Have Yourself a Merry Little Secret : a Christmas collection of historical romance (Have Yourself a Merry Little... Book 2)

by Collette Cameron

  They moved around the tombs silently inspecting them for clues, most had the top slab incised with some writing, much obscured by age and a little dust. The tomb in the furthest corner was more ornate, and on its lid was a reclining metal statue of some medieval knight in full armour complete with pointed toes and the effect of chain mail. Some small flakes of faded paint clung to the sculpture of a rather stern and ugly man who had worn a full moustache.

  They examined the shield depicted at his feet with some satisfaction. It showed what appeared to be a griffon over three large snarling dogs.

  “This is it, fabulous beast over mordant hounds,” he said with delight. “Let me try and move the slab to one side so we can peer inside.”

  He stripped off his overcoat and coat so as not to split the seams and heaved at the slab, which despite the effort he was clearly exerting moved not a crack.

  “It must weigh a ton, there is no way I can budge it. Trust my great-uncle to give me an impossible task,” he stated after giving up and putting his coats back on for it was chilly in the crypt.

  “I don’t think it is impossible, Rupert. Do you see this band of brass that goes around the sarcophagus, under the stone slab the statue is lying upon?” Verity cried, pointing.

  “Yes, but I don’t see how it helps. Oh, that is out of place and definitely not medieval…” his eyes followed her finger. “There is another lock, and I have one more key! Here hold up the lamp while I try the last key…”

  The key went into the lock and he turned it, and underneath the stone slab, there was a series of clicks. They waited wary of the strange device.

  “Step back, in case it is trapped,” Rupert cried, thinking of crossbow bolts and poisons that had been used to trap some chests to deter thieves in the past.

  Verity scowled at him. “Don’t be daft Rupert, you were the apple of your great-uncle’s eye. He was always talking about what a little rascal you had been.”

  “He did?”

  “Yes! He was really rather proud of you. Why would he risk your life? He was an old curmudgeon and a mischief but there was no malice in him. Here…” she said pushing the slab slightly with one hand. The slab slid open, moving to one side to reveal a relatively expensive modern coffin, resting on wooden slats, close to the top of the tomb.

  “Interesting contraption to move the lid, that must have cost a heap to have put in, clockwork of some considerable quality. He must have re-coffined the gracious knight because his bones were inconvenient. Under the coffin I can see three brass bound chests. I think we have genuinely found his treasure.”

  “We have to move the coffin first, and that will surely be heavy.”

  “I doubt it, if it contains only medieval bones, the coffins themselves are normally quite light, it is the “Oh too, solid flesh,” that makes them hard to lift,” he shed his coats again and found the coffin although of good solid wood was within his capabilities to carry. “Sorry, Sir Whoever you were to disturb your peace once more but thank you for guarding the treasure…” He said, lifting the coffin down and placing it on the stone floor.

  Rupert moved the thick wooden slats and placed them beside the coffin. Verity was peering inside at the chests, as Rupert unbuckled the straps of the first one.

  Nervously, he pushed the lid open to reveal it was full of small canvas bags, but one had split open, slightly showing a gold glint. He reached in and drew out a couple of large golden coins.

  “They’re not guineas or gold doubloons, I think the writing might be Arabic or something, but if they are pure gold, your fifteen percent of just what is in this chest is worth more than Lady Euphenia Chisholm’s dowry. My mother’s sister Lady Grenville was insisting I marry her. So now, we are both rich, you can marry anyone you want, will you take me as husband even though it looks like I am now stinking rich and can thumb my nose at the likes of Maurice?”

  “I will think about it, are you certain you would not prefer Euphenia? Her family is well-connected, and she must have many good qualities to recommend her,” she teased.

  “I can’t think of one, marriage to her would be a fate worse than death. We should look inside the other chests, but there is no way I can carry that down the path. I will have to borrow a heavy horse and cart and come up the old road.”

