The Earl roared and kicked the dog into a corner of the room, where the animal cowered, growling tentatively but not venturing towards the enemy. Even Willie became subdued, sniffling and protesting that he didn't know how the pesky things had got into his box. Harris and the steward were dispatched to search the box, and the Earl ordered the entire family to wait in the hall until the coach was ready.
At length the trunks were full, surplus items packed in a large wicker basket, and carried downstairs while the departing couple were arguing fiercely in the entrance hall, and Willie cowered behind them, holding the dog.
Luke retreated towards the kitchens. He sank onto a stool beside the huge table when the cook invited him to help himself from the jug of ale standing there.
'It's about time someone got rid o' they pesky fools,' the cook said, vigorously rolling out some pastry.
'Not popular, it seems. With good reason, from what I've heard.'
'They didn't 'ave the faintest notion how to behave proper to us. Jumped up pair o' shopkeepers, they are.'
'How long have they been here?' Luke asked. 'They're his lordship's nephew and family, I understand?'
'Four months, since afore Christmas,' the cook replied. 'He said they could stay till the new year, as they'd had to leave their lodgings in Oxford while they found some more. But 'e dain't mean next new year!'
'Where will they go?'
She shrugged, and clapped the pastry on top of a large bowl which gave off appetising aromas of rabbit stew. 'Can't say I'm bothered. Find fault, they did, wi' everything. An' it weren't their place. If she thought she knew better than me 'ow ter flavour meat, then let 'er come an' cook it, I said. Allus on at me about the concoctions 'er precious granny taught 'er. Spent 'ours, she did, walkin' round the lanes lookin' fer plants ter put in 'er potions. Swore they was better than any the apothecary could make, she did. Ter listen yer'd 'a' thought granny could bring folks back from the dead!'
'They haven't been easy guests,' Luke said sympathetically.
The cook shook her head. 'They dain't 'ave it all their own way. When she tried ter drown the cat, because it bit 'er precious Willie, puss scratched her arm so bad she were abed for a week. Willie never said what 'e'd bin doin' to the poor cat, but I found some string and an old horseshoe near the well, so I can guess!'
'Good for puss.'
She sighed. 'Mebee. Poor critture vanished a week later, though, an' we never did find it. I suspicion the nasty brat caught it and' did fer it that time.'
Luke was summoned back upstairs ten minutes later, and unpacked his lordship's portmanteau. Harris came to tell him that they meant to dine informally that evening, so there was no need to press his lordship's evening dress.
'Mr Frederick's gone, despite a few rearguard actions,' he added. 'They were bundled into the coach, almost pushed in, the steward was so eager to be rid of them.'
'Where have they gone?'
'To Oxford. His lordship gave 'em enough blunt to pay for the mail to London, so I suppose they're going to her mother's.'
'Are all his family dead?'
'His father is. I think his mother lives with her daughter, somewhere in Yorkshire. The daughter's husband won't let them enter his house, so that's no use to them. But what's all this about you being a Frenchie? Proper put out about it, the Viscount is.'
'I don't see what it has to do with him. My father was French,' Luke said resignedly. His background would become common knowledge now, in the Earl's household at least, so he might as well tell them himself, or all sorts of rumours would be spreading. 'My mother was English, though.' He hoped no more questions would be asked. If they knew his grandfather still lived near Oxford other people might discover it. He wondered if it was safe to go and see him now his true identity was known in this area.
He decided to change the subject. 'What does his Lordship do when he's down here? What sort of clothes will he need?'
'Well, they'll be riding round the estate tomorrow. The young 'un detests horses, says they make him sneeze, but he has to go, his father insists. Give the old un his due, he's trying to teach the boy what needs doing here.'
'Is it a big estate? Will they be out all day?'
'Most like. Gives us a rest, anyway.'
Luke wondered if he dared risk going to see his family. He already knew there were no coaches going that way, and it was too far to walk in the time. Might he be able to borrow a horse? Reminded of this, he finished his preparations and went downstairs and out into the stable yard. It was soon arranged, the head groom saying that the horses the Earl kept at Redditch Court ate their heads off most of the time.
