Duke's Folly

by Melinda Hammond

  He squeezed her fingers and, ignoring the voice of caution in his head, raised them to his lips. Then with a word of farewell to the boys he scrambled into his curricle, gathered up the reins and drove away into the night.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Sophie walked back into the house, cradling the hand Perry had kissed against her heart. It meant nothing, Perry was a gentleman and that is how they saluted a lady, although the other ladies he knew would have soft white hands, not calloused palms and broken nails.

  'Which makes it all the more remarkable he should treat me thus,' she thought, following her brothers into the small parlour.

  Their noisy entrance woke their father, who sat up and looked about him.

  'What, is our guest gone?'

  Sophie nodded. 'He is, Papa. He would not let me wake you but said he would call again to thank you for this evening.'

  'You should have woken me, Sophie. I should have been there to see him off.'

  'Oh, he was not at all offended, Papa,' said Hugh, throwing himself down in a chair. 'In fact, I think he was pleased to have Sophie come outside with him.'

  'He kissed her hand!' declared Armand with a giggle.

  'And why should he not?' Her father raised his brows. 'She is as well born as he, if not better.'

  'But not as wealthy,' put in Hugh. 'From what his groom told us, Mr Wyre has a huge estate and he keeps enough horses to mount an army.'

  'He is a very down to earth gentleman and I like him all the more for that,' replied Papa. 'But, Sophie, I would caution you not to set too much store by the gentleman's dalliance. I would not have you disappointed.'

  'You need have no fears for me on that head, Papa, I am well aware that he is merely being polite.'

  But when she retired to her bed that night and blew out the candle, she found herself reliving the moment when he had carried her fingers to his lips, experiencing again the swoop of her stomach that left her alarmed and excited all at the same time.

  *

  The following day Sophie woke to sunshine and birdsong, but somehow the morning seemed brighter, the trill of the birds even sweeter than usual. She jumped out of bed and ran to the window, throwing it open to breathe in the fresh air and to feel the sun on her face. It was a week since Perry had dined with them in the great hall and he had called every day since then, always in the afternoon once his business for the day was done. He never told them what his business actually was, although they knew he spent his days out of doors, riding around the area, but they never asked him about it. It did not seem to matter.

  He dined there every evening but insisted that in return for their feeding him he should help out with whatever needed to be done. Without ceremony that first day he had removed his coat, rolled up his sleeves and helped the boys to dig over the ground required for sowing the winter vegetables and on subsequent days he carried the basket for Sophie while she gathered in the summer crops and he even chopped wood for the fire. When Sophie protested he hushed her, saying with a grin that it was good for him to earn his supper.

  After dinner he would play cards with the boys or sit talking with Papa while Sophie busied herself with her darning or embroidery. He made no attempt to be alone with her, indeed, they rarely spoke, save when in general conversation, but she did not mind that, it was enough that he was there and they were at ease, like old friends. She knew he must leave soon, and they would all miss him when he left, but she would not think of that, for the sun was shining and Perry had said he would call again later that day.

  Sophie spent more time than usual on arranging her hair, then laughed at herself for her vanity. She felt restless, unable to settle, and was honest enough to admit she was impatient to see Perry again. She decided to accompany Joan to the market in Hyndmarsh. It would pass the time and there was always the faint possibility that Perry might be there.

  It was close on noon when Sophie and Joan returned to the castle. She had not seen Perry, but their shopping trip had been successful and she had gone to the extravagance of spending a few pennies on a green ribbon for her hair. Once she had helped Joan to put away all their food purchases, Sophie went to her room to take off her coat and bonnet and decided to thread the new ribbon through her curls before going downstairs. She knew she need not hurry, for the boys had taken to their boat and were fishing on the lake, she had seen them from her window, which meant Papa would be in his tower room, and if he was working on his history he would be too engrossed to be worrying about her.

  A blustery wind had sprung up and having just tidied her hair, Sophie decided to take the labyrinthine series of passages that led through the house to the tower. She made her way up to her father's book-room, her soft kid slippers making no noise on the stone steps. As she approached she heard voices.

  Perry! He must have concluded his business earlier than anticipated. But the sudden burst of excitement faded when she heard Papa's voice raised in anger.

  'Sacré Dieu! What you propose is an outrage. How dare you come and insult me like this!'

  She stopped, pressing one hand to her breast and wondering what Perry could have done to make her father so angry, but to her relief the voice that answered did not belong to Peregrine Wyre.