  He re-strapped the chest and started opening the second. The lid opened to reveal it filled with smaller bags, which were a different shape. He lifted a couple out and untied one, spilling some of the contents into his hand, large glistening red stones shone out.

  “Rubies, I wonder if all the bags contain the same? If so, this chest is worth far more than the first.” However, the second bag contained sparkling white stones, mostly of the size of one of his fingernails.

  “I raise my reckoning because these are rare diamonds. I will put them back for now, but I will need a jeweller to ascertain their worth. I will have to get proper estimates so I can pay your share out accurately,” he smiled, feeling relieved that his problems were solved.

  I am glad you found the treasure,” she said.

  “I couldn’t have done it without you, Verity.”

  The smile she sent him darted through his heart and left him feeling energized.

  “There is one more chest, I wonder what is in that?”

  He reached over and opened the ultimate chest, the lid was harder to open and creaked as he lifted it. There were no bags in this one, instead there was a pile of elegant boxes or varying sizes.

  Verity gasped. “There are jewellery boxes, you have found the family jewels.”

  “I did not really believe there were any…” He lifted out three boxes of different sizes, the first revealed an emerald and diamond set, with necklace, bracelets and earbobs. The next, a more delicate necklace and earrings of sapphires set in intricate filigree gold. The third box revealed three rows of rings, fifteen in total.

  “Oh, how pretty!”

  “I think our courtship has gone on long enough,” he said, kneeling on the cold stone floor. “Will you please marry me?” he said, holding out the ring tray.

  Her eyes were wide and sparkling, her cheeks flushed. “I think I had better marry you, now stop being an idiot and get off that cold floor, you will give yourself an ague…”

  Rupert chuckled. “I want to kiss you again but first you must choose a ring as a promise of our engagement. I will put the banns up straight away, then we can marry in the New Year.”

  “Everyone will think there is something very havey-cavey about us marrying so fast,” she said as he had pulled her tightly to him and was bruising her mouth with his kisses.

  “But perhaps, it had better be sooner than later. I think I will have the green stone one,” she said, easing out of his arms and trying it on her finger. “See fits perfectly, so now we are really engaged, my lord. If you put up the banns and announcement in the papers, then there will be no going back for you. Although I am of age, I suppose you will have to ask my brother, for propriety’s sake as well.”

  Chapter 9

  Rupert replaced the wooden slats and then carefully returned the coffin. He said a brief prayer for the long-dead knight, “Rest in peace, good Sir, and keep watch over Frederick’s treasure.”

  Verity’s heart warmed at his thoughtfulness and his honour. It should be impossible, but she realised she had fallen in love with this man who had recently made love with her in the open. Such reckless boldness on her part but she did not regret it at all.

  Rupert turned to Verity. “I’m not sure if I should cross myself or something, as I am sure old Sir Rattlebones was catholic, but I was brought up as Church of England, so I hope that will do.”

  “I think the main thing is that you paid respect,” Verity replied with a smile. “We had best head back up as I can hear Rufus barking outside the church.”

  “Yes it sounds as if he is setting up a howl. I’ll just lock up as we go.”

  He slid the sarcophagus’ lid back and locked it in place. They climbed the worn st
one stairs to the vestry. Rupert closed the trapdoor and replaced the table over it, putting back the oil lamp in the same place on the shelves. They left the vestry and again locked the door, Rufus was now whining pitifully through the open door to the chapel. Verity rushed over to her dog and untied him, and he made a fuss of her as Rupert secured the chapel door.

  The three of them set off together back down the hill; it was easier going down than it had been going up. They chatted together as Rufus pulled on his lead, and eventually Verity gave up trying to persuade him to heel and released him. Rufus headed off down the path ahead of them, stopping when they got out of sight, the dog would wait for them until they caught up.

  They stopped halfway to admire the view again, and Rupert took the opportunity to steal another brief kiss. Verity giggled, so happy she wanted to hug him. They continued onwards hand in hand as they neared Ellesmere Manor.

  “Did you see that?” Rupert asked, slowing.

