by Janet Woods
Rafe nodded approvingly. “Tell me what occurred, John.”
John related the whole affair to him again, concluding with. “There’s some furniture and books stored in the stables. There was very little of value left to salvage, but what there is I’ve placed under lock and key.” He sniffed disapprovingly. “Reverend Locke and his son were prowling around the property before the smoke cleared, and acting as if they owned the place.”
“Were they, by God?”
“Don’t worry, My Lord. They didn’t get very far giving their orders. I’d already alerted the local garrison of the fire and they sent over a couple of soldiers to take charge and prevent looting.”
“Well, done, John,” he said warmly.
“The cellars remain untouched, but the way down is blocked by debris. I have reason to believe some Ravenswood chattels are stored there. They may be of value to you if they’ve not been damaged by smoke.
Rafe’s ears pricked up. “Ravenswood chattels? You’re sure?”
John nodded. “One of the servants told me they were placed there by Lady Mercy some years ago. I’ll set some men to excavate the cellars once the heat has gone from the building. There are also one or two fine horses. I took the liberty of using your father’s gelding to transport me here. The other is a mare in foal.”
“What of the servants,” Rafe asked.”Were any of them injured?”
“There were only a few servants left in your father’s employ. They’re unharmed.” He hesitated. “I believe they’ve not received wages for some time, My Lord. At the moment they’re residing in one of the empty cottages on the estate.”
“I see.” He gave John a wry smile. “Would the sale of the furniture cover the
wages?”
“More than enough, My Lord.”
“Then arrange its sale and make sure they get what they’re owed up to the end of the year. I’ll provide them with references. It’s the best I can do for them at the moment. As for yourself, you may keep the gelding for the trouble you’ve been put to. I’m indebted to you, John.”
“They’ll be most grateful, My Lord.” Once again, John hesitated. “Would you like me to arrange a memorial service?”
“A simple funeral will be enough under the circumstances.”
“I’m afraid the bodies have not been recovered. The fire was fierce.” John spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “No remains have been found, it will have to be a service or nothing.”
“Then a service will have to suffice. I will attend of course, and would be grateful if the servants could pay their respects.”
“I daresay they can be encouraged if they want their wages,” John murmured dryly.
“And what of you, John?” he asked. “After my father’s treatment of you can you bring yourself to attend?”
“Oh, aye,” John said comfortably. “I have no quarrel with the present Marquis of Gillingborn. I’ll be happy to be of service to you in any capacity.”
“Thank you.” Interest filled Rafe’s eyes when he gazed at John’s shabby attire. “How are you situated now?”
John shrugged. “Tolerable enough. My good wife and I live with my married daughter and pick up some labouring work now and again. Beth does a bit of sewing for folks when she can get it. We’re a mite crowded but at least we have a roof over our heads and a meal in our bellies. It’s been hard to find work in the district since Monkscroft started going downhill.”
“The owner of this estate is in need of a steward and has charged me with finding him one. The estate is small, but the owner has many business interests and spends much of his time abroad. He needs someone he can rely on in his absence. If you’d consider a move, there’s a cottage that goes with the job.”
“That’s kind of you, My Lord. Beth would be right pleased to have her own place again, I reckon. Them grandchildren of ours are lively little pups. With another on the way ... “ His face creased into a smile. “I could start right after the memorial service if you’re agreeable.”
“More than agreeable.” Breakfast finished, Rafe reluctantly got to his feet. “Now I must go and inform my sister of the tragedy. I’ll notify the housekeeper of your appointment on my way out, and instruct her to send a servant to familiarise you with the cottage and grounds. We can go over the business side of it when I return.” Extending his hand to John, Rafe received a firm handshake in return before striding from the room.
With James by her side Celine took the news more calmly than Rafe had expected. He spared her the more gruesome details, reporting only that there had been a fire in which their parents had perished, and there would be a memorial service at the local church. He explained he’d be travelling on to London afterwards to attend his first meeting of the hospital board.
