Jo Beverley - [Rogue ]

by Christmas Angel

  The floor was a gold-swirled marble, and the same marble formed slender pillars along the length of the room. Embrasures in the painted walls held white marble statues; plinths held exquisite vases in jewel-bright colors. Numerous doors led off this chamber, the wood the rich gold and black of amboyna. To one side, a wide staircase curved gracefully up to yet greater glories.

  "My goodness," Judith said again.

  "Extraordinary, isn't it?" remarked Leander, strolling into this magnificence. "One has to admire my grandfather's taste, and then wonder why one doesn't like it."

  Judith knew she was afraid to touch anything for fear of breaking it. She looked at one of the Etruscan vases on a plinth."These will have to be moved before the children come here."

  He turned to it. "I think you'll find..." He tugged it, and it didn't move. "Wired down, you see. But not proof against a flying ball."

  "I'd never let them play in here."

  "But that's the point," he said, his voice echoing as if in a church. "The whole place is like this. You saw the stables. Neither you, nor I, nor the children, are going to live in a museum." He looked around. "I must admit, however, that nothing seems to be missing."

  "These are hardly the most transportable items."

  "True. Let me think... This way, I believe..."

  He led the way to a door, and opened it upon a saloon of some kind.

  Perhaps, thought Judith, it was the drawing room, but it was hardly the place for comfortable family evenings. Gilded pillars divided tapestry-covered walls. The ceiling was an amazing trompe l'oeil view of the heavens. The furniture was of the finest quality, covered with expensive silk which looked new. She would be afraid to sit on it.

  Perhaps the room would be the better for fires in the three fireplaces. The whole house was deeply chilled; she kept her hands tucked well inside her muff.

  Leander looked up and said, "The third prophet from the right is apparently my grandfather, forever looking down on the wonders he hath wrought."

  Judith looked up at the sharp-faced man with flowing hair, and shuddered.

  Leander walked across the room, and opened another door. "Ah, yes."

  Judith followed and found she was in a plate room. Glass cases displayed gold and silver bowls and dishes for all occasions. "Nothing missing as far as I can see," said Leander. "Stranger, and stranger."

  Judith remembered her words to Rosie. "Will we have to eat off golden plates after all?"

  "Of course not." Leander led the way into the next room, where ranks of china—English, French, and Oriental—were displayed.

  He put his hands on his hips and surveyed it all. "The place appears to have been abandoned untouched. I can only assume—"

  "And what do you think you're doing?" a voice demanded.

  Judith and Leander turned sharply to face a young man armed with a pistol. It was young James Knollis. Judith's heart leapt into her throat, and she thought of throwing herself before Leander.

  But James let the pistol drop, and paled. "Oh lord," he said.

  "Precisely," said Leander, and removed the pistol from the young man's hand. "When did you get back here?"

  James went from pale to red. "I came straight back from Winchester, sir. I'm sorry about that. I couldn't think what else to do."

  Leander uncocked the weapon. "Why was there any need to do anything?"

  James looked between them and sighed. "You'd best come talk to Mother."

  "Your mother is still here?"

  "We're all still here," said James with a touch of bitterness. "What choice do we have?"

  Leander and Judith shared a puzzled look and followed James as he led through room after room, and into the servants' quarters. Why was his mother in the kitchen?

  The whole family was in the kitchen.

  James ushered Leander and Judith in, saying, "Cousin Leander, everyone, and his wife. In other words, Lord and Lady Charrington."

  There was a general air of consternation in the crowded room, but no threat that Judith could detect. All the same, she was glad Leander still had the pistol in his casual, but doubtless competent, hold.

  "Good day," he said smoothly. "I must assume you are my aunt and cousins. Where is Uncle Charles?"

  The woman rose slowly to her feet. She was a sturdy woman with a strong jaw and very fine eyes. Her face was guarded. "Up, children, and make your bows to your cousin."

  The nine youngsters at the table—from a girl of about sixteen, to a little one of about three—struggled up and bowed or curtsied. Most of them were boys and bowed. The family almost rivaled that of King George for fecundity.

