by Sahara Kelly
“How?”
“Always direct, Mary O’Malley. I like that about you.”
“Then I shall ask again. How can you help me?”
“Let’s get back to the inn, find ourselves a warm corner and have a chat. I think I can offer you a proposition that will be of great benefit to both of us.”
He picked up the pace and held her arm tightly against his jacket, urging her to keep up with his brisk walk.
What on earth could he have in mind?
Chapter 7
“My gracious. You’re as beautiful as they say.”
Lady Harbury couldn’t resist smiling as her visitor arrived in the salon, a tiny whirlwind of energy and humor. “How kind of you.”
Straightening her whimsical bonnet over her bright red curls, Charlotte Howell grinned. “And that was a quite dreadful way to introduce myself and thank you for seeing me. So now I must apologize for being gauche as well.” She sighed. “Oh dear. Shall we just have your indomitable butler show me out, or will you overlook my many social failings?”
“Come and sit down, Mrs. Howell. I can forgive many things, but I couldn’t possibly forgive you if you left before you’ve had chance to tell me why you’re here.” She led the other woman to the chairs arranged by a convenient table bearing a tea tray. “Share some tea with me and satisfy my curiosity as to why a notable archaeologist should be at Harbury Hall? Please?”
Alwynne turned up the charm. One never knew with women what their response would be, so she had perfected the demeanor of one who never thought of herself or her looks. Apparently it worked.
“How can I refuse?” Mrs. Howell seated herself. “And oh look. Maids of honor.” She licked her lips over the tiny cake-filled tartlets. “I haven’t had these in an age.”
“Please help yourself. My cook is quite astounding when it comes to these things.” She poured the fragrant liquid into cups.
“Mmmm.” Already enjoying one of the delicacies, Mrs. Howell nodded in agreement.
Alwynne leaned back and sipped her tea. “It might surprise you to know I’ve read your treatise on English garden archaeology.”
The other woman blinked and coughed, gulping the last of her mouthful of tart. “Really? Yes, that does surprise me.”
“Well, I enjoy reading. Especially when it’s a work written by a woman. Not long ago one of our locals from the village turned up something in his vegetable patch—he swore it was a spearhead.” She smiled. “It could have been, or more likely it was an old garden tool from generations ago. But either way…” she waved her hand, “it stimulated my interest in such things and I discovered your work.”
“I’m flattered, Lady Harbury. It’s always pleasant to find one’s writings of use.”
“I enjoyed it. You have a delightful conversational style of prose, not at all dry or patronizing.”
“Thank you again.” Mrs. Howell smiled with pleasure.
“So, now you can tell me how I can be of assistance.” Alwynne gracefully returned her cup and saucer to the table and waited.
“Well, you can say yes.”
“To what, if I may inquire?”
“To my digging a big hole in your grounds.”
Alwynne blinked. “A hole?”
“Yes.”
“In the ground.”
“Yes. That’s where it’s easiest to dig a hole.” Mrs. Howell beamed at her.
“Why?”
“Ahh, there’s the thing.” Another maid of honor drifted to the older woman’s plate. “Recently I came across an old manuscript wrapped around a nice fillet of haddock.” She frowned. “It’s quite appalling what some people will do with valuable things. They just don’t seem to think, do they?”
“Er…”
“Well, anyway, I managed to clean the paper up a bit and found I was looking at what I can only suppose were notes about some funeral arrangements. Back several hundred years, I’d estimate. And they ended with a comment about someone named Will. He had, and I quote, duggeth out of ye dirte a payre of foine arrows.”
“Goodness.”
“One guesses it was during excavation of the grave, perhaps. I trust the ceremony wasn’t postponed for too long. However,” she waved the tangential thought aside, “I was encouraged to do a bit of digging myself. Into research material though, not dirt. And I discovered that part of one of your hillsides here at Harbury might well have hosted a Bronze Age settlement. Several artifacts have been linked to it and they’re estimated to be some three thousand years old.” She folded her hands and looked at her hostess. “That puts them, and their origins, right smack in the middle of the Bronze Age. Isn’t it exciting?”
