“At which time she conveniently dies in a fall,” Jenson murmured as he took the book from her hands. “Thank you, Mrs. Jakes. I will get this book to them. Even if, in the end, it is little help, it is something I think Miss Primrose would treasure. Now, be very careful and do nothing to anger the woman.”
“I will be careful. Just do your best to get that to one of the baroness’s children so they can end their mother’s killer. Now that she is back and searching every part of the house for something, perhaps more evidence of something valuable she can steal or sell, I fear she will find it.”
Jenson slipped out of the manor and into the woods. He knew of a shepherd’s shack on the hills where he could hide for a while. Being up on the hill would also give him a very good view of the road. For now he would just do his best to remain hidden but the moment he caught sight of any of the people riding with Miss Primrose, he would do all he could to get this book to her. Augusta was drunk on her own power and it was past time someone sobered her up.
Chapter Seventeen
Willow Hill Manor appeared in view as they crested a small rise. Primrose looked at it with relief for it signaled an end of a very long ride. She wondered if it would ever feel like home again now that her father was gone. It occurred to her that her brother was going to have a difficult time putting his own mark on the property for their father’s was so strong, so intertwined with all that was Willow Hill.
“It is not the same,” said Simeon as he reined in beside her. “It looks the same, I know, but it does not feel the same.” He shook his head. “And I am making absolutely no sense.”
“I know what you mean. The heart of it is gone.” She frowned a little. “Something else troubled me and I believe I now know what. None of us have been here and yet there are no signs that that has mattered. It has been run and cared for so efficiently, it appears it does not even need us. That is very unsettling. It is not a welcoming feel when I look at it, but it’s almost as if the house is shrugging and saying, ‘Well, come in if you must, but if you track mud from your boots on my carpets, I will crush you.’”
“Oh well,” he stuttered out, and then scowled at the house. “That was very fanciful and somewhat unsettling. It has been cared for correctly is all and, at some point, one of us would be needed. It is just that Papa hired good people.”
“Yet allowed two adders, one of them extremely poisonous, to freely slither about the place?”
Simeon sighed. “I did no better.”
“Nor I but I keep reminding myself that we were only children. Children are very good at believing everything is their fault, especially if some adult says it is, nor do they wish to give a parent any news that will cause discord. Penelope said a few things about the children she takes in, every one of them tossed out by their mothers. They all come to her thinking it is all their fault, that they are evil or whatever cruel thing they were told. Augusta was always telling me what a bad child I was. Why would I wish to tell Papa about that? I think I was terrified he would agree and not love me anymore. Then there is all that trouble I had with forgetting the truly horrible things she did to me.”
“It is why I never told him about the beatings. Then there were the times she told me that he was the one who had ordered my punishment and how sorry she was to have to do it.”
Primrose muttered a curse, causing Simeon to laugh. “That was particularly cruel of her, the bitch. We were not only too trusting, but, I think, we live in our own heads too much. It was easy for her to fool us, smart though we are. And we are. But we just never learned enough about people to see the signs of her sickness.”
Simon nodded. “We are. Papa was. You could become lost in studying your plants and herbs. Papa and I could be lost as we tried to sort out some invention or thought through some problem. We should have looked around now and then. Should have learned how to deal with and understand people.” He straightened up. “Best to go down there. Our companions must wonder why we linger here so long.”
“I was wondering why you were taking so long to move,” said Lilybet as she rode up next to Simeon. “’Tis a very fine view but I assumed you had seen it before.”
Primrose bit back a grin as she watched her brother scowl at the woman. Lilybet appeared to delight in irritating a man well known for his calm, amiable nature. The woman played the game so very well, too, Primrose thought. Simeon never failed to snap at the bait. For such a brilliant man, he was being especially obtuse in his dealings with Lilybet.
“We were just about to go down,” Simeon said.
Simeon nudged his horse onto the path that led them out of the hills. Men were coming out of the stables before he even reached the flat area that led up to the doors of the manor. Primrose shook her head. Her father had made the house efficient; hiring people who did their jobs well and never wavered in their work. Except that bills needed to be paid, stock and crops sold, and papers needed to be signed, but her father had also made sure that he and his family were little troubled by the simple routines of the running of the estate. It had been smart, making life pleasant, but it had also made the perfect hunting ground for a predator like Augusta. It had opened the door to her thievery as well.
Bened studied Willow Hill carefully and sighed. A tasteful elegance could be seen in every inch of the building. Lawns and gardens were beautiful, lush, and as close to perfect as any he had ever seen. He had the sinking feeling that the inside of the manor would be equally as perfect.
The men from the stables greeted the Woottens with quiet respect and all of their belongings were swiftly collected by the servants from the house, all of them dressed in pristine blue and white uniforms appropriate to their positions in the household. Mixed in with the proper greetings and introductions, he could hear both Simeon and Primrose asking various servants about some health problem or a family member, revealing that they knew the people who worked for them very well.