  Verity frowned. “What?”

  “I noticed movement in bushes below them, where there is no reason for anyone to be.”

  On the heels of that pronouncement, there was a flash and crash of a musket. Shock blasted through Verity when Rupert pushed her behind him.

  “What is it?” she cried, her heart racing with fright.

  “Come,” he said, grabbing her hand. “I need to get you to safety.”

  Safety?

  “There is a shooter,” he said before she could demand an explanation. They hurried down the path and, as they turned, were out of sight of the mysterious shooter. She grabbed his arm and he flinched with a soft groan. It was then she noted the blood on his jacket. A dark tide of fear washed over her senses and she swayed.

  “You’re shot, Rupert! Are you all right?”

  “I think so,” he said, examining the holes in his coat. “Seems to be only a flesh wound and as there are two holes in my coat, so it looks like the ball went straight through. I don’t think he can hit us here, but we need to get down as quick as possible, before he changes position.”

  Rufus barked once and raced off down the path to the bottom but had then set off in the direction of the bushes barking loudly.

  It hit her with the force of a runaway carriage that he could have been killed just now. A weak, awful feeling assailed her, and she had to bite into her bottom lip to steady herself against the fear of loss bubbling inside her heart. You could have died…before we even started to know each other, you could have died. And once again, she would have been left in the ashes of her pain and torment. And possibly another child, considering what they had done earlier. Verity wanted to weep. “Who would do such a thing, Rupert? Have you got enemies?”

  “Maurice or one of his cronies, but probably Maurice himself because he was always a lousy shot,” Rupert said through clenched teeth.

  “You’ve gone pale,” she said, clutching at him.

  “The wound, even if relatively minor, stings and hurts like the devil. It does not seem to be bleeding much, but it is most unpleasant.”

  “Rupert…he could have killed you,” she said faintly.

  “But he did not,” he said firmly. “And I will ensure it stays that way. Now hurry.”

  They kept moving when they heard voices shouting, with the accompaniment of Rufus barking.

  Verity saw a number of Rupert’s servants and groundsmen clustered around as they reached the bottom. A couple of the grooms armed with pitchforks appeared from the shrubbery looking hot and flustered.

  “We heard a shot, my lord. Are you all right, your sleeve is torn, are you wounded?” Farrant asked his master, looking worried.

  “Slightly, did you catch sight of him, Seth?” Rupert said, turning to the grooms.

  “Not that well, my lord, we could not grab hold of him, he had a horse and escaped, but it looked like that sly cove, Farrant slung out yesterday. The dog bit his leg though, but he shook him off.”

  Dear heavens, the bounder who shot Rupert was really that nasty cousin of his. How did he dare to do something so terrible? Verity held Rupert’s hand, uncaring what it signalled of their intimacy. Perhaps it was even more for herself than him, for there was still a heavy press of horror inside, even knowing the wound was not fatal. Would his cousin attempt to kill Rupert again? What if she lost him?

  “Are you certain it was that man you saw?” Rupert asked.

  “I saw him clearly, my lord, it was that Friday-faced nephew of the late Baron, Maurice Rogers, I think his name is. Shabbed off fast but the dog bit deep into the back of his knee, must hurt like the blazes, my lord,” the other groom John Cutler said.

  What in God’s name was Maurice thinking?

  “Thank you both, please keep a special watch out for him. I will have to get some protection until he is caught. Well done, Rufus, good boy,” Rupert said, reaching down awkwardly to pat the dog.

  Rufus spat a piece of bloody cloth out, and Rupert picked it up.

  “Could you fetch the doctor and explain that I have a shallow wound from a musket ball,” he said to the grooms, and they pulled their forelocks and hurried off to do their lord’s bidding.

  They moved back into the main house, and Rupert sat down on a chair in a drawing room looking shaken. And she understood. It must feel heart-wrenching to know that a family member tried to harm him most foully.