“Under the circumstances, I’ll understand if you do not wish to attend the service.”
“Of course I must attend, they were my parents. Indeed, it’s my duty to do so.” A tear edged down Celine’s cheek and she dabbed at it with a lace-edged handkerchief. “I hope God will forgive them both their sins so they may rest in peace.”
“I’m sure he will,” Rafe murmured, doubting if God would be so charitable to such a pair.
“I will attend too,” James said. “Celine will need the support of us both if she’s to come face to face with Matthew Locke.” His hand covered Celine’s in a comforting manner. “Perhaps Angelina will allow us the hospitality of her estate for a day or two. It’s not far from Monkscroft and Celine will need to rest before returning to Wrey house. I’ll leave you together while I go and ask her.”
He was back in a short while with Angelina in tow. Crossing to her friend Angelina threw her arms about her, saying fiercely. “You shall not go unaccompanied. I shall be there to support you, even if I have to bully James into letting me come.”
James was just about to point out that his wife had himself to support her, when Celine burst into a torrent of tears. “Dearest, dearest, Angelina,” she sobbed. “You are such a strength to me, I’ll be so pleased to have your comforting presence.”
Closing his mouth, James glanced at Rafe, and found him gazing at Angelina with a hungry, brooding expression in his eyes. Good, God! he thought in surprise. Rafe wears his heart on his sleeve for all to see.
His lips twitched at the corners, but he managed to keep his demeanour grave as he murmured. “Of course you can come, Angelina, if Rafe approves.”
James watched Angelina flicked a glance towards Rafe, watched the colour bloom in her cheeks when their eyes met. Rafe’s smile would have charmed the thorns off a rose.
Angelina’s voice was soft and husky. “I hope you approve, Rafe?”
“Most definitely,” Rafe drawled. Giving her a mocking little bow, he turned and strode rapidly from the room.
* * * *
Ellen held Rosabelle’s red gown against her body and imagined what it would feel like against her skin. Lord Northbridge had told her she could have one just like it if she wanted.
She gave a dreamy smile as she danced about the room. The Marquis had scared her at first, but now she knew him better she’d begun to like him. He was generous with his gifts of money, and she’d begun to look forward to her encounters with him on her half-day off. Ellen thought the Marquis might even love her a little. Why else would he have suggested he might set her up in her own little house and keep her all for himself?
Placing the red dress back on the hanger, she took out another and inspected it. The seam had come apart under the arm and she sighed. Her mistress was careless with her clothes. If she didn’t get this one repaired in the next hour, Lady Elizabeth would dismiss her.
She’d been given a good tongue-lashing about her duties, and Lady Elizabeth now came and inspected the wardrobe each day, at exactly the same time.
The trouble was, Master William kept her awake half the night with his demands, and the Marquis wanted her services on her half day off. She was too tired to keep up with her work. Ellen reckoned she�
��d be better off being kept by the Marquis. Lively as he was, at least she’d get some time to herself.
“Damn, Lady Rosabelle’s wardrobe!” she suddenly muttered. “I’m not spending my half-day off sewing. Let them dismiss me if they like.” Moving swiftly to the chest at the bottom of Rosabelle’s bed she removed a filmy chemise and a pair of white silk stockings. She wrapped them in her shawl then hurried down the servant’s stairs and headed off towards the estate of George Northbridge.
From the armoury window, William watched her go. His mouth twisted in a smile as he saw the bundle under her arm. He turned to Rosabelle, who was sprawled inelegantly upon a chair. “Let’s go and visit George,” he suggested, more out of mischief than intent.
“What for?” Rosabelle snapped. “I’ll be married to him soon, then I’ll see him every day.”
Her answer was what he’d expected. He smiled at her predictability. “What if you didn’t have to marry him?”
Speculation came into her eyes. “You have a plan, Will?”
“I’m the possessor of certain knowledge which could prove useful.”
