Sauce for the Gander (The Marstone Series Book 1)

by Jayne Davis

  “My idea is that you, or Talbot, agree to sell Ashton Tracey to me if it comes into your possession. One of us can arrange for news to reach my father that I have broken his conditions, at which time he will probably be happy to sell the place at a bargain price to anyone who shows an interest.”

  “That could work, I suppose.” Sir John appeared to be mulling over the suggestion. “And the loan you require would be for this agreed sum—how do you intend to replay it?”

  That was the sticky point in Will’s plan. “It will naturally be a loan on very favourable terms,” he replied. “Low interest, over a long term. The estate revenues will be sufficient to start repayments in a few years, but I should be able to make some profit from the smuggling required by your proposition.”

  Sir John met his gaze. “I have enough authority to agree to that. Do you accept Talbot’s proposition, then?”

  Will looked at Connie, wondering what she thought of the idea now. She turned her head towards the window.

  “I will discuss it with Lady Wingrave,” Will said. “Will you excuse us?”

  Once they were alone on the terrace, Connie turned to him. “Will, if Talbot holds the mortgage on this place, he could foreclose at any time and you would be forced to sell. How is that different from being under your father’s thumb?”

  “I have to assume that Talbot would only make such a decision after rational reflection, not in a fit of pique because he imagines I’ve flouted some arbitrary decree of his.”

  She nodded, that thoughtful crease on her brow again. “And I suppose knowing some of his business means you have some hold over him, if things go sour.”

  “I’m not too sure of that, Connie, given the kind of business Talbot is in. I don’t think threatening to disclose his secrets would be a good idea, for us or for the country. I don’t know him, but Sir John does, so I have to trust Sir John’s judgement in this.”

  “He won’t ask you to do anything else, will he? I mean, could he ask you to become a spy yourself?”

  Will smiled, almost laughed.

  “I wasn’t trying to be amusing.” Her voice was sharp.

  “I’m sorry, Connie, but it was the idea of me being cool-headed enough to do such a thing.” He took a deep breath. “I give you my word not to agree to that, should he ever ask. Will that do?”

  Her face softened and she smiled. “Very well.”

  “Thank you. It would be wise to get something in writing, about the mortgage at least, but we can go into Exeter this morning. Now shall we have breakfast and give Sir John our answer?”

  Connie elected not to accompany Will and the Tregarths into Exeter. The cool breeze and thickening clouds reinforced her decision—several hours in the chaise would not be pleasant if it rained.

  She started by going over the menus for the coming week with Mrs Curnow, before deciding she needed to confront the housekeeper. Although she’d been glad of the woman’s absence at first, it was time she resumed her duties—and performed them properly.

  Connie tapped on the door to Mrs Strickland’s office.

  “Come in, Mary!”

  Connie pushed open the door. Mrs Strickland sat at the desk at one side of the room, a pen in her hand.

  “What took you so long, girl? I sent for—” Her mouth shut with a snap as she faced Connie, and she hastily turned over the sheet of paper she’d been writing on.

  Another letter to the earl?

  Connie waited, keeping her gaze on the housekeeper. Mistaking who was knocking was understandable; not apologising for the mistake was insolent.

  “I… I’m sorry my lady. I asked that girl to… to come…”

  “Never mind, Mrs Strickland.” Connie noted the walking stick leaning on the wall by the door. “I’m pleased to see you can get around without your stick now. I think it is time you resumed your duties.”

  “I… er, yes, if you wish it, my lady.”

  “Good. I wish you to help the maids clean the two guest rooms used last night. Sir John and his son may not have noticed, but there was far too much dust around, and the windows had not been cleaned in an age. Even rooms under holland covers need some attention.”

  The housekeeper’s lips thinned. “I will see they do a proper job, my lady. If I had been—”

  “You misunderstand, Mrs Strickland. We are short staffed, you will help them.”

  The woman finally got to her feet—as she should have done when Connie walked in. “I am a housekeeper, my lady, not—”

  “And I am Lady Wingrave, and your employer. I had to assist the maids in preparing the guest rooms yesterday.”

