A Brush with Shadows

by Anna Lee Huber

  I pressed a hand to his chest, wishing I could heal the hurt his aunt had so callously caused. “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged as if it didn’t matter, but I could tell it did. How much more so had it troubled him as a young boy?

  “It must infuriate her to know that my father now holds a title. All those years of slighting us and now the cause of her condescension ranks alongside her, and has the ear of the king.”

  “Yes, I imagine that must eat at her. Especially now that she will never be the viscountess. Does she act as your grandfather’s hostess, then? Is that why she still lives here instead of London or the dower house?” I paused to consider. “Is there a dower house?”

  “Yes. We passed it along the lane, though you could not see much of it beyond the hedgerows.” Gage rested his ankle over his other knee, leaning deeper back into the cushions. “She does act as hostess in what little entertaining my grandfather does. But I’m certain she stays here more to keep an eye on her sons’ interests than anything.”

  It was my turn to frown. “What do you mean? Alfred is your father’s rightful heir. Your grandfather can hardly disown him.”

  “Yes, but not all of his property is entailed. A significant portion of Grandfather’s wealth derives from the stakes in the tin and silver mines he owns. He’s free to bequeath those to anyone he pleases.”

  I arched my eyebrows. “Including you.”

  The corners of his lips curled into a cynical smile. “Yes.”

  “No wonder she wasn’t happy to see you. She’s obviously worried your grandfather sent for you for other reasons than locating Alfred. Though, I can’t understand why she would be more concerned with whatever you might or might not inherit than the fact that her son has disappeared.” I tapped my fingers against the cushions beneath me. “Unless she has no reason to worry about where he is.”

  “I had precisely the same notion, my perceptive wife. If Alfred got himself into some sort of trouble, his mother might have convinced him it was best to lay low for a time and let the matter blow over rather than risk Grandfather’s wrath.”

  “What sort of trouble?”

  His mouth twisted. “The usual. Gambling. Fisticuffs. Damaged property. A maid or respectable female he’s seduced and gotten in the family way.”

  I blinked. “Your cousin is capable of all those things?”

  “Oh, yes. He’s a recurring offender.” He sighed, sinking his head back against the couch. “And if it proves to be true my dear aunt is hiding him, then by now she’s realized she made a grave miscalculation. I can’t imagine she ever anticipated Grandfather would summon me here to find him.”

  I studied the intricate medallion surrounding the chandelier hanging from the ceiling, considering everything he’d told me. “Do you think your grandfather suspects?” I glanced to the side to see Gage blinking open bleary eyes to gaze up at me. I smiled in apology for disturbing him. If he felt anything like I did, I imagine he’d been seconds from falling asleep.

  It seemed we’d been moving nonstop for over a fortnight, bouncing from one inquiry to another, racing from the Lake District of Cumberland to Ireland and now on to Dartmoor. Setting off for Ireland from our honeymoon had only made the journeys and investigations that followed all the more jarring. That day alone, we’d docked in Plymouth just before midday and promptly climbed into a hired chaise to travel on to Dartmoor with the rainy weather at our heels. When it caught up with us outside of Tavistock, the gateway to the moors, I’d suggested we find a room in one of the town’s inns for the night and venture on to Langstone Manor in the morning, but Gage had insisted we press on.

  I hadn’t argued, though fatigue dragged at my bones. But now that I’d met this loving family of his, I began to question his haste, for I could think of nothing we could do to locate his cousin on a night like this. Morning would have been soon enough to begin our search. If, in fact, there was even a search to be conducted.

  “Do I think he suspects Aunt Vanessa knows where Alfred is?” Gage asked as if to refocus his own drifting thoughts as much as to clarify.

  “Yes. Do you think that’s why your grandfather had trouble answering our questions? Is he calling their bluff, so to speak?”

  Gage’s brow furrowed in consideration, and then he shook his head. “No. I don’t think my grandfather would have caused such a fuss, dragging us all the way from Ireland, if that’s all this is.”

