It was a strange homecoming for Caterina to feel that she was now a virtual stranger just like any other visitor to Buxton, unrecognised and unsure where once she had been a well-known part of a respectable family. Her father had been a local benefactor, known by everyone, but she had been away from here for longer than he and had changed beyond recognition. To have to re-introduce herself to acquaintances and then to ask them what they knew of his business interests was going to look very odd. Where did she begin? And how was she to do any of this with Sir Chase by her side?
‘I may take a walk over to Chester Hall with Millie,’ she said to him over a cold collation of chicken and ham pie, fruit compote and cold custard.
‘It’s still raining,’ said Sir Chase, passing the basket of warm bread rolls across to Signor Cantoni. ‘I’ll take you there in the coach.’ The butler and housekeeper, well known to Sir Chase, had done everything possible to make them welcome, as their master would have wished.
‘Oh, we have umbrellas,’ Caterina said. ‘It’s not far.’ ‘But I’d like to see where you once lived.’ She had told him, and so had Stephen Chester, of the large house in its own grounds with gardens sheltered by a hillside, and Sir Chase intended to see for himself what they had all forfeited by moving to Richmond. Chester Hall had once been Lady Elyot’s home, too, inherited by Stephen Chester, but it was interesting to note that he had not sold it to raise capital to buy Number 18 Paradise Road from her. What explanation had he offered to Mrs Chester about that, he wondered, or did he keep all his cards close to his chest? Had she ever been up here for well-earned rest from the family?
From the outside, Chester Hall was everything the father and daughter had said, heavily stone-built, situated on the edge of town overlooking a beautiful wooded valley, high-walled, and approached through large wooden gates that kept out the gaze of the curious. The drive up to the front of the house took them through an avenue of dark dripping pines that gave off the distinctive aroma that Caterina loved, and it was not until they rounded the last bend of trees that they saw the old rain-battered town coach outside the porch being loaded with trunks, boxes and cases, strapped to the roof by Stephen Chester’s shiny-wet valet.
‘That’s your father’s coach, surely,’ said Sir Chase, handing her down.
This was something neither of them had expected, but Caterina’s astonishment was answered at once, for it was not hard to see that he had come either to reclaim his missing documents or in response to the troubles with the sale of his cargo in Liverpool. He could not yet have heard about the mining disaster, and it was obvious that he was moving on in a hurry. Whatever the reason, she could not believe he would be pleased to see them.
Chase kept hold of her hand. ‘He must have been close on our heels,’ he said. ‘Come on, sweetheart, we’re here together, so we’ll soon find out what he knows. Let’s go and find him.’
It was not necessary, for a grey great-coated figure with his head down against the rain strode through the solid stone portal, a large leather briefcase clamped under one arm. Catching sight of another team of horses behind his own, he whirled round with an obvious annoyance that immediately turned to amazement, then to anger. beneath the wide-brimmed hat, his face was blotched grey and crimson, his eyes bloodshot with drink, evidence of which bulged from one pocket.
The briefcase plummeted before he caught it, irritably shoving papers back inside. ‘At last,’ he snapped. ‘I’ve been waiting here five days for you to show up in Buxton, Caterina. Where’ve you been? And you, sir! Especially you. You are a blackguard, sir. And a thief. And now you’re here, you can explain your dishonourable behaviour to my face instead of—’
‘Enough!’ Sir Chase bellowed, tightening his hold on Caterina’s hand. ‘If you intend to talk nonsense, Chester, perhaps we may be allowed to hear it under cover. You did not invite us to come here, so you can count yourself fortunate to see us at all. We’ll go inside, if you have no objections.’
‘Eh? Fortunate?’ Stephen Chester swivelled on the wet flagstones, taking a hard look at his daughter’s pitying expression.
‘Inside,’ said Sir Chase. With a determination that Caterina had grown to love, he strode past her father into the damp-smelling hall that had lost all the warmth and welcome for which it had once been famed.
Chester followed them still loudly complaining, ignoring the stares of the two old servants whose smiles and greetings for Miss Caterina and her new husband withered into deep anxiety. She touched their arms as she passed, comforting them with a smile. ‘Some tea?’ she whispered.
