Going to the head of the table, Rob pulled out the chair on his right for Hester. Elizabeth took the chair on his left, with Donner beside her. Lord Featherstone and Mrs. Denby joined Hester on the right.
“Will you say the grace, Brother?” Elizabeth asked.
Rob blinked a moment, surprised by the request. All his guests waited expectantly. Well, he’d been speaking more often to his Lord lately. Why not now?
He bowed his head. “Dear Lord, we thank You for such warm friendships on a cold night, for good food from Your bounty, and for the many hands that grew it and will serve it to us. Most of all, we thank You for your gracious blessings. Amen.”
Amens echoed down the table, but he caught Hester gazing at him as if surprised he even knew how to pray. He could have told her it was a skill recently acquired, if heartfelt.
He tried to maintain that sense of thankfulness and good cheer as the dinner progressed. In such company, however, it was easy to fall back on his old ways. A tease here, a story there, and he soon had his guests laughing. Monsieur Antoine must have found his bass, even if he’d smothered it in a succulent lobster sauce. He’d accompanied it with potatoes au gratin and a medley of autumn vegetables Rob could only compliment.
Mrs. Denby must have felt the same way. “I must ask your chef for this recipe, Miss Peverell,” she said, fork lifting a bite of the fish. “It’s delightful.”
“Monsieur Antoine is very talented,” Elizabeth agreed.
And still employed. Rob allowed himself a little smile.
“Do you like the recipe?” Hester asked beside him.
“It’s delicious,” he admitted. “It just gives me a great deal of food for thought.”
She laughed at the pun.
The glass-paned doors rattled. Rob’s head came up. Everyone stilled, gazes going in that direction.
“Is someone outside?” Mrs. Denby asked, brow puckered.
In the act of serving the next course, Bascom looked to Rob as if asking whether he should go check.
“No,” Rob assured everyone a moment before the doors banged open and the wind rushed into the room.
Chapter Fifteen
Rob was on his feet before Bascom could react. The footman scurried to match his stride as he moved down the table against a wind that drove raindrops like icy spears into the room. Together, they managed to close the doors. Light spilling through the glass showed Rob the shrubs on the back lawn shaking with the wind, while rain set about flattening the last flowers.
“Sorry, my lord,” Bascom murmured. “I checked it last night on my rounds to close the house. I thought it was securely latched.”
“It’s latched now,” Rob told him. Turning, he smiled at his guests, most of whom were on their feet and staring at the doors. “A little excitement to whet the appetite for dessert. I believe you wanted to serve it in the upper withdrawing room, Elizabeth.”
Her sister gathered her composure. “Yes, thank you, Rob. Ladies, will you join me?”
Hester and her mother followed her up the stairs. Bascom made for the door to the kitchen, likely to fetch the others to come clear the table.
“I’d be delighted to drink port with you and reminisce about wars we never fought, gentlemen,” Rob said, coming back to the table and flicking drops of rain off his coat. “But I think you will find the evening much improved if we join the ladies now.”
“You have no need to convince me, sir,” Lord Featherstone said. He had been the only one not to leap to his feet. He rose now and came to clap Rob on his shoulder. “I’m sure this night will be remembered for more than the wind at the door.”
He started up the stairs.
Donner moved to Rob’s side. “No sign of a ship?”
“I can’t see the Channel in the dark, but on a night like tonight?” Rob shook his head. “Any captain worth his salt will know not to set out or come in when the wind’s up like this. That’s when wrecks happen. So, you have no reason to ply your trade either, Donner.”
With a rueful smile, he accompanied Rob up the stairs.
Elizabeth had arranged for tea and a selection of biscuits to be served in their mother’s withdrawing room. Bascom brought in the tray shortly after they were all seated. The drapes had been closed over the windows that looked out on the Channel, but that didn’t stop Donner from taking a peek into the night. He shook his head at Rob as he returned to the group.
