always found them congenial.
Maybe it would not be such a bad idea to leave Ireland, he thought, wondering if by returning to London, he could recapture the life he had led there. Of course, his mother would insist on some manner of townhouse. Something on a fashionable street.
T
here would also be balls there, tedious things, he had no doubt, aimed at finding him a wife. The change in his station would be notable. He was no longer merely a Captain, but a man of means. A Duke had certain expectations placed upon him, after all. He would be required to entertain, to set an example. To engage in politics.
He would not be allowed to return to sea.
Jacob looked around the room, seeing the laughing faces of the men he had served with for the last few years. His mother held court in the corner. She held herself with an air of someone who was being somewhat put upon. He could see in the set of her mouth, in the regal way she held her head, that these people, these particular friends, would not be welcome again in her home. She would see them as beneath her, as she did now.
He would lose these associations. It was an unsettling thought, one that did not sit well.
One of the men saw him lurking there in the doorway and called to him. A moment later, Jacob was thrust into the assembly. He found himself dancing with someone’s sister, and was passed along in short order, one partner to the next, until he’d danced three dances without having remembered asking anyone formally if they cared to. In truth he could not have imagined asking anyone to dance at all. When he even considered it, the only partner he desired was one not even there.
All the same, it was a riotous affair, the men easygoing, though treating him with a certain respectful air that maybe took on a greater degree of solemnity than it had previously. Every interaction underscored a change he hadn’t been aware was setting in. By the end of this house party, he would no longer be their Captain, except in fond memories and the occasional correspondence.
Begging off from further dancing, Jacob looked for his mother, only to find she had retired for the night. She must have slipped out while he was dancing. Somewhat thankful that he would not be called to account for his disappearance over dinner, Jacob set out to begin his own investigation. Namely, that of determining where his brother had disappeared to.
A handful of questions found him more confused than ever. No one had seen his brother leave the estate, but clearly he was not anywhere to be found. Somewhat nonplussed, Jacob found himself seated in the corner watching a game of whist while contemplating the servant girl who moved unobtrusively throughout the room, fetching items for the ladies, and attending to small details such as who needed a drink or cushion.
In truth, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d watched a servant at work. In his world, they had always just been there. Now as he considered this girl, he found himself wondering if she were happy in her work, or whether people were unknowingly cruel. He wondered how she felt about the people she served.
And about whether or not she was this mysterious Meghan that Alicia had told him to find.
Alicia. Leave it to her to consign him to feeling unsettled and discontented in even the most mundane of settings. If someone had told him the Irish lass was a witch he would have believed it. She had ensnared him under the spell of those amber eyes. The dusting of freckles across her nose beguiled. The bright curls of her hair that constantly escaped from under her cap lured him to her. She would be his downfall yet.
But for her, he would leave Ireland and never look back.
“Miss…” He caught the servant girl in passing, her hands full of shawls. The room grew chilly as the night progressed.
“Yes, Your Grace?”
Such plain, ordinary eyes. How was it that one girl could so beguile while another was merely another servant within his house? Disconcerted, he cleared his throat before speaking. “I was…er…rather hoping that you might be Miss…er…Meghan.”
Funny how talking to Alicia had come so easily. The girl, flustered, and with a hint of amusement in her hazel eyes, answered that she was not Meghan, that in fact she had not seen her for several hours.
This was not the answer he had expected. For some reason, Jacob had rather hoped that this line of inquiry might be something simple, where everything else had been complicated. Frowning, he asked the girl if she could find her for him as he wished to have a word with her in private.
It was an unorthodox request, and one better made through Mistress Flower or whatever her name was. That he had instead chosen to circumvent that redoubtable woman was only one more hint of the fear that was fast overtaking him. But he could not shake the feeling that this epic individual had in fact lied to him not once but several times.
And hadn’t she been responsible for hiring Alicia? Or now that he thought about it, hadn’t Owen had charge of the hiring? He tried to remember now what had been said upon meeting her. Had it only been a week since then?
Troubled now, Jacob realized that it was in fact Owen who had hired the girl and not Mistress Marigold as he had originally believed, though that good woman was clearly in charge of some aspects of hiring if she had made the decision to let the girl go.
Maybe he needed to talk to Mistress Marigold after all.
With that in mind, Jacob excused himself from the card players and left, not going to his study as he’d intended, but instead finding his way to the kitchens were the staff were just finishing the clearing away of dinner and were setting out the bread to rise for the morning.
“Your Grace!”
There was a clatter of cutlery, a scrambling of people drawing to attention as Jacob took in the room in a sort of amazement, first that it was run so efficiently, much like things upon his own ship, and second that it was functioning at such a high level with Mistress Marigold notably absent.
A dozen faces still turned toward him, wary and expectant. Jacob realized that running a crew of this nature not much different from handling a crew upon his ship, and saw for the first time what a mess he’d made of things in trying to jump in without knowing the arrangements of how the estate was run. His brother had been right; Jacob had clearly been acting the fool.
Whereas he had officers to handle different aspects of the ship, here too were overseers, and staff in varying ranks below that, without the helpfulness of titles to designate who was whom. There were no yeomen here or sailors, but a crew all the same, working seamlessly, long accustomed to working together. Henceforth he would try to understand these things before stepping in where he clearly wasn’t wanted or needed.
“I am looking for Mistress Marigold,” he said, with a certain triumph in his voice for having gotten the name right, given that no one corrected him nor seemed overly confused by the request.
Heads turned toward one of their own, the elected spokesman, a lean individual who was polishing the silverware with the intensity of a jeweler attending to his wares. This man pushed his spectacles back up his nose to look at the Duke better, giving a satisfied nod before answering. “She is visiting the wine cellar, Your Grace.” Her pointed toward a door, partially open, across the room.
“Thank you.” Jacob started toward that door then stopped again, this time pausing to look at each of the women who were kneading the dough, giggling heads together, trying to pretend that they weren’t watching him when in fact they were. “By any chance are any of you named Meghan?”
He thought he heard a cheeky reply of, “For you I could be, Your Grace,” that might have come from any of the girls, for the giggles erupted anew when he looked at them sharply. It was his spokesman from before who answered for them.
“No, Your Grace. I believe that she, likewise, is below stairs.”
With that, he went back to his polishing, and gradually the work of the kitchen fell back into the pattern that he had so rudely interrupted. Thoughtful now, and more than a little puzzled, Jacob frowned and reached for the door, seeing the stairs beyond, and the flickering lamplight that lit the way into the distant depths.
He had been there as a youth, he remembered, venturing down on a whim, Owen trailing behind. They’d ended that particular excursion with a rather fine vintage, stolen from the rack and drunk behind the large caskets of ale, brewed at Ravencliff and stacked in formidable walls that divided the
cellar down the middle, bisecting the racks of various vintages.
He reached the bottom of the stairs in less time than he expected, proving that time had indeed inflated things in his memory until they were bigger than before. Perhaps he remembered the entire adventure wrong, for he could not remember smiling, much less laughing with his brother in recent years.
Nor would he get a chance to tonight. He heard them before he saw them, the Mistress and her maid, their voices high-pitched and urgent as they argued wildly while between them stood Owen, right in the thick of things.
Chapter 32
“Here. This is far enough.” Alicia bid the boy stop the horse, and slid down almost before he had a chance to object.
The Remarkable Myth of a Nameless Lady: A Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 17