“You are being brave,” the Duke told her.
She turned her head at his words, her eyes searching his face as if she saw him for the first time.
“I did so want – you to – meet him,” she murmured tremulously.
“I am proud to remember the General as I last saw him,” the Duke replied, “riding over the battlefield at Waterloo after our victory with his Grenadiers behind him.”
He saw the tears well into her eyes at his words.
“I must go back and help Travers,” she said hastily.
“I am sure there is nothing you can do,” the Duke answered quietly. “Stay here, I will see if I can be of any assistance.”
Verena would have argued, but he put his hand on her shoulder and forced her down on the window seat.
“Do as I tell you, Verena,” he said. “I promise you it is best.”
There was something very authoritative in his voice that she obeyed without further question and the Duke went from the room and down the passage to where he knew he would find the General’s bedchamber.
Travers was just coming out from the room as he reached it. He had covered his Master’s body with a sheet and lowered the blinds.
“Can I help in any way?” the Duke enquired.
“No, thank you, sir,” Travers answered. “I am now about to send a groom for the doctor and for the lodgekeeper’s wife, who does the layin’ out in Little Copple. He will carry a message to the Master’s Solicitor as lives in Biggleswade.”
Travers closed the bedroom door before he continued,
“The firm has, I well knows, full instructions as to what the Master wished to be done immediately on his death. The gentleman should be here in two hours’ time. Until then if you could care for Miss Verena, sir, she’ll take it hard,”
“I will look after her,” the Duke promised.
He went back to his bedroom where Verena was still sitting on the window seat.
The Duke held out his hand.
“Come. Travers has seen to everything. You promised to show me Salamanca.”
It was just two hours later that the Duke and Verena, having visited the stables and sat under a shady tree in the garden, arrived back at the house to see a gig outside.
“That will be Mr. Laybarrow,” Verena announced. “I knew Travers would send for him. I believe that Grandpapa has left some very special instructions as to how he wishes to be buried.”
“I will wait until you have heard what he has to say,” the Duke told her. “Then I must be on my way.”
“You are not intending to leave?” she asked in surprise. “But you cannot travel so soon!”
“I am well enough,” the Duke replied. “And you must be aware, Verena, that now your grandfather is dead, I cannot stay in the house.”
“Travers will send for Miss Richardson,” Verena replied. “She will chaperone me if you really think it so necessary. Please don’t leave until I know what I am to do.”
The Duke looked surprised.
“Grandpapa always told me,” Verena continued, “that when he died he had made special arrangements not only for his burial but also for me. I have no idea what they may be, but I promised on my honour that I will carry out his wishes.”
She gave a little sigh that was almost a sob.
“The thought of what Grandpapa may ask frightens me. Perhaps it is foolish of me, but please, Major Royd, please don’t leave me until I have found out what it may be.”
As she was pleading with the Duke, Verena stretched out her hand and placed it on his arm. It was a small hand with long sensitive fingers. There were several brown freckles on the whiteness of the skin.
The Duke felt a sudden urge of compassion for this lovely child, for she was little more, who, living in the country, knew so very little of the outside world.
‘What will become of her?’ he wondered and then realised with a perception that was unusual for him that with the death of her grandfather Verena’s whole world had fallen apart.
“I will stay while you have need of me,” he told her quietly.
“Thank you! Thank you!” Verena answered.
And impulsively, like a child, she laid a cheek for a moment against his arm.
“I am so ashamed of feeling afraid,” she said in a low voice, “yet I cannot help being apprehensive.”
“Let’s go into the house and find out exactly what your grandfather has asked of you,” the Duke said. “It is just as foolish to over-estimate one’s enemy as to under-estimate him.”
Verena managed a wan smile.
“You must not call Grandpapa an enemy.”
“I was referring to the mysterious instructions,” the Duke answered. “I am completely sure that you will find that they are not as formidable as you anticipate.”
“Perhaps you are ‒ right.”
Lifting her chin a little higher she walked into the house.
Mr. Laybarrow, an elderly, wizened little man with a bald head, was waiting for them in the drawing room talking with a lady with grey hair who at Verena’s appearance held out both her hands.
“Oh, Richie! I am so thrilled to see you.” Verena cried. “How kind of you to come.”
“You knew, my dear, that I would be with you as swiftly as possible immediately I received the very sad news of the General’s death,” Miss Richardson replied.
She kissed Verena on both her cheeks and then looked at the Duke with undisguised curiosity.
“This is Major Royd,” Verena explained. “He has been staying here after suffering a slight accident in the village. I will tell you all about it later. Major, this is my former Governess of whom I have spoken – Miss Richardson.”
The Duke bowed and Miss Richardson curtseyed. The Duke liked her calm, sensible face and the way that she asked him no unnecessary questions.
“If you will please pardon me for saying so, Miss Winchcombe,” Mr. Laybarrow said in the dusty dry voice of his profession, “I have an important interview this afternoon and so I wish to return to Biggleswade with all possible speed. It would be exceedingly considerate on your part if you would permit me to inform you immediately of the late General Sir Alexander Winchcombe’s most explicit instructions to be carried out in the event of his death.”
