by Jo Beverley
No.
Speaking of political advantage, which I was, dearest, if you will only look back up the page a little, Robert has gone on some mission to Denmark, which he says will have that effect, so I am returning home for a few weeks. Is it possible that you could join me there? I long to see you and little Harry again. I would come to you, but in all honesty, Caldfort makes me shudder!
Laura let the letter sag.
Go home?
Immediately she thought, Why not?
She hadn’t seen Juliet since the wedding six months ago. She hadn’t been home since then, either. She rose to her feet, folding the letter, a smile already tugging at her lips.
A week away! It felt like paradise and would restore her perspective. Perhaps she would see that her fears about Jack were gothic, and most important, in her bustling home in another county, Harry would be completely safe.
Eager to have it settled, she hurried downstairs and knocked at the door to her father-in-law’s study. Silence. She knocked again, thinking that if she started preparations immediately, they could even leave tomorrow.
Tomorrow!
No reply.
She frowned at the door panels. Lord Caldfort lived between this room and his bedchamber across the hall. He preferred the study during the day, but he retired to bed if he suffered one of his bad spells. She couldn’t pursue him there.
She turned away, but then heard a faint, “Come in.”
She went in quickly, thinking he might be ill. Indeed, though he was sitting behind his desk with the postbag and letters still in front of him, he looked even pastier than usual.
“Is anything wrong, sir? Do you need your tonic?”
“Nothing more than the ordinary. What d’ye want? Disturbing m’peace. Everyone’s always cutting up m’peace.”
Laura abandoned concern. He wouldn’t hesitate to summon the doctor if he felt worse. She made her request, hoping his mood wouldn’t turn him difficult.
He surprised her. “Back to Merrymead, eh? Well, why not? It’s a six month or more since you’ve been there. When do you want to go?”
This was a little more enthusiasm than Laura was used to, but she wouldn’t complain. “I see no reason to delay, sir. We seem to be in a spell of dry weather. I would like to be off tomorrow, if that is agreeable.”
Again, he made no objection. “Of course, m’dear. And why not make a nice long stay this time? A month or so, eh?”
Laura blinked at him, almost protesting out of shock. She conquered that insanity and quickly agreed. “Thank you, sir,” she said, and curtsied and left before he could change his mind.
She paused in the hall, wondering if she should send for the doctor, anyway. Lord Caldfort was not his usual self. She reminded herself to never look a gift horse in the mouth and hurried upstairs to give instructions for the journey. Only when that was done did she let herself return to the puzzle.
She retired to her boudoir, frowning over Lord Caldfort’s suggestion that she and Harry be away for a whole month.
Did he want nothing to do with Harry now there was another Gardeyne to inherit? That made no sense. Harry was a Gardeyne, too. Why should Lord Caldfort favor one grandson over the other? He’d always been fond of Harry, in his careless way.
Was it simply that the existence of an alternate heir meant that the other one could be let out of sight? She’d welcome that, but it wasn’t rational. Babies were delicate creatures, especially in the early days. The longer a child lived, the more likely it was to survive.
That reminded her that she’d not visited her sister-in-law and should do so before she left. She put on a warm spencer, but then thought of Harry.
Jack could sneak into the house and . . .
Oh, rubbish! She’d end up in an asylum at this rate. He’d be safe with Nan.
She put on a bonnet, gloves, and sturdy leather half-boots, then set off for the mile walk to the village, enjoying the exercise and fresh air.
She tried to put her worries out of her head, but her mind kept returning to Lord Caldfort’s strange behavior. He had looked decidedly unwell. But he’d not sent for the doctor.
He’d been dealing with the day’s post.
Had he just received bad news?
The instant she thought of it, she knew it was true. Lord Caldfort had looked as if he had just received very bad news.
The explanation should soothe her, for she couldn’t imagine how such news would affect Harry and herself. But then, it was as if the bad news had made him eager to have Laura and Harry away from Caldfort.
