Yorkshire

by Lynne Connolly

  When we had admired our handiwork, Mr. Kerre excused himself to clean up. His fine clothes were begrimed, but he assured us it didn’t matter in the least. “It was worth it, to see such a result.”

  Martha and I stood aside while the long ladders were collapsed and taken away. “Well, Rose, my dear, I never thought it would scrub up so well.” She echoed my own thoughts exactly. When she turned to me she laughed. “Look in the mirror.”

  Reflected in the gilded pier glass was an urchin, face grubby, hair atumble in long, untamed curls. I smiled at the figure and it grinned saucily back at me. “Should I go to dinner like this? Then what would the odious Miss Cartwright say?”

  “Rose. You mustn’t talk of her in that way!” Martha said, scandalised.

  “What? You don’t think she is?”

  “That’s beside the point,” Martha said, trying to draw shreds of dignity about her neat person. “You shouldn’t talk about people in that way.”

  “You mean you never have? What about Mrs. Terry, last year, when—”

  She interrupted me. “Well, in the heat of the moment, I might have said something. But my impression of Miss Cartwright doesn’t matter a jot. We might be invited to the wedding, but I don’t suppose we’ll ever be anything but acquaintances in the future.”

  “That’s as good as saying you would rather not further the acquaintance,” I pointed out.

  “Maybe. You are an abominable person. Go and change, immediately.”

  I went off to my room, laughing.

  Three quarters of an hour later I left my room once more, washed and dressed as becomingly as I could manage in the circumstances. Steven waylaid me again. He pulled me into the same room as before. I kept him from embracing me by putting a chair between us. “I wish you wouldn’t do this, Steven, it isn’t at all proper.”

  “It seemed all right this morning.”

  My mind raced back to that snatched half hour earlier in the day. He couldn’t have seen, surely. Oh, God, that last kiss.

  “I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw you.” He acted the curate, appalled by a sinful parishioner. “The man’s a known libertine and he treated you like a chambermaid. You’re making a fool of yourself.”

  I hoped not. “We had to discuss a problem we discovered earlier. If you don’t believe me, ask James and Lizzie.”

  He frowned, glaring at me sceptically. “This problem. Would that include kissing Lord Strang?”

  I frowned, and gripped the back of the chair for support. “A mistake. Innocent flirtation.” Not the kiss, I thought, but letting ourselves be seen. “It won’t happen again.”

  He seemed to accept it. I’d been leaving the room when Richard pulled me back. It could easily have been the action of a rake, seizing his opportunity.

  “I shall try to ensure it doesn’t happen again,” Steven said, the pomposity of the minor cleric still with him.

  This alarmed me. “What do you mean to do?”

  “I shall speak to your brother. Not about your slip, since you assure me no harm will come of it, but about our intentions for each other. I can see you need some firm guidance, my dear.” He smiled. I think he meant it to reassure me, but I could only see it as sinister.

  “No, I forbid it.” I groped at the only straw I could think of. “We’re in mourning. It’s not the right time for this.”

  He stood still, frowning, and then he nodded. Since he was determined to be the outraged cleric, I would use it to advantage. He couldn’t avoid the proprieties. I was so glad I’d thought of that subterfuge. “We don’t have to make any public announcements. Not yet, at any rate.”

  The very thought of such a thing appalled me. I wouldn’t be immured as a country parson’s wife, not even if circumstances forced me to say goodbye to Richard forever. I’d been insane to think I could have done so. “You’re going too fast, and I would prefer to be courted properly, in public.”

  He smiled, indulgently. Maybe he thought he had the upper hand again. “Women are so foolish. Very well, my dear, the world shall see me court you. When you’re out of mourning, we can do it properly.”

  So sure of himself, he saw no opposition in me. It must have been a mixed blessing, to be born with such spectacular good looks, but it had given him the confidence he had dearly needed in his straitened circumstances. I suppose he thought I now had money for us both, and if I had loved him truly, it would have been enough. But I didn’t, and now it was too late.

