“Goldie, please let me tell—”
“One time Uncle Asa told me I was a good cook,” she said proudly, sashaying back to the table. “I think it’s one of those things people inherit. My Aunt Delia was a cook. She worked up at that Ravenhurst mansion for years. I must have inherited her talent in the kitchen. ‘Course, inherited talent can always be improved, Saber. It’ll take me a long time to become as good a cook as Aunt Delia probably was.”
She sat back down, put her elbow on the table, and rested her head in her hand. “I was so excited about meetin’ her, Saber. The whole way over here to England I thought about her. But when we got to Hallensham...she wasn’t there. Her cottage was empty.”
Saber’s heart crashed into his ribs. “What? Where did she go?”
Goldie felt a tear slip down her cheek. “Heaven.”
Saber scowled fiercely. “Heaven? What do you mean—heaven?” he yelled. “She died?” He rose, looming above her while waiting for her answer.
Goldie looked up at him. “Why are you hollerin’ at me? I didn’t kill her.”
“She’s dead?” he demanded again.
“Isn’t that the only way she could have gotten to heaven? Saber, why—”
“How did she die? When?”
Goldie felt very confused at Saber’s shouting. “Saber, why are you yellin’ at me?”
Her question did nothing at all to dispel his shock, but it did make him realize how bewildered Goldie was over his unseemly behavior. Delia. Gone. Grief clawed at his throat, strangling him. Turning, he walked slowly to the fireplace. While he stared into the flames, his heart summoned every image of Delia it sheltered. He saw her clearly. He remembered. His little hand in her big one. Her moist kisses on his cheeks. Her soft arms around him. Aching, he made fists, watching them whiten and tremble.
Why hadn’t he been informed of her death? Surely his estate manager knew of her passing. Why hadn’t Hutchins sent word to him?
“Saber?”
Goldie’s sweet voice flowed through his bitter thoughts. “I’m sorry,” he managed to tell her.
At his words of condolence, another tear trickled down Goldie’s cheek. Saber hadn’t even known her aunt, and yet he felt sorrow over her death. His compassion touched her heart. She joined him at the hearth. “Thank you.”
His fingers uncurled, slowly seeking hers. When they found them, he held her hand for a long moment before bringing it to his mouth and kissing it. He felt a special affinity with her. Goldie mourned because she’d never had the chance to love Delia. He mourned because he had. “Tell me,” he begged. “Tell me about Delia.”
She saw such sadness in his eyes. His sympathy was likewise echoed in his voice. He was asking her to share her sadness with him. The thought warmed her far more than the blazes in the fireplace. “When I first got to Hallensham,” she began quietly, “the only thing I could learn was that she’d died a month earlier and that the preacher was the one who found her. No one knew much more than that. Later, I discovered her diaries. They were hidden up in the rafters of the ceilin’. She—”
“Diaries? The diaries you’ve been talking about belonged to her?” God, he thought. He’d been unaware that Delia could read and write.
Goldie nodded and found comfort in his continued and genuine concern. “I found a bunch of little books up in her ceilin’. Each one is full from cover to cover. They’re small, and so is Aunt Delia’s handwritin’, so it takes a long time to read ’em. And a lot of the pages are ruined by water, like I already told you one time. You can’t read those pages at all. I’ve skimmed through some of ’em, but I haven’t had time to get to ’em all.
“Anyway, Aunt Delia wrote a lot about the folks and goings-on in Hallensham and at Ravenhurst. Everything’s dated, so it’s like readin’ her life story. There’s a whole lot about Duke Marion. She wrote of happy things until his parents died. Then her entries got sad. She wrote about havin’ to sell some of her possessions. Her mama’s lace shawl. Her daddy’s watch. She sold her cow. Traded her little gold brooch for blankets. She sold some other stuff, too, but that part’s messed up, and I can’t read it. She started writin’ about bein’ hungry and cold. Things got worse as she got older. In her very last entry she wrote that she hadn’t eaten in three days. She died the next day.”