He had his hereditary title, his knighthood, and his big manor house with several acres of good land but it would all look like a ruin if compared to Willow Hill. Despite the money he had put into the house, he doubted Primrose would see more than the hulk of a stone building it was. He had not brought his manor back to its former state but even that would never match the beauty of Willow Hill. It had none of this quiet elegance or softness.
Seeing the inside only depressed him more as an aging butler took his coat. The place was so clean it shone. Wealth was evident in the paintings and furniture but nothing was too ostentatious. In truth, the care taken to not appear too proud of one’s history and wealth, to not be ostentatious and vain in the display of what one had or could have, was just a little too obvious to Bened, nearly ruining the attempt.
He felt someone move up beside him and looked down into Lilybet’s face. The awed yet uneasy look she wore probably mirrored his own, he thought. One could almost feel the weight of a long history and smell the wealth. It did not intimidate but it did impress. It also made Bened painfully aware of his place in such a world. That place was certainly not standing next to Primrose.
Bevan came up on his other side and slapped him on the back. “It is all so very precise, is it not?”
It was, but Bened frowned at the hint of criticism in Bevan’s tone. “You think that is bad?” he asked in a quiet voice, not wanting any of the servants to hear what could sound like a complaint, and knowing that his brother had a similar need for such precision and cleanliness, but not so much that he could not be comfortable in the chaos that was real life.
“Odd, mostly. I got the impression from stories told by Simeon and Primrose that the baron was intelligent, affable, and even a little silly at times. The house does not match the man unless he learned at a young age to have his servants keep it so while he did as he pleased.”
“That could be the way of it but, aye, it is difficult to see the man they spoke of living here.”
He looked around as the butler ushered them all into the parlor. Here were a few hints
of the possibility that someone actually lived here. A few books on a table, a coat over the back of a chair, and an empty teacup, all of which a visibly flustered butler collected up and took away. Bened wondered if it had been a few of the upper servants taking advantage of their employers’ absence to enjoy a lovely sit-down in a comfortable room who had left the items behind.
Several maids appeared with refreshments for them but it was nearly an hour before Primrose and Simeon joined them. Neither looked happy and Simeon looked furious, an expression that sat oddly on his almost-pretty face. Perhaps Paradise was not as perfect as it looked. He waited as Primrose ordered the tea and food freshened. She then came and sat down next to him, and Boudicca hurled herself up onto the settee to nudge her way in between them.
“She has been here. Stayed here for two days, claimed a power to do as she wanted or we ordered, and even showed papers with our signatures on them to give her that power,” Primrose said.
“Do you think she has now turned her attention to just stealing from you?” Bened asked.
“We will have to go over all the ledgers and speak to our man of business to know that but I will not be surprised to discover she has helped herself to some funds.”
“According to Mrs. Jakes, the housekeeper, Augusta has ended Geoffrey’s lease and ordered him out of the house and off the land,” snapped Simeon as he waved aside Lilybet’s offer to pour him a cup of tea. “It seems Jenson made it here safely and was looking for something to help us prove what we believe Augusta is up to. She called our man of business in but he did not give her anything she wanted until she produced those papers. All she got was some funds to fix roofs.”
“Well, I am pleased to hear Jenson came back. One must hope he got his family out of her reach,” said Primrose.
“Jenson told Mrs. Jakes to warn Sutton not to push Augusta too hard and I said that would be a good idea. Jenson’s family has left and she has no idea of where Jenson is except that he would be hiding and watching for us.”
“I believe he has just found us,” said Bened as he helped himself to a little lemon cake and fondly wished it was one of Frederick’s.
Jenson entered the room warily. He did not look quite so stiff and prim as he had the last time Bened had seen him. Hiding from a woman with a growing love of killing obviously wore the man down. He shook aside that unkind thought. People born into service did not think like one who had lived independent if not rich and spent a lot of time as a soldier. Jenson was not guilty of anything except not knowing how to face down the ones he had been raised to obey and serve. He watched as the man approached Simeon, bowed slightly, and handed him a little leather book.
“Mrs. Jakes had it,” Jenson said. “It was your mother’s and although I do not believe it will help you capture Augusta, it will give you another’s word on what she has done to your family if you need it. She has men at Master Geoffrey’s home. He greeted her at the door with a rifle but one of her men already had his oldest boy so he quickly backed down. Augusta left shortly after they had all gone into the house.”
“Damn,” said Simeon. “She is playing her usual trick. Do as I want or I will kill your family. She discovered that will make the bravest of men bow and will just keep doing it to anyone in the way of what she wants if she is not stopped, and soon.”
“So we approach Geoffrey’s home as cautiously as we did the place where she held Bened,” said Bevan.
“Aye.” He set down the cup of strong tea he had been enjoying. “I can tell you where the enemy is. Once we know where they are, it will be easier to know what to do, how to remove them.”
“What of Augusta?” asked Jenson.
