*
Pierce entered his rooms to find Melrose emerging from his dressing room to meet him in the foyer.
“I’ve laid out a suit for you to change into, sir. I see you’ve been attempting the musket again.”
“Rifle Melrose, not a musket,” he corrected good naturedly. “And to be honest I am very close to graduating from attempt to use.”
“Of course sir.”
“You don’t believe me?” asked Pierce, sensing his valet’s disbelief. “Ask MacDuff the next time you seem him.”
“Have you hit the target yet?”
“Speaking of MacDuff,” continued Pierce, ignoring the question. “I think we can trust him and I doubt he had a hand in recruiting me.”
“I agree sir. I’ve known him for some time and he’s always been honest. Besides I believe he’s more in Lord Lodges camp than Dr. Cleavers.”
“Is there is a rift between the two Masters?”
“You wouldn’t know to watch them, as they are both gentlemen and conduct themselves as such. However it is well known that they are very much opposites, and antagonise each other, however covertly. Most people at the Manor choose sides between them, whether they know it or not.”
“Interesting. Seeing as Dr. Cleaver is behind this, I should try and meet Lord Lodge. He might be able to help me…” Pierce trailed off as he said this by the look on Melrose’s face. “Bad idea?”
“Not at all sir. In fact that would have been my suggestion from the beginning.”
“However…” Waited Pierce.
“However, Lord Lodge has not been seen for weeks. Well before you arrived here in fact.” Leaning in closer, he continued in a conspiratorial tone. “At first the Doctor said he was taking a break from his Manor duties and was relaxing in his rooms. However I heard from the head cook that the Doctor informed her that Lord Lodge would no longer be requiring any food prepared.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“Indeed sir. Do you think he’s dead?”
“No. If he were we would have been told. No I think the Doctor is playing some kind of game, and needs Lodge alive, for now. So he’s either still in his rooms and the food is being brought in to him. Or…”
“He’s no longer in the Manor,” finished Melrose. “What shall we do sir?”
“You said that the order came to the cook this morning?” Seeing Melrose nod, Pierce continued, “then quietly ask around the staff if anything out of the ordinary occurred last night. Meanwhile I think I’ll take a stroll down to the village.”
Pierce quickly changed out of his training clothes and put on a perfectly tailored tweed suit. At the door he grabbed a cloth cap of similar material and picked up a wooden walking stick. It was made of a knobby black wood and reminded him of a similar piece his grandfather used.
“Aren’t we just the image of a country gentleman,” he uttered softly, mimicking the flowing Irish accent of the old man. “I hope to Jesus you know what you’re about Paddy boy.”
By now Pierce was fairly familiar with the layout of the Manor and made his way to the front door without any detours, emerging to find a gray but dry afternoon. He decided to stay to the gravel drive that led to the main roadway and the village beyond, still a little nervous from his previous bullet filled walk in the arboretum. This decision proved justified as he immediately heard the crack of weapons fire, shortly followed by small plumes of gray smoke.
Pierce passed the large stone and wrought iron gates that signalled the extent of the Manor grounds and took the road to Rooks Bay. The road was quiet, with no traffic to watch out for. This enabled Pierce a chance to figure out what he’d do when he reached the pub. If it weren’t for overhearing Jane for himself, he would have doubted her having any dubious intentions. From the very first time he had seen her, he hadn’t felt suspicious of her. Although the fact that she was also beautiful and interested in him should have signalled her questionable intentions from the start.
However he couldn’t shake his gut feeling that there was more to her. Upon meeting Drummond and Cleaver he had instantly felt their animosity, the Doctor hiding it better, and knew they could not be trusted. Nevertheless he had overheard everything she and Cleaver had said and it was beyond question. He would simply have to keep his misinformation flowing until he could figure her out better.
By the time he reached this conclusion, Pierce arrived at the outskirts of the village. Again he was able to walk unobstructed through the streets and the square, despite the bustling crowd. When he reached the pub door, it was held open for him and he was immediately led to the Manor snug, the barman finishing off with a nod and a dutiful “m’lord”. Despite a reticence towards classism learned from his native land, Pierce thought he could get used to this treatment.
No sooner had he removed his hat and sat down, Jane swung open the door with her hip and placed a pint down before him.
“How did you know I was here,” exclaimed Pierce, surprised and impressed.
“I was upstairs tending to one of the guests when I saw you down on the street walking this way.”
Pierce replied with a raised eyebrow and was quickly rewarded with a playful flick of Janes towel.
“Nothing like that,” she said playfully, “he’s an older gentleman that hasn’t been feeling well. He’s on the top floor and can’t make his way down to socialize. In fact that gives me an idea.”
“Sounds ominous,” replied Pierce taking a sip of his drink.
“Well seeing that he’s not had any visitors apart from me,” she continued, ignoring him, “would you be able to go up and visit with him?”
Before he could object, she beamed him a smile that he knew he couldn’t refuse. No matter what schemes she was up to. Speechless, he simply nodded his assent and stood up to go.
“No, no,” Jane exclaimed, waving him back down. “I’ll be done in a couple minutes and we’ll go up together.”
A Malevolent Manner (Patrick Pierce #1) Page 28