Avid inquisitiveness replaced the speculation. “What knowledge could you have about George that would help?”
“I’ll tell you when I think the time is right.” He crossed to where she sat, staring down at her with brooding eyes. “I’m going to America soon, what if I asked you to come with me?”
Her eyes began to dance with excitement, then she sighed and her expression became morose. “Mama would stop me. She’s determined I must marry George.”
“Your mama wouldn’t know until the ship had sailed with us aboard.” He smiled caustically when her face lit up again. “Life there will not be easy. You’ll have to learn to live without luxury, and there are savages to contend with. But the land is young, and mostly unexplored.” Enthusiasm lifted the dark shadows of his face. “Just think of it, Rosie. One day the American continent will be a great nation. We could be part of that if we worked hard enough.”
Rosabelle hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. “Worked? Doing what, pray?”
“I intend to start a horse stud. You could help me.”
“I’ll think on it, Will, she said offhandedly. George has promised me a house in London, and he said he’ll take me to all the social assemblies. It’s a life I’ve always imagined I’d lead.”
William’s lips tightened in anger as he gazed at her. “Perhaps I should remind you that you’ve placed your life in jeopardy taking to the highway. That black stallion is easily traceable, and James is on the scent. If he discovers who owns it, the game is up. He’s too honourable to let Frey dance at the end of a rope for the crime of another, and be damned if I’m going to take the blame and hang in his place.”
Rosabelle’s face paled. “You should have let me rob the man, then Frey would have been freed. I shall not risk discovery again.”
William’s mouth twisted in a smile as he casually asked. “What did you do with the gold you relieved your victims of?”
“It’s hidden under a flagstone in that ruined cottage.” She attempted a laugh, but it had a hollow sound. “I took to the highway only because I craved some excitement. You’ve got no idea how boring being a woman can be, especially when stuck in the country.” Her eyes assumed a scornful light. “Men are such cowards when faced with a loaded pistol. Except for George,” she amended, excitement flaring in her eyes. “I had the feeling he might have disarmed me given the chance.”
“And if he had?”
“I’d have thrown myself on his mercy.” Her expression became sultry. “The man’s in love with me, he’ll do anything I ask of him.”
“You’re softening towards him.” He gave her a frown and said sharply. “How did you manage to get him to drop the charges against Frey?”
Rosabelle’s teeth worried at her bottom lip, then she shrugged. “Nothing too shocking. I allowed him certain liberties and then had a fit of the vapours. He was nearly frothing at the mouth.”
“Be careful of him, Rosie,” William warned. “He has a strong appetite when it comes to women and is full of confidence now you’re betrothed. Don’t push him too far.”
“Pah!” she said. “I can handle the old goat. I just wish I had the same power over Nicholas Snelling. Now Frey has been transported to London, Angelina will have to marry the wretch to clear his name. I bet she wishes she’d never heard of the Wrey family.”
“I wouldn’t be at all surprised.” He moved to the window, and gazing down at the sunlit garden, murmured. “She deserves better than Nicholas Snelling. She shows all the signs of being in love with Rafe, yet she’s turned him down. I believe Angelina will go through with her plan to marry Nicholas. She’s got great strength of character. We must find some way of helping her out of her predicament.”
“Rafe’s made an offer for her?” Jumping to her feet Rosabelle crossed to where he stood, staring at him in shocked surprise. “That underhand little snit has been working behind my back with him, and you expect me to help her? Never in a thousand years! She can marry the devil himself, for all I care.”
He gave a pitying smile. “You’re not still harbouring hopes in that direction, are you, Rosie? Forget Rafe. Haven’t you noticed how he is around Angelina? “
“Yes…and I hate her. She’s so insipid.’
He laughed, and kissed her on the forehead. ‘No she’s not, Rosie. She’s delicate, fresh and lovely. No wonder Rafe is enamoured by her.
Rosabelle pushed him away with a pout on her lips. ‘I could take his mind from her if I put my mind to it.’
