The yellow sitting room was lovely and Puck enjoyed tiptoeing across the silk rug. The big armoire was on the far side. She opened it and there in the bottom were the pretty shawls that Byon and Nicky wanted. As she reached for them, she heard voices.
Feeling panicky, Puck looked around for a way to escape unseen. There was no outlet. Without further thought, she stepped into the armoire, on top of the shawls. Unfortunately, they tilted and an edge kept the door from closing all the way. She tried to put herself into the far corner, out of sight.
“I’m doing the best I can,” Nadine said as she entered the room.
“It’s not enough,” her father said in his rough voice, his heavy Suffolk accent making him almost unintelligible.
“I majored in art history—at your request. All in anticipation of becoming a lady.”
“And what have you done with your fine education? You brought in that odious girly-boy, Byon.”
“He’s creative, fun. With a father like Nicky’s, we need fun.”
“And you introduced them to that boring little Willa. I think Bertram is trying to marry Nicky to her.”
“Makes sense as she is aristocracy and her family has money. More importantly, she’s our friend.”
Mr. Howland held out a thick wad of cash. “Here. Take this.”
“You’re giving me money?” Nadine sounded disgusted.
“I want you to pay that horseman to give you riding lessons.”
“Absolutely not!” Nadine said. “I don’t like horses and I despise that man. He laughs at us. He thinks we’re all absurd.”
“You are,” Mr. Howland growled. “None of you know what work is. But ladies ride horses so you need to learn.”
“So I can marry Nicky,” Nadine said tiredly.
Mr. Howland’s voice softened. “What’s wrong with being a lady?”
“I—” Nadine broke off because she saw Puck inside the armoire. She turned her back to the cabinet. “All right! I’ll ride the damned horses. Maybe I can find one with a 4 x 4 transmission.”
“Now that’s my girl. Go put on something expensive and work your charms on the earl and his lily-white son. I have to go.” He looked around. “I can’t stand this place. That guy downstairs is playing the piano again.”
“It’s his own composition. Someday Byon will be—”
“I’ve heard it before. He’s going to be famous. When you run this place, you can have him over for fish and chips. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He hurried out of the room.
Puck held her breath. She didn’t know how Nadine would react to having someone eavesdrop on her private conversation.
Nadine threw the armoire door open, then walked away.
Puck grabbed the pile of shawls and stepped out. “I—”
Nadine threw up her hand. “Don’t explain why you were hiding in there. I’m sure it has to do with Nicky and Byon. You’re their own little elf running their errands. But I’m glad to have a witness to what I have to put up with. Here.” She thrust money at Puck. “Give this to the man in the stables. Tell him he’s to teach me how to ride a horse—like a lady does. Maybe I should be glad my father isn’t insisting that I ride sidesaddle.”
Puck shoved the fifty-pound notes deep into her pocket. It was more money than she’d ever seen before. “Sean is a good teacher.”
“What?” Nadine turned on her.
“Sean Thorpe. The groomsman. He’s nice. He takes care of people.”
Nadine was twenty-one years old and extraordinarily pretty. Her dark hair was always perfect and she wore clothes like in a magazine. She looked at Puck in speculation. “I’ve seen him enough to know that he thinks he’s God’s gift. He hasn’t tried anything with you, has he?”
At first Puck had no idea what she meant. Then she thought, Like the boys at school? She couldn’t help a tiny smile. “No, he hasn’t.”
Nadine caught Puck’s meaning and she smiled back. “Go on, give him the money and set something up for tomorrow. Make it a gentle horse. I don’t want to land on my backside in the dirt.”
“I’m sure Sean will be gentle with you.”
When Nadine laughed, Puck wasn’t sure why. She ran down the stairs.
Nicky was sitting on the bottom step, waiting for her. The sound of Byon’s playing filled the hallway.
“Take this,” Nicky said softly and handed her a six-page legal document. “Find Diana and give it to her.”
