by Cheryl Holt
“Depending on how they view it, we may have to make some changes.”
“What changes? Am I about to be terminated from my post?”
“No. I’m merely getting some outside advice, then we’ll see what happens.”
“In my own defense, I can categorically declare that I constantly counseled your brother to behave better. I shouldn’t be blamed for any problems. They’re systemic and deeply ingrained in how the Prescott family has always done things.”
“Then perhaps the Prescott family needs to develop some new strategies.”
Peyton’s demeanor was very bland, but Richard accepted the comment as a threat.
He and Barbara ran the estate together. She had control of the manor, and he had control of the exterior property. They were happy with that arrangement and didn’t want it to be altered. If Peyton fired Richard and brought in his own people, he and Barbara would lose their position of power.
“There are many processes we could implement,” Richard said. “I’m eager to upgrade and modernize.”
“So jot down a list. I’ll look at it.”
“I will. Thank you. Will you be returning to Benton?”
“I’m not certain. I have to firm up my status with the navy.”
“Will you be heading out to sea?”
“Maybe.”
“When will you decide?”
“Soon.”
Peyton was so accursedly vague that Richard yearned to shake him. He couldn’t figure out if Peyton was a man who ceaselessly vacillated or if he’d settled on a path but declined to share it with Richard and Barbara. If so, it was a shrewd scheme. It kept them at a heightened level of anxiety.
“My sister is curious about the household accounts,” he said, “and she’s wondering if you’ll provide her with an allowance.”
“Make a list about that too. Inform me as to what she thinks would be fair.”
“Will you be staying at Benton House? Could I contact you there?”
“I suppose.”
“And if you shore up your plans about the navy, I’d appreciate it if you’d apprise us as quickly as you can.”
Peyton grinned. “Why? Are you keen to be rid of me?”
“Your brother’s death has wreaked havoc for my sister. Surely you don’t begrudge her for seeking some answers from you.”
“No, I don’t begrudge her on any topic, but any request for funds will have to wait until I have a clearer understanding of our situation. If we’re out of money, then the amount she desires will have to be slashed.”
It was the closest Richard had gotten to a solid reply since Peyton had first arrived at Benton, and it incensed him.
“Might I remind you, Peyton, that my sister is your brother’s widow, and she is still Countess of Benton. She can hardly be expected to live like a pauper.”
“If we’re broke—as you seem to be implying—then her standards will have to be lowered a bit.”
Richard actually thought he might jump into an unwinnable quarrel, but Mr. Boyle bounded up the stairs.
“Let’s go, Peyton,” he said. “Time’s wasting.”
“I’ll be right there.” Peyton waved Boyle away. “One last thing, Richard.”
“What is it?”
“About Neville’s children…”
“You mean his lawful daughters, Alice and Nancy?” Richard knew he referred to the others out in the cottage, but he asked the question just to be spiteful.
Peyton sighed with aggravation. “No, I don’t mean them. I mean Bobby, Jane, and Daisy.”
“What about them?”
“You gave them a deadline to vacate the premises by July fifteenth, but you are not to enforce it.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not a cruel man, and I won’t kick three children out on the road.”
“What if we don’t hear from their maternal relatives? Is it your intention for them to remain forever?”
“No.”
Richard was so irate that he started to tremble. “Well, then, what do you intend?”
“I haven’t a clue.” Peyton’s equivocation was typical and maddening. “I’ll notify you once I’ve pondered a resolution. But don’t enforce that deadline. Their kin require more of an opportunity to work matters out. If they exhaust every possibility, but still can’t help us, we’ll talk about it then.”
“Fine.” Richard was terrified to say more lest it would be a remark he’d very much regret.
“If the manor burns down, write to me in London,” Peyton said. “Otherwise, carry on as you have been. For now, there are no changes on the horizon, and I don’t need any reports.”
“When will we see you again?” Richard was determined to pry out a concrete response.
“Maybe never?”
Peyton chuckled, then strutted out. Richard stood in the foyer, wishing he had the temerity to march out after him and pick a fight.
Peyton was so rude and dismissive, his dislike of Benton and his Slater in-laws too hideous to be born. Why was he so flippant? Why keep them on edge and off guard?
It was likely a ploy to rattle them, to leave them nervous and agitated. At least he suspected it was. The more infuriating notion was that Peyton wasn’t conniving at all. Perhaps he was simply a lazy dolt who refused to focus on any issue.
Through the open door, he watched Peyton and Mr. Boyle ride down the lane. They were laughing and chatting, acting as if Benton and its problems were of no consequence whatsoever.
As they were disappearing into the trees, Barbara strolled up.
“What are you staring at?” she asked.
“Peyton and Mr. Boyle just left.”
“Good.”
It was an indiscreet comment, voiced aloud with a footman dawdling a few feet away, but they didn’t have to worry about him. The servants were all Slater servants, saved from destitution when their father, then brother, Roger, had gone bankrupt. Barbara had brought them to Benton, and they were loyal to her. Not Peyton Prescott.
“They’re off to London,” Richard said.