Disease in the area?
No. That news wouldn’t arrive by letter, and the alarm would be more general.
She realized that she’d stopped and was staring blindly at a rambler covered with scarlet rose hips, and set off again. A lawsuit? Debts? Scandal?
In the months after Hal’s death there had been awkward letters. Creditors had emerged like maggots, and two women had claimed to be carrying Hal’s child. In view of her own difficulty in quickening, Laura had been skeptical, though she didn’t doubt that Hal had been with many women when away from her. He’d been a lusty man.
Eleven months after his death was late for a new child to turn up, and in any case, another Gardeyne bastard would not upset Lord Caldfort. He seemed to see them as a mark of virility.
Scandal or lawsuit involving Jack? Even if he was a villainous uncle, that seemed unlikely.
Yet something had happened.
Wild investments failing, leaving them all penniless?
From what little she knew of the Gardeyne finances, they were managed cautiously. Lord Caldfort, to his credit, was satisfied with the wealth he had unexpectedly inherited.
Laura entered the village of Cald St. Edwin’s having come up with no plausible cause for alarm. That was more worrying rather than less. Something strange had arrived in this morning’s post. She was sure of it.
By the time she approached the green door of the red brick vicarage, she knew she had to try to find out what it was. She didn’t want to leave Caldfort for a month ignorant of a possible threat behind her.
Chapter 4
Laura went up to her sister-in-law’s bedchamber thinking that it wouldn’t be surprising if Jack lusted after Caldfort House. The vicarage was small for his growing family, and it also lacked charm. It hadn’t been built by the Lord Caldfort who’d commissioned Caldfort House, but by the previous one, who looked to have done it on the cheap.
She found Emma Gardeyne glowing, however, especially with the satisfaction of finally producing a son. Laura admired the sleeping baby, who was as mysterious and entrancing as all newborns, then sat to take tea and listen to an account of the birth.
Perhaps even there she’d been unjust to Jack. Emma claimed to have had an easy time of it and to have driven her husband out of the house.
“He would keep popping in to see if all was well, which is very distracting, as I’m sure you know.”
Hal had never popped in, but Laura made vague noises of agreement.
The midwife came to check on the health of mother and baby and stayed to chat. Mrs. Finch was wife to the local blacksmith and had attended Laura’s confinement, too.
Everything seemed perfect, but Laura thought she detected some strain in Emma’s manner. Was she imagining that?
She must be. It was just barely possible to imagine that Jack was plotting infanticide, but never that Emma was part of it. Emma’s gentle goodness and firm moral beliefs frequently put Laura to shame, which was part of the reason they hadn’t become close. Laura had to bite her tongue too often in order not to challenge Emma’s conventional beliefs, and if she relaxed and spoke naturally of subjects that interested her, Emma was shocked.
And didn’t hesitate to comment on it.
But Emma was truly good. Laura had never heard her say an unkind word about anyone, and she would not gossip. Which was a shame, since there was a delicious rumor circulating about the innkeeper of the Red Hen and Dr. Tr
umper’s housekeeper.
When Mrs. Finch left, Laura broke her news, unable to stop herself from watching closely for any reaction.
“And Lord Caldfort says Harry and I may stay for a month.”
Emma’s eyes widened, but only in natural surprise.
“How lovely for you, Laura. I long to visit my family, but it is so far to Durham and would cost a great deal for a private carriage. Anyway, I’m sure Jack is right that days on the road with young children would be very difficult. And, of course, he has his duties to the parish.”
“You should persuade him to take on a curate.”
Emma’s face tightened. Was all not perfect here after all? “It would be an expense, and there are so many calls on his purse.”
Not least his horses and dogs, Laura thought, but didn’t say it. Jack was no worse than any other man in that respect. Perhaps it was unfair to think that a vicar should be willing to economize on his own pleasures to provide his wife with a visit to her family.