She took one end of the papers but he held on.
“Diana needs to go over this, but no one must see her do it.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I don’t want my father to know that Diana reads about estate business. And Clive’s not to know. Especially not him. Understand?”
“I do,” Puck said, and Nicky released the papers. She stuck them in the waistband of her pants and pulled her shirt down. No one would see that she was carrying anything.
Nicky stood up. “Thanks, kid. You’re the only person around here I can truly trust. I wish I could repay you. I’d wave a magic wand and give you three wishes.”
“I don’t need anything,” Puck managed to say. Her face was crimson with pleasure and embarrassment.
“How about a place to hide from your mother?”
At that delightful thought, Puck’s laugh rang out.
“I heard that!” Byon called from around the corner, then he tried—and failed—to replicate her laugh on the piano.
“Go!” Nicky said, and Puck began running.
She had a way to get to the stables so no one could see her from the house. She knew her mother kept watch. If Puck were seen, she’d be given more household chores to do. And if she said that she had to run an errand for Nicky, her mother would demand to see the papers Puck carried. Her mother would read them, then she’d talk to Nicky about them, then...
Puck didn’t want to follow that train of thought. If someone else got hold of the papers, she’d never be trusted again—and she liked being trusted. Liked having a job to do besides chopping onions.
She heard Nicky’s father before she saw him. She knew she was supposed to call him “my lord” but she’d never been able to make herself do it. When she was a toddler, she’d called him Bertie and he’d liked it. Her mother had forbidden her to continue using the name, but Puck hadn’t stopped. Around other people, she referred to him as “Nicky’s father.” In the evenings, when the man was mellow from too much drink, she still called him Bertie.
Diana and he were together, as usual. Both of them were horse mad.
One night Byon had done a parody of the two of them talking. It consisted of snorts and lip flutters and pawing at the earth. It ended with the stallion trying to mount the mare, but she was too strong for him. She much preferred the young stallion, who was played by Nicky.
They all applauded and laughed hard at the little play. It was Nadine who asked if Nicky was playing himself as the winning stallion or was it the dark, handsome groomsman?
Nicky had not liked that! It took work on Byon’s part to talk him back into a good mood.
Puck wasn’t supposed to have seen any of that. The parody had been played well past her bedtime, but it had been put on in the central hallway and there was a balcony running around the top, a place where she could easily hide. Puck sometimes wondered if Byon put his plays on there because he knew he had a wider audience. She wasn’t the only one who hid in the shadows to see his entertainments.
At the stables, she stood in the shadows and listened.
“He’s beautiful,” Diana said as she stroked the horse’s nose. She had a deep, throaty voice. She was midheight, sturdy, all muscle as she liked to say. Her hair was short and blond, and she was pretty, but in a “best pal” way. Nothing about her was like Nadine, which was probably why they were good friends. No competition.
“He is gorgeous!” Bertie said. “I wish
penny-pinching Clive could see that. Wish he could understand that a person has to spend money to make it. This boy is going to win! I can feel it.”
“You’re probably right,” Diana said. “He certainly has the proportions of a winner. Those legs are magnificent.”
Bertie gave a loud sigh. “Bringing you here is the best thing that son of mine has ever done.”
“Nicky is a good man,” Diana said. “He—”
“Spare me,” Bertie said. “My son only cares about the next song that fancy boy writes. Do you know where he’s from?”
“You mean Byon?” Diana asked. “In spite of his posh accent, I think he probably came from the same place I did. The slums of London.”
“I believe you’re right.” Bertie chuckled smugly. “But at least you don’t pretend to be someone else. He’s a liar.”
“Aren’t we all?” Diana stroked the horse. “So when do we race him?”
“In six weeks.”
“Then we have a lot of work to do to get him ready.”
“You and Sean?” Bertie’s voice was soft, sounding like love. He never spoke of his son in that tone. “Look at the time. I must go.” Bertie left.