“Yes, indeed, Mr. Laybarrow,” Verena replied. “There is no reason for any delay and I am willing to listen to anything you have to impart. Is it correct for Miss Richardson to be here? And I would wish, if possible, for Major Royd, who is our guest, also to hear you.”
“It shall be as you desire, Miss Winchcombe,” he replied.
“Then shall we sit down?” Verena suggested.
Mr. Laybarrow seated himself in a high-backed chair and started fumbling with a well-worn black leather bag.
The Duke, realising his need, brought a small table to his side and Mr. Laybarrow thanked him as he placed his bag upon it, prising it open to reveal a number of papers.
It all appeared very impressive, but actually what Mr. Laybarrow finally extracted from his bag was just a single sheet of parchment.
Then, adjusting his spectacles, he looked up to see that Verena, Miss Richardson and the Duke had seated themselves in chairs facing him.
He cleared his throat.
“You are aware, Miss Winchcombe,” he then began, “that Mayhew, Bodkin and Critchwick are your grandfather’s lawyers and I am in fact only acting on their behalf until they can be informed of Sir Alexander’s most regrettable decease.”
“Yes, I know that,” Verena replied in a low voice.
“All deeds and documents concerning the house and estate are with these gentlemen in Lincoln’s Inn Fields,” Mr. Laybarrow next continued. “What I am about to read now is a summary of your grandfather’s will and his instructions regarding his burial.”
“Please continue, Mr. Laybarrow.”
The Duke, watching Verena, realised that this formality was a great strain, but she held herself proudly and, although she was very pale, she was
completely composed.
“These instructions,” Mr. Laybarrow carried on, “were written and signed eighteen months ago on July 5th 1822.”
“I, Alexander Frederick Conrad Winchcombe, bearing the rank of General and being a Knight Commander of the Order of the Bath, leave everything I possess, my estate, house and monies, to my grand-daughter, Verena Winchcombe, to inherit at the age of twenty-one years or sooner should she marry.
However in the event of my dying before she attains her majority, I now ask my good friend and lawyer, Arthur Critchwick, to appoint a Guardian to administer her possessions and to ensure that she does not make an unsuitable marriage.
I had hoped, being a soldier, to die as a soldier on the battlefield. As this wish cannot be fulfilled, I desire to be buried on the Consecrated Ground of the old Priory, the only person present besides the Parson to be my servant William Travers.
My death is to be kept completely secret for three months. After this period has passed a brief notice may be inserted in The Gazette.
Locally there is no reason for anyone to be informed that I am dead and I have no wish for expressions of sympathy in the shape of flowers, letters or mournings to be offered either by anyone in my household or by strangers and acquaintances in whom I have no interest.
Bearing this secrecy in mind and being aware that it is my deepest wish that no one should know of my demise, I desire that, as soon as my eyes are closed, my grandchild shall leave the house and travel with her former Governess, Miss Richardson, to London.
Here she can stay with her Godmother, Lady Bingley, or failing her, Miss Richardson can contact Lady Yarde and solicit her Ladyship’s help and advice.
I wish my grand-daughter, who has nursed me so devotedly these past years and for whom I have the deepest affection, to enjoy some of the Social life that she has been deprived of owing to my infirmities.
I desire her to become acquainted with people of her own class and of her own age. She is well provided for with money, which should be expended on everything that appertains to her comfort. It is my wish that she should not wear mourning or that anyone outside our immediate household should know that she is bereaved.
If my granddaughter has indeed an affection for me, I believe that my wishes in these matters will be carried out by her and everyone else whom it concerns.
My servant, William Travers, will, I most sincerely believe, serve my grand-daughter as he has served me so very faithfully and well until he reaches retirement. He is to receive five hundred pounds immediately, a pension of three pounds a week for life and, when he requires it, one of the cottages at the drive gates.”
Mr. Laybarrow stopped speaking to find Verena staring at him in utter astonishment.
Hastily she rose to her feet.
“It’s impossible!” she cried. “How could Grandpapa have asked it of me?”
Miss Richardson went to her side.
“I think, my dearest,” she began quietly, “that your grandfather was always distressed that, because of his age and his infirmities, he could provide you with so little gaiety. I remember when he returned with you from London he told me that he was not at all satisfied by the people with whom you had become acquainted. He had thought them too old and too dull for someone as young as yourself.”
“I have no wish to meet London people!” Verena retorted.
As if she suddenly felt that she was speaking too intimately in front of Mr. Laybarrow, she walked away from Miss Richardson towards the elderly lawyer who was now closing his black bag.
“Thank you for your attention, Mr. Laybarrow,” she said. “If I visit London, I will be in touch with Mr. Critchwick.”
“I will write to him tonight,” Mr. Laybarrow replied. “But there is one more thing, Miss Winchcombe, I must impart to you. You are now an extremely wealthy woman and any monies that you may require for travelling, for your expenses in London and, of course, for the upkeep of this house, can be obtained either from my firm in Biggleswade or from Mr. Critchwick in London.”
“You say that I am wealthy,” Verena answered. “I had no idea that Grandpapa was a rich man.”