“If she is there she will be removed as well. She has shown us time and time again that she has every intention of killing us. Time to think of her not just as our aunt or a woman, and call her the killer she is.” He rubbed his hand over the soft leather cover of the book. “I actually ache to read this but Geoffrey needs our help now.” He handed it to Mrs. Jakes. “You kept it safe for years. Please keep it safe for just a little while longer.”
Primrose tried to still the trembling that had seized her at the thought of being able to read her mother’s words. She wanted to rush over and snatch the book from Simeon’s hands. Try as she would, she could not keep her attention on the talk of helping Geoffrey. The journal held all of her attention and she waited to see what would be done with it.
“I will, m’lord.” Mrs. Jakes grabbed Jenson by the arm. “Come along, Jenson. You need food and clean clothes. If that woman comes back here, there is always the wine cellar to hide you in.”
Careful not to draw any attention to herself, Primrose slipped out of the room after Mrs. Jakes and Jenson. Guilt tried to turn her back for she really felt she should also be doing what she could to help Geoffrey. Then she thought on the long, complicated argument there would be before any of the men would allow her to join them in what was sure to be a battle and the guilt eased. They would leave quicker if they thought they were slipping away without her.
It was a long time, one that required a great deal of sneaking around, before Mrs. Jakes put the journal in the place the baron had built for Primrose to work on her plants and all her medicines and lotions. Primrose waited silently in the shadows as the two servants talked quietly and, to her surprise, gently kissed before Mrs. Jakes led Jenson away. Then, after assuring herself that they were gone, Primrose hurried over to get the journal.
“Huh.” Simeon scratched his chin. “I did not know that Mrs. Jakes liked Jenson. Valets tend to keep themselves above other servants.”
“Oh, she likes him just fine,” said Lilybet, refilling her cup with hot tea and then putting in a lot of sugar. “If the fool would just look about a bit he would not spend his declining years alone.”
“Servants are not usually allowed to marry.” He winced at the look Lilybet gave him. “Did not say I agreed with that, just that it is a custom. Those who make such rules think it interferes with their ability to do their jobs. Did once say to a man that I could not see how that would be true and had anyone done a study to be certain. He gave me a look just like yours, Lily.”
“I think it is a rule made to make certain the servants have no life but serving the ones who pay them a pittance,” she said, and poured a lot of cream into her tea.
“Can you actually taste the tea?” asked Morris as he watched her drink some of it.
“A little. It flavors the sugar and cream very nicely.” She grinned and had another drink. “So, are we going to go rescue this Geoffrey person and his family?”
“We?” Simeon asked. “We will be me, Bened, Bevan, and Morris. Perhaps a few of the male servants. You will stay here.”
“Nay, I think not.”
All the men opened their mouths to argue, looked hard at her, and shut them. Lilybet nodded and then they all began to plan how they would help Geoffrey and his family not become yet more victims of Augusta’s greed. The man had three children and not one of them doubted that Augusta would have them killed as well.
Bened was not surprised to find himself unofficially made leader of their rescue party. He had been a soldier once and people who had never been soldiers always assumed one who had would be better in such situations, would somehow know every move to make and how to lead. Someone needed to tell them that a lot of the ones who had been soldiers, especially men like him, were little more than cannon fodder.
“Where is Primrose?” Bened asked when he suddenly realized she had left the room.
Simeon looked around the room and cursed softly. “Went after that journal, I suspect. But, at least we do not have to argue with her about going to help Geoffrey. She will be set on that journal for quite a while.”
“I thought she liked this Geoffrey fellow,” said Bevan.
“She does as well as she likes his wife but this journal holds her mother’s words, a mother she lost years ago and which we have had little to truly remember her by.”
&nb
sp; Bened nodded, thinking it could work out for the best. Not only did he have to spend time needed to rescue Geoffrey making her understand this was not a fight she should be joining, but it would also allow him to ride away afterward without causing a large confrontation far too many people would undoubtedly observe. He knew it was cowardly but he was feeling cowardly. Bened did not care so much about an emotional farewell, not as much as he feared she could all too easily convince him to stay with her when he knew he should not.
The sound of something crashing to the floor yanked Primrose free of the spell of reading her mother’s words, of hearing that beloved voice from the past in every written word. She tucked the journal beneath a cushion on the settee she had been sitting in and crept toward the door. Listening carefully, she could not hear any voices and she reached to open the door just as it was flung open from the other side.
Primrose turned to run but was grabbed from behind by her skirts. Seizing one of the pots close at hand, she swung around and broke it against the face of the man hanging on to her skirts. He let go of her to clutch at his bleeding head with one hand and she read her murder in the furious gaze he fixed on her.
She was yanking her skirts free of his grasp when Jenson stumbled into the room, so pale that she feared he was about to swoon. Right behind him stood Mrs. Jakes who looked as angry as she did afraid and Primrose’s heart sank. It did not surprise her when Mrs. Jakes was shoved into the room and Augusta appeared behind her, a pistol pressed hard up against Mrs. Jakes’s back.
If He's Noble (Wherlocke Book 7) (Paranormal Historical Romance) Page 22