When it was quiet, Puck stepped into the light. She didn’t like to think of her special spots as hiding places. To her, they were small areas of safety.
Acting as though she’d just entered, she went to Diana. Of course she was in a horse stall, pitchfork in hand. Byon said Diana put horse urine in tiny bottles and used it as perfume—and Nicky’s father had been so enraptured that he was planning to deed her half his kingdom. His thinly veiled meaning was that Bertram was going to give her his son.
Diana didn’t ask what Puck was holding out to her. She stabbed the fork upright and quickly read the papers. She took a pen out of her shirt pocket, made a couple of corrections, and handed the document back to Puck. “Get this to Clive ASAP. It should go out today. What are they up to?”
“Mr. Byon hasn’t heard whether or not anyone is buying his new play,” Puck said. “Master Nicky says he should write about love but still have a sad ending.”
“Yeah,” Diana said. “Nicky loves sadness. How is Nadine with her father?”
“She’s to take riding lessons from Sean so she can become a lady.”
Diana laughed. “That’ll be fun to watch. Nadine has her father’s love of cars and Sean only likes what can love him back.”
Puck smiled at that. It was perfectly true. “Nadine’s new Aston Martin seems to love her.”
With a quick laugh, Diana looked up from forking the manure. “You’re in good form today. Been listening to Byon’s latest music?”
“Oh yes.” Puck’s eyes closed for a moment.
A noise at the door startled them. “Take that to Clive,” Diana whispered. “And don’t let him know—”
“Nicky told me.” Puck slipped out the narrow door at the side of the stable. When she realized she’d forgotten to ask Diana where Sean was, she almost went back. But she didn’t. She knew his favorite places so she’d find him.
As good as Puck was at not being seen, there was one person she never seemed able to hide from: Willa. Maybe that was because they were both so good at being invisible.
When Puck heard the “pssst” come from somewhere inside the overgrown, untrimmed hedge, she wanted to take off running and never stop.
Puck knew that the basic law of being a Secret Keeper was knowing who could be told what. She could tell Nadine and Diana what Nicky and Byon were up to and vice versa. Bertie was to be told nothing at all. Ever. She had to be selective about what she told Clive. Lying to him was acceptable but keep it simple. But the secret she couldn’t tell anyone was that Willa was madly, passionately, insanely in love with Clive.
Willa was a younger child of the second son of a baron. Not high up in the aristocratic world, but her father had made money through some wise investments. Although, some people unkindly said he’d bought Apple stock thinking he was purchasing an American orchard. So maybe his money was from dumb luck, not wisdom.
Whatever the truth, he’d made a fortune and Willa had a trust fund. She should have been a good catch for marriage but she wasn’t pretty and she was odd. Socially awkward. She tended to sit and stare at people.
Byon said she’d never had a creative thought or said anything interesting. “And that’s what I love about her. If I can entertain her, all of Blighty will be mine.”
It took them a while, but they got to know Willa. She was loyal, a good listener, and she adored the others. She was in awe of their talent and beauty. And Willa was protective of the people who’d befriended her. At university, a young man had dropped Nadine after a night when he got what he wanted from her. Three days later, he woke up in a bed full of stinging nettles and biting ants. He had to be hospitalized.
No one would have guessed that Willa had done it if Byon hadn’t seen the bites on her hands.
After that, Willa was a fully accepted member of their little group. “You’re ours, darling.” Byon kissed her cheek. “Even though we are quite terrified of you.”
The others nodded in agreement. Willa had cried in gratitude—then bought them a case of some very fine champagne. In fact, she was the one who paid for all their food and drink. A local van arrived on Friday nights and it was full to the brim with the best of everything. They had only to mention a food or beverage and it arrived. All bills went to Willa.
