Turning back a few pages he saw that Jim’s wages had been entered every month since the Battle of Waterloo.
A battle that had taken place nearly four years ago!
The Marquis had a very astute brain and he knew precisely how Waters had been ‘cooking the books’.
Here right in front of him was the reason why the men returning from the Army and Navy were unemployed.
Alive or dead, Waters was drawing their wages and putting the money into his own pocket!
The mere idea of how so many had been deprived through this man’s deceit made the Marquis furiously angry.
At the same time he sighed and then his mouth was set in a hard line.
He went back to the study and rang the bell for Johnson.
“As soon as Mr. Waters comes in,” he said, “send him to me here.”
“Very good, my Lord.”
The Marquis hesitated for a moment.
Then he asked,
“How long have you been working at The Hall, Johnson?”
“Since I were twelve, my Lord,” Johnson replied. “That be nigh on thirty-seven years now.”
“And you never thought to tell me what was going on?” the Marquis asked.
Johnson did not pretend to misunderstand.
“Your Lordship were a-fighting abroad and I didn’t want to worry you.”
What he was implying, the Marquis realised, was that he might easily have been killed. In which case he could have done nothing about it.
Then Waters would undoubtedly have had Johnson dismissed.
The Marquis did not speak and after a moment Johnson went on,
“I’m sorry, my Lord, and we’re all a-praying that things’ll get back to being as they used to be.”
“They will!” the Marquis answered. “But I wish I had known about this sooner.”
He had to admit to himself that it was partly his fault.
Wellington had kept him in the Army of Occupation for far longer than he had expected.
He knew, of course, that he was being useful to the General by staying in France.
He had not only coped with the troops, but with the diplomats coming to Paris from every country in the world.
There were a great number of decisions to be made and much to discuss.
There was also undoubtedly, for a young man who had spent the years since he had left school fighting, the thrill of being in Paris with the Army of Occupation.
Anything the French could do to alleviate their conquerors’ trials and tribulations was done and naturally they did it with an expertise and charm that was irresistible.
It was typical of the French that they attempted to turn what had been a complete defeat into some kind of victory.
As far as the diplomats and those in the Army of Occupation were concerned, they succeeded.
Now the Marquis was thinking that as soon as he returned to England, he should have come to Melverley Hall immediately.
The War Office in London, however, had required his presence almost daily.
The Prince Regent had shown him a friendliness that was the envy of all his contemporaries and he was always included in the invitations to dine at Carlton House.
Because he had been in France, the Prince Regent consulted him about pictures, furniture and objets d’art, of which he never seemed to be able to acquire enough.
The Marquis would have been inhuman if he had not been considerably flattered by all this attention.
Besides, after the years of fighting when he lost what amounted to his boyhood, there was the irresistible allure of the London beauties like Daisy and dozens of others.
He had gone into the Army as soon as he left school and it was therefore the first time that he had come into contact with the ‘Cyprians’ who were acknowledged to be the most attractive females in Europe.
Even Paris could not compete with the loveliness of women like Letty Lesse and then there were ‘Incomparables’, who became the talk of the Clubs in St. James’s because they were new and unusual.
The Marquis had kept telling himself that he should go to the country and, when he suggested it, his friends always had a good reason why he should stay for at least another week.
Now he felt guilty that he had neglected what was his most treasured possession.
He had been ruminating for more than half-an-hour when Johnson opened the door and announced,
“Mr. Waters, my Lord!”
Waters came into the room.
The Marquis who had not seen him for many years was shocked by his appearance.
He had grown enormously fat, was red-faced and going bald.
When the Marquis had seen him last, he had been a fairly young man and he had seemed, by the quickness with which he moved and his sharp brain, an ideal Estate Manager.
Now it was obvious that he drank too frequently and ate too well.
On the proceeds, the Marquis reflected, that he had extorted out of his estate.
The interview did not take long.
It was impossible for Waters to deny that he had been helping himself for years by entering false information into the ledgers.
He was making considerable sums of money out of men who were either dead or moving disconsolately about the village because they were unemployed.
The Marquis gave him exactly forty-eight hours to vacate his house and then to leave the County forthwith.
“I am not sending you to prison,” he said in icy tones that seemed to cut like a whip, “but I want an account of what you have in your Bank and I will leave you just enough to prevent you from starving.”
It was useless, Waters knew, to say anything or argue with the Marquis.
His fat florid face had gone very pale and there was an expression of terror in his eyes.
When finally he left the room, he moved slowly like an old man who could hardly control his feet.
The Marquis rose from his desk and walked to the window.
He gazed out at the lake with the sun shining below on its rippling surface.
He asked himself why, when everything in the world was so perfect, must people be so vile, greedy and corrupt?