  A red flush appeared on Mrs Strickland’s face, but she said nothing more, only giving a curt nod.

  Connie turned to leave, almost colliding with the little scullery maid as she dashed into the room.

  “Oh, sorry my lady!” The girl’s eyes were wide, her mouth round in surprise.

  “No matter, Mary. Carry on.”

  Connie retreated to the parlour, not entirely satisfied with the confrontation, but feeling that she had, at least, come out the winner. It was petty, perhaps, but if she was prepared to help out, there was no reason for the housekeeper to refuse. Even Warren was looking after Will’s clothing.

  Will—it would be several hours before he returned from Exeter, even if his solicitor could see him straight away. She would write to Martha again, and then go over the household accounts. Once Will had dealt with Sandow, they could take on more staff, and she should start planning for that.

  Will watched Kellet’s brows rise as he explained the document he wished the solicitor to draw up.

  “Most unusual,” Kellet said, when Will had finished. “To summarise, you wish me to draw up a mortgage agreement for an undisclosed sum, with a Mr Talbot, using an estate you do not own as security. Is that correct?”

  “Yes. To expedite the sale of Ashton Tracey to me, should it come into Talbot’s possession. Naturally the document will not be used while the estate still belongs to my father.”

  “Very well. Can you call back in half an hour?”

  “Some refreshments while we wait, gentlemen?” Will asked, once he was outside Kellet’s office. The Tregarths accepted.

  “This business of getting my father to sell Ashton Tracey…” Will began, as they sat with mugs of ale and dishes of sliced beef and braised vegetables before them. “I’d like to get it over with as soon as possible.”

  “Did you know Elberton is divorcing his wife?” Harry asked. “We could start a rumour that she’s been to see you.”

  “I did know, yes” Will said. “She’s already visited.”

  “What did your wife have to say about that, Wingrave?” Sir John asked, a forkful of beef halted in mid air.

  What business is it of yours?

  “Not much. She came while I was out. Connie sent her away with a flea in her ear.”

  Harry snorted. “I’d like to have seen that.”

  Sir John ignored his son’s comment. “Wingrave, if you have any other secrets, best tell your wife sooner rather than later.”

  “A man with secrets is susceptible to blackmail. Is that what you mean?” Will asked. “Talbot said that.” And he’d already told Connie all his secrets.

  “And it is still true,” Sir John said. “But in this instance it is advice from a married man. Telling them before they find out for themselves is always the wisest course. Assuming you care what your wife thinks, that is.”

  “What do you mean by—?”

  “Nothing at all, Wingrave. Some men do, some men don’t.” Sir John pointed his fork at Will. “And some men are too ready to see criticism when it isn’t meant.”

  Will pressed his lips together, the amused curl of Tregarth’s mouth not lightening his mood. Sir John hadn’t said anything that wasn’t true. He took a deep breath. “Thank you for your advice, Sir John, I will endeavour to follow it.”

  Sir John regarded him with narrowed eyes for a moment, then smiled. “When
you grow up, Wingrave, you could be an asset to the government. We need more people interested in the good of the country, not men intent on lining their own pockets. Now, have some more beef, it’s excellent.”

  Will helped himself, not sure whether he’d just been complimented or insulted.

  At a sound from the next room, Connie looked up from the seam she was unpicking. A footstep. It wasn’t Warren’s measured tread—was Will back already? She hadn’t heard hoofbeats from the drive.

  She jumped to her feet as a man appeared in the doorway, his piercing eyes fixed on her face. She’d seen him before somewhere, in Ashmouth perhaps? He wasn’t tall, or broad, but the measured way he closed the door and walked towards her exuded menace.

  “Who are you? What do you want?” Her voice rose in pitch as she spoke and she stepped backwards.

  Sandow?

  She took a deep breath to scream for help, but he closed the remaining space between them, pushing her back against the wall with one hand over her mouth. She flinched, heart racing, trying to turn her head away, but his fingers pinched hard into her cheeks.

