Emily Hendrickson (24 page)

“I suspect you were rather seeing the results of my father’s management, teaching Jeremy, as it were.” David returned her concerned look with one of his own. “As long as Father was out and about, things were well done around here, at least that is what Sidthorp reported to me when I came.”

“I just recalled something curious. When I studied your family tree, I noticed Jeremy’s name was
not
to be found anywhere. I searched very carefully. Is that not peculiar? For he has claimed to be a cousin.”

David rubbed his jaw while she spoke, nodding thoughtfully. “I would think so, but it is not conclusive. Some of our relatives are frightful correspondents. Yet, as you say, it is peculiar. You would think he’d have corrected the omission once he came here.”

“David.” She reached out a tentative finger to touch the sizable patch, and her nerves tensed as they did when she was working on something critical. “I have this feeling.” Her eyes flashed when she caught sight of his handsome face alight with amusement. “You may well laugh at me. I do not mind. Be so good as to fetch me that knife you use for sharpening your quill.” She gestured to the desk, then resumed picking at the patch of damp plaster. “I feel a point of something here.”

“Your obedient servant, ma’am,” he said, mincing over to his desk in a parody of the perfect footman. He returned with the small tray upon which rested the long silver knife, a pot of sand, a stick of red sealing wax, a gray feathered quill pen, and in a chamber at the end of the tray, a full bottle of black ink.

“Foolish man,” she chided indulgently, unable to be annoyed with him. “I merely needed the knife.”

“I thought you intended to write a reminder to my dear cousin that he ought to tidy the place up a bit, or at the very least manage some repairs to the roof, or chimney, or whatever is the problem.”

He proffered the contents of the tray with a slight bow, his eyes brimming with mischief.

Elizabeth ignored that tantalizing face, picking up the knife instead. She commenced to scrape the plaster.

“Here now, what
are
you doing?”

“I have a hunch, a feeling if you like, about this plaster. True, it has rained, but not that much. The roof at Montmorcy Hall is old, and perhaps not in the best repair, but if there is seepage, it comes out around the ceiling, especially in the attics. Not in a patch near a mantel on the ground floor. There is something concealed within. Do you not want to know what it is? It could be jewels or secret documents or something exciting.”

“I suppose it is possible, love.”

She tossed him a confused glance, then turned her concentration to the patch. “I suspect the plaster is much newer than that surrounding it. Of course, it is possible that it is wet due to all the moisture about, and the chill in the room. Have you never noticed how an unheated room seems much damper than others where there is a fire?” she murmured, concentrating on the curious patch.

“True,” he murmured, coming closer to watch what she was doing, after setting the tray on a nearby table.

“However, I believe that in this case there is a different cause.” She dug some more with interesting results.

A chunk of plaster fell to the hearth, then another. Elizabeth tried to catch them but failed. At any rate, she did observe there was a peculiar lump protruding. Her heart accelerating its beat, she dug more deeply, ignoring the bits and pieces that flew in every direction.

“Do you see what I see?” she whispered. “A wad of papers wrapped up in oiled silk. What a peculiar place to put papers, my lord. At least it appears to be a pack of papers. One would think that whoever placed them there was trying to conceal them. If
I
had papers I wished not to be seen, I’d burn them.”

“Indeed. May I?” He pried out the packet with the knife, also ignoring the pieces of plaster that bombarded his fine corbeau coat. Once he had the packet free, he walked to the desk, Elizabeth at his side.

“Best keep this to ourselves.” She darted a glance at the door, then stole softly over to close it. She felt it better they would be warned if someone intended to enter the room. The rattle of the door lever ought to be sufficient to alert them.

David had the oiled silk unfolded and spread open on the desk when she rejoined him.

“Well?” She was simply dying of curiosity. Was he not going to say a word to her?

He studied the first of the papers, then the second. There was a third letter in the packet, and this too he scrutinized. He was absorbed in his thoughts. At last he seemed to realize she had asked a question and said, “What did you say?”

“What did you find?” She generously ignored the fact she had made the discovery and he had but pried it out.