‘You have taken my daughter, sir, under false pretences,’ Stephen Chester raged, ‘and you have reneged on our agreement in the most dastardly way imaginable. I shall call you out, sir. Name your seconds.’
Sir Chase showed not the slightest response to this tirade as he followed Caterina’s steering hand into the large ground-floor salon where dust covers shrouded all the furniture, though some had been sat upon and even slept upon, too, to judge by their dishevelled appearance. The usually sunny room reeked of spirits and a sourness that wrinkled Caterina’s nose.
But now she saw her chance to ask some of the questions that had burned holes in her heart for weeks. ‘What agreement are you referring to, Father?’ she said. ‘And how has Sir Chase not fulfilled his part in it? I believe I have a right to know.’
She half-expected Sir Chase to protest, but he did not.
‘You do know, lass!’ her father snapped. ‘Don’t pretend you don’t. He agreed to waive Harry’s IOU in return for your acceptance of his offer. Well, now he’s helped himself to it, hasn’t he? And I’m back where I was before. I’m not only accusing him,’ he said, slamming the briefcase down upon the nearest dust-sheet. ‘I’m challenging him to a bloody duel, girl. That’s what.’
‘Not in your state, you’re not,’ said Sir Chase, sternly. ‘And mind your language in front of my wife, sir. Sit down and try to get your head round a few simple facts, if you will. What’s your reason for coming up to Buxton? Surely not to chase a missing IOU?’
Stunned by the severity of his son-in-law’s tone which, up to this point, had always been pleasantly deferential, Stephen Chester sat down obediently. ‘You admit taking it?’ he whined. ‘And you have the impudence to ask why I’ve come all this way? To find you, sir. And to demand the return of my documents from my desk. Either you hand them back or I’ll have Caterina. Make your choice, Boston.’
‘What documents do you refer to?’ Sir Chase squeezed a warning upon Caterina’s hand. She had been about to explain.
‘Oh, come, Boston. I have no time to play guessing games. I have to be in Liverpool some time tomorrow. Don’t pretend you didn’t take my son’s IOU and his letter, for I know the truth of it. You’re the only one who would do such a thing, and I want them back. I hardly need to say why.’ He shot a furtive glance at Caterina before looking away in discomfort.
‘Father, I …’ Caterina began her admission before she felt another silencing squeeze from Sir Chase, catching a quick frown from his eyes.
‘I have them both,’ he said, evenly. ‘I believe Lady Boston has more right to them than anyone, Chester, since it is she who has been most inconvenienced by your son’s wild behaviour. You must agree with me there.’
‘No!’ The word exploded in a shriek. ‘I cannot agree to that. Caterina must not see … Have you shown her? Where is the letter?’
‘In my luggage.’
His voice dropped to a horrified whisper. ‘So she’s seen it?’
‘Yes, of course she has.’
Slowly, his head dropped forward into his hands with a groan that shook his body, shrinking it inside the heavy coat blackened by rain. His hat shielded him, but they knew he had begun to weep. ‘Ruined,’ he sobbed. ‘Utterly ruined. Nothing left, not even credit with my family.’
Freeing her hand, Caterina went to his side, overcome by sadness that he should have been reduced to such a pitiful state, drunk, miserable, and de
stroyed by events. She was torn between compassion and feelings of revenge, but the ties of blood were strongest. ‘Father,’ she whispered. ‘Why?’
‘You know about it,’ he wept. ‘I never wanted any of you to know, and never you, of all people. It’s all gone terribly wrong, Caterina.’
‘I know. We’ve heard about the mills and the sales of cotton up in Manchester. Is that why you’re going up to the Liverpool docks, to see what can be done?’
To her surprise, he shook his head, took off his hat and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. ‘Not only that. The news of the cotton cargo is nothing to what I heard only two hours ago. Nothing could be worse than that kind of news to a small-time shipowner.’ His voice was hoarse with emotion.
‘A slave-trader, Father. Why not use the proper name?’
He flinched at that. ‘Not any more. It’s all over. Gone,’ he croaked.