  A new light dawned in his dark eyes. “What problem did you discuss?”

  “I can’t say. I promised James I wouldn’t tell. If you ask him, he may tell you.” I was glad I’d made that promise. The fewer people who knew about that little problem the better.

  Shrugging, Steven seemed to accept this. He let me go, kissing my hand briefly as I left. I felt a tug, as he tried to pull me to him, but I slipped my hand out of his and left the room with a great deal of relief. The situation with Steven was getting increasingly difficult.

  Chapter Eleven

  An hour before dinner on the following day, I found Richard alone in the drawing room, reading a newspaper. I hadn’t seen him all day, after Carier informed me that his master was exhausted, and he’d given him a sleeping draught so he could rest. That meant, he’d added meaningfully, that Miss Cartwright couldn’t go bothering him again. If that was so, I agreed heartily with his valet’s competent actions.

  Richard rose when he saw me, throwing the paper aside before he raised my hand to his lips. “I missed you today. Couldn’t you come and see me?”

  “Of course not. Besides, your valet said you must be left alone to rest.”

  He gave a heavy sigh. “Julia was with me most of the time. I think she wants to convince me of her charms. She read to me, conversed with me, and generally ruffled me, until Carier managed to eject her.” So Carier’s scheme hadn’t worked.

  Then I noticed something about him. He wore a beautiful lilac brocade coat. I couldn’t imagine how I’d missed it. “I didn’t know you were so much better. I’m so glad to see your arm out of the sling.”

  “When Carier changed the dressing, I persuaded him to leave off the sling. See—” he swung his arm gently, “—there seems to be no infection, and Carier says he will take out the stitches in a few days. If I hadn’t offered to help your brother discover exactly what happened to the coach, I’d have no reason to stay here any longer.”

  I looked at him in dismay. “You must stay as long as you like.”

  “Julia is anxious to leave. When I’m better, I’ll escort her home, speak to her people, then go to my parents. After we’ve sorted out the other matter, of course.” He lowered his voice. “I hope to fetch you for a visit shortly after that. I’m convinced my parents will love you, as I do.”

  I cast my eyes down, but I felt a rush of delight. However, at the back of my mind I still knew this might all be an elaborate masquerade, or the threat of ruin might eventually deter him. But surely, he wouldn’t go this far if all he wanted was a quick seduction. “I’ll be in mourning until March.”

  “You’ll meet them after Christmas, when you’re out of deep black. Then we can be married in April.”

  It was the first time he’d mentioned marriage. This, together with his careful attention to me, went some way towards convincing my cynical self. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  “Someone.” His disdainful expression reminded me how he appeared to other people and I didn’t like what I saw. He might turn that look on me one day. “We’ll come about, never fear.” I wished I could feel as optimistic.

  He still held my hand. I asked about the coach accident. “Some interesting facts have emerged about the servants’ hall, but nothing we can act on yet. We must tread carefully, the whole thing is a nest of vipers. But now Pritheroe knows, we must try to sort it out. If he hadn’t discovered it, we could have kept it to ourselves, but if we can’t discover the culprit, he’ll spread damaging rumours—even go to the press.”
<
br />   “I know. He’ll tell anyone who listens that Lord Hareton came by his estate and fortune by nefarious means.”

  His grave expression indicated how serious this could be. “He could cause your brother a great deal of trouble. We have to find out who cut that strap now, before anything can spread.” I wondered if he would still have me if I was disgraced—or if he would be allowed to.

  “Richard—Steven Drury saw us together.”

  He sighed. “Does he know?”

  I shook my head. “He thinks you were stealing a kiss. But we have to be careful because he’ll be watching us now.”

  Richard drew me closer and I felt his warmth. My instinct was to nestle against him, but I couldn’t allow myself to do so for long. “If he importunes you again, come to me directly. The man’s a nuisance, no more.” He touched his lips to mine in a gentle kiss and I savoured his taste, his closeness.

  He dropped my hand and moved away at the sound of approaching footsteps. The door opened to admit Mr. Kerre, and Lizzie. She looked charming in pale blue.