“Yes. Yes, of course.” Alwynne struggled. This was a little out of her usual afternoon tea conversation. “And so you’d like to dig up the hill?”
“Well not the whole hill, of course.” Mrs. Howell chuckled. “But if I might have permission to skim off a part… perhaps a few square yards or so, and then go down a few more feet…that ought to give me plenty to sift through and determine if I am, in fact, in the right place.”
Alwynne thought for a few moments. “Would you need to bring in a crew to do the excavation?”
Mrs. Howell shook her head. “No, and that’s the marvelous part of the project. I have recently acquired an amazing new machine that will do almost all the preliminary work for me. A friend, who has a truly astounding gift with inventions, developed it for roadwork, and it’s already in use in Oxford, I believe. He kindly gave me the prototype for my research work. So kind of him.”
“Indeed.”
“So.” Mrs. Howell looked expectant. “Would it be possible to validate my theories? May I have your leave to examine part of the hill? I’ll be sure to leave everything just as I found it, of course. Well, as much as possible…”
“How long do you think it would take?” Alwynne’s mind was already turning over the risks involved in introducing strangers onto Harbury land. If her husband should learn of it…
She hid her wince. It would be just the sort of thing that Randall would find intriguing. Her chemists had better be working damned hard on her private project or all hell might break loose and Mrs. Howell’s machine might be digging graves not bits and pieces from the past.
“I doubt we’d need more than two or three days at most. Perhaps less if the machine works as flawlessly as I’ve been led to believe.”
“Oh, in that case, then yes. I’d be happy to permit such scholarly activity here at Harbury.”
Alwynne heaved a sigh of relief. Between them, she and Stephen could definitely keep Lord Harbury under control for that period of time, whether or not they had anything to calm him down.
“You are so kind. I knew, the minute I saw you, that here was a lady who was not only beautiful but generous and kind.” She stood and shook out her skirts. “I was right.”
“It’s my pleasure, Mrs. Howell.” Alwynne rose as well, moving to one side and reaching for the bell-pull. “I will ask Malcolm to show you out, and let my estate manager know he’s to expect you—and your machine—shortly. Will that be acceptable?”
“Most excellent, Lady Harbury. Just perfect. Oh…” She lifted a finger to her lips. “There is a gentleman, Inspector Burke. I believe you two have met? He’s an enthusiast when it comes to digs and things archaeological. He’s offered to stand as my assistant, so he’ll be there as well.”
“Of course. Inspector Burke is quite charming and I’m sure he’ll be an asset. If there is anything else you might need, please feel free to ask. My manager will be able to arrange whatever you might find your work requires.”
“Thank you again.” Mrs. Howell walked to the door where Malcolm was already waiting.
“Mrs. Howell.”
The older woman turned, eyebrows lifted in question.
“Might I ask a favor in return? If you find something, anything…do keep us informed? Perhaps my husband and I might assist in setting up a local museum of sorts. And we would l
ove to be mentioned if you should write any scholarly papers on this work.”
“What a lovely idea. Of course we’ll make sure to keep you apprised of our progress. Thank you once more, Lady Harbury.” She dropped a polite curtsey and left with a grateful smile.
Alone, Alwynne shook her head. Digging up her hills, indeed. Whatever the Fates had against her, she wished they’d get it over and done with, instead of continually peppering her with annoyances. Although, if the hole was big enough and deep enough, maybe she could just drop Randall into it and bring this deepening nightmare to an end.
That idea made her smile. She returned to her chair and sat, deciding that the tarts did look quite tasty after all. She helped herself and poured more tea, her mind enjoying the exercise of planning a stunning flower garden over the dead and rotting body of her spouse.
He would be excellent fertilizer indeed.