“She had nothing to eat?” Saber was astounded and appalled.
“That’s what she wrote. She was old, Saber. And what with goin’ for three days without food— There are some good people in Hallensham, and I’m sure if they’d known how much she was suffering, they’d have helped. Could be her pride made her sell some of her things in another town so no one in Hallensham would know? She died of age and hunger. It’s the only thing I can think of.”
Saber stepped away from her, staring at her without seeing her. Delia...hungry? But why? He’d been having a substantial amount of money given to her ever since he left the estate as a boy!
His confusion and disbelief mounted. “Goldie, what is your cottage in Hallensham like?”
She sighed. “Same as all the others. I love the cottage and hope it can be my home forever and ever, but I’m tellin’ you the truth, if Uncle Asa and I don’t get enough money to fix it, it’s gonna fall down on us while we’re sleepin’. The roof leaks, and there are so many holes in the walls, I’m sure Aunt Delia was cold clear down to her bones in the winter. I’m—I’m sorta used to livin’ in places like that, but Aunt Delia—I—As old as she was, it’s...not easy for me to think of her livin’ like that. I wish I could have helped her in some way. But I was in America, and I didn’t know. I just didn’t know.”
Saber had been in England, and he hadn’t known either. He felt sickened with regret and bewilderment. Why had Delia been poverty-stricken? There was absolutely no reason for her destitution. With the money he’d provided her, she should have been living comfortably! She should have—
A sudden and terrible thought stabbed through his confusion. His eyes narrowed. The longer he dwelled on his suspicion, the more sense it made. Fury exploded inside him, and it was only with intense determination that he managed to keep it from his voice. “Goldie, I—I’m very sorry. About your Aunt Delia. About the supper. But you see...I can’t eat it. I’ve just remembered something I need to discuss with Addison. It won’t wait. I’ll send in Winston, Kenneth, David, and Big. Please enjoy supper’ without Addison and me. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He stormed from the room, leaving her no time to question him. It took him only seconds to reach the front door. He took the steps leading to the courtyard three at a time and headed for the barn. He had to find Addison.
As he ran toward the stables, he thought of the one possible reason for Delia’s hunger, her poverty. If that reason turned out to be true, the man responsible was going to pay.
Pay dearly.
* * *
Saber tossed down another whiskey, pitched the glass into the fireplace, and charged to his office window. Snatching the drapes aside, he stared intently at the darkness outside. Out there somewhere was Dane Hutchins. Breathing the same air Delia had. Walking on the same earth.
Was he now living on Delia’s money?
Hutchins was alive. Delia was dead. Saber had never felt such anger. “Dane Hutchins,” he growled. “What other answer is there? I swear to you, Addison, when I get my hands on him, I’m—”
“But you have no proof.” Addison continued to pace the floor. “It could very well be that Delia gave the money away.”
“Tell me in all truth that you believe that.”
“No, I don’t believe it at all. But the authorities will see it as a possibility; therefore you must see it that way, too. Without proof, you cannot—”
“I can do anything I damn well want to do!” Gulping in a ragged breath, Saber laid his hot forehead on the cool windowpane, closing his eyes. Images of Delia filled his tortured mind.
If only he could see her one more time. Grief, fury, guilt...they all fought for a pla
ce inside him. He couldn’t control them; and as they battled, he thought of their cause. It was love. Love was at fault for every agony he’d ever known. If he hadn’t loved Delia, her death would not be eating away at his heart right now.
“Don’t you ever again suggest I go back to Ravenhurst,” he commanded. “I lost three loved ones there, and tonight I have learned there is a fourth to add to the grisly list. Those lands...they grow naught but tragedy, Addison, and nothing will ever induce me to set foot upon them again. No circumstance, no person.”
Wisely, Addison remained silent, patiently waiting for Saber to speak again.
Saber took another deep, shuddering breath. “Goldie says that for the past twenty years, Delia’s diary entries are of nothing but sorrows. She didn’t even have blankets, Addison!”