  We bowed. Richard made an elaborate leg to Lizzie with such finesse it made her previous swains look like clodhoppers. She was delighted. I promised myself that one day, if things worked out, I would take him back to Devonshire. The pretty girls who had despised me for being too tall, clever and plain should see what I could do in Society. Then I stopped my train of thought, deliberately choked it off. I could count on nothing, yet.

  Lizzie laughed, saying, “Thank you, sir. You have left off your sling. Does this mean your arm is getting better?”

  “It improves daily, ma’am.” Richard led her to a sofa. She wore her widest hoop tonight, so there was hardly room for anyone else on the sofa, especially as his coat skirts rivalled hers in width. I sat on the other sofa, and Mr. Kerre next to me, giving Richard no chance to join me. Our siblings knew of our attraction for each other, but we couldn’t be demonstrative in front of them. I wouldn’t have known how. I longed to touch him, to hold him, feel his warmth but the thought of doing it in front of anyone else made my flesh heat.

  Richard sat and watched me until Mr. Kerre frowned at him. Richard looked back at his brother with such an untroubled, enquiring expression it nearly made me laugh.

  Mr. Kerre didn’t respond to his brother’s unspoken challenge. “We have to consider who could have cut that strap on the coach. Hareton can’t keep the matter private for too much longer.”

  “Especially now that odious minister knows,” his brother added, frowning. “He is such a despicable man. I’m convinced he wants as much money as he can squeeze out of the estate, not for his vaunted religion, but for his own use.”

  “Blackmail?” I found the implication startling.

  “Oh yes,” Richard said softly. “He’ll never leave Hareton alone, once he’s been paid. He’ll be back for more. Another reason why we must clear up this matter, face the consequences. It mustn’t be allowed to drag on.”

  “Contemptible.” Disgust filled Mr. Kerre’s soft voice.

  Richard leaned back in his chair, stretching his foot to the fire. Dispassionately, he examined the glittering paste buckles on his red-heeled shoes. “He knew there was money to be had. He may have persuaded the last Lord Hareton to start converting his assets to cash. Easier to transfer, you see. He couldn’t break the entail, but he could render it worthless. Thanks to the probity of the present Lord Hareton, that won’t happen. But we must find out what happened, find the culprit, bring it into the open. If we never find out, it will be a constant thorn in the side, a topic for scandal and discussion.” He looked at Lizzie, who appeared to be distinctly worried. “It will be difficult, but not impossible.”

  “So who do you think did it?” Lizzie asked. “Have you any idea yet, sir?”

  Richard frowned. “It can’t have been the fourth Lord Hareton, because he had no reason to do it. He was planning for his future, so why should he want to do such a suicidal thing? It can’t have been the minister because he was with us the whole time. He had too much to lose, too.” He thought, frowning. “It could have been the unfortunate fifth Earl. He may not have fancied a connection to our family—”

  “Or he may have fallen in love with Maria, or rather, the idea of her, and done the deed out of despair when you refused to allow her to come.” Mr. Kerre’s eyes twinkled with sudden mirth.

  His brother nodded, serious. “Stranger things have happened, but it seems a very roundabout way of committing suicide. No, I think someone cut that strap to commit murder, or to injure someone in that coach. We should look for the intended victim. I have my enemies, but I doubt they’d have followed me here, or taken such an uncertain way to dispatch me.” I wondered what enemies he meant, and decided I didn’t want to know. Things were complicated enough as they were. He continued. “I doubt I was the intended victim. It must have been Lord Hareton, his brother, the minister or Lady Hareton, for she should have gone, you know. Only when I expressed a desire to accompany them did Lord Hareton order her to stay behind. The deed might already have been done by then.”

  I hadn’t thought of that. The rest of my reckoning had been much the same as his. I hadn’t spent the whole day mooning. This problem was too serious to be eclipsed by my selfish troubles.

