“For the general to die so he can take over?”
Gerard laughed. “No, for the general to overhaul his staff of officers. Perhaps his father promised Nash something to keep the peace.”
“Leave it to you to put a military bent to it. Helen has some money of her own.”
Gerard snorted. “I fancy Nash would rather bite off his tongue than ask her for a farthing. He now understands how she was using him.”
“Really? For a newcomer you seem to know a lot about this family.”
“When I am quiet I’m not wool gathering but listening and watching.”
Chandler pursed his lips. “It’s a game to you, isn’t it?”
Gerard let his foot hit the ground and resumed his circuit of the house. “No, this is quite serious, not to mention dangerous. My desire for Juliet is certainly not a matter of fun. Somehow I must help you keep her future safe. She is starting to see that she does have choices.”
“Are you hoping that one of her choices will be you?”
“Only if she is willing. Perhaps she would rather have a season in London. You have to admit she could do better than me, certainly look higher.”
Chandler nodded. “Because of her fortune many of the ton would overlook our rise from trade but that sort of man would make sure he controlled her wealth.”
“So we must protect her not just from Claude but from the rest of the world.”
“And I fancy that is easier to do here than in London.”
“Time enough to decide that if I survive the week.”
Chandler rubbed his eyes and followed Gerard. “Do you plan to stay, then?”
“Unless Soutine needs me.”
“Why do you feel so tied to him?”
Gerard turned toward him. “When Conde came looking though the battlefield it was my father’s name he was calling. I just rose when I heard it and staggered toward him, hoping we would both find him. I don’t think Soutine even imagined I was on the field.”
“So the link is to your father, that debt of honor he mentioned. What could it be?”
Gerard smiled. “It was the first I heard Soutine owed him anything so I have no idea.”
“Another little mystery.” Chandler pulled out his watch and checked the time in the fading light.
“So is Nash any good at chess?”
“I can’t beat him,” Chandler confessed.
“Then tomorrow holds some promise of amusement.” Gerard turned at the corner of the house and walked toward the front door.
“You forgot to smoke you cigar.”
“I don’t smoke.”
Chandler looked startled then laughed and followed him back into the house. “I’m two years older but I swear I could take lessons from you.”
Chapter Eight
Even though sheets of rain deluged the windows Juliet rose at her usual early hour and went to the drawing room to practice music for a time. The small fire there failed to knock the chill out of the air so her fingers soon became too numb to do her much good. When she stopped playing she heard it, a drum beating somewhere softly. She grabbed her shawl and followed the sound to the boxroom in the basement under the drawing room.
There stood Jack, his left heel tucked into the hollow of his right foot and a drum slung off his shoulder and resting on his left thigh. He began very softly a long roll of beats and when he faltered went back and started softly again, each roll getting better and longer and faster.
When Gerard noticed her he came around to sit on a crate and dusted a place for her.
She sat and stared at him. “I had thought that the rain would keep you out of trouble but teaching Jack any of this is sure to irritate the general.”
“Oh, I know but it has been so long since I angered him I thought it was time.”
“You have the most horrible sense of humor.”
He shrugged. “I’m not sure from where it comes.”
“Gerard, why bring up memories of the war?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps it was seeing the drum again.”
“What’s significant about the drum?”
“Look at the bloodstains. Some of them are mine. It’s the one I was beating at Waterloo. The drum from our company. Tully must have found it and brought it back.”
“Still, you should try to put all that behind you.”
Gerard stared at Jack who continued to drum. “Another thing that puzzles me.”
Even when he wasn’t smiling he seemed to be on the point of it. “What?” she asked.
“I would have thought my father and my grandfather would not agree on anything yet they both enjoyed military life or so their long careers would imply. So they both must have become disenchanted with war and fighting later in their careers.”
“Would not anyone?”
“Anyone not hardened to it. So neither was a professional soldier, a killer by occupation. They each saw it as a necessary and uncomfortable duty.”
“I’m sure you’re right.”
“So why could they not come together?”
“I don’t know and I regret it. If your father had brought you home he’d be alive and we might have known each other earlier instead of meeting by chance.”
He smiled at her. “And yet we were destined to meet. Do you believe in fate?”
“I don’t believe in luck for I have had precious little of it.”
He bent so close he could have kissed her but he didn’t. He just smiled. But Jack facing the other way got louder and louder ’til it made her insides thrum.
Gerard turned his head toward Jack. “You’ve mastered the long roll. Now try camp taps like I showed you.”
“What is all this in aid of?” Juliet demanded.
“Jack is bored. Grandfather should let him ride out with the men.”
“It is his mother who keeps him from dangerous pursuits not your grandfather.”
“The general should realize riding is not the most dangerous thing the boy could do.”
“And you are going to show him that? I can guess what you are planning and stop right there if you ever want to be recognized in this house.”
“But think how much fun it would be.”
“No I refuse to think about your disgrace. I’m going to warn Charles what you are doing.”