Laura wanted to know if Emma had an explanation for their father-in-law’s strange behavior, so she said, “I am puzzled to be allowed to take Harry away for a whole month.”
“Perhaps Father Caldfort is becoming more moderate.” Lord Caldfort hated to be referred to like that. “After all, there is little Harry can learn here at such a young age.” But then Emma fixed Laura with an intent look. “Jack does hope to take a father’s place with Harry, Laura. It hurts him when you don’t agree.”
Laura’s mouth dried and she sipped more tea. “Harry’s too young yet.”
“Would you say the same if Hal were alive?”
“That would be different.”
“It’s as if you don’t trust Jack with Harry, Laura, but you must know he would be as careful of Harry as Hal.”
What could she say? “I’m sure he would.”
“Don’t mind his way of talking. He doesn’t mean what he says.”
Laura stared. “What can you mean?”
Emma’s color rose. She was pretty, with soft blond hair, and seeing her blush like that, no one would believe that she was a matron of thirty with four children in her nursery.
“It’s just the thrill of a son. You know how men are about such things. Jack has said once or twice that if . . . if anything were to happen to Harry, little Hal would one day be Lord Caldfort, but it doesn’t mean anything.”
Laura found a light laugh. “Of course it doesn’t! It’s a simple truth, as if I were to say that if Lord Caldfort took a turn for the worse, Harry could end up being an infant viscount.”
Emma’s smile showed relief. “Yes, that’s it. It wouldn’t mean you were wishing for his death.” But then she flushed a deeper red at the implication of her words.
“Of course not.” Laura brushed over the moment. “I wish Lord Caldfort a very long life so that Harry can grow up without burdens. I fear it will not be. He seemed particularly unwell this morning. I think he may have received bad news in the postbag. Jack hasn’t mentioned any concerns about the estate, has he?”
Emma was clearly grateful for a change of subject. “No. Well, there are the usual problems due to the depressed state of the economy and the atrocious weather. The harvest was sadly off, and many will feel the pinch. We intend to take a special collection to provide winter food for the desperate. I hope you will contribute.”
“Yes, of course.”
Emma could be guarding marital confidences, but Laura didn’t think so. Emma lied no more than she gossiped. “You don’t think the estate could be in debt?” she tried.
“I shouldn’t think so. Jack would know, wouldn’t he? And I’m sure he would tell me something like that. But if Father is unwell, has Dr. Trumper been sent for?”
Laura rose. There was nothing to learn here. “He never hesitates to summon Trumper if he feels the need, but I’ll check his condition again when I return to the house.”
She kissed her sister-in-law’s cheek and left the room, feeling as she always did after time with Emma—like a lower form of womanhood.
As she arrived at the hall, the front door opened and Jack came in bringing brisk fresh air.
Laura searched him for any sign of evil and found none. “I’ve been visiting Emma and the baby. Congratulations, Jack. A fine, robust boy. A true Gardeyne.”
“Aye. Nothing frail about him.”
She kept her smile in place. “Emma seems well, too.”
“Birthing’s no trouble to her.”
“Even an easy birth is a considerable challenge, Jack.”
Perhaps he flushed. “Aye, well . . . Father says you’re going to Merrymead for a week or two.”
She caught a strange tone and braced for trouble. Would he try to stop it? “Harry should know his other family.”
“True enough.”
Laura was sure she heard a silent but. Her attention, however, was on the fact that he must have visited his father in the past hour. “Has Lord Caldfort sent for Dr. Trumper yet?”
He frowned. “Not that I know of. Why?”
“He seemed to have a funny spell, though he denied it.”
His frown deepened. “I thought he looked a bit the worse for wear. His heart?”
“I don’t know.” She considered for a moment, then added, “It might have been something to do with a letter, since he was reading his correspondence at the time. He didn’t say anything to you?”