“Saber—”
“William Doyle,” Saber seethed. “My man of business. He’s been making periodic trips to Ravenhurst for years. When he returns to London, he gives me detailed accounts about everything happening on the estate. Why didn’t he ever say anything about Delia’s situation?”
“Perhaps he didn’t realize she was so important to you.”
“But it’s not just Delia,” Saber countered. “From what Goldie said, I gather all my tenants’ houses are in sad condition. Doyle’s not blind. He’s seen that with his own eyes, and yet he never said a word about it to me.”
“Are you suggesting Doyle and Hutchins could be partners?”
“I don’t know what the hell to think!” Saber took another deep breath, struggling to control his frustration. “But the idea isn’t ludicrous, Addison. If it’s true, then it’s more than likely that in exchange for Doyle’s cooperation, Hutchins has been rewarding him well. Rewarding him with my money! If they’re guilty of that—Damn those thieving bastards!”
Addison frowned. Saber rarely swore. The fact that he was doing so now spoke of his unmitigated rage. The last place on earth Addison wanted to be was in Dane Hutchins’ or William Doyle’s shoes—especially if the two men were guilty.
“All right, Saber. Let’s presume your suspicions are true. If Delia could write, why didn’t she inform you about her circumstances? And why would Hutchins and Doyle have attempted what you suspect when Delia could have written to you and told you about it?”
Saber stared at Addison for a moment, his mind working furiously. “They wouldn’t have known Delia could write either. And they’d never have given her the slightest clue that she was supposed to be receiving the funds, so there’d have been no reason for her to divulge anything. And as for her informing me of her dire straits, she was too proud. Even Goldie thought so, and she was right. All suspicions aside, the one thing I know to be true is the extent of her pride. I may have been little the last time I saw her, but I remember it.”
His shoulders slumped and his chin fell to his chest. “God, she preferred death over telling me about her deprivation. Or—Or maybe she believed I just wouldn’t care. Perhaps that’s what all the villagers believe. Perhaps—God. I don’t know, Addison. I don’t know what to think about any of this.”
“Saber—”
“I recall the day I said good-bye to Delia,” Saber continued. He took a seat behind his desk, looking up at the moulded ceiling. “I was so worried about her. I begged her to come with me to London, but she said she couldn’t leave her home. I tried to give her my pocket money. She refused it. I wondered how she would get along without a job, for there was no longer any need for a cook there.
“When my aunts and I arrived in London, I expressed my concern to them and asked if there was anything we could do. They arranged for Delia to receive a generous sum of money each month. Hutchins was to deliver it to her personally. He was to tell her my father had bequeathed her the funds, and that if she refused them she’d be dishonoring her deceased lord’s wishes. That was the only reasonable explanation we could give her to overcome her pride.”
“I gather no one suspected him of dishonesty.”
Saber straightened in his chair, ramming his fingers through his hair again. “Hutchins has been working as Ravenhurst’s estate manager since I was a baby. The solicitors Aunt Clara and Aunt Lucy hired saw no reason to replace him. My father, apparently, never had a problem with him, or else he’d have discharged him.”
Addison rubbed his chin. “But when your father was alive, Hutchins didn’t have the opportunity to perform such treacherous deeds. That is, if he is, indeed, guilty of them.”
Saber closed his eyes, sorrow and guilt fairly smothering him. “Addison,” he whispered achingly. “However indirectly, I am responsible for Delia’s death. She died only a short time ago. If I had returned to Ravenhurst, I could have seen to her welfare myself. But I—”
“Saber, don’t blame—”
“I was to have returned with Angelica,” Saber went on, his heart throbbing. “Angelica. She wanted so badly to raise our son on the ducal lands that would one day be his. If she had lived, I would have gone back with her. But—”
“I know,” Addison said quietly. “I know, Saber, but nothing that has happened is your fault.”