'The only reason I'm sorry to see Mr Frederick go,' he added. 'At least he rode 'em regular.'
***
'Why is that roof being replaced?' the Viscount demanded, as he and his father drew rein at the end of the main carriage drive. They'd been riding for a good two hours, and he was already stiff as well as fiendishly bored. He stared resentfully at the ladders set against the wall of the small lodge, and the woman in the doorway, who was bobbing a nervous curtsey. Here was money being lavished on tenants, and only last night, when he'd nerved himself to ask for an increase in his allowance, he'd been refused.
'Tompkins said it needed doing.'
'Well, it's not his money he's spending, is it? If you'd let me take over the management of just one estate, I'd soon show them how to save money.'
A girl came round the corner of the cottage, carrying a basket of eggs, and his eyes brightened. Perhaps his boredom could be alleviated. He'd take a stroll in this direction after his father was safely back at the Court. Some gentle exercise would ease his stiff muscles. She grinned up at him, and he could swear she pushed out her chest, displaying her buxom charms.
'And then you'd spend it on your nonsense?' the Earl asked, dragging the Viscount's attention back to the argument.
'It looks good for another year or two to me. There's only a few slates missing. That bailiff's spending too much.'
'He knows what he's doing.'
The Viscount pouted. 'You drag me round with you, saying I've got to meet people so that I can take over when you go, and then you won't listen when I make suggestions.'
'When you make sensible ones I might. If he left the roof until they all blew off the rain would get in, and that would cost more to put right,' the Earl explained impatiently.
'Well, these peasants don't mind getting wet. They're lucky to have a roof of any sort.'
The Earl urged his horse forward. 'It's my property, not their comfort I'm concerned with,' he snapped.
The Viscount had to hurry to catch up with him. Two long hours later, the Earl's weary horse was back in the stables, and the Viscount shouted for Harris as he went into the house. He was in a hurry and changed more rapidly than usual into his newest superfine blue long-tailed frock coat, pale yellow nankeen breeches with stockings of a delicate matching shade. After only three ruined cravats he decided the latest effort, imperfect as it was, would do for the bucolic locals. He carried an ebony cane, and though they were not suitable for country wear, his shoes were flat-heeled, buckled, and of exceptionally fine leather. Harris, his face bland of expression, handed him his newest cloak. The Viscount slung it round his shoulders then had second thoughts.
'Not that one, you fool. Get an old one.'
Satisfied at last, he donned the cloak, but left it well open. It would not do to hide his elegance with it.
He strolled down towards the lodge, and as he came within sight of it smiled in satisfaction. He'd judged her correctly. She was there, waiting for him amongst the belt of trees and undergrowth which grew inside the boundary wall, and gave the owners privacy from the gaze of the common herd.
She was pretending to pick up kindling, and her apron was almost full. He crept up behind her. The spot was ideal, they were concealed from both the lane outside and the lodge, and his old cloak would provide an adequate bed.
'Caught you, my pretty,'
he breathed as he slid both arms about her waist, his fingers spreading eagerly to feel for the swell of her ample breasts.
She let out a startled shriek, and as he tried to pull her closer wriggled in his grasp and twisted round, dropping her firewood. Then the Viscount felt a ringing slap on his cheek, and stepped back in sudden astonishment.
'Why, you vicious little besom!' he snarled. 'Why the devil did you do that?'
'Cause Oi don't loike the devil takin' liberties wi' me!' she snapped, glaring back at him. Then, to his horror, she stooped swiftly and seized a useful looking branch.
He moved prudently backwards. 'I only wanted to be friendly,' he tried to explain. 'I'd make it worth your while.'
He flushed as she looked him up and down. It couldn't be scorn in her eyes, could it?
'Oi've my own man, a proper man, wi' broad shoulders an' shapely calves,' she sneered. 'He don't need fancy togs ter make 'im look like a man, nor do 'e need ter pay wenches fer favours.'
