“The countryside around Reading can wait,” he said, his voice husky. “Perhaps after breakfast tomorrow we might take a walk. If we have time before we leave for London.”
Selina sat ramrod straight for the rest of the trip, and by the time the carriage pulled into the inn’s forecourt, her back ached between her shoulder blades.
The coaching inn was well appointed. Fragrant aromas wafted from the kitchen. Selina’s stomach growled with either hunger, or nerves, or both. She followed the servant girl up the stairs, leaving Devereux to see to the arrangements for their departure in the morning.
****
Giles was instructing his coachman when a carriage pulled up beside him. Will Nash alighted and clapped him on the shoulder.
“For God’s sake, Nash, what are you doing here? I’ve just been married. Can’t I have one night? My bride awaits upstairs.”
“Not the best time to marry.”
Giles cursed. “What I do in my private life is my own business.”
“You know how impossible that is,” Will said. “It would have been prudent to wait.”
“Wait for what? Until I’m dead?”
Will pursed his lips, appearing sympathetic.
Giles nodded toward the bustling inn. “At least allow me to….” He glanced up at the inn windows. Whatever he said, he couldn’t make this right.
****
The bedchamber was like the rest of the inn, clean and fashionable. Waiting for Devereux, Selina removed her pelisse, hat, and gloves and neatened her hair in the mirror. She was too pale. She pinched her cheeks and rubbed her lips. Not wishing to appear nervous, she sat in an armchair. An hour went by. Where was her husband? Surely, he wasn’t drinking in the taproom. He’d seemed quite keen to consummate the marriage, hadn’t he? She sagged into the chair, trying not to think the worst. Was she undesirable? When dusk fell, she went to their private parlor, but it was empty. She left the room in search of Devereux. There was no sign of him downstairs. Was he in the stables? Resigned to wait, she returned to her bedchamber and laid her head against the back of the chair. Confused and upset, she closed her eyes.
Selina woke shivering. Deep in shadow, the room was cold, the fire unlit. Beyond the open curtains, the black night was lit with stars and a crescent moon.
“Devereux?”
No answer.
Where was he? She rose and fumbled her way to the table. Finding a candlestick and flint, she lit the candle. The room was empty of both him and his baggage. Her throat tightened on tears. As she hadn’t yet employed a lady’s maid, her trunk sat where the servant had left it. Selina hurried to the window. Nothing moved in the courtyard below. She opened the door to rowdy singing wafting up from the taproom. Did he prefer men’s company rather than be here with her?
Her hair had unraveled as she slept. Twisting it into a bun, she retreated to the bed, frightened and hurt, and crawled under the covers. She tossed about until a cock crowed and a lavender-grey dawn lightened the sky. Noises erupted as the inn stirred.
Selina dragged herself from her bed as a stagecoach pulled into the inn yard loaded with passengers, trunks, and bandboxes, on its way to London.
Chapter Four
Had Devereux taken another room so as not to disturb her? It was too early for the servants to bring her hot water. Selina washed her face in cold water from the jug on the dresser and changed into a fresh gown. Then, stomach rumbling with hunger, she went down to the coffee room, now quiet after the guests had departed on the coach.
“Have you seen my husband, Lord Halcrow?” she asked the servant girl.
The girl curtsied, surprise writ large on her face. “’is lordship ’asn’t returned, my lady.”
Selina sucked in a breath. “He left the inn?”
“A carriage came for ’im. Not long after you arrived, my lady.”
“You must be mistaken.”
The girl’s glance was sympathetic. “I’m sure it was ’im. Draws the eye ’e does.”
“He left in his carriage?”
“No, another one, y’ladyship. When the carriage was gone, so was ’e.”
Selina sat down with a thump. She’d been deserted before her marriage even began. By law, he was now in possession of her fortune, and she could do nothing about it.
Shame caused her face to burn like fire while her body was so cold she shivered. This wasn’t a love match, but she’d never expected such shabby treatment from Devereux. She’d thought she’d seen something in him, a nobility of spirit. She’d been stupid and naïve.