‘What does he mean?’ she whispered to Sir Chase as he took the chair opposite, leaning his arms along his thighs. ‘Is there something else?’
‘It rather sounds like it,’ he answered, grimly.
Chapter Eight
Instead of any relief she might have felt at the emergence of the truth, at last, Caterina was now more certain than ever that, whatever dreadful truths she was about to hear would never be enough to kill or even to diminish the love she had for Chase Boston. Yes, she had known of her love for weeks, though at what point the knowledge had first crept upon her she could not have said. Perhaps it was right at the beginning when he had marched boldly into her life: perhaps when he had saved it. Whatever the facts, she was sure there would never be another time for the pretence at coldness and rejection she had tried, and failed, to use as a weapon against perceived wrongs. Whatever emerged now would have to be accepted and suffered in the same way that most wives did, with resignation and forgiveness in return for the comfort of a husband’s attentions. She did not believe she wanted to live without him, whatever he had done to win her, whatever his payment, bargain or wager. She did not even want to try. She was his. She would accept what he offered her, would do what he asked, though she prayed he would never ask her to share him with another. That would be harder to bear than anything, yet she would, if that was the only way to hold him.
The tea-tray was brought in, giving her a chance to consider any disaster that could be worse than the one about which she had heard. After a lapse of months, that would probably resolve itself somehow, but her father was talking about something far more serious than sales.
She carried a cup of tea across to him, then to Sir Chase to whom she whispered her thanks, not needing to explain.
Owlishly, he took the tea from her, holding her eyes with a quizzical look. ‘You have some explaining to do, my lady,’ he whispered.
‘So do you. He’s broken the law, you know. He’s in serious trouble.’
‘I know,’ he said, only mouthing the words.
‘You … you know?’ Yes, she thought, of course you do. Of course.
‘Yes, we’ll talk about it later, shall we? Right now, we need to know what else is upsetting him and what he intends to do about it.’
So, it was as she’d suspected. Sir Chase knew about the slave-ships, and now it was inconceivable that he had not planned to use the information for her father’s downfall, otherwise he would surely have shown some alarm at Mr Tolby’s news. And now Sir Chase would know that, because of some letter from her brother which she had stolen, she had discovered the source of her father’s secret wealth.
‘I’ll ask him, shall I?’ she said.
‘Yes, he’d better hear about his lead mine, too, eventually.’
‘He ought to be going there instead of to Liverpool,’ she whispered, crossly. She went to sit beside her father, taking the rattling cup and saucer from him and placing it on the small table. ‘You’ve been in touch with Harry, Father?’
He nodded, fumbling for the spirit flask wedged in his damp pocket. ‘The mail takes only a day from Liverpool. I had the latest news this morning. I have to go. Damn this thing.’
She lay a hand over his. ‘No more of that. You need a clear head.’
He sighed, sending a look of extreme dislike across to Sir Chase. ‘Yes, you’re right. But can you persuade him to give me back my papers? What does he intend to do with them? Blackmail me?’
She caught the lift of one darkly eloquent eyebrow, but had no reply to give. It was, she thought, a distinct possibility in the light of all the trickery that had gone on before. She wanted to be hard, vindictive, to make him suffer, but the years of daughterly respect made it too difficult for her. ‘You’ll have to ask Sir Chase yourself, Father. You have far greater wealth than you allowed any of us to know about. Has something happened to change all that?’
‘Yes, it has,’ he whispered, shamefaced, ‘but you would not understand any of my reasons for wanting real wealth, Caterina.’
‘Certainly not, unless I’m given the chance to,’ she replied, caustically.
‘Well now it’s caught up with me at last. I’ve lost all three ships. All three … gone!’ The words faded to a whisper. ‘Serves me right. Serves me damn well right.’
‘But according to Harry’s letter, the Caterina arrived with a full cargo at Liverpool. He saw it there himself.’
‘Yes, and before they could complete the off-loading, some maniac set fire to it, and now there’s nothing left but a charred hulk in the dock and a crowd of angry owners whose ships were damaged by the sparks, all wanting compensation. Thousands of pounds’ worth of damage. Harry is certain it was sabotage.’