  “Yes, but he didn’t know we were in Ireland,” I pointed out. “He sent his letter to London, expecting you to be there, or somewhere thereabouts.” I bit my lip, debating whether to mention the other inkling that had occurred to me.

  Gage lifted his head, sensing I was withholding something. “What? What else are you deliberating over in that astounding little brain of yours?”

  I hesitated a moment longer, uncertain he would wish to hear it. “Has it occurred to you that your grandfather might have been grateful for the ruse such a feigned disappearance afforded him?” I proposed gently. “You said yourself he’s very proud. And now he’s ill and probably knows he’s not much longer for this earth. It’s been fifteen years since he’s even set eyes on you. Maybe he wanted to see you again, but he was afraid that if he wrote and asked you to come for his sake, well, that you might refuse.”

  Gage’s pale blue eyes fastened on the embroidered ivory bed skirt, as if trying to imagine such a scenario and finding it bewildering. Just the fact that he was so staggered by such a suggestion made my heart ache for him. Despite the difficulties our hasty voyage had caused us, part of me wished it was true. That his grandfather truly had been desperate enough to lie to bring us here, if only to make Gage feel as if he was wanted by at least one person in his family.

  I watched as he struggled to form a response. But before he could reply, a peremptory rap on the door preceded Bree’s entrance. My maid bustled inside carrying my valise, followed by a footman hefting my trunk over his shoulder.

  “My apologies, m’lady,” Bree proclaimed breathlessly, before directing the pale-headed footman. “Over there.” She resumed eye contact with me and then darted a suspicious glare over her shoulder. “Somebody told the lads to deliver yer trunks to the attics instead o’ bringin’ ’em to the rooms.”

  “Thank you, Bree. We were beginning to wonder.” Regretfully abandoning the comfort of the couch and Gage’s solid presence at my side, I forced myself to rise to my feet as the footman turned to leave, averting his eyes. “I’m sure it was all an honest mistake.”

  A bizarre one, but an honest one nonetheless.

  Bree harrumphed as the footman passed her, plainly not agreeing with me.

  “I trust Anderley has also located Mr. Gage’s trunk and is awaiting him next door?”

  “Aye, m’lady.”

  I nodded at Gage, who was trying rather unsuccessfully to hide a grin at Bree’s ruffled outrage as he departed through the connecting door.

  She plopped my valise on the pristine ivory counterpane beside my discarded gloves and bonnet, and opened it to begin pulling out the items I would require.

  “Something simple this evening, I think,” I told her, beginning to unfasten my own pelisse.

  “The Prussian blue gown with gold trim?” she suggested promptly, as if she’d already been considering the matter. “It almost matches yer eyes.”

  “Yes, that should do.”

  I was slightly taken aback by her harried movements and sharp responses. This wasn’t the first time we’d found ourselves in a strained situation among unfamiliar society and staff, and Bree usually responded with unruffled amusement at the foibles of others. So seeing her in such an agitated state was somewhat of a novelty, and spoke volumes as to the conditions belowstairs.

  I watched as she crossed back and forth between the bed and the dressing table, laying out my possessions with her usual precision, all the while wearing a scowl that m
ade her eyes flash with fire. “That bad?” I murmured when she swiveled to approach my trunk of clothes.

  She paused to glance up at me, and seeing the sympathetic smile curling my lips, exhaled shakily. “My apologies, m’lady.” She shook her head. “This bungle wi’ the trunks just has me flustered.”

  “Are you sure that’s all?” I asked as I settled onto the padded bench before the dressing table, not bothering to hide my skepticism.

  When she didn’t respond, and merely continued to rifle through the contents of the trunk, I decided she might need a little encouraging.

  “How is the staff? Do you think this . . .” I searched for a diplomatic word “. . . confusion with the trunks is uncommon?”

  She scoffed, rising to her feet and allowing the skirts of my gown to unfold. Her eyes scoured the delicate fabric.

  “Bree,” I said, waiting for her to look up at me. “Truly, I would like to know. The state of this household might give me and Mr. Gage some helpful indications as to what is really going on.”