“He just got back though,” she complained, “and he’s departed again. I can’t decide if I should be relieved or not.”
“It’s always a benefit to have him out of our hair.”
“You’re correct,” she agreed. “Is he returning to the navy? Did you discuss it?”
“No, but listen to this.”
“What?”
He glanced at the footman. They were Slater servants, but still, there were some topics that had to be a secret.
“We should confer in the parlor.”
They went into the room and shut the door.
“What is it?” she said. “If you couldn’t mention it out in the foyer, it must be bad.”
“Before he walked out, he raised the subject of Daisy, Bobby, and Jane. He forbade me to implement the eviction deadline on July fifteenth.”
She gasped with affront. “They’re to stay on? For how long?”
“I pressed him on that very issue, but you’re aware of what he’s like. He never tells me what he’s really thinking.”
“Am I to suffer their presence forever? How much shame will the Prescott family be allowed to inflict on me?”
There was a lamp beside her on a decorative table, and she batted at it and sent it crashing to the floor. The footman heard the noise, and he raced over and peeked in.
“Are you all right, Mr. Slater?” he asked.
“We’re fine,” Richard insisted, and he shooed the man out. Once they were alone again, he murmured, “I don’t care what Peyton said. We’ll stick to the original plan and deadline.”
“It’s next week. What if he finds out that we ignored his edict? What then?”
“He’s completely detached from estate affairs. I’m betting those children will never cross his mind in the future.”
“But what if they do? What if he inquires about
them someday?”
“We’ll lie and claim their maternal kin took them as we’d demanded.”
She considered the ruse, then nodded. “Yes, I suppose that would work.”
“They will not remain past the fifteenth, Barbara.”
“Swear it to me.”
“I swear. They’ll go, and they’ll never be back to plague us.”
CHAPTER NINE
Jo walked up the deserted lane to Daisy’s cottage. There was a carriage parked out front, but she didn’t have the energy to worry about who else might be present.
Her mission was dire, and she couldn’t guess how it would resolve, but if Lord Benton had been standing there, she’d have punched him in the nose.
During their abbreviated association, she’d assumed they were friends. He’d promised he wouldn’t let Mr. Slater implement his July fifteenth deadline, and she’d believed him which only proved she was a gullible fool. Would she ever learn?
She arrived at the gate, and as she opened it, Mr. Slater emerged from the house. She had questions to ask him and answers that needed to be supplied, but mostly, she needed to fetch her niece away from the horrid Prescott family. Who would leave a child in the care of such despicable people?
“Hello, Mr. Slater,” she said as he approached.
“Miss Bates, isn’t it? I assume you’ve come to fetch Daisy?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you for being prompt.”
“I didn’t have much choice, did I? What aunt could sit idly by while her niece is sent to an orphanage?”
“I’m in no mood for insults, Miss Bates. I hope we can converse like two civilized adults as we accomplish this change of custody.”
“I’m a very civilized person, Mr. Slater, so if there’s discord between us, you will have been the cause.”
“It’s unfortunate that matters have descended to such a low point. Please remember that we supported Daisy for most of a decade.”
“Don’t act as if you were being charitable. We both know the former earl used her as a prop to enrage your sister.”
“I won’t deny it, but now, my sister is due a bit of consideration for how she’s suffered. After significant reflection, Lord Benton agreed with me.”
“I demand to speak to him,” she said.
Mr. Slater frowned. “Haven’t you heard? Lord Benton has gone back to the navy. He sailed last Wednesday.”
The news wounded her. Peyton was gone? He’d left without a goodbye? She hadn’t been informed!
The frantic thoughts flitted by, and she forced herself to recollect that she had no claims on his affection. It was ridiculous to suppose she would have been notified. Still though, it was a crushing blow.
“When will he return to England?” she asked.
“It could be years. He was posted to the Caribbean in the past, and apparently, he’s once again been assigned to patrol those waters.”
“I should like to write to him. May I have his address?”
“No, you may not have it. Can you actually imagine he’d like you pestering him about this?”
“It’s irrelevant to me if he’d like it or not. There are several comments I would like to share with him.”
Mr. Slater ignored her paltry protest and gestured to the cottage. “Your niece has packed her bag, and her governess, Miss Watson, has some money for you to ease your way in the beginning.”
“How very generous you are, Mr. Slater!” Jo couldn’t tamp down her sarcasm.
“Lord Benton mentioned this in his letter to you, but I’d like to repeat it. You should never contact us in the future for any reason. Our commitment to Daisy is finished.”
“Yes, yes, I understand.”
She swept by him, her fury so intense that it could have lit him on fire.
As she reached the door, he called to her. “I’m sorry it had to end like this, Miss Bates.”
Jo glared at him over her shoulder. “No, you’re not, Mr. Slater. Don’t pretend.”
“I’m not sorry to see these children depart Benton, but I never like to quarrel. I hope—eventually—you’ll realize this was for the best.”
“Yes, you’ve been a veritable saint, and I’m sure it will all work out perfectly. I’m delighted that your conscience is clear.”