He stiffened, doubtless at the notion that he would discuss estate business with her. “No. Therefore there can’t have been anything of import. Summon Dr. Trumper anyway, Laura.”
Laura bit back a sarcastic, Yes, sir. “I must be on my way. There’s much to be done if we’re to leave tomorrow.”
“You’ll bring Harry to visit his father’s grave before you go?” It was phrased as a question, but sounded like a command. Laura was tempted to refuse for that reason, but Jack was right. She and Harry visited the grave every Sunday, taking fresh flowers, so they should do that before going away for weeks.
“We’ll drive over later in the gig,” she said, but then came to a resolution. “Do you have Hal’s guns, Jack?”
Perhaps his ruddy cheeks grew a little redder. “Aye, why not? Don’t want them rusting away up there.”
“Of course not, but I was thinking of what you said about manly ways. If Harry had the little pistol—unloaded, of course—it would be a memento of his father and get him in the way of such things.”
She was sure she saw hesitation, but then Jack said, “Not a bad idea. I’ll get it.”
He strode off and returned with the case. Laura opened it. She tried to make her scrutiny look like fondness, but she was making sure that all the essentials were inside. “Sad memories,” she said, and it was true. Poor Hal, who’d enjoyed life so much and was no more.
She closed the case. “Thank you, Jack.”
“Be sure to keep the balls and powder hidden. Boys get the hang of that sort of thing more quickly than you’d think.”
“Of course.”
Laura left and set off back to Caldfort, considering Jack’s last words. She’d swear his concern for safety had been genuine. Thank heavens she was going to Merrymead. It could straighten the brain of a Bedlamite.
Once back at Caldfort, she plunged into the arrangements for travel. She sent a groom to order a chaise for the morrow, then supervised the packing, letting the excited Harry help with his.
“No, Minnow. You can’t take flowers to Grandmama. They’d be dead before we arrived. Come to my jewelry box and you can choose something to take as a present.”
Her valuable jewelry was in the safe, so she let him look through her box, which amused him for quite some time, as she wrote instructions for Mrs. Moorside.
In the end, he chose a pretty rose pin that her mother would like. It had been a gift from Charlotte Ball, she remembered. For her eighteenth birthday. Stephen had remarked that pink roses were a strange choice.
From the depths of memory came a clear recollection.<
br />
She’d asked what flowers would suit her.
He’d said, “Poppies.”
“Poppies? Weeds of the field?”
“Vibrant, beautiful, and a great deal more resilient than they appear. And then, of course, there’s the type that provides a powerful drug that turns men mad.”
She’d been startled and unsure whether she was being teased, flattered, or insulted. His gift, she remembered with a snort, had been a copy of William Wordsworth’s “Ode: Intimations of Immortality.”
“Mama?”
She started and looked down at a worried Harry. “Yes, dear. I was just thinking about when I received that brooch. Grandmama will be very pleased with it. Come along and we’ll wrap it up prettily and tie it with a ribbon.”
Where, she wondered, had that slim volume gone? It was a reminder, however, that Stephen had disapproved of her even then, before Hal Gardeyne had visited the area and changed everything.
Chapter 5
Harry chattered about his grandparents, his uncles and aunts and cousins. He seemed to remember them all remarkably well, when it had been six months since their last short visit. Laura couldn’t help thinking that he could have a happier, healthier childhood at Merrymead but she was powerless to change his home.
Powerless.
In a right and just world, a mother should have more power, but in this one, Lord Caldfort was Harry’s guardian. When he died, the power would transfer to Jack.
She stilled in the midst of tying a pink ribbon. She truly wished Lord Caldfort a long life.
She managed to eat enough lunch that Harry didn’t notice anything wrong, then took him into the flower garden, which was not much cherished. He chose some Michaelmas daisies and stocks and some delicate grayish foliage. Laura gazed around, thinking that perhaps she should dedicate her life to gardening. But surely if that had been her calling, she would have felt it before now.