  A self-deprecating smile quirked the corners of her lips. “You know me, m’lady. I’ll no’ spare my opinions.” She lifted the wrinkled gown. “But if I’m to have ye respectably dressed in time for dinner, I’ll need to press this immediately.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t mind the wrinkles. Lady Langstone will simply have to suffer the sight of them. It’s not our fault the viscount’s staff lost our luggage.”

  Bree’s face tightened, and I remembered then that I wasn’t the only one who would be judged lacking if I turned up in the dining room with my appearance being anything but impeccable despite the day’s difficulties.

  “I see.” I tilted my head. “It seems the servants take after their mistress.”

  Bree didn’t respond, but it was obvious I’d guessed right.

  I nodded to the gown. “Go on, then.” I swiveled to stare into the mirror, pushing a hand through my tangled deep chestnut brown tresses. “And send a maid up with some water so I can bathe away this dust.”

  Draping the gown over her arm, she moved toward the door, but before she could open it, someone rapped softly. I watched in the mirror as Bree opened it to let in a young, mousy-haired maid. The girl bobbed an awkward curtsy, sloshing the water in the ewer she carried. I should have known my ever-efficient lady’s maid had already requested bathing water.

  The maid’s eyes dipped to the gown Bree carried as she set the ewer beside the washbasin. “Mr. Anderley told me her ladyship would be needin’ a gown pressed. And that I’m to ‘take extra care not to damage it.’” The way she spoke Gage’s valet’s name and quoted him so precisely made it clear she was already smitten.

  Bree and I were accustomed to this reaction to the tall, dark, and handsome servant. The black eye he currently sported, courtesy of a scuffle during our last inquiry, only made him look roguish and all the more attractive to the female staff. I could see Bree suppressing a roll of her eyes as she passed the dress over. “Please, see that you don’t.” There was no need for further warning. Not when Anderley’s approbation was at stake.

  The girl bobbed another curtsy and then exited the room carrying the gown before her like it was the Crown Jewels.

  I waited until the door shut before speaking. “Now, out with it,” I ordered Bree, lifting the ewer to pour the warm water into the bowl. “Gossip at will.”

  She didn’t need to be told twice. “They’re no’ but a lot o’ puffed-up Sassenachs. Said they couldna understand what I was sayin’, even though I ken they could. And then tried to blame the missin’ trunks on me.”

  Though it was true Bree had an accent, it was not nearly as thick as many Scots’, and perfectly intelligible even to someone who had not spent a great deal of time in Scotland. She had originally been employed in my father’s and subsequently my brother’s households at my childhood home in the Borders region of England and Scotland. The staff there was a mixture of both nationalities, and almost indistinguishable from each other. Anyone from that area recognized the Borders were almost a country unto themselves, identifying less with the people in London or Edinburgh and more with their neighbors, whichever side of the arbitrary boundary they happened to fall on.

  Given that fact, it was no wonder Bree found the viscount’s staff’s condescension infuriating. But I was afraid she was going to find this to be quite typical of English servants, who at times could be even more pretentious than their aristocratic employers. I hoped she would be able to make the adjustment. I’d already lost one maid who could not handle the challenges and rigors of being parted from her family and her Highland home.

  “Did Anderley defend you?” I asked, blotting my face with a towel. I had long been curious how my and Gage’s personal servants behaved with one another outside of our presence. They seemed to fare well enough with each other, though I wouldn’t have called them friends.

  She bent over the trunk again, extracting the rest of my dresses and stomping across the room to lay them across the bed in a pile until they could be properly hung. “He’s no more impressed by the lot o’ ’em than I am. Though bein’ an Englishman, he can comport himself wi’ that icy disdain o’ his and no one says a thing edgewise.”

  I grimaced in commiseration. Some things were no different belowstairs than above. I was sorry to hear they were being so condescending not only for her sake, but for that of the investigation.

  “Are they all so patronizing?”