William shrugged and his own mind went to the gold Rosabelle had stolen. He must find it and cache it in a safer place - bury it in the woods perhaps. Later on it could be found and returned to its rightful owners. Once James found out about the horse the village would be the first place to be searched. He wasn’t about to allow Rosabelle’s stupidity to jeopardise his plan to seek his fortune in America. Besides that, he had the family name and reputation to consider.
Chapter Eighteen
The memorial service for the late Marquis and Marchioness of Gillingborn was a dismal affair. The church was nearly empty, the locals who attended looked dour, as if they were there under sufferance.
Mathew Locke and his family sat tight-lipped throughout the service. Their muttered condolences were barely civil when they left. The reverend drew Rafe aside engaging him in a short, terse conversation. Rafe accepted a document the man placed in his hand, shoving it inside his coat before joining the others outside.
It had rained on the journey from Hampshire, a light, but persistent drizzle which shrouded the day with gloom and dripped dismally from the overhanging canopy of trees. The carriage was spattered with mud. The men, who’d chosen to ride astride so the women could be more comfortable, were soaked to the skin.
They didn’t linger after the service. Making a detour to where Monkscroft Hall had once stood, they gazed upon the gutted, blackened shell. Though the fire was completely extinguished the acrid odour of wet ashes came to their nostrils.
Rafe stared at the ruins for a long time without saying anything, then engaged Celine’s eyes.
“Locke has made me a generous offer for the land. His intention is to resurrect Monkscroft from the ashes. It was your home too, Celine. Would you mind if it was sold?”
Celine smiled as she gazed at James. “I didn’t know what a home was until I married James and now have everything I’ve ever wanted from life. But I beg you, Rafe, do not be too hasty in selling your birthright, especially to a man such as Mathew Locke. You may have sons to inherit the land one day.”
Rafe’s eyes flicked to Angelina before he strode to where his horse was tethered. “I’ll call on the man and find out his terms before I follow you to Chevonleigh.” Before he cantered away his glance slid to Angelina once again, his smile was wistful. “I’ll only promise to consider his offer.”
Angelina caught her breath for a second. Obviously, h
e’d not abandoned hopes of a marriage with her, and at this moment he looked as though he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. She watched him disappear from her sight, her heart riding with him.
Chevonleigh was a two hours journey from Monkscroft Hall, and it was a welcome sight. A messenger had been sent ahead to warn the small household of their arrival, and the staff lined up in the hall, their faces wreathed in smiles of welcome.
There was a relaxed atmosphere about the house, James thought, watching Angelina greet her staff. She knew each one by name and enquired after their welfare with genuine interest and delight. She sought news of her old nurse, Bessie. When a maid said a letter had arrived from Bessie’s brother that very week, she sent someone in search of it and read it out loud.
Afterwards, there was a scramble to take the baggage up, with the servants vying for the honour of carrying Angelina’s.
James and Celine found themselves in a large, comfortable chamber with a fire burning merrily in the grate, a pot of hot chocolate to warm them, and a manservant laying out a dry set of clothing for him to change into.
Celine gave him an exhausted smile. “It has been a long and trying day, James. Would anyone mind, do you think, if I didn’t go down for dinner? I’m not in the least bit hungry.”
Instantly, he was by her side. “You must rest now. I have a meeting to attend with Angelina and the steward. Afterwards, I’ll have a tray sent up for us both. Promise me you’ll try and eat, a little broth, perhaps? You would not seek to deprive our infant of sustenance, surely.”
She smiled at that. “And what of Angelina and Rafe? Would you deprive them of your company?”
“I’m sure they can entertain each other without me, my dear.”
“Angelina will surely be embarrassed to dine with Rafe alone after what has happened.”
He choked on a laugh. “You underestimate her. Angelina is her mother’s daughter in more ways than one. They are like chameleons, which change to fit in with their environment. Angelina is very much the mistress here. She’ll play the hostess to perfection, and Rafe will be dazzled by her.”