“Will you excuse me, Elizabeth? I must take these upstairs immediately.” Then he glanced at the ragged hole in the wall and grimaced. “Would you take care of that mess?”

With that request, he hurried from the room. Elizabeth stared at the empty door with exasperation. How like a man to dump the mundane details in a woman’s lap.
He
was to have the satisfaction of presenting the intriguing papers to his father, while
she
mended the wall. She sighed with acceptance of a situation that was not likely to change.

The room must not be left unattended. Anyone might stroll in here. The gaping hole to one side of the mantel could scarce be missed. Then she caught sight of the key dangling on the inside of the door, as though it was locked on occasion. While it might excite curiosity, she would secure the room while she sought help. It was the only way.

She locked the library door, then dropped the key into her reticule. In the entry hall she found Sidthorp crossing from the dining room to the stairs.

“Please, a moment of your time, Sidthorp. I need someone who can patch a bit of damage to the library wall, and be discreet about it. It
must
be someone who can be as mute as a fish.” She gave him an expectant look, but offered no explanation as to the cause for the hole in the wall. She hoped he might think it due to the excessive rain, which in a way it was. He paused in thought, then nodded. “I believe I have just the man for the job.” Never would the butler satisfy his curiosity to inquire how the damage came about. That would not be proper.

“I shall await him in there. Tell him to knock, for the door will be locked.”

Even then the stately butler did not stoop to question. He nodded in his dignified way, then started for the office wing of the house. Elizabeth did not bother to tell him to remain silent, for she knew that no one would have torn that information from him, given her secretive attitude when she’d made the request.

She paced about the library after securing the door once again, pausing to stare out of the window from time to time, then resuming her restless walk. What kept the workman, anyway? And what was David discussing with his father upstairs all this time? And why was she not allowed to poke her head into Lord Crompton’s room? Was he better or worse? Questions she had asked herself ran through her mind over and over, with not a solution being offered.

A soft, hesitant rap on the door brought her dashing over to grasp the key. “Who is it?” she asked in the softest voice that would still carry to whoever might be on the other side.

“ ‘Tis Ben, miss. To patch ...”

She used the key, opening the door just enough to permit the workman to enter, then quickly locked it again.

Ben hardly needed her to point out what needed repair. He had mixed up some plaster, bringing it along in a small bucket. With surprising speed he had filled the hole and smoothed the place over so it looked much as it had before.

While he worked, Elizabeth set about building a fire that would help dry the plaster. Once she had it lit, she stepped back to study the restoration. The workman busied himself cleaning up the hearth.

“That looks very good, Ben. You did a fine job. Lord Leighton will be ever so pleased.”

The man was overcome at this high praise, and bobbed his head on his way to the door. Here he paused, waiting.

Elizabeth swiftly walked to free the man, whispering her thanks. She knew she need not remind Ben to keep silent. The very manner in which this all had been done might arouse his curiosity, but if his job depended upon his being as silent as the grave, he would never say a word.

She relocked the door, then returned to tend the fire. Since it was such a dreary day, she found a book to read. With nothing to do, her mind became far too active, dancing off in too many directions. It was a novel she’d read before, but no matter. Her other choices appeared less appealing.

Some time later, after she had replenished the fire several times and read a good deal of the book, another rap came on the door. Placing her book carefully on the table, she glanced at the plaster, noting it still showed a bit of dampness. Shrugging her shoulders, she went to turn the key.

“Oh, David, I am ever so glad it is you. Hurry.” She tugged him inside the room, then turned the key again.

He chuckled, causing her to frown at him.

“It is very well for you to be amused. I have been in here tending the fire, watching over this dratted plaster, while you have been doing far more interesting things.”

“True.” He sobered at once. “I took the papers to my father. They are important documents. And they throw a new light on the threat to Father. Dashed spot for concealment, if you ask me.” As to what that threat constituted, he didn’t say.