“Please bring me coffee and a roll. Then send word to the coachman to bring the earl’s carriage to the door. Have my trunk brought down.”
The girl bobbed. “Yes y’ladyship.”
Selina swallowed the bile in her throat. How ironic that she’d given up her fortune for a title. She would not to go home under a cloud and become a burden on her sister. When her coffee was brought, she sipped it and began to plan.
Devereux’s baggage had gone with him. By the time she’d finished her small breakfast, the carriage stood outside, her trunk loaded into it. “What is your name?” she asked the coachman.
“John Barnes, my lady.”
“Take me to Halcrow Hall, John.”
“His lordship’s instructions were to return you to Bath, my lady,” John said, his eyes wide.
“I am not returning to Bath. Halcrow Hall is situated between here and Guildford, is it not?”
“Ten miles from Guilford, my lady.”
“So we can reach the estate before nightfall?”
“Without the need to change the horses, Lady Halcrow.”
As it was now her home, she would live in it, whether Devereux wanted her there or not. “Then let us take our leave immediately.”
“As you wish, my lady.”
Assisted into the carriage, Selina settled herself against the squabs. She dug into her reticule for her handkerchief to stem her tears while watching the countryside pass through a watery haze. When Devereux was with her, she hadn’t noticed the fine veneer and soft ruby leather squabs. Devereux didn’t stint on his carriage and cattle. The smooth gait of the matched greys and the well-sprung vehicle carried her away from the inn while she attempted to come to terms with her humiliation. She sniffed and dried her eyes. It was in her nature to fight. Ordinarily, she preferred a course of action rather than to suffer in silence. But never in her life had she faced such a bewildering situation. She straightened her shoulders. When they arrived, she would know how best to deal with it.
In the late afternoon, the carriage turned through a pair of imposing wrought-iron gates emblazoned with Halcrow Hall in gilt letters. Selina’s stomach began to churn afresh. She’d tried to rehearse what she would say to him if he were here but failed to come up with anything suitable. Rage blocked her thoughts; she wanted to scream and pound his chest with her fists. She refused to consider that he might order her to leave.
Selina tucked a stray curl behind her ear. Despite everything, she still struggled to believe Devereux capable of such behavior. He was known to be wild, a trifle reckless, and perhaps even unreliable. He’d promised never to be deliberately cruel. How little his promises were worth. He had been unbelievably cruel. She’d been completely wrong in her assessment of his character. It seemed he hid his true self behind self-effacing charm.
She straightened her bonnet and pinched her cheeks. Devereux would not see her distressed.
She turned her attention to the estate grounds. They drove through shady, overgrown woodland. A flock of wood pigeons rose, startled by the horses, and deer bounded away through the brambles.
When they emerged from the wood, the massive roof and chimneys of a stately home appeared in the distance. The carriage rattled down to a fast-flowing river, and they crossed a stone bridge. Selina leaned out the window as they traveled through parklands dotted with magnificent trees, the grass long enough to hide in. The carriage jounced and rattled along a rutted road as str
aight as an arrow, bordered by gnarled, ancient oak trees. Ahead it curved in a circle before a manor house of truly majestic proportions. A carriage wheel hit a deep pothole, and the carriage tilted alarmingly, throwing her against the window. The coachman cursed as he fought to steady the skittish horses.
Devereux had not lied about the need for restoration. In the gardens, bramble and wild roses were rampant. Verdigris veiled the statues, the original shape of the topiary hedges but a memory.
Selina gasped as they drew up in front of an Elizabethan house with mullioned windows and tall chimneystacks. Ivy grew unchecked over the warm stone walls, threatening to blanket some of the windows. With a sigh of anguish, she fell back against the seat, overwhelmed by the disorder. Devereux had admitted the property was in need of repair but not to this extent. His description had been sprinkled with glowing terms, which would have been true once, when he was a boy perhaps. It was not true now. Broken slates lay on the ground from the massive slate roof. The rooms would be moldy and damp.
No footmen emerged to greet the carriage. The house seemed eerily silent and deserted as the coachman assisted her down and went to remove her luggage.