Then he remembered Christina saying there was a great deal for him to do and he knew it was true.
He sent for Johnson.
He ordered him to fetch the Head Gardener, the Head Groom and the Head Gamekeeper to him immediately.
It took some time, but he saw them all, one by one.
He ordered them to employ every available man in the village, starting with those who had returned from the war.
He could see the excitement in their eyes as they responded to everything he suggested and it was obvious that this was something they had been hoping for.
It was after four o’clock before he had finished.
Then he ordered a phaeton to brought round.
As it came round to the front of the house he told Johnson that he wanted six footmen in the hall and he was to make sure that their Melverley livery fitted them properly.
He did not need to be told that Johnson had been kept short of footmen in his absence.
Those who were there looked as if they had quickly been taken on once it was known that he was on his way home.
The Marquis climbed into his phaeton.
He drove down the drive and along the road to Four Gables.
He noticed as he had not done earlier that the garden was ablaze with flowers and the shrubs were in bloom and several almond trees in blossom.
When he reached the front door, he handed his reins to the groom who was beside him, and stepped down.
The front door was wide open.
As he suspected, Christina did not have any servants, so he walked in.
He thought he would probably find her in the sitting room and wondered which door that would be.
Even as he hesitated, he heard her scream.
For a second he thought that he must have dreamt it.
Then he heard
her shout,
“No, no! Please – leave me alone! Go – away!”
“That is something I have no intention of doing,” a man’s voice replied.
Just as the Marquis’s hand went out towards the handle, Christina screamed again.
The Marquis walked rapidly into the room.
Christina was struggling against a man who was towering over her.
He had his back to the Marquis and he was pulling Christina close to him.
Although she was struggling desperately, she was far too small and fragile to be able to resist him.
“As the front door was open,” the Marquis said in a lofty tone, “I came in!”
The man who had his arms round Christina started and turned to face him and it was then that Christina managed to struggle free.
Without thinking, but instinctively, she ran towards the Marquis and threw herself against him.
“S-Send him – away, please – send him – away,” she begged.
The Marquis was staring at the man and recognised him.
He was a neighbour named Sir Mortimer Stinger.
He then remembered how his father had disliked him intensely.
They had had a long row for years over the ownership of some acres of land bordering the Melverley estate.
Sir Mortimer, who was a man of about forty and well known as a womaniser, said after a moment’s silence,
“So you have decided to come home have you, Melverley? Laden, no doubt, with the spoils of war.”
“Yes, I have come home,” the Marquis replied coldly. “I find there is a great deal for me to do to bring my affairs back to the way they were when my father was alive and that of course, includes you!”
The late Marquis had forbidden Sir Mortimer to set foot on his estate or have any further communication with him under any circumstances.
Sir Mortimer looked angry and retorted,
“You were always a very unpleasant small boy, in my opinion, Melverley, and I don’t suppose you have changed much with the years.”
“Not where you are concerned,” the Marquis said, “and as this house is on my estate, I forbid you to come here again!”
“Do you really believe that you can give me orders like that?” Sir Mortimer asked furiously. “This is a free country and, if I wish to visit Miss Churston, I shall certainly do so without your permission!”
He did not wait for the Marquis to reply, but stalked past him to leave the room.
They heard his footsteps walking across the hall.
Christina, who had hidden her face in the Marquis’s shoulder, moved, saying,
“Thank you – thank you! You came at just the – right moment – he was trying to kiss me! I-I hate him – he is a – horrible man!”
“I agree with you,” the Marquis said. “You must not see him again.”
“I-I locked myself in the last few times he called, but Nanny has – gone to the village – and – and I thought it was – y-you.”
“Have you no other servants here?” the Marquis enquired.
Christina moved away from him towards the fireplace.
She was blushing as she replied,
“P-perhaps you don’t – understand that things have been – very different since the war ended. Many of the country Banks – closed their doors – and that happened to the one in which – Papa kept his money.”
The Marquis moved across the room to be nearer to her and sat down in a high-backed chair.
“I want you to tell me more about what has been happening,” he said. “You were quite right about The Hall. I have discovered that Waters has been cheating the estate and I have given him forty-eight hours to leave the County.”
Christina clasped her hands together.
“Have you really done that? Oh – thank you – thank you! He is a – horrible man and has – refused to employ any of the men who have come back from the war. He has not repaired the cottages – and has even reduced the pensions of the old retainers.”
“I will see to it,” the Marquis said, “but I think, Christina, you will have to help me. There must be many other things that have been going on. I cannot know about them unless you tell me what they are.”
“I – will tell you – of course – I will tell you – now that you have dismissed Mr. Waters.”
Christina sat down on the rug at his feet.