  Leander's aunt looked at him with no hint of apology. "My husband is in bed, of course. He's pretty much bedridden, and it'll only agitate him to know you're here, but I'll take you to him if you insist."

  The kitchen was cozy, even hot. Leander assisted Judith out of her fur mantle, and shrugged out of his greatcoat. "I'll insist on nothing until I've some idea what is going on, Aunt." He pulled two extra chairs up to the long table for himself and Judith, then said, "Would you care to tell me why Cousin James tried to frighten us away with tales of diphtheria, and why you are camped out in the kitchen?"

  Once everyone was seated again, the children set to their food—a hearty stew with dumplings.

  Aunt Lucy didn't answer his question. "Would you care for some stew, my lord? It's all your providing anyway."

  "Yes, please," he said, and Judith said the same.

  She wondered whether to prompt him about George, but doubted he had forgotten. Perhaps he was keeping the footman a secret, in case of need. She suddenly wondered if the soup would be poisoned, but was reassured when one of the older boys asked for more and had his bowl refilled from the same pot that had filled theirs.

  The stew was very good, but it was peasant fare, and contrasted absurdly with the gilded palace they had just walked through. It contrasted with the magnificence of the kitchen in which they sat. Judith had heard that the kitchens of the Regent's Pavilion in Brighton were ornate; he obviously had much in common with the first Earl of Charrington.

  The room was large and beautifully proportioned, with long windows to let in light and high ceilings to cope with smoke and steam. Here again the walls were tiled, and the tiles formed handsome pictures of fish, game, and cheeses. Great racks and shelves held dishes of all kinds.

  Leander took a few spoonfuls of his stew and then said, "Are you going to answer my questions, Aunt?"

  "I would prefer to wait until the children are finished, my lord."

  He accepted it calmly. "Very well. Perhaps we would be easier if you were to call me Leander. I am not that much older than your oldest son. Or nephew, if that suits you better."

  This did seem to fluster her. "I will try, Lord... Leander."

  "And you must certainly call me Judith," said Judith, "for I am unused to titles anyway."

  "Aye," said Aunt Lucy. "Your marriage wasn't long ago, was it?"

  "A mere two weeks." So no one was under the false apprehension that Bastian was Leander's son.

  Aunt Lucy wiped the hands and faces of the two youngest, who had finished. "I understood that you had children, Judith."

  "We left them with friends for a day or two."

  The woman flashed them a shrewd look. "Ah."

  Judith was surprised to think she could like Lucy Knollis. She was an intelligent, strong woman with a fine family.

  "How old are they?" asked Lucy.

  "Bastian is eleven. Rosie is six."

  "My Arthur here is eleven, and little Elizabeth is nearly six. They'll be able to play together."

  Were they aiming to stay? There could be trouble ahead.

  "Bastian is to go to Harrow soon," Judith said. "What schools have your boys attended?"

  Lucy's face hardened. "The older ones go to Blundell's in Tiverton. We don't care to send them far from home."

  "What a shame," said Leander. "There'd be no question, then, of Arthur going to H
arrow with Bastian? It would be good for him to have a friend there. And the younger boys in turn, of course."

  Lucy looked dumbfounded. "Well... I don't know, I'm sure..."

  "We'll have to see if they get along," said Leander smoothly. Judith recognized that he was into handling mode, and knew the family had no hope. Except that his intentions seemed to be benign. Was he going to let them stay on after all? Judith was not happy at the thought of trying to make a home out of the Temple with this tribe underfoot, doubtless objecting to every change she made.

  Leander spoke again. "Coverley is not so far away that they will have trouble getting together."

  This reference to his uncle's inherited property was slid in so smoothly it took a moment for it to register with Judith, but then she glanced quickly at Lucy. She caught no trace of pique.

  "It's but a mile." There was some reservation in it, though, and Judith wished she knew why.

  The meal came to an end, and the children departed. They all seemed to have tasks. In some cases it was to look after the little ones, but in others it was a maintenance job around the house. What had happened to the servants?