“I haven’t ever visited during the autumn before,” Elizabeth confessed as she doled out teacups with the amber brew. “Is this sort of thing usual?”
“We do get our occasional storms,” Hester’s mother allowed.
“Mrs. Tully would probably have a tale about the gale of ’98 or some such,” Hester agreed with a fond smile. “I shouldn’t expect it to last long.”
But as they talked, Rob could hear the rising noise, the shudder that went through the house at a particularly hard gust. The fire was gutting in the hearth, and the chimney let out a moan, as if it too bore the brunt of the storm.
“That sounds serious,” Lord Featherstone said, setting down his cup. “We may have to cut short our time with you, Miss Peverell, to ensure our own safety returning to the village.”
Elizabeth glanced toward Donner. “Oh, must you?”
“Bascom,” Rob called, and the young footman stepped closer, brows up in question. “Would you ask Mr. Fitch his thoughts?”
“Right away, my lord.” He hurried from the room.
“The Downs should be fine,” Mrs. Denby said to no one in particular. “There are few trees to blow across the road.”
“But a fine fetch to build up a wind,” Lord Featherstone argued. “I’ve heard it can sweep through with the force of an Indian hurricane.”
“Well, you are all welcome to spend the night,” Elizabeth said. “We have plenty of rooms.”
Spend the night, with Hester just down the corridor? How easy to slip to her chamber, offer to comfort her. He could take her in his arms and kiss the fear from her face. Who knew where such intimacies might lead?
He knew. Such intimacies had been inappropriate the summer they’d first met and were even more so now. He would do nothing that might cause her dishonor.
“Surely it won’t come to that,” Hester said as if she had heard his thoughts. “Your coachman seems quite skilled, and he must know these roads well by now.”
But when Bascom returned a few moments later, it seemed she was wrong.
“Mr. Fitch is concerned, my lord,” he reported. “If he could stay on the headland, he might have no trouble, but he has to cross the Downs to reach either Upper Grace or Grace-by-the-Sea. He’s worried the coach could overturn by accident.”
Both Hester and her mother shuddered at that. He could understand why. He’d had enough taken from him by an accident.
“Then it’s settled,” he said. “Bascom, tell Mr. Fitch there will be no more travels tonight. I trust the stables and coach house are secure.”
“They seemed solid as a rock, my lord,” Bascom said.
“Good. Off you go, then.” As the footman strode from the room, Rob turned to his sister. “Elizabeth, I’ll need your help to determine how many of Mrs. Catchpole’s staff are still in the Lodge and where we can house them tonight. We’ll need them to set up rooms for our guests as well.”
She rose. “Of course. Mr. Donner, perhaps you could assist me.”
“At your side,” Donner vowed.
“I’d like to help as well,” Hester put in as Rob narrowed his eyes at the two leaving the room.
He looked to her. “Excellent. I propose a treasure hunt.”
Lord Featherstone and her mother stood.
“A treasure hunt?” Mrs. Denby asked.
“You may have noticed that this house spreads in multiple directions,” Rob explained. “We’ll need to find four bedchambers, preferably close together so staff can be available should anyone need assistance during the night.”
“I’d suggest two bedcha
mbers, with large beds,” Lord Featherstone put in. “The temperature will likely drop tonight, and it wouldn’t be right to ask anyone to venture to the coal shed in this weather. The fewer fires needed, the better.”
“Excellent thought,” Rob agreed. “Two bedchambers, then: one for you and Donner, one for Mrs. Denby and Mrs. Todd.”
And that ought to keep any amorous wanderings at a minimum, for either Donner or him.
~~~
A treasure hunt, he called it. Hester shook her head but took the candelabra Rob lighted and followed him from the withdrawing room. Her mother and Lord Featherstone came behind with their own light.
“The first floor holds mostly function rooms,” Rob explained as they gathered by the stairs. “Among them, the withdrawing room and gallery you saw, a library, a study, and an exercise room that stretches over most of one wing.”