  “Carier has made himself busy below stairs,” Richard informed us. “And Bennett has kept his ears open in the stables. The late earl ran this establishment with a staff of six, keeping them busy from noon until night. Two of the staff were outsiders, recruits to this cult Mr. Pritheroe leads. The others hated them, but they’re still here. I’ve asked that they remain here for the present because they may have had a motive. The only stable groom is a simple lad who, Bennett thinks, is incapable of doing such a thing. I think we may discount him for the moment. But I haven’t yet discovered what I’ve been looking for—a witness, someone who might have seen someone in the stables the night we arrived, the night before the murder.”

  A noise heralded a flood of silk as most of the other guests arrived. We could discuss it no further.

  The rest of the evening passed pleasantly enough, but not memorably, except for Richard’s obvious coldness to Miss Cartwright. He didn’t bother to hide it now. He wasn’t impolite, merely indifferent. She didn’t seem to notice, but tried to pay him flattering attentions, which he politely declined. Perhaps she really did care for him, and if this was the case, his coldness to her was cruel. It troubled me to see such cruelty in a man I was about to give all my hopes to. I hoped he was right about Julia, that she only cared for the position in society that he could bring her.

  Chapter Twelve

  Our mourning dress arrived, standard sizes, standard designs. A maid quickly fitted me into one of the gowns allotted to me, and took my measurements for the other. Martha was annoyed that maids neglected their housework to sew, but it had to be done.

  After the fitting, I changed into my old gown, and went upstairs with Mrs. Peters. Our task was to assess the work yet to be done, and make a list for Martha.

  Only the servants’ quarters and the leads lay above us. The roof, James informed us, seemed to be in fair order, so we hadn’t expected to find the devastation damp could wreak. But we did find it.

  The rooms had been used by the family, and contained the nurseries, schoolroom and several bedrooms. Everything had been abandoned where it had been left ten years before, just like downstairs. I opened a door. “Do you think we’ll find her in here?”

  “Who would that be, madam?” Mrs. Peters asked.

  “Sleeping Beauty.” Richard’s conceit never appeared so apposite as it did now.

  I don’t think she understood. “There’s been nobody up here for years, madam.”

  We began to make a list of the rooms, their contents and what needed to be done to restore them. Up here on the second floor, the pervading odour of damp and neglect was overpowering, so the first thing would be to light fires in all the fireplaces, once they were clear of soot. We couldn’t get the depre
ssing odour out of our nostrils. For hours after I went back downstairs, I could smell it. The upper walls and ceilings of the rooms were fringed with the creeping black stains of untreated damp. At the far end of the building, it seemed to get better. Then we opened the door to the nursery.

  I have rarely, if ever, seen such a shocking sight. Toys lay strewn about randomly, as though the children had only just left the room, but they were mildewed and black with damp. A baby house lay open in the corner, its delicate contents poured out on the floor in front of it, as if the house had vomited them.

  A doll I would have loved to own when I was a child sat on a table, its beautiful silk gown torn and rotted. I picked it up. It had a vacant look because it hadn’t been loved for such a very long time. It wore a fontanges, one of those high headresses fashionable fifty or so years before, and as I placed the doll back down again the head-dress slid off. It took the wig with it, leaving the doll obscenely bald.

  I shuddered. “I don’t want to stay here too long, Mrs. Peters. This nursery isn’t pleasant.” Mrs. Peters didn’t seem to feel it, but she nodded. We wrote down what we needed to, and hastily left.

  The night nursery was next to it, and on the other side the little room once occupied by the night nurse, or the nursemaid. To our surprise, we found this much neater than the other rooms. Someone had neatly folded the bedding away, the drawers and cupboard were bare—all much more normal in appearance.

  “Perhaps this room was discontinued for use before the rest of the house was abandoned.”

  “Very likely, ma’am.” Mrs. Peters didn’t venture any theory of her own.

  We passed on to a dark and grimy series of bedrooms, children’s for the most part, which contained small beds and nightlights. The room allotted to the governess was much like the others, except for a bigger bed, but we found some clothes in the drawers, which we pulled out and examined. They were all plain, serviceable clothes, full of moth holes.