Even as Selina climbed the steps, the front door remained closed. She seized the brass knocker in the shape of a woodpecker and rapped, hearing the noise echo throughout the house. Minutes passed. She was about to rap again when footsteps approached. She took a deep steadying breath, as the door was unlatched. It creaked open.
****
On the French coast under the cover of darkness, lit only by a sliver of moonlight, Giles jumped ashore from the small boat that had brought him across the Channel. John Waters appeared out of the gloom to meet him. He shook John’s hand, pleased to see him still above ground. They mounted and rode into the dark shadows of a thick copse of trees. “The French captured Colquoun Grant in Spain,” John said, his horse dancing about. “You know how Grant refuses to acknowledge he’s a spy, he was caught in full uniform, wearing his scarlet tunic. It saved him from being executed as a spy, but General Marmont was suspicious and sent Grant to Paris for interrogation. Grant escaped while crossing over the French border. He’s now in Paris sending intelligence messages to Wellington, which is risky.” John handed Giles a parcel. “You and Grant are to dress as American officers. If things get difficult, get the major out of Paris and bring him back here. Send your contact a message and a boat will be waiting.”
“Who is my contact?”
“A clergyman, name of Delaunay. Don’t worry, he’ll find you.”
He had enormous admiration for Grant. Giles had been part of the Corps of Guides, running dispatches for Grant in Spain. He’d carried information about French troop movements and coded messages gathered from the guerrilla bands.
“I’ll leave you here,” John said. “There’s enough food and water in the satchel to get you to Paris. Good luck!”
They parted. Giles nudged his black horse, and took the road to Paris
Chapter Five
It was not Selina’s husband but an aged man with silver-hair, dressed in black butler’s garb, who opened the door. He stared at her uncomprehendingly and then at the carriage with the Halcrow crest, which disappeared around the corner to the stables. Shaggy eyebrows almost rose to his hairline. “Lady Halcrow?”
Her trunk sat on the drive. “Would you have my luggage brought in, please?”
He craned his neck to look behind her, as if Devereux would appear out of thin air. “His lordship is with you, my lady?”
“No. I’m sorry I don’t know your name.” Selina was unsure if she felt relief or dismay to find her husband absent.
“Frobisher, my lady.” He came to life and clapped his hands.
A dark-haired youth ran from the direction of the stables. “Bring Lady Halcrow’s luggage, Joseph. Take it to the yellow suite.”
Joseph swept his hat from his head and bowed low. He hefted her trunk onto his broad shoulder. “So glad you’ve come, milady. Halcrow Hall needs a woman’s touch, me ma says.”
“Enough of your lip, Joseph,” the butler said. “Allow me to show you the way, Lady Halcrow.”
Selina followed Frobisher into the Great Hall, where she stopped and stared around at the extravagant oak carving, the aged tapestries, and the pair of armor flanking the staircase.
“How splendid,” she murmured, crushed by its size and shabby magnificence.
“The house was built by Robert Devereux, the first Earl of Halcrow, in 1530.” Frobisher’s voice rang with pride. He pointed out features as she followed him up the staircase. “The tapestries represent mythological subjects. They form part of a set of Brussels tapestries from the seventeenth century. Lady Halcrow, the earl’s mother, brought them from France as part of her dowry.”
The oak staircase was astonishing, each pillar topped by an ornate carved figure.
On the landing, Frobisher turned to her. “You’ll have to excuse Joseph, my lady. He’s not used to dealing with company. But he’s eager to learn.”
“I’m sure he is.”
She’d been right about the mildew. Moldy fingers crept through the cracks in some of the carved plaster ceilings. They walked along a portrait gallery, which ran along the back of the house joining the east and west wings. Huge, ornate paintings in gilt frames revealed the history of her husband’s family. She’d return to study each one, in the hope of learning more. Despite Devereux’s actions, she remained thirsty for knowledge of her new family.