“I take it your forebears were particularly manly,” Lord Featherstone mused with a smile.
“Fencing, pugilism, even some Eastern art that involved using your feet,” Rob agreed. “My brother Thomas was a devotee. Give me a good pistol and a knife.”
Hester could imagine him facing down an opponent, knife between his teeth.
“Unfortunately, none of those rooms will do for our purposes,” he continued. “This floor isn’t much use either, which leaves the third story, where we generally housed our guests. I propose Mrs. Todd and I take the west wing, and Mrs. Denby and Lord Featherstone take the east. We’ll report back at the stairs in a half hour. All agreed?”
Her mother and Lord Featherstone nodded, but Hester couldn’t help the chill that went through her. “Are you certain there isn’t a way for us to return home? Rebecca will be frightened.”
Her mother touched her hand. “We must rely on Nurse Peters. She won’t fail us.”
“And I will do my utmost not to fail you,” Rob promised.
By the determined look on his face, she could believe that.
They started up the stairs. Shadows danced away from the lamps, but darkness was never far distant. To make matters worse, the wind whistled through windows, howled down chimneys. And the entire floor creaked as if an army were sneaking up on them.
Hester found herself walking closer to Rob as they separated from her mother and Lord Featherstone and headed down the west wing. The dark paneling swallowed the light and the thick carpet muffled their steps. If her hands hadn’t been braced on the candelabra, she knew she would have reached for him.
Instead, she tried to focus on their task. “How many rooms are there, all told?” she asked him as he paused to open a door.
“Somewhere between thirty and forty,” he said, lifting his lamp to reveal furniture shrouded in Holland covers, as if sheep squatted on the fine carpet. “Depending on whether you count dressing rooms and quarters for the servants. Elizabeth and I tried to count the rooms once. We got rather muddled and had to shout for someone to come find us.”
“You’re teasing me,” she accused as he glanced around.
“No, indeed,” he vowed. “As I recall, an elderly fellow in doublet and hose located us and directed us back to our parents. He bore a strong resemblance to the first Viscount Peverell. We never found him again either. He’s probably still wandering the halls from the last masquerade.”
Hester swatted his arm with her free hand, and the candelabra wavered. Their shadows climbed the walls like gnarled vines. Her laughter stuck in her throat.
“I don’t believe in ghosts,” Rob said, perhaps a little louder than was needed. “This is my home, for all it can be a nuisance. It seems someone saw fit to pillage this room of a large-enough bed for two. Let’s try the next room.”
They tried the next several on that side, then circled back on the other. All were well secured for a long absence—no sheets, no coverlets. Some lacked beds or had ones that were not conducive to sharing. Two whistled so loudly with the wind that no one would have slept a wink.
Rob shook his head as they started back for the main block of the house to meet her mother and Lord Featherstone. “What did I expect? Father hasn’t visited in years. We probably haven’t hosted a house party in a decade. It seems the Lodge has fallen to ruin.”
He sounded so sad, as if he were guilty of some great dearth of duty. “Not to ruin,” Hester told him. “A few more staff, a good cleaning, and all should be well.”
“I would not be so certain of that, Mrs. Todd,” Lord Featherstone said, materializing out of the darkness with her mother at his side. “I fear we found that the roof has been leaking on this wing, my lord. Many of the furnishings and carpets will require replacing.”
Rob’s sigh was audible. “Thank you for the report, my lord. I am dismayed to hear it, but I will do what I can to remedy the matter once this storm abates. In the meantime…” He turned and gazed back the way they had come. “It appears we must attempt the crooked wing after all.”
~~~
Rob hadn’t wandered the crooked wing in years. He couldn’t help wrinkling his nose at the musty, unused smell as they all reached the carpeted corridor.
“We’ll take the left if you and Mrs. Denby take the right,” he advised the baron.
“Very good.” Lord Featherstone led Hester’s mother toward the closest door on that side just as a cracking noise echoed down the corridor. Rob would have sworn the entire wing canted to the right. Hester clutched his arm.