“Indeed, Miss Winchcombe, the General was very well situated,” Mr. Laybarrow replied. “Mr. Critchwick will, of course, be able to give you more detailed accounting, but I think it is within my province to say that you will inherit a fortune of nearly ninety thousand pounds besides the house and the estate.”
He now realised that Verena was too surprised to speak and, bowing to her politely, he added,
“May I convey to you my deepest condolences, Miss Winchcombe. It must be some consolation for you to remember that your grandfather had a most distinguished career and that he was admired by everyone who knew him, especially those who served under him.”
“Thank you, Mr. Laybarrow,” Verena said in a low voice.
Then briskly and obviously eager to be gone, Mr. Laybarrow shook hands with Miss Richardson and the Duke and went from the drawing room into the hall where Travers was waiting to hand him his hat and to assist him into his gig.
No sooner had the door closed behind him than Verena then put her hands up to her cheeks and exclaimed,
“I cannot believe it! I cannot credit what I have heard! I will not go to London! How could Grandpapa ask it of me?”
“I think that is the most sensible will I have ever heard,” the Duke remarked.
“But why?” Verena demanded.
The Duke glanced at Miss Richardson and saw by her expression that she approved of his words as he went on,
“What good can you do here, feeling lonely and miserable, bereft of someone special who has been your constant companion for nearly ten years? What the General asks of you, Verena, stems from his desire to save you both pain and loneliness.”
“And of course, dear,” Miss Richardson interposed briskly, “you must do as your grandfather wished whatever your personal feelings in the matter. I will go upstairs and ask the housemaids to start packing. If we start off early tomorrow morning we will reach London comfortably before it is dark.”
Without waiting for a reply Miss Richardson then left the room and Verena turned to the Duke.
“Must I go?” she pleaded. “I know now that is what was frightening me. I had a presentiment of some such devastating plan. I hate Society ‒ you know how much I hate it.”
“I promise you it will not be as bad as you anticipate,” the Duke answered. “And at least if you go to London it gives us an opportunity to search for the ‘Evil Genius’.”
If he had wished to distract Verena’s mind from her own distress, he could not have found a better way.
“So you have won!” she cried resentfully, her eyes flashing at him. “If I did not know that you had never met Grandpapa before, I would have believed that you contrived this between you!”
She made an exasperated sound before she continued,
“This is what you wanted, was it not, that I should go to London? That I should search the streets, the Park, the balls and the Assemblies for a man I have only seen once and whom I may not recognise again?”
“That is not true,” the Duke argued. “You know as well as I do you that you will recognise the ‘Evil Genius’ the moment you set your eyes on him.”
“He may appear very different in London,” she countered crossly.
“Anyway it will be interesting to search for him together,” the Duke suggested.
Verena glanced up at him and saw the smile on his lips.
“You are delighted,” she said accusingly. “Delighted because you have got your own way. Well, let me tell you, Major Royd, I don’t intend to do exactly as you command me, whether in London or here. Besides, despite your assurances, it is very unlikely if I stay with my Godmother that I shall go to any places smart or exclusive enough to be the haunt of the ‘Evil Genius’!”
“We shall see,” the Duke parried enigmatically.
Verena walked across the room to stare out into the garden.
“I want to stay here,” she said forlornly. “I want to ride Assaye over the fields, to talk to Billy at The Dog and Duck and to plan Charmaine’s Wedding gown, to – ”
“ – come home to an empty house and feel miserable without your grandfather,” the Duke finished for her.
“Perhaps you are right,” she admitted with a sigh. “Anyway I must do as Grandpapa wished and, if we find the ‘Evil Genius’, perhaps it will be worthwhile. You promise that you will call on me ‒ in London?”
The Duke realised that it was the cry of a child who was suddenly afraid of being alone in a vast and unknown City.
“I will see you as often as you permit me,” the Duke assured her.
Verena gave a little cry.
“But I was forgetting, you are not well enough yet to travel. I am sure that the doctor will not allow you to go to London for at least two or three days.”
“I shall leave here tomorrow, as soon as I have seen you and Miss Richardson on your way. Don’t worry about me, Verena, I have people to visit in Eaton Socon and Salamanca can easily carry me there.”
“You are sure you are strong enough?” Verena asked anxiously.
“Quite sure. Would you like me to arrange for a carriage to convey you to London or a groom to ride Assaye?”
“We can travel in Grandpapa’s landau,” Verena answered. “And one of the grooms can ride Assaye. There is, however, one thing that troubles me. I would like to rent some stables when I am in London. The horses can at first be accommodated at my Godmother’s stables, which are near her house in Manchester Square. But I would not wish to incommode her by inflicting my horses on her for long.”
“I will find you a stable,” the Duke suggested.
“Thank you,” she replied. “But now I can buy horses of my own!”
She said the words in a voice of awe as if suddenly she realised that she could fulfil her greatest wish but was half-afraid it was still a fantasy.
“I can help you,” the Duke remarked.
“Could you find me horses even half as wonderful as Salamanca?” Verena asked.
“I can promise that I will put you in the way of purchasing the finest horseflesh available. Although I will never admit that they could possibly be as fine as Salamanca.”
The Odious Duke Page 12