  Metal flashed before her eyes. A knife.

  “Make a sound, and I’ll use this,” he threatened, his voice still quiet.

  She nodded as best she could, and the pressure of his hand relaxed a little. His face drew closer.

  “I want that milksop husband of yours to keep his nose out of my business.” His quiet voice was more frightening than shouting would have been. “He sent Jenny Trasker away. He crosses me again, on anything, and I’ll have you instead of her, whatever he thinks.”

  He let go abruptly, and her knees almost gave way. A sudden tug on her scalp, a flash of the knife, and he held a lock of her hair in one hand.

  “This is the only warning you’ll get. Next time it’ll be your nose, or your throat.”

  Connie hardly breathed as he crossed the room to a window, then she slid down the wall to sit with her arms wrapped around her knees, shaking.

  Chapter 41

  Will handed Mercury to Stubbs in the stable yard, pleased to have made it home before the rain started. Warren took his hat and coat in the hall.

  “Lady Wingrave?” Will asked.

  “She was in the parlour earlier, my lord.”

  Connie wasn’t in the main parlour, so he crossed to the door of her sewing room. As he opened the door, a cool gust of air hit him; one window was wide open, the curtains blowing in the breeze. Will strode across the room and slammed the window shut.

  “Will?”

  He turned, seeing Connie’s white face rising from behind a chair, her eyes wide.

  “Oh, Will!”

  He dropped his satchel of documents and rushed over as she moved towards him and stepped into his arms. “Connie, what is wrong?” He pulled her close, feeling her rapid breaths.

  “He came. Here.” Her voice was muffled against his waistcoat.

  “Who came, Connie?”

  “He… he didn’t say his name, but it m…must have been S…Sandow.”

  “Sandow, here? Connie, are you hurt?” He held her away from him so he could see. “Did he lay a finger on you?” Good God, what might he have come back to? A beating—or worse?

  She closed her eyes, her chest rising as she took a deep breath. “I’m not hurt. Just frightened.”

  “Thank God.” He wrapped his arms around her again, feeling the tension in her slowly ease. “I shouldn’t have left you here alone, Connie,” he said into her hair. “I’m so sorry.”

  It was his job, his role, to protect her, and he’d failed. “Connie, what exactly happened? When did this happen?”

  “Only a few minutes ago. He went out of the window.”

  Hell—if he’d been a few minutes earlier he could have caught the bastard.

  “He…” She swallowed, and when she spoke again her voice was steadier. “He said if you don’t stop interfering in his business, he’ll use the knife on my face next time.”

  “Next time?” He slackened his embrace, putting one hand beneath her chin so she looked into his eyes. “Did he hurt you?”

  “He cut off a piece of my hair.”

  “Damn him.” Will strode to the window and pushed up the sash, leaning out to scan the parkland beyond. Sandow was long gone, of course.

  Wait—someone was moving near the trees. Will had one leg over the windowsill when he felt a tug on his arm.

  “Will, what are you doing?”

  “Someone’s out there. Let me go, Connie, I’ll catch the bastard—”

  “And he’ll stick his knife into you.” She did not relax her grip on his arm as she moved to stand beside him. “That’s not him. Too small, and he’s coming this way. It looks like Danny.”

  She was right, of course. Hopefully he would have come to his senses before catching up with Sandow, but going off half-cocked would only get him injured or killed.

  “How did he get in, with the new gardeners keeping a lookout? Warren should have been keeping his eyes open too, and Archer.” They couldn’t all be in league with Sandow.

  He’d been talking to himself, but Connie answered. “I don’t know, but we need to ask some questions.”

  “You should go to your room, Connie, rest. You’ve had a shock.”

  She shook her head. “No, Will. I need to do something, not lie there alone and relive it.”

  Connie sat at the kitchen table, the shaky feeling in her legs gradually subsiding. Will sent Barton to summon the gardeners and stable hands to the kitchens, and Warren to fetch the indoor staff. He sat beside her, one comforting arm around her shoulders and pulling her towards him. Mrs Curnow took a seat, and soon Barton, Mrs Strickland, and the two maids joined them.