  James stayed behind, seating himself pugnaciously at the table, as if expecting to be sent away. If his father was sick, he doubtless felt it was his place to support his mother.

  Lucy poured strong tea for them all, then sat, stiff backed at the head of the table. "I won't apologize, for I don't see that we've done much to apologize for."

  "Mother—" said James.

  Leander stopped him with a gesture."Young James here sent us on a wild-goose chase back to London with his talk of diphtheria."

  "I can't see as it's done you great harm, nephew. The truth is, as you'll doubtless have realized, that we wanted time. I had hopes to set things straight, or at least make head and tail of them...." Her strength wavered a little. "The truth is that I've no notion of business. How could I have, who've had her hands full of babies these twenty years?"

  "True. But is my uncle so ill he cannot handle business?"

  Mother and son exchanged glances. "Not in his opinion. But he's stuck in his bed, and half paralyzed, so we let him give us orders and then we do as we think best."

  "What's the problem, then?" Leander asked calmly. "The house seems to be in fine shape."

  "Oh yes," Lucy said bitterly, "it's in fine shape, all right. It's the only thing that is." She fixed Leander with her handsome dark eyes. "You must have found out by now that there's money missing."

  "There do seem to be discrepancies...."

  "Not a penny has been stolen," she said harshly. "Not a penny. It's all gone into this damn palace!"

  Judith saw the woman was close to tears, and knew she wasn't someone who cried easily.

  "What mother's saying," interjected James, "is that Father has been fiddling the accounts to get money for the Temple. He's let Coverley, which should be our home, and even taken a mortgage on it. And all because you wouldn't come home."

  "I would have been here a week ago if you'd not interfered."

  "What's a week?" the young man asked bitterly. "By then, we were desperately trying to tidy up some of Father's shady dealings."

  "Shady?"

  "I don't know what else you could expect," said Lucy, "when you wouldn't take up your responsibilities. We couldn't leave here until you came to take over. We weren't allowed to stop the work until it was finished. Once the old earl was dead, though, there wasn't the money to pay for it, as the income was first your father's, then yours. So my husband started altering accounts, finding ways to divert money to pay the bills . Then the steward of the Cumberland estate started talking of investigations and accountings, and my Charles realized he'd messed things up so well he'd be hard-pressed to prove his honesty."

  She sighed. "That was when he told me what a pickle we were in. The work was finished, so the worst of the outlay was over. We dismissed the servants, and cut back all the expenses, trying to balance the books. Then you announced you were coming, and he had the seizure. Since then, James and I have been toiling over those dratted books, trying to make them make sense, but I don't know... If I looked at them afresh, I'd swear we'd squirreled away a fortune."

  Leander looked at the ceiling and shook his head. "Didn't it occur to you to just tell me about this?"

  "Why should it? We didn't know you—still don't if it comes to that—and the only thing Charles knew about your father was that he was a top-lofty sort who'd run through his wife's money, and would squeeze every penny he could from the Knollis properties for his silly gallivanting. Charles fair begged his brother to come back and take this place off our hands when the old man died, but not him."

  "You should have written to explain all this to me."

  "But you had to be here!" exclaimed young James. "Haven't you even read the bloody will?"

  Leander looked sharply at him, but his voice was level when he said, "Clearly, not carefully enough. Does it stipulate that I must live here to inherit? No one said anything of that to me."

  "Not that exactly," said James more moderately. "But Father isn't allowed to leave until you come here to take over. Grandfather didn't seem to think you would, and he didn't want the place abandoned. Father was also responsible for ensuring the work in hand was finished. The penalty was that he could not receive Coverley if he did not fulfill the conditions of the will."

  "But why on earth did he not tell me this? I understood that clause of the will only to mean that I must be alive to inherit, not that I had to be here. I would have come down and taken charge."

  "He says he wrote to you. Do you say you never received it?"

  Leander looked a little uncomfortable. "I received a letter begging me to come to the Temple. It said nothing of the will."

  "So, why didn't you come?"