Sir Chase’s quiet voice cut through the horrified silence. ‘But you are insured, surely?’
‘No.’
‘What?’
Chester shook his head. ‘I was uninsured.’ His admission wavered on the brink of tears. ‘I could never find anyone to insure me. I believe they may have suspected what I was doing, but I was always careful not to give them any evidence, and, without proof, no one could speak against me. I had to take the risk.’
‘And the other ships?’
‘The same. No insurance. And I’ve lost them, too.’
‘How?’ said Caterina. ‘Where?’
‘Storms off the Caribbean coast, typhoons, I think they’re called. The Hannah must have gone down. She’s not been seen for months.’
‘With slaves on board?’
‘I don’t know,’ Chester croaked, looking down at his feet. ‘I don’t know.’
‘And the other one?’ said Sir Chase. ‘What happened to her?’
‘The Welldone is in Kingston harbour without a crew or captain. It was the damned weather again. Apparently it’s taken her six months instead of six weeks to cross from West Africa to St Kitts. She carried a live cargo of one hundred and sixty-eight, but not enough water or food for that kind of voyage. They ran out.’
‘Starved, you mean?’ said Caterina.
‘Yes, starved. They had to be thrown overboard. Some of the crew died, too. The captain headed for Jamaica and left the ship at Kingston, empty, infected, and in poor shape. The crew mutinied and fled, and the captain has taken everything he can lay hands on and fled, too.’ His head, too heavy for him to hold, sank into his cupped palm and rested there, his eyes closed tightly against his daughter’s dark accusing stare.
Shaking her head against the dreadful images, she rose and went over to the window, looking out over the untidy garden and orchard where the rain lashed furiously at the pines, feathering their tips. ‘It disgusts me,’ she whispered, ‘how you can so disregard others’ lives, using them to make your wealth, discarding them, writing them off as losses as if they were bales of something. I had not ever thought you could put your own family into so much danger, either, knowing what the penalty is. Have you no thought for Hannah? Are your tears and moans for what you’ve lost, Father? Have you ever shed a tear for those poor wretches whose lives you’ve used up like so much currency? What about the sugar plantation in
St Kitts? Is that still a source of revenue?’
‘Hardly,’ he said, stung by her tone. ‘There’s a quick turnover of labour there, the work is so hard. The planters can never get enough of them. But the price of refined sugar has dropped now. The demand for molasses is not as it was when I bought the plantation.’
‘Why not?’
‘Somebody has found an alternative,’ he said, wearily. ‘It’s called sugar beet, easy to grow and harvest over here. I shall sell my share.’
‘Oh, so you won’t starve. That must be a relief.’
‘I’m not relieved, Caterina, I’m worried about Harry’s position.’
She responded angrily to that. ‘Oh, Harry! Of course. You must be. Clever Harry, who puts it all into a letter that he entrusts to the public mail, which anyone could pick up and read. Well—’ she caught his reproving glance ‘—I did, didn’t I? That’s right, Father, save your concern for Harry.’
‘I want my letter back,’ he said, leaping to his feet in annoyance. ‘It can land me in serious trouble, you must be aware of that.’
‘I am aware,’ Caterina said, ‘that you have landed yourself and the rest of our family in serious trouble, Father,’ she snapped back at him. ‘But I imagine Sir Chase may wish to hold on to it a while longer and, if he doesn’t, then I will. I shall keep the letter and the IOU until I have proof that you’ve finished with this abominable business altogether. I shall show it to the authorities if you don’t, you can be sure of that, and you can take the responsibility for what happens to Hannah and the children and all the rest of your property. You set me up, Father, and now I’m turning the tables on you.’
‘You will do as your husband tells you to, no doubt.’
‘I shall,’ she replied, looking at Sir Chase. ‘Accepting his absurd wager was by chance the only good thing you’ve done for some time, except marrying Hannah, who has given you far more than you deserve. You will not think to ask me, I know, but I will tell you nevertheless, that I am very happy with my husband, more than ever I could have believed possible. He is all I could wish for. He is all I could ever wish for.’
Regency Rumours/A Scandalous Mistress/Dishonour And Desire Page 49