  The drawing room was warm as the fire was blazing. Farrant eased his master from his overcoat and then from his coat. Rupert’s shirt sleeve was bloodied but not soaked, which Verity found reassuring.

  “Please fetch boiled water, a basin and clean linen to bandage my lord’s arm,” Verity asked one of the senior maids, who bobbed a curtsey and rushed to do her bidding.

  The maid brought in hot water and linen strips torn from an old sheet for bandages. Verity rolled up Rupert’s sleeve above where the musket ball had scored a runnel of blood across the flesh above his bicep.

  “Farrant, do you think you could fetch me some of my lord’s brandy and a couple of glasses, please,” she asked.

  “Do you drink brandy, Verity?” Rupert asked, searching her expression.

  “No, my lord, I thought you might like a glass before I wash that wound with the contents of the other glass. You got lucky, I don’t think it has even torn the muscle, but I think it will hurt rather a lot to be cleaned.”

  “Your voice is trembling,” he said.

  She swallowed. “Are you not scared?”

  “And furious that he would do something this despicable.”

  Her hands shook, and she closed her eyes briefly.

  “Verity?”

  Her lashes fluttered open. “You’ll not lose me, I promise.”

  Fierce emotions tumbled through her. “How can you make such a promise?”

  “Because I see the fright in your eyes, and I know you are recalling losing Richard and the awful pain. I can see you think the same fate might befall our romance. I can see that you are planning to run from me, which frightens me more than Maurice trying to harm me. I do not want to lose you, and I promise I will do everything in my power to ensure that blackguard does not steal my life…and take me from you. We have at least sixty years together and I mean for us to enjoy every one those years.”

  She slowly swiped away the tears that slipped down her cheek. God, he was right. “You are wrong about something, Rupert.”

  “And what is that?”

  “I had no thought to run from you.” She touched his cheek tenderly. “I realized you could have died. Had his aim been truer, you could have been shot in the heart. I could have lost you. Your family…your dear mother, could have lost you. And it made me realize how unexpected loss can be, and it can happen at any time. That does not make me want to run away but run to you, my darling. And hold you and cherish every moment we have together.”

  “Ah,” he said, delighted. “You are falling in love with me too.”

  “Most desperately, my lord,” she confessed, flushing.

  “And I promise
you it will only grow deeper throughout our marriage.”

  A throat cleared behind them, and she glanced up to see a beaming Farrant. Verity laughed and quickly brushed a very improper kiss on Rupert’s mouth.

  The doctor was not long in arriving, as he had been dealing with a servant at Verity’s brother’s manor. By that time, Verity had already cleaned Rupert’s wound and was considering bandaging it up. He seemed a bit relaxed from the two glasses of brandy he consumed.

  A basin of water and soap was brought for the doctor, and he shed his coat and rolled up his sleeves. Verity was relieved to see he was thorough in washing his hands up well above his wrists before he inspected his patient.

  “Let me look here, musket ball, was it?”

  “Yes, I believe so, I am grateful Maurice is such a poor shot,” Rupert informed the older man.

  He’d told her that he had known Doctor Barnett since he was a young boy. Dr. Barnett was called when he had got into scrapes, including a broken collar bone when he had been thrown from his pony when he was only eight. Verity fondly wondered if any children they had might be just as boisterous.

  “You’ve cleaned it well, Lady Verity. Surely you don’t mean your cousin Maurice, Maurice Rogers? Why would he take a pot shot at you?” the doctor asked.

  “I believe he objected to my inheriting the estate and title. Tried to threaten me with my debts but managed to insult Lady Verity first, so I had him thrown out. However, two grooms identified him trying to ride away, and Lady Verity’s dog Rufus apparently bit him behind his knee.”

  The doctor shook his head, disbelieving. “Nasty things, dog bites, will probably get infected if not treated immediately. I assume Maurice does not have permission to shoot over your land?”

  “He certainly does not have my permission,” Rupert declared with some heat as the doctor poured Basilicum powder onto a pad of linen and pressed it to the wound.