Jo whipped away, but she sensed him hovering behind her, eager to offer further justifications, but she wouldn’t listen. Lord Benton had curtly spelled out his decision in the letter she’d received, and it had been more than enough.
She hadn’t breathed a word of the situation to Maud who was in London again, so she and Daisy would head home and wait for Maud to return. What would happen then was scary to contemplate.
Jo prayed—after the deed was done—that she could persuade Maud to be rational, but she wasn’t optimistic. She was out of ideas, running on luck, and juggling impossible options. She would behave as was morally appropriate, and she would fuss with the consequences later.
She knocked, and Miss Watson answered.
“Miss Bates!” She looked very woebegone. “Mr. Slater told us to expect you.”
He was next to his carriage, and she flashed a caustic glower at him, then she grabbed Jo’s arm and yanked her inside. She shut the door with a determined click.
“What an ass,” Miss Watson muttered.
“I enthusiastically concur.”
Miss Watson led her to the front parlor, and they sat across from each other. There was a tea tray on the table between them, and Miss Watson poured them a cup.
“I’m so glad you showed up today,” she said. “If you hadn’t, I can’t predict how Mr. Slater might have dealt with Daisy. I truly fear he would have tossed her out on the road to fend for herself.”
“I came as soon as Lord Benton’s letter arrived.”
She’d been shocked by the tone and contents. During their brief acquaintance, he’d seemed so kind and cordial. Why had he become such an ogre?
Of course aristocrats were a different breed of animal. They banded together. They protected their own interests, and Neville Prescott’s bastards were a stain on the family’s reputation. Obviously, he planned to wipe the slate clean.
“Where is Daisy?” she asked.
“She’s upstairs with Bobby and Jane. They’re saying goodbye.”
“It must be so difficult for all of you.”
“I can’t begin to tell you, Miss Bates.”
“When are Bobby and Jane leaving?”
“Tomorrow morning. It’s why I’m relieved you’re here now. I’d have been terrified to go without Daisy being settled.”
“Have you heard from Jane’s uncle in Cornwall?”
“No, he never replied.”
“Then what’s occurring? They can’t be headed for an orphanage.”
“No, I’m simply traveling with them to Cornwall so I can speak to him face to face. I will throw myself on his mercy and beg him to take them in.”
“What if he can’t or won’t?”
Miss Watson chuckled miserably. “I refuse to focus on that prospect. I’ll scour the area to see if Jane has other kin nearby. After that…ah…I guess I’ll return to London and search for a job.”
It appeared Miss Watson was making slapdash decisions just as Jo was. Jo wanted to urge caution and inquire as to whether she’d fully pondered her mission. But Jo—with her hasty choice to bring Daisy home—was in no condition to lecture anyone.
“Will you have an address, Miss Watson?” Jo asked. “I’d like to keep in touch with you. I’ll worry about you, and I’m sure Daisy will fret about Bobby and Jane.”
“I have a cousin where you’ll always be able to contact me, but don’t concern yourself over my situation. I have a bit of money saved, so I won’t starve on the streets.”
“That’s good to know.”
Miss Watson bristled and furiously stated, “They’re siblings, Miss Bates. How can Lord Benton separate them like
this? How can Mr. Slater? I realize the Countess has issues with them, but is the answer to evict them and divide them forever? Those two men have no heart at all, and the Countess is worse than both of them put together.”
“You’ll get no argument from me, and I must admit to being very surprised by Lord Benton. I pleaded with him to halt this, and he promised he would.”
“Well, we’ve learned the value of a Prescott promise, haven’t we?”
“Too true, Miss Watson. Too true.”
“I’ll jot down my cousin’s address, but I’m hoping I won’t end up there. If I can convince Jane’s uncle to let her and Bobby stay with him, I’ll try to wrangle a post as their governess.”
“It would be wonderful if you could.”
“I’ll keep you apprised as to where I am.”
Miss Watson went to a desk in the corner and wrote down the pertinent information. She brought it over to Jo, and Jo stuck it in her reticule.
“I hate to rush Daisy,” Jo said, “but we have to catch the afternoon coach.”
“I understand.” Miss Watson walked over to the stairs and called to Daisy.
Momentarily, several pairs of feet tromped down. When the three children trudged in, they were a meager trio. Daisy and Bobby looked stoic and resigned, but Jane was very emotional and had been crying.
Jo stood. “Hello, Daisy.”
“Hello, Aunt Jo.”
“I’m sorry to meet again under these painful circumstances.”
“It’s not your fault.” Daisy sounded very mature, very grown up.
“I’m sorry to make you hurry, but the coach to Telford will stop in the village soon. We can’t tarry.”
“I’m just glad you’re here. If you hadn’t arrived, I’d have been very afraid.”
Jo couldn’t abide the grief that permeated the room. She hugged Daisy tight.
“It will be all right,” Jo said, not meaning it.
“Do you really think so?”
“Yes.”
Miss Watson gave Jo an envelop that contained the funds Mr. Slater had claimed he’d provide.
“This should help you through a few rough patches,” Miss Watson said.
“It will definitely come in handy,” Jo responded, and she turned to Daisy. “We have to go. I need you to say your final farewell.”