Puck tried not to grimace at this interruption. She had places she needed to go. She stepped through a web of dead privet to where Willa was waiting for her. There were remnants of formerly grand garden rooms all over Oxley Manor. But they were being allowed to go to seed. Bertie had no interest in gardens.
Behind the hedge, the grass was a foot high. A few feet away was a crumbling old marble statue. A bird nest was at the top.
“You’re going to him, aren’t you?” Willa whispered. She was short and round, pudgy and shapeless, no curves anywhere. Just like a good English sausage, Byon said. Her face was plain. One time Nadine spent hours doing a makeover on Willa—but it hadn’t worked. In a kind voice, Byon said, “You’ve made her into a drag queen. Do give her a bath.” Nadine had mumbled that Willa was “...beautiful as you are...” and no one ever again tried to change her.
Willa held out an envelope. It was thick and cream-colored, with brown engraving. She probably bought her stationery wherever the Queen did. “Would you give it to him?”
Puck didn’t know much about men but from what she’d seen, they wanted to do the pursuing.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Willa said. “I know I shouldn’t be so forward, but how’s he going to know what I feel unless I tell him? It’s a poem and I spent days on it. I had to, uh, borrow some bits, but it’s mostly mine. If nothing else, Clive will appreciate the literary merit of it. Maybe...” Her eyes widened. “Maybe I should show it to Byon.”
Puck swallowed. She loved the man but he could be brutal. There was no doubt that Byon would rip apart whatever Willa had written. Puck thought fast. “Then it wouldn’t be for Clive alone.”
“You’re right,” Willa said. “It wouldn’t mean as much if I shared it with the world.”
Puck let out her breath. “I think I heard someone.”
With a backward step, Willa looked about in fear. “You haven’t told them about Clive and me, have you?”
Puck thought, Told them you’re making a fool of yourself over a man they don’t like? Then watch Byon and Nicky feast on jokes so venomous they would put a cobra to shame? “No, I wouldn’t do that.”
Willa smiled. “You’re a good friend. Thank you.” Turning, she disappeared through the decaying hedge.
Puck put the pretty envelope with the legal document inside the waistband of her trousers.
Clive’s office wasn’t far from the house. It was a long, low, brick build
ing that had always been for the estate manager. It was quite pretty, but Clive complained that it was drafty and the windows were rotting—which was true.
She didn’t bother to knock but opened the door and walked in. She knew from experience that if Clive knew it was her, he wouldn’t let her in. One time when she knocked, she heard him turn the key to lock the door.
But then, she understood. If anyone sent Puck to him, it was always with bad news.
He was sitting behind his huge, gaudily ornate desk. For over a hundred years there’d been a plain wooden desk in there, but Clive had demanded that a Victorian monstrosity be removed from the house and put in his office. “After all,” he said, “I am a relative.” He liked to remind people that he was Nicky’s cousin. “May as well be the chimney sweep,” Byon said. “Too far away to inherit.” It would have sounded sympathetic except that Byon couldn’t stand Clive and often made him the punch line of his jokes.
Clive didn’t look up when Puck entered. He was tall, thin, and starting to go bald. He had a large, sharp nose, and thin lips. “What is it now?”
Puck didn’t speak, just pulled the papers out and put them on the desk in front of him.
He picked up the document, leaned back in his big leather chair, and scanned the pages.
To Puck’s horror, she saw that Willa’s letter had stuck to the back. Maybe he wouldn’t see it.
But of course he did. “What is this?” He broke the old-fashioned wax seal, pulled out the single page, read it, then looked at Puck. “Where does she get this drivel? My heart sings true? Disgusting. And the worst of it is that I’ve been told by his lordship that I’m expected to marry her. All to keep this bloody job.” He dropped the heavy vellum page in the waste bin, then looked back at the legal pages.
That Bertie wanted Clive to marry Willa was news to Puck. They all knew Nicky was to marry Diana. But it looked like Bertie couldn’t bear to part with Willa’s trust fund.
A Forgotten Murder Page 8