  “No, no’ all.” Having located my slippers and undergarments for the evening, she moved behind me and took over the task of unbuttoning my traveling gown. Her nimble fingers moved quickly down my spine. “Mainly the upper servants. The lowers maids and footmen wouldna dare do more than titter.” She sighed. “And I suspect some o’ ’em are even sympathetic.”

  I glanced over my shoulder. “What of Mr. Hammett?” Having witnessed the surly banter he’d traded with Gage, which masked a long-held fondness, I had a difficult time imagining him harassing my maid.

  “The butler? Nay, he’s a correct one, like our Jeffers. Wasna puttin’ up wi’ the others’ nonsense once he found oot aboot the trunks. You’d still be waitin’ for ’em if it wasna for him.”

  Bree whisked my dress over my head and draped it over the fainting couch before beginning on the fastenings of my corset. I waited until I could see her face in the mirror before continuing.

  “Well, I need you to cozen those who’ll speak to you and find out what you can about the family, particularly the missing grandson, Alfred, and his mother, the Dowager Lady Langstone. Enlist Anderley to help you, if Gage isn’t doing so already.”

  Bree’s eyes flicked up to meet mine, sharp with intellect. “You suspect her o’ bein’ involved?”

  “Possibly,” I admitted. “Her reaction to our arrival and to her son having gone missing was peculiar to say the least. Definitely not what I would have expected, given the circumstances.”

  Bree nodded. “Consider it done.”

  I pivoted as she pulled my arms from the garment, looking at her directly. “Given her employer’s haughtiness, I suspect her ladyship’s maid is one of your worst offenders. But if there’s any way you can convince her to trust you, that might prove beneficial.”

  Bree’s face screwed up in confirmation, and then smoothed into a taut smile. “Well, they do say those who are prickliest have often had the most thorns stuck in ’em.” A twinkle lit her brown eyes. “I ’spose I’ll just have to employ some o’ that charm my Irish gran taught me.”

  Relieved to see some of her good humor had returned, I tugged at an errant curl resting along my neck. “Now, what do you propose we do with this mess?”

  Bree studied my head and shook her own resignedly. “Oh, m’lady, how you manage to muddle yer hair so I’ll never ken.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Despite our best efforts, Gage and I still descended the stairs a qu
arter of an hour later than the designated hour we’d been given for dinner. I thought our haste had been admirable, but Lady Langstone seemed to be of a different opinion, even though it was her staff’s fault our trunks had been taken to the attics.

  “How good of you to finally join us,” she drawled, her eyes sharp with derision. Lifting her chin, she turned with a swirl of maroon silk and led us from the hall down a corridor to the left. That she’d been lying in wait for us at the base of the stairs instead of the drawing room said much about her impatience. “I can’t promise anything will be warm at this point.”

  I arched my eyebrows, hoping none of the servants had heard her make such an assertion. A well-run household knew how to keep its dishes warm and when to time their final preparation. The incident with the trunks aside, I had seen no indication that the staff wasn’t anything but exemplary. Given the fact that Hammett, as butler, would be presiding over the dinner service, I had no doubt everything would run smoothly.

  This held true to my expectations when we settled into our chairs before a gleaming table service, and bowls of lightly steaming creamy white chicken soup were set before us. The light from the chandelier overhead glistened off the silverware and reflected in the mirror over the fireplace and off the ornate gold frames of the paintings adorning the walls. However, contrary to being pleased, Lady Langstone seemed only more irritated by this sign of the staff’s efficiency. I found it baffling that she would rather be proven right in her vindictiveness than be presented as a good hostess. After all, an efficient household was as much a credit to her as to the staff.

  I did my best to ignore her sour expression, turning to address Rory, our only other dinner companion. “So Gage tells me he was schooled with you and your brother.” I cast a mischievous smile at my husband. “Tell me, what was he like as a boy?” I urged, as curious to know the answer as I was to see how Rory would respond.

  “Well, in the classroom he was quite studious and earnest.” He flashed his cousin a grin. “To tell the truth, he was always more clever than my brother or me.”