“Oh, I am so thankful that you are back!” she said. “I have prayed every night that you would not be away too long as matters here became worse and worse – then I began to think that – perhaps you did not – care.”
“How could you think that?” the Marquis asked.
At the same time, he had a little twinge of conscience as he thought of how much time he had wasted with Daisy, Letty and others.
“Now, suppose we start at the beginning,” he suggested, “and you tell me how you have become involved with Stinger.”
Christina looked shy.
“He – he – asked me to – m-marry him several months ago – and Papa told him he would – never sanction such a union – and he was not to come here again. But after Papa – died – he started – coming back again.”
She made a helpless little gesture with her hands.
The Marquis was aware of how much it had frightened her.
“What I want you to do,” he said, “is to pack your things and you and your Nanny must come and stay at The Hall.”
Christina’s eyes opened very wide.
“Come to The – Hall?” she queried.
“It is the only way I can be certain of keeping Mortimer Stinger away,” the Marquis explained. “He will not dare to come to The Hall, especially if I am there.”
“That would be – wonderful!” Christina said, “but – I must not be a nuisance – or worse still an encumbrance.”
“You are going to help me, as you have promised to do,” the Marquis said. “I want to put my estate in order and, quite frankly, I have no wish to discuss it with the Vicar or anybody else except you. You put me on the right lines where Waters was concerned and now you must help me cope with the rest of the problems.”
He thought she looked a little indecisive and added,
“If your father was here, I know I could ask him. As it is, you have to take his place.”
He saw by the expression on Christina’s face that he had said exactly the right thing.
“Of course Papa would have – helped you,” she said. “He took such an interest in the – estate and often discussed it with your father.”
“Then you have to discuss it with me and as I have to move quickly so that there is no more suffering and no more unhappiness, you had better start packing right away.”
Christina laughed.
“Can you really say it, just like that?”
“Of course,” the Marquis said, “and what I am going to do is to take you back with me now in my phaeton. Then we can settle down and work out exactly what is required in the village, on the farms and on the estate.”
He paused before adding,
“I will send a carriage to collect your Nanny and your luggage and also someone to help her pack.”
“You are so kind and thoughtful,” Christina exclaimed, “I don’t know of any other man who would think of that – and Nanny is growing old.”
She gave a little sigh.
“That is why it worried me when we could not afford the women who worked in the house when Papa was alive. One does come in once a week, because I give her material she can make clothes with for her children, but that is all.”
“You told me that your relations are in Northumberland,” the Marquis said, “but is there no one else who could look after you?”
He was thinking as he spoke that it might be a mistake to have Christina at The Hall without a chaperone.
He had suffered so much from the gossips in London. If Christina was his guest, it would not escape the notice of those in the County.
As if she was following
his thoughts, Christina said,
“Perhaps – as I have no chaperone – it would be a – mistake for me – to come. I will not – answer the door again – unless I am certain that it is – not Sir Mortimer.”
“I want you at The Hall,” the Marquis said firmly, “but I am, of course, thinking of your reputation.”
Christina gave a little laugh.
“It is only people like Sir Mortimer who would say nasty things about me because I was not at home when he called.”
The Marquis thought that was probably an understatement.
He was wondering if there was anybody in the neighbourhood who could chaperone her when Christina said,
“If you are – really serious – about my having a chaperone – Miss Dickson is still alive.”
The Marquis stared at her.
“Miss Dickson?” he asked. “She must be a hundred!”
“She is not as old as that!” Christina laughed. “She is seventy.”
Miss Dickson had been the Marquis’s Governess when he was a little boy of seven and before that his mother and his Nanny had taught him.
They then decided that he should have lessons at regular hours every day and Miss Dickson, who was the daughter of a Bishop, had been their choice.
The Marquis remembered that he had been very fond of her.
She was a plain woman, but she had a great sense of humour and she had taught him his first lessons extremely well.
She had also given him, he knew later, a desire to teach himself by studying the right books.
Looking back he could remember how she had made history come alive for him.
During the war other nations joined Wellington in the huge effort to defeat Napoleon and it was then he remembered what Miss Dickson had told him about the Germans, the Austrians and the Russians.
Whether he was fighting beside them or, after Napoleon’s defeat, meeting them in Paris, it was due to Miss Dickson that he understood them and their motives.
Eagerly he asked now,
“Where is Miss Dickson?”
“She lives in the cottage your father gave her,” Christina replied, “but it is in very bad repair. The roof leaks and, although I pleaded with Mr. Waters, he would do nothing about it.”
The Marquis frowned.
“That man ought to be shot!” he declared angrily. “How dare he refuse to do anything for Miss Dickson!”
Saved By A Saint Page 3