  "I did," he admitted, "but incognito, as a visitor. You must understand, I was raised with some strange notions about this place."

  "As were we all," said James bitterly. "It's swallowed up my parents' lives, and it's well on the way to swallowing up us, too."

  "Not anymore," said Leander. "It's a house, no more than that. Do I understand you would be happy to move to Coverley?"

  Lucy looked up with a glimmer of hope. "More than you can imagine! Do you mean you aren't going to prosecute?"

  "For what? The management has been unusual, but I believe nothing has been taken. I'm only sorry this misunderstanding has cost my uncle his health. Tell me, has he loved this place as my grandfather did?"

  Lucy frowned. "No, I wouldn't say that. But he's conscientious to a fault, my Charlie. He felt we couldn't leave the old man alone, and so we stayed on and helped make this place what it is. Never cared for it myself, and it always seemed a waste, but doing it right became the issue with him. He always thought it'd be finished soon, and then we could live a normal life. He knew he was to get Coverley and thought his father would give it him as soon as the Temple was finished. But the years dragged on and the place never was finished.... Have you any idea how hard it's been to raise ten children here?"

  Judith spoke up. "But haven't you been living in the house?"

  Lucy shook her head. "Lord no. Old Lord Charrington wouldn't have them around, and anyway, Temple Knollis had to be perfect, see? Every mark, every blemish, had to be repaired or replaced. The job would never have been done if the children had been allowed to run around. We have rooms in the East wall, and the children spent most of their time with the servants. Once the staff were gone, it was easier to move mostly into here."

  "Oh, you poor woman. I don't know how we can ever make it up to you."

  "Just take this place off our shoulders, dear." Lucy smiled. "You mustn't think it was all so bad. The children had the park to run in. They could boat and fish in the river, and they've plenty of family hereabouts. And Charles and me have had many good times. We had love, see. Well, of course you do, newly wed and all... I'm sorry though, to be offloading this place onto you. I hope you can make it
a home, but I wouldn't know how to go about it."

  She pushed herself up from the table. "Now, I suppose you'd better see Charles. Try not to upset him."

  Leander's uncle was a fine-boned man, but looked at them with a twisted scowl. When he realized Leander meant him no harm, he relaxed and Judith could see the resemblance. His speech was unclear, and one arm was limp, but the visit seemed to brighten his eyes.

  Lucy lovingly straightened his sheet. "We'll be at Coverley in days, love. How fortunate Colonel Manners just left, and we haven't replaced him. A home of our own at last."

  Charles Knollis's good hand curled around his wife's and he smiled.

  "Now," said Lucy to Leander, "I suppose you'll be wanting a bed for the night. There's none aired."

  Leander agreed, but Judith had a frightening thought. She touched Leander's arm, and when he glanced at her she whispered. "These people clearly had nothing to do with Bastian."

  His mind was on other matters. "Some madman, I suppose."

  "I don't know... Leander, have we time to get back to Redoaks today?"

  He looked at her sharply. She thought he might take her to task again for being overprotective, but he said, "Yes. Why don't we? I've no desire to sleep in a chilly bed. From the sounds of it, none but my grandfather's have ever been slept in at all. What a ridiculous place this is."

  They arranged with Lucy for servants to be hired, and the house to be made as ready as possible for their return in a few days.

  "I'll do that, nephew, and there's many hereabouts who need the work. But will it be all right for us to move into Coverley? I'd dearly love to have Christmas in our own home."

  "Of course. I can understand your feelings, for I share them. I, too, want to have Christmas in my own home. I'm deeply sorry for all the problems my branch of the family has caused yours."

  Lucy smiled. "Well, that's family for you, lad. I'm looking forward to having you here and meeting your wife's children."

  As Judith and Leander walked back through the magnificent house, Judith thought it would certainly be a labor of Hercules to make the Temple into a home, and fill it with Christmas cheer, but she would do it for Leander. She rejoiced that he now had family of his own. Her main preoccupation, however, was to be with her children just in case the two attacks had not been random madness.