*~~*~~*
There were few flowers blooming in the late autumn sunshine, and even fewer people driving through the woods on a brisk and chilly Saturday afternoon.
Which was why Granville had rented a small carriage and was driving himself, with no one for company except Mary O’Malley. What they had to discuss required privacy.
They were far enough out into the countryside now, he judged, to dispense with polite conversation. So he got right to the point. “Did you consider my idea?”
He was eager to hear her thoughts, after leaving her the night before with a fairly comprehensive outline of the idea he and Sinjun had put together. She had seemed intrigued, but asked for time to think about it.
He’d given her less than twenty-four hours.
“Yes. I considered it.”
Mary sounded thoughtful, but Granville couldn’t read her expression. “And?”
“I’m interested.” She glanced at him. “But I have questions.”
“Of course.” He let the reins drop and the horse slowed to a walk, ambling now through dappled autumn sunshine. “Ask away.”
“This place you’ve got. It’s on a fancy estate isn’t it? I asked the girls casually about Harbury.”
“Harbury is an elegant mansion and a sizeable holding. It’s what’s underneath that makes it unique. Chambers turned into laboratories. Seven floors down. And all kinds of scientists working there, using an energy source that seems unusual, to say the least. It’s what helped us perfect our vapors.”
Mary shook her head. “Hard to imagine, I must say.”
“All true, Mary. And the effects of our vapor, when concentrated? Well, it would’ve turned one of Mother Riordan’s girls into a moneymaker extraordinaire.”
“Gets them all steamed up, does it?”
“That doesn’t come near to describing it. All I can say is that the whore we found to help us out breathed it in and turned into a kind of sexual beast. She damn near tore a man’s cock off with her teeth.”
“Dear God.” Mary looked shocked. “That’s risky shit, Eldon.”
“It is.” He nodded. “Fortunately, in this case, the man was a bit off himself, and gave it back to her in spades.”
“Aren’t you worried if you have more than one girl you won’t be able to control things?” She tugged at the finger of one of her leather gloves as she pondered the situation. “I’m looking to establish myself with a discreet and upmarket place. I don’t want any bloodletting.”
“Neither do we. But think about it, Mary. Private parties. Anything goes. The girls always ready and willing to let the gentlemen play with ‘em. And we’d specialize in parties, that way we can ask a higher fee and we don’t need so many girls.”
Mary’s eyes narrowed. “And I’d be the Madam? I wouldn’t have to fuck any of them?”
“Not unless you wanted to.”
She snorted. “Not likely.”
“So are you interested enough to want to take a look at the Dower House? Tell me if you think it would suit? It’s not been kept up as well as it should have been and we’d like your opinion.”
“Is it far?”
“No, since we’ve been headed that way anyway. Only another mile or so.”
“Then by all means, let’s see it. And maybe I should meet your friend at the same time.”
“Good idea.” Granville lifted the reins and slapped the horse’s hindquarters, urging him into a trot. “I’m sure Sinjin will be charmed.”
“He never came with you to Riordan’s, then?”
“No, he never did. Don’t know why. Just one of those things, I suppose.”
Mary was silent for a while, thinking about God knew what. Then she turned slightly, pulled her cloak tighter and took a breath. “So what could you get if you had a pair of virgins on offer for this new house of yours?”
Granville’s heart all but stopped for a few moments. “God, Mary.” He exhaled. “We could get enough to set us all up for years.”
“Who from? The farmers around here don’t look like they’ve got that kind of coin stashed away.”
“They don’t.” He snorted derisively. “I wouldn’t ask them anyway. Prefer to keep this all rather hush-hush, for obvious reasons.”
“So? Men with that kind of money don’t grow on trees, you know. Unless there’s some special kind of forest here you haven’t told me about.”
“Saucy.” He grinned. “It happens that both Sinjin and myself have kept up correspondence with some of our old school chums. Lads then, men now. With money, Mary. And a lot of it.”