She got up and left but shut the door firmly which stifled the sound. She ran up the stairs to check the first floor but only from the drawing room could she hear the drumming. No one went in there in the morning and she did not tattle to Charles.
Gerard waited for the inevitable boom to fall but Chandler never appeared so Juliet must not have snitched. After the lesson they packed the drum away carefully and closed the trunk which belonged to his father’s regiment. Tully must have brought it back as well. Since Tully had found the drum it meant that if Conde had not found him then Tully would have and what would have happened then? Would he have brought him here? It was interesting to speculate but he was not sorry how things had turned out.
How Jack had found the drum was no mystery. An active boy, housebound because of a timid mother, was destined to ferret out every corner of an old place like this. They came up the basement stairs together to confront Nash and a carter in the hall.
“It appears your trunk has arrived,” Nash said.
Gerard stared at it. “That was fast unless Conde sent it without hearing from me.”
“Well it is here. I’ll have the servants carry it up. Also I have to find someone to pay this fellow.”
“I can do it.” Gerard slipped the man a guinea which was overpayment but he wanted to worry Nash.
The fellow dropped his surliness and ducked into a bow after his profuse thanks even offering to help wrestle the trunk upstairs.
Nash arched an eyebrow. “You will be spoiling the tradesmen hereabouts.”
“But I really appreciate him bringing my clothes.”
“Chess lesson at eleven,” Nash reminded him over his shoulder as he walked away.
“I shall see you then. Jack do you want to see what’s in here?”
“Of course I do. There could be anything in a trunk.”
The boy followed the footman and carter to Gerard’s room but when the large trunk, which Gerard did not recognize, was thrown open in the middle of the floor it contained many books and his flute but only his court clothes and evening suits. His riding clothes and ordinary coats and hats had been omitted.
Gordon looked at him in despair as Gerard cocked his head. What was he to make of that? Soutine had a reason for everything he did. And it appeared he wanted Gerard’s family to think him a fop. Finally at the bottom of the trunk were his fencing foils and equipment, plus a saber. Not his father’s of course. So he wanted Gerard to hide his identity, at least for a while but arm himself against attack. Gerard had the uncanny feeling that the saber had belonged to Soutine. It was certainly French. Did this mean he was capitulating?
Soutine would do anything for the sake of a joke. That climate had only enhanced Gerard’s own terrible sense of humor usually to Conde’s despair. But without warning he was beset by a memory that went much further back. His mother playing at hide and seek with him in a hedge maze and calling to him with a variety of voices. They were at that country house that sat in the back of his mind somewhere as home but he did not connect the location to his father at all. Certainly there was nothing so frivolous as a hedge maze at Old Stand. Besides, he had never been here before.
He remembered a voice, gravelly and angry, shouting at his mother. Whoever it was had left in a carriage in the dark. Then there came his father to get them and they were constantly on the march. Why they had been separated for a time he did not recall. He remembered his mother had been ill and had recovered on the estate. Once reunited his parents had been happy and very much in love.
He smiled and tried on the puce coat that Gordon had picked up between two fingers as though it would bite him. Jack laughed at Gerard’s posturing and Gordon’s grimace. Chess might be more fun that he had supposed.
“Here, Jack, see if you can get a sound out of that flute. If you can I’ll show you how to play the notes.”
At eleven, Nash’s drop-jawed wonder at Gerard’s appearance was worth the time it took to change.
“What the devil are you playing at?” he asked as Gerard seated himself at the small chess table in the drawing room.
“What do you mean? Do you want white or black?”
His cousin looked to the board. “You may have white. Are you deliberately trying to provoke my father?”
“I feel like I’ve fallen into a nest of vipers, you included. It would probably be a wise move to get tossed out.”
“It’s all about expectations. When someone upsets the applecart it takes time to adjust.”
“Will Claude adjust?”
“He’ll have to, won’t he?” Nash said as he set out the pieces.
Gerard always felt chess to be a sublimation of war so he played carefully, not allowing any casualties he could avoid.
* * * * *
Juliet understood what the drumming that morning had been in aid of but she had not wanted to broach the subject with Jack present so she came down for luncheon early, hoping to have a word with Gerard. She saw the back of a stranger facing Nash across the chess table, a man in a wine-colored coat. But no. It was Gerard. This could not be any of his English clothes not with lace cuffs. When she circled the two suspiciously she found Gerard also wore a lace jabot. He looked like a dandy. What was he thinking?
Nash’s eyes flicked over the whole board but Gerard sat immobile, his lowered eyelids and curved lips making him look rather sinister. She had seen that look before but where? Ah, yes. General Soutine had regarded them that way when he’d seen them at the theater. Gerard must have mastered the trick of it from him. Nash would be able to read nothing from his face.
Nash finally moved and Gerard slid his knight out.
“Check,” Gerard said so quietly she was not sure Nash had heard.
His uncle leaned back and scanned the board desperately.
She knew better than to break their concentration but she had to. “Gerard, don’t you think you should go change.”
“I already have.”