The Viscount watched, furious, as she turned round and began to pick up the firewood. She kept the heavy branch in one hand, and looked ready to use it.
'You'll pay for this!' he muttered, but underneath his breath. He was shaking with fury. The damned impertinent drab! He'd show her who was a proper man!
***
To reach his grandfather's house Luke had to pass through Oxford. As he rode along he relished the fresh spring day, the warmth of the sun, and the gentle breezes. A shimmer of golden green clothed the willows beside the river, and as he entered the town he recalled with nostalgia the years he had spent here as an undergraduate. He gave thanks for his father's forethought in sending enough money to England to support him for those years, and wished he'd had sufficient forethought himself to have saved some of it instead of enjoying the normal pleasures of student life. But that money was all gone, and that life far behind him, little more than a dream. He might have stayed on to teach, but he preferred a life more active than that of a university don.
He had just reached Cornmarket Street when he saw a familiar figure emerging from a tavern in front of him. That carroty shock of wild hair was unmistakable. He cursed under his breath and swiftly dismounted, keeping the horse in between himself and the man. How did Bossard come to be here of all places? Was it a coincidence, or had the fellow discovered where Luke's family lived? If he had it was the most damnable misfortune, and put them all in danger.
To Luke's relief Bossard turned the other way, and Luke debated whether to try and follow him, or attempt to discover from someone in the tavern Bossard's reason for being in Oxford. Or he could ride on, trust he hadn't been seen, and warn them all at the Rectory to take extra care. He rejected the last option, for he couldn't be sure he hadn't been seen. Until he was absolutely certain Bossard's presence was unconnected with him, he dared not risk leading the man to Sylvie. However much care they took, if Bossard knew where Sylvie was, they could not hope to protect her for ever. Bossard was convinced she knew where he could find the family jewels. When he found Sylvie he would wreak his fury on her in frustration that she could not tell him what he needed to know, or revenge for being the innocent cause of his fellow conspirator's death.
Luke thought swiftly. The chances were remote of discovering anything but where Bossard was staying, should he follow. And he might have left friends in the tavern who would report any stranger asking questions about him.
The only absolutely safe course of action would be to kill him. For a moment Luke contemplated it, then knew that he could not kill any man, however much an enemy, in cold blood. He'd have to risk the tavern. He glanced about him and beckoned to an urchin who was regarding him curiously.
'Look after my horse, if you please.'
The lad grinned, showing a mouthful of broken teeth, took the reins Luke handed him and began to make crooning noises to the horse. Luke went into the tavern.
Entering the tap room he was thankful to find the room was gloomy, lit only by one small and dirty window. There were a few men seated round a trestle table, but from what Luke could see they were all country yokels. He beckoned the tapster and ordered ale.
'I thought I saw someone I knew just now, a man with a shock of red hair,' he said casually when the man brought his drink. 'Is he a regular here?'
'Yer means the Froggie?' Luke nodded. 'Asked the way to New College. Just arrived in Oxford, so 'e did say,' the man explained in a slow drawl.
'By coach? Or did he stable a horse with you? Did he say where he lodged? I'd like to speak with him.'
'Whoi dain't yer catch 'im outside?' the tapster said suspiciously.
'I was too far away. He turned down one of the lanes, and by the time I got there he was nowhere to be seen.'
'He left 'is nag somewhere near West Gate. But 'e said 'e were setting out for Lunnon later on, not stopping.'
Luke thanked him, drank his ale, and returned to his horse. As he rode on, making sure no flaming thatch was watching, he was thinking deeply. It seemed as though the man had entered the town from the West. His grandfather's village lay to the northwest of the town, and could be reached from either direction, the roads through Woodstock or Eynsham. Had Bossard already been there? Clear of the town he kicked his horse into a canter.