She was quiet then, her eyes narrowed, her face thoughtful. “The train leaves London and arrives here in a few hours, if that.”
“It’ll only get faster as the steam engines improve.”
“Would they stay the night?”
“Optional. Up to them. My feeling is yes, since liquor will be involved. Nobody wants to get up and dress and then travel after a night of carousing.”
“I need to see the house.”
“Good. There it is.”
He drew the carriage to a standstill in front of a grey stone building. It might have been small in comparison to Harbury Hall, but to Mary, it was anything but.
She clambered from the carriage, not waiting for Granville, eager to see this lovely little mansion from the inside. There was a large vine of some sort, dry and brown now, climbing over the stones and up over the small roofed porch. The paint around the windows was peeling in places, but the windows themselves were in good shape. None were broken, at least not on the front side that she could see.
“Granville, this may be a bit dilapidated to you, but to me it puts all the other places I’ve worked to shame.”
“Let’s go inside. Lady Harbury kindly sent me a key so I could come and go as I please.”
“Did she now.” Mary giggled. “Doesn’t she know you come and go all the time as you please, no key needed? Just a nice slippery lock?”
He waggled his eyebrows. “You’re getting quite cheeky.”
She leaned against a stone pillar as he struggled with the key and a lock that was obviously stiff. “Why yes, I am, sir. Maybe I need a good spanking for being naughty.” She moved closer and her hand drifted to the front of his breeches. “Seems like you might be just the gentleman to give it to me.”
“Ahh, there we go.”
Carelessly, he pushed her hand away from his body and opened the door.
Mary frowned. Men didn’t turn from her. Not when she was toying with their precious jewels. She filed it away in the back of her mind and followed Granville inside.
It wasn’t anything like what she’d imagined when he’d told her the plan. This was no derelict or neglected country cottage, nor was it a home for rodents, tramps and mold.
The walls weren’t fresh, the colors of the interior paint had faded and a thick layer of dust coated everything that wasn’t covered. But the massive fireplace dominating one large reception room was in perfect condition, and the oak floors well worn but not damaged in any way.
“God, Granville. This is just amazing.”
She wandered, finding more parlors and salons, both large and small, a library with many books in great need of a thorough cleaning, and even a small music room. There was no pianoforte, but the paintings on the walls featured musicians and instruments in various poses. Mary could see the performers at a small tea party perhaps, or a family gathering.
For a few moments she could see herself, seated at the keys, a handsome gentleman joining her in song as an extended family applauded and laughed and filled the room with happiness.
She recoiled.
This wasn’t her home. She had lost that so long ago it was but a vague memory. Her music lessons had ended before her ninth birthday and her virginity was history by her tenth.
No, she was no aristocrat or lady. This was only a place, a house where she would lay the foundation of her future and build upward with bricks of gold coin.
And the nubile bodies of Maisie and Daisy.
To begin with.
She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin and returned to Granville, who still stood in the hall.
“It’ll do very well.”
“Can you set it up?”
“For when?” She was already tasting the profits.
He pursed his lips and glanced around. “Removing the covers from the furniture, a bit of a clean and making sure that at least one bed is usable. Maybe a week or two?”
“Let’s give it two weeks. Invite your friends for that date. Get your bottles of whatever stocked up. And let’s make the first night very special. Top coin, make sure the gentlemen know that they’re getting two virgins and no rules.” She paced. “Can you get in some good wines? Spirits?”
“Yes. Sinjun has a contact for that on the coast. Most of it didn’t pay import duties, but these days, who cares?”
“Good.” She nodded.
“I should drive you back before it gets too late. And there’s a lot for me to do now that we’re set to move forward.”
She preceded him through the front door and stood on the step, looking out over the driveway and the massive shrubs bordering it. Once again, ideal for their purposes.
“Those bushes will screen carriages. Good thing, I think.”