Frobisher stood aside for her to enter the bedchamber. A musty smell hung in the air. Selina took stock while pulling off her gloves. The stately yellow suite was in a sad state of repair. Though an elegant, spacious room, any charm had been buried beneath years of neglect. Yellow silk Chinoiserie bed curtains adorning a wonderful French, carved four-poster were grey with dust. The embossed green wallpaper was faded. A fine Axminster carpet was in good order, however, and the other French furniture pieces seemed to have survived without any obvious damage. Near the window was a dainty desk on curvy legs perfect for correspondence. Gilt-wood side tables and spindly chairs were placed around the room, and a rose-velvet wingchair sat by the fireplace. A woman’s room.
“Was this the countess’ chamber?”
“It was, my lady.”
Selina removed her pelisse and bonnet while she metaphorically rolled up her sleeves. She threw open a window. The view over the south aspect made her gasp; it was so heart-rending. A series of forecourts, parterres, and arcades, and even the fountain, were buried under weeds and creepers.
She turned back to the butler. “We have a lot of work ahead of us, Frobisher.”
A hopeful smile raised his lips. “Yes, my lady.”
“We may as well begin right here.” Selina ran her finger along the top of the mantel and dust swirled into the air. “Send servants to clean. But first, I haven’t eaten since breakfast. Please have a luncheon tray sent up. A light collation will suffice.”
He hurried to the door. “Yes, my lady.”
“After luncheon, I shall meet the staff. Then I’ll view the rest of the house.”
Frobisher halted. “I’m afraid there’s only Joseph, Cook, that’s Mrs. Marshall, Sarah, the upstairs maid, and Alice, who does downstairs and helps cook.”
“That’s all the staff?” So few servants. No wonder the estate was in such disorder. “I shall have to hire more. Send Sarah to me.”
“Very well, my lady.”
“And have someone light this fire. I shall take my luncheon here.” Although late summer, it was cool inside the house. In the months ahead, it would become much colder. She must have the house made ready before then.
Sarah opened Selina’s trunk and removed her trousseau gowns from their silver paper. Devereux had not admired her going-away costume. That much was plain. He felt pearls didn’t suit her. He just didn’t admire her looks. There was little she could do about that, so she refused to dwell on it.
She was so eager to make changes she
hadn’t considered that this was his childhood home. Selina envisaged the small blond boy playing with a ball on the lawn. She must visit his bedchamber and the nursery. There may be clues to his past and perhaps even his present whereabouts. Although she wished to ask the staff if they’d received word from him, she was afraid their answer might cause her momentum to falter. Devereux must come home eventually. When he did, she planned to be ready for him.
Sarah took Selina to the bedchamber Devereux used when at home, in the same wing as hers. This room was smaller but kept in better order, his clothes folded neatly in the drawers of a mahogany armoire. Selina brought out his coat and held it to her nose, breathing in his smell. She sagged with weariness, and fearing a sense of defeat would drag her down, she quickly returned the coat to the armoire. This room also needed a thorough clean. The carpets must be taken up, the windows and walls washed down, and the furniture polished. The bed linen was to be changed regularly until he returned, and a fire was to be laid ready to be lit at a moment’s notice. He might prefer to sleep in his own chamber, and, if he did, well, that was how it would be. She gazed around with an intake of breath. How odd that there was nothing even as personal as a snuff box in the room, as if he wasn’t part of this house at all. The thought made her bite her lip.
Frobisher hadn’t mentioned the housekeeper. There must be one, surely. Selina sat to eat her luncheon and set out the tasks ahead. First, she must employ servants for the house and an army of gardeners. Workers to mend the roof and paint the rooms. Heavens, she hadn’t even visited the stables, although she suspected they were in good order, if the carriage and horses was any guide.
There was a good supply of fresh produce if her luncheon was anything to go by. The mushroom soup was creamy, and the chicken pie delicious, with a flaky pastry as light as air. Only the hands of an accomplished cook could produce such excellence. She ate heartily at a small table near the fireplace. Except for the roll and coffee that morning, she’d eaten nothing since her wedding breakfast the day before, and she’d been too excited to do more than nibble. Her life had seemed so full of promise then. What would Anne make of this? Somehow, she must keep it from her.
At the Earl's Convenience Page 3