“I can’t understand,” Saber murmured, “why Angelica didn’t tell me about what was going on there. Surely she saw the state of the tenants’ houses. She could have written—”
“I’m certain she would have,” Addison tried to assure his distraught friend. “But—She didn’t—Perhaps she didn’t have enough time—Saber, she’d only been there for three days before...her accident. And it could have been that she was going to tell you everything in person once she returned to London.”
Clenching his jaw, Saber rose, drawing himself up to his full height. “I’ll send a letter to Aunt Clara and Aunt Lucy, and in it I will tell them the truth,” he said with no emotion whatsoever. “Two more reliable and understanding souls do not exist, and I know I can depend on their discretion. They must be told about what I’m doing, of course. Otherwise, they’d worry.”
Addison realized Saber had formulated a plan. “Well, that’s topping, Saber. Would you mind telling me what you’re going to do as well?”
“I would have thought you’d have figured it out.”
Addison shrugged. “After all these years, the true shallowness of my intelligence is finally revealed. I’m not as quick-minded as you, and there you have it. Put me out of my misery.”
“The diaries.”
“The diaries,” Addison echoed, frowning in complete confusion. “What about them?”
“Addison, there might be proof in them! Goldie said Delia wrote about everything and everyone connected with Ravenhurst and Hallensham. And the diaries are all dated. If my suspicions concerning Hutchins and Doyle are true, it’s possible I’ll find evidence in those little books. Maybe Delia saw something. Overheard something. Who knows? With any luck, I might find every scrap of information I need in them.”
Addison nodded. “So you’ll tell Goldie who you are, explain your suspicions, then ask to read the diaries.”
“No to the first two, yes to the third.”
“What?”
“No, I won’t tell Goldie who I am, and no, I won’t tell her what I think about Hutchins and Doyle. Yes, I’ll ask to read the diaries. I’ll explain I can learn more...uh, dukish stuff if she allows me to concentrate on what Delia wrote. Addison, if she learns who I am, she or Big might be tempted to contact her drunken Uncle Asa. He, in turn, would announce the news around Hallensham, and Hutchins and Doyle would hear of it. If they’re guilty, they’d have ample time to escape before I’ve attained the proof I need.”
“I see. But Saber, your time here at Leighwood is over. You were to return to London tomorrow, and Goldie was to return to—”
“She stays with me.”
Addison noted the emphatic nature of Saber’s statement. You’re quite adamant about her staying with you, aren’t you, old boy? Pretending to smother a cough, he hid his smile. “Very well, my friend. Goldie stays. You’ll be spending the time her
e at Leighwood, I presume?”
“In London I’d have a difficult time keeping my real identity from her. You and the boys will return tomorrow and spread the word that I am out of the country. Say I went to Scotland and that you have no idea when I will return. Just make sure the aunties receive my letter before they hear the rumors about me. I don’t want them upset.”
“You may depend on us.”
Saber didn’t miss Addison’s mischievous smile. “Give over, Addison.”
“I hide nothing.”
Saber thought for a moment, realizing there was only one reason for Addison’s secret delight. “You’re playing matchmaker again, and I warn you now that there is nothing at all romantic about my relationship with Goldie.”
“Of course.”
“If I find any evidence in the diaries, I’ll be returning to London without her. I will, however, make sure Hallensham will be her home for as long as she wishes. And I will provide for her financially. She is Delia’s niece, and I can do no less.”
“Of course.”
“As you well know, she is a very entertaining person to be around. I admit to having enjoyed her company. But that is all.”
“Yes, yes, of course, Saber.”
“A relationship any deeper than mere friendship is out of the question.”
“Oh, yes. Completely out of the question.”
“She is an American.”
“She is at that.”
“I am an English aristocrat.”
“With blood bluer than the sky.”
“She lives in Hallensham, my home is London.”
“Two totally different worlds.”
Saber’s thoughts drifted. Diamonds. And dandelions. He sat back down, folding his arms across his chest. “So I have made myself clear, Addison?”
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