***
Chapter 3
Soon Luke came within sight of the small village, set on the side of a hill, and with a jumble of stone-built cottages clustering beneath the church on its summit, where his maternal grandfather was Rector. To one side the hill sloped down into thick woods, and he turned off the road and pushed his way into the midst of a dense thicket. There was a stream flowing through a small clearing, which widened into a pool beloved of the village urchins in summer, but it was too early in the year for anyone to wish to bathe. He watered the horse, then hobbled it so that it could crop the grass but not wander far.
'Stay hidden,' he said quietly, and walked away towards the village. He kept in the cover of the trees as far as he could, then raced up the hill across a stony field. At the top he plunged into the narrow belt of trees and undergrowth which surrounded the church and Rectory. Making sure there was no one watching he emerged cautiously and went through the churchyard, over a low wall which separated it from the Rectory gardens, and finally slid through the doorway into the huge kitchen.
A plump, elderly woman was snoozing before the old-fashioned open range. Luke cast her a fond glance. Many times during his boyhood visits his grandfather's cook had tended his scratches and bruises, fed him her delicious cakes and biscuits, and listened to his impassioned tirades against the ruffians who had seized power in France, and finally driven him from his homeland.
He crept past. She worked hard and deserved to rest when she could. His grandfather would be in his study, and Luke wanted to talk to him before the rest of the family knew of his presence. Once Sylvie knew he was there she wouldn't leave his side.
The study door was open slightly, and Luke peered in. His grandfather, tall and thin and severe looking, with hooked nose and sparse silver hair, sat in the chair before his desk, and had several volumes open before him. No doubt another of the learned sermons which bewildered and confused most of his parishioners, simple farming folk, was being composed. Luke coughed gently, slipped into the room, and closed the door behind him.
'Luke! My dear boy, how good to see you! What brings you here? Have you seen your grandmother yet?'
Luke kissed the old man on both cheeks. 'You look as well and as busy as ever. My master is visiting Redditch Court, and I took the chance to come here. No, I wanted to talk to you first.'
His grandfather frowned. 'I wish you didn't have to earn your living in such a menial position,' he said fretfully. 'Young Sylvie is teasing us to allow her to become a nursery governess or lady's maid. Your example has infected her with notions of independence, I'm afraid.'
'Necessity,' Luke answered lightly. 'I cannot impose on your generosity, though I am grateful you can give shelter to her.'
&nb
sp; 'There would be no need if you would accept the suggestion made last month by Mr Potter.'
Luke frowned. 'I won't marry for money,' he said evenly. Nor, he thought with an inward shudder, would he marry a woman ten years older than himself, who'd already lost half her teeth, and breathed foul air in his face whenever she leaned close to him to talk in her shrill voice.
'Georgina Potter's father is immensely rich, and a pleasant man, even though he came by his wealth through trade,' the Rector said regretfully. 'It's a very good estate he's bought, and she's his only child.'
Money obtained from slaving ships he owned, more than his other vessels, Luke suspected, but he knew his grandfather didn't have the same suspicions. He'd taken his bluff new neighbour on trust.
'That's not why I came,' Luke said. 'Soon I hope things will be different. But we have argued this before. I have more serious news. Today I saw Bossard in Oxford.'
'Bossard? The man you saw in Witney?'
'Yes.'
'I never really understood the threat to you. You said he didn't appear to have recognised you.'
'I could not be sure. And I'm afraid of the threat to Sylvie if he finds her. He was the second in command at Vivier, if beasts such as he have any system of control over their followers. He swore then to exact revenge on me for what I did to his leader. And he knows something about the jewels, too. He might seek to discover the secret from Sylvie, and since she knows nothing he would wreak his vengeance on her.'
'I've heard no mention of a Frenchman being seen in the vicinity,' his grandfather said slowly. 'I'll put word around, to some of my most trusted people, and they will let me know at once if strangers appear. And I'll keep Sylvie close, don't fear.'
Luke grimaced. 'She won't thank me for that. Do you think we should tell her the reason?'
'I think not. We don't wish to frighten the child. She has tried hard to put the ordeal behind her, and reminders could bring back the horror. Don't worry, we will safeguard her.'
A Murdered Earl Page 3