  At Will’s command, Warren set a small glass of brandy in front of Connie, but she only took a small sip, coughing as it stung the back of her throat. Sandow’s visit had been terrifying enough, but once he had gone her main fear had been that Will would do something stupid and get himself badly injured, or even killed. That danger seemed to have passed, thankfully.

  “My lord!” Danny burst into the room, gasping for breath, his gaze moving from Will to Connie.

  “Danny, we’re all safe,” Connie said.

  “I seen him. Sandow, I mean. I’m sorry, I couldn’t come and warn you, he was…” The boy gulped, looking close to tears. “I was too frightened to—”

  “Danny, you couldn’t have stopped him.” Will stood up and put a hand on the lad’s shoulder. Danny stared at him, then nodded. Looking at the servants, Connie saw puzzlement on all faces. Except, perhaps, on Mrs Strickland’s.

  Was her confrontation with the housekeeper this morning the reason for Sandow’s visit this afternoon?

  Clumping footsteps heralded the arrival of Stubbs, Archer, Yatton, and the two new gardeners—the men who were supposed to be keeping watch.

  Why hadn’t they spotted Sandow?

  Will turned to Connie. “Can you explain what happened?”

  Connie glanced at the waiting staff. Most of them still appeared confused, but Archer, Warren, and Mrs Strickland were clearly concentrating.

  “There’s been a man in the house. A stranger. He threatened me with a knife and said Lord Wingrave should stop interfering in his business.”

  Will looked around at the staff as Connie spoke. Their faces displayed varying degrees of shock and horror, but no-one looked guilty, as far as he could tell.

  “It seems too much of a coincidence that this happened at the exact time I arrived home,” he said. “Danny, what did you see?”

  Danny sniffed, and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “I was in the trees, and I seen Sandow. He was hiding in the hedges and the like in the front of the house.”

  Damn—one of the new men was supposed to be at the front of the house at all times. Will eyed the gardeners one by one.

  “My lord,” Tanner said, wringing his cap in his hand. “I was clipping the hedges in front, but she came out and said Lady Wingrave wanted the back g
arden dug first.” Tanner’s finger pointed at Mrs Strickland.

  “That’s a lie,” the housekeeper declared. “I do not give the orders for—”

  “Enough!” Will raised his voice to cut across her.

  Mrs Strickland looked at him, her lips tight and hands clenched.

  That looks as much like fear as anger.

  “When was this, Danny?” Best get the rest of the story first. “How long before I returned, I mean.”

  “Dunno exactly. A while. I would have come to tell someone, but he’d have seen me.”

  That was fair enough—Danny had already come to enough harm at Sandow’s hands. “Then what happened?”

  “I heard a whistle. Come from near the road, I reckon. When I looked again, Sandow wasn’t there. I started up to the house, then I seen him climbing out of a window.” The lad sniffed and rubbed his face again. “I lay down so he didn’t see me.”

  Will put his hand on Danny’s shoulder again. “Thank you Danny. You did nothing wrong.”

  The bastard had not only threatened Connie, but flaunted his power by doing it when Will was almost at home.

  “Warren, how is it that this man got into the house without anyone noticing?”

  “The windows in the parlour were shut, my lord. He must have broken in through one of them, or come in through the front door.”

  “Archer, go and check the windows.”

  Archer dashed off, and Will took a deep breath, maintaining his patience with an effort. “Warren, I’m not asking which entrance he used, but why no-one saw him.”

  “Mrs Strickland was consulting me about linens and crockery, my lord. It was a lengthy discussion.” Warren’s eyes narrowed as his gaze turned to the housekeeper.

  “I was polishing the silver,” Barton chipped in.

  “The maids were in the kitchen with me, my lord.” Mrs Curnow’s chin went up, as if challenging Will to blame her.

  “As you all should have been, Mrs Curnow,” Will confirmed, and her posture relaxed.

  Mrs Strickland had been with Warren. As Will looked at the housekeeper, her gaze slid away.