“But that isn’t the sort of coat Great-uncle is used to seeing, not in the country at any rate.”
“But it is my coat. Don’t you find it fashionable. I’m pretty sure you saw me wearing it at the theater.”
“I know but really.”
Just then the other men entered and the dead silence that arrested them on the threshold was followed by an oath from General Cochran.
“What the devil are you wearing?”
“My trunk finally arrived,” Gerard said brightly, getting up and turning so they could perceive his finery to the full.
Juliet could see Nash smiling. It made him look just a little like Gerard.
“And that was in it?” the general demanded as Charles gaped at their cousin.
“Yes, it was made by the best Parisian tailor.” Gerard pulled out a lace handkerchief and fluttered it. Juliet clapped a hand to her mouth but was unable to prevent a squeak of surprise.
“Well, get rid of it. We’ll go to Brigstock this afternoon to order you some proper clothes.”
Gerard tilted his head and smoothed the front. “Perhaps it is too fancy for the country.”
“Go change now.”
“Oh, then I would miss the end of this very interesting game and luncheon.”
The general glanced at the board. “I cannot conceive how he got himself into such a fix. Nash will concede the game. He cannot possibly win. Go change now. The ladies are dawdling anyway.”
Gerard went toward the stairs with a smirk on his face and Juliet looked at Nash as though to ask him what insanity this was as the other men found seats in the drawing room.
“Don’t look at me. I did warn him.” He stared at the board again as though going over the sequence of play in his head.
“Shall we put the pieces away?” she asked.
“No, I mean to continue the game at least with myself.”
“But he has you in check. I see no way out for you. Even Great-uncle said it was hopeless.”
“It’s always a mistake to assume there is no way out. One of life’s best lessons. In fact, Gerard has informed me there is a move that would result in a stalemate between us and a different move that might result in my winning.”
Juliet studied the board again. “But what are they?”
“I would give much to know.”
She nodded. “But would never ask him.”
He looked up at her. “Of course not.”
Then something occurred to her. “Are you sure he was talking about chess?”
For the first time in her life she left Nash looking stunned.
* * * * *
The meal was spent in relative calm, the ladies making lists of what they needed from town and the men discussing wool prices and the grain crop. The traveling carriage was called for as well as Chandler’s phaeton which could seat three. Jack disdained the shopping expedition so there was only the nine of them going.
To keep peace Gerard agreed to the carriage with Chandler conveying Melanthe and Juliet in his equipage. Claude made no objection. He would not get to sit next to Juliet but neither would Gerard. An hour later they alighted at the King’s Arms and Claude went in to order some brandy. He looked back as though he expected his father to follow him but Nash trailed after the other men while the ladies set out for the milliner’s shop.
Whatever else he was, Nash had impeccable taste in fabric and style. The general said he would leave Gerard in his hands while he went to the express office. After visiting the tailor, haberdasher and bootmaker Gerard found himself back at the King’s Arms sipping an ale and watching his grandfather beat the dickens out of Claude at piquet. The general had engaged a private parlor and ordered tea for when the ladies returned. Gerard noticed he had troub
le reading the suits of the cards. How frustrating that must be for him. No wonder he asked Chandler to write his letters. Of course he could employ a quizzing glass or even spectacles but that would seem like a sign of weakness.
Just as the laughing group of women entered laden with packages the coachman came and rapped on the door with a grave look.
“What is it?” General Cochran asked.
“One of the team has pulled a shoe. We may have to leave it to be shod and hire another horse in its place.”
“Has it lost it or loosened it?” Gerard asked.
“Loosened but it is sure to come away on the trip home.”
“I’ll have a look,” Gerard said.
The general glared at him. “What do you mean by that?”
“One of the many useless skills I acquired during my travels with the army was emergency farrier work.” Gerard rose and followed the coachman to the stable.
“My grandson, shoeing horses?” he sputtered, causing Gerard to pause and look back at the family.
Claude looked outraged and Nash worried. Helen’s face was livid.
“Oh, no, sir. The claimant to that title is going to shoe a horse. When my identity is proved I’m sure I’ll get too high in the instep to even think of touching a horse’s hoof.”
Chandler chuckled and got blasted by a violent glare from the general for his lack of restraint. While the ladies had tea the gentlemen trooped to the blacksmith shop and forge next door but as they had been informed the smith was not working that day. Gerard liberated the tools he needed, removed his coat, tied on the leather apron, then went back to the stable to pull the last nail out of the loose shoe. He rasped the foot even and set the shoe back in place. As he tapped the new nails in and clenched them he said, “A cold set shoe isn’t as good, of course, but I imagine it will hold until it’s time to have him shod.”
“Did you learn anything else in the army?” Claude gibed.
Gerard put the hoof down and removed the leather apron with a smile. “To always pay for what I take. Our absent smith deserves something for the use of his tools and the nails I liberated.” Gerard was walking away fishing in his watch pocket for a coin. Without turning his head he said, “I also learned how to keep my mouth shut.”
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