Rob put his hand over hers. “Some version of this house has stood on the promontory for more than a hundred and fifty years. I doubt one storm will sweep it away.”
She offered him a game smile. “Of course. Please forgive me.”
“Nothing to forgive. It is an impressive storm. There’s something about wind—the speed, the force, the way it spears through the least crack. It’s not so noticeable in London, but here? We are witness to the power of nature.”
“You almost sound as if you enjoy it,” she accused as he opened the door and they peered into the room.
“Perhaps a bit,” he admitted. “You can’t deny there’s an excitement to the air.”
“Not everyone loves excitement the way you do,” she informed him. She removed her hand from his arm to step into the room. “This one isn’t so bad. A large enough bed to share. Few Holland covers to remove.”
“Father favored this room,” Rob said, following her. “He’d engage Mother or Thomas in a game of chess on that table there by the hearth.”
The round ebony table was inlaid with ivory to mark the squares for the game. He could almost see his father rubbing his hands together gleefully before pronouncing check and mate. Chess had been an active sport for his father. He’d loved the strategy, but he’d seemed to love knocking over his opponent’s king far more, as if the clack of ivory meeting ebony gave him a peculiar pleasure.
“Is your mother’s room next door, then?” Hester asked, turning from the big box bed.
“Down the corridor. There are two large dressing rooms in between.”
“Could we use those for the staff?” she asked.
Rob stuck out his lower lip. “Possibly. I seem to recall cots that could be brought in when Mother or Father was ailing and needed a servant close at hand. The question would be where those cots were stored. Our housekeeper would be able to put her hands on them, but we left her in London this time.”
She came to join him by the hearth. “How odd not to know your own home.”
He felt it too, as if the place hadn’t really been home until Hester had come to stand next to him. “You forget,” he told her. “We only stayed here during the summers, and Mother made all the arrangements. Elizabeth even had to order in coal for this visit. We probably should have stayed in London, but the house there and the estate in Wiltshire hold too many memories. I thought it would be easier for me and Elizabeth here for a time. Yet it seems ghosts followed us, for I see Mother, Father, and Thomas everywhere.”
She raised her chin. “Then we should not use this room. Let’s look
farther down the corridor.”
In the end, they decided on guest rooms across from each other just down the wing. Rob left Hester, her mother, and Lord Featherstone to start setting the rooms to rights and went in search of his sister. Elizabeth and Donner were returning from the kitchen, along with several of the maids and Bascom, all armed with sheets, blankets, and coal.
It took a while to settle everyone. Elizabeth loaned nightgowns to Hester and her mother and Rob found nightshirts for Donner and Lord Featherstone. His sister returned to her room, but Rob knew he wouldn’t be able to shut his eyes. The wind moaned down the corridors, and the house shuddered at random moments. Something crashed from the back of the house—a tree going down, perhaps? And he couldn’t stop thinking about the rainwater that must be pouring into the east wing.
He’d asked Bascom to keep lamps burning in the corridors and stairwell in case anyone needed to move in the night, so it was easy to see his way to the stairs. A shadow passed on the landing below. Rob tensed.
“Who’s there?” he demanded.
Bascom climbed to his side. “Only me, my lord. I thought it best to keep an eye on the house tonight.”
“Did you, now.”
His tone must have sounded as suspicious as he felt, for Bascom shuffled his feet.
“That’s what footmen do, isn’t it?” he asked plaintively. “If I’ve given some offense, my lord, I wish you would tell me. I promise you, I’ll rectify the matter.”
Rob regarded him a moment. That brown hair hung down over a forehead too furrowed for a youth. He was carrying a heavy burden as well.
“Why did you become a footman, Bascom?” he asked.
“My mum was in service,” the boy replied, chin coming up just the slightest. “She kept the castle clean when the Howlands weren’t in residence. She seemed content doing the work, and it was steady. And most folks around here aren’t eager to trust me, after what my father did.”
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