“Perhaps whoever wants to become the next earl is the one who hid the papers. But it seems to me that Egbert would be more creative than this.” Elizabeth; the still damp patch on the wall. “As I said before, I should think the papers would have been burned rather than holed up in the wall. What a curious thing to do. Why, do you suppose? And who?”

“I am not convinced that it is my odious Cousin Egbert.” David wandered back and forth before the fireplace, while Elizabeth quietly tossed on another scoop of coal over the flames.

“I saw your uncle watching you while you were playing billiards,” she said. “It was when I first arrived today, before the rains began. I realize I was seeing him through two pieces of glass, but he gave you a most peculiar look, as though he hated you.” Elizabeth was loath to tell David about what she had seen. It surely would distress him.

“Well, I was trouncing him rather roundly, which might have accounted for that look you saw. But hate? That seems a bit strong.”

“Not if he wants to lay his hands on the money and the estates, secure it all for his son,” she argued.

“Somehow old Uncle Augustus does not seem the sort of man to want to poison his brother, or do in his nephew. If you follow my thoughts.” David put his hands behind his back, tapping his foot on the hearth before the fireplace. Elizabeth knelt before the flames, trying to remove the chill that had settled over her at this discussion of premeditated death.

“What do you intend to do?”

She watched as he walked over to the bookshelves, where he commenced to hunt for a book. Upon finding it, he tucked it beneath his arm, then gave her an absent smile. “I shall take this upstairs, then discuss the problem with Father. Unless,” he added suddenly, “he is not feeling up to it.”

“I fancy I ought to return to Montmorcy Hall. You appear to have solved your mystery.” And wouldn’t tell her. Elizabeth rose from the hearth and waited for him to tell her to depart from his life.

“What! On no account. It has been pouring rain for hours. Can you imagine what that stretch of road will be like now? No, far too dangerous. Besides,”—he gave her a curious, unreadable look—”do you not want to see how this all turns out?”

“You believe it will be resolved so quickly?” She walked across to join him by the door. Closer up, his face revealed no more to her searching eyes.

“I should say within the week at the outside.”

“You are very confident, my lord.”

“I thought you agreed to call me David,” he complained, leaning against the frame of the door to give her what she considered a highly flirtatious leer.

“That was for the benefit of the others. We have no need to dissemble, do we? I was under the impression that you were eager to conclude this sham betrothal.”

He drew himself away from the door, a frown briefly crossing his face. “There is nothing sham about that ring on your finger. Just because I did not get down on bended knee to make some flowery declaration of undying love does not mean I am reluctant to do the proper.”

“How vastly condescending of you, my lord,” she snapped at him, her temper flaring beyond control. “What makes you think I wish to wed a reluctant man?”

He glanced at his pocket watch, then tucked it back into place. Giving her a hasty kiss, he hurried off down the hall, tossing a few words behind him. “We shall discuss this later, my love.”

His love, indeed! Elizabeth spun about, her hands clenching into fists that would have enjoyed pounding the arrogant Lord Leighton.

Unfortunately, he was correct in one thing. With the roads truly horrid, she could not, dare not leave now. Perhaps by tomorrow, if the rains ceased, she might leave this house of torment.

* * * *

When she joined the gentlemen for dinner, it was to be presented with the same dreary food. How could they tolerate it?

“I see Cook is in a bad mood again,” Lord Augustus muttered.

“Is she ever in a good mood?” Egbert snapped.

“I trust you might find a replacement,’’ Elizabeth ventured to offer.

“Father feels sorry for the woman, no one would hire her without a recommendation, and he could not in good conscience give her one.”

Elizabeth flashed him a look of disbelief. What he said was inconsistent with the concept of good management of an estate. One rewarded a good servant, punished an unsatisfactory one. She nibbled her food, trying to find something edible.

When it came time for the men to have their port, she rose promptly. Never had she left a table with such gratitude for release.

The evening passed very slowly. Egbert begged her to play or sing.

It was the one moment of humor in a dreary evening. Elizabeth chuckled. “I could not carry a tune in a bucket, I am sorry to say. And I have no skill at the pianoforte, either.” She held up her hands in mock dismay, and Egbert smiled in return.