  'Insult you? You have been living on the duke's charity for years, monsieur, that is the insult!'

  Fear liquified her insides as she recognised Claud Grieves' voice. She ran up the last few stairs towards the open door.

  'Papa!'

  Her father was standing by his desk, white and shaking with rage, while on the far side of the room stood Mr Grieves, an ugly sneer on his face.

  'Papa,' she said again, hurrying across to him. 'What is it, what is wrong?'

  Grieves' eyes narrowed as Sophie came in and the sneer was replaced by a smile that was even more frightening. He said silkily, 'Ah, Miss Coutras, your arrival is most timely. I came to inform your father that I have now heard from Cullenmore's steward. Duke's Folly will no longer be yours at such, er, advantageous terms.'

  Sophie touched her father's arm. ‘How much does he want, Papa?' She paled at his answer. 'We cannot afford half that sum.'

  'You cannot afford a quarter of it,' put in Grieves with a derisive laugh. 'And the duke will want the first payment by Michaelmas. Unless―'

  'No more!' snapped her father. 'You have my answer, monsieur. Now leave us.'

  The agent's smile became even broader and more menacing 'But Miss Coutras has not yet heard my proposal, and since it concerns her―'

  'No. I forbid you to speak of this to my daughter!'

  'Concerns me?'

  'Yes, my dear.' Grieves ignored the older man and fixed his eyes on Sophie. 'You have it in your power to keep the castle for your family.'

  Sophie heard another angry protest from her father but she kept her eyes fixed upon the agent.

  'I do? How is that?'

  'You will come to live with me. As my housekeeper. '

  'Surely such matters are your wife's domain.'

  'Not on this occasion.'

  'And besides,' Sophie continued, frowning. 'You have a housekeeper.'

  He waved one hand dismissively. 'She is old and has had her day. The rent the duke is asking for the castle is significantly higher than a housekeeper's wage, but I will cover it, in return for certain other, more personal services from you.'

  The lecherous look that accompanied these words left Sophie in no doubt of his meaning and she felt the blood rush to her face.

  Her father reached out and drew Sophie close. She could feel him shaking with rage.

  'Leave us, immédiatement,' he hissed, glaring at the agent.

  Grieves picked up his hat. 'I will give you two days to consider, no more.' His narrowed eyes rested on Sophie. 'And you, my dear. Think carefully. A little effort on your part and you can keep this house for your father and brothers.'

  Her father cursed roundly in French, a sign that he was extremely distressed.

  'Allez. Go, get out of my house
! You are a snake, a worm, and not worthy of my contempt.'

  The disdain in his voice bought a flush of anger to the agent's cheeks. He went out of the room like a raging bull, head down, but at the door he stopped and looked back.

  'It will not be your house for much longer, Coutras,' he shouted, spittle flicking from his lips. 'What will you and your family do then, eh? You should consider that.'

  He thundered down the stairs, his boots ringing on the stone and Sophie clung to her father.

  'Papa, I did not misunderstand him, did I? He w-was suggesting I should become his m-mistress?'

  'Pray do not let his wicked words distress you, Sophie. We shall come about. I still have some friends who may help us. I will write to them.'

  Sophie closed her eyes, squeezing them shut to keep back the tears. She knew how much it hurt her father's pride to ask for favours. They had lived rent-free at the castle but Papa had salvaged some self-esteem by restoring and maintaining the house as best he could with his limited funds. True, he had earned a little money over the years with his papers and articles, but she knew it was not enough to keep them all.

  'And there is your mother's family, also,' he said. 'I do not think they would want you to be cast onto the streets. Fret not, my dear, I pray you. If all else fails, I have the annuity set up by my friends. It is not much but, of a surety, we will find enough to rent a room or two. Perhaps even a small cottage.'

  She knew he was trying to cheer her, but she was well aware that his meagre income would not be enough to support them all. Gently she disengaged herself and walked over to the window. The sun was shining and on the lake below she could see the boys, laughing and playing in their little boat.

  But this is our home. Nowhere else could be as good as this.

  She turned back to look at her father as he lowered himself into the chair at his desk. For the first time she saw him not as the hero and protector who could make everything well but as an old man, worn down by the trials and tribulations of his life. His mind was still sharp, but his physical strength had diminished with age. She did not want to add to his worries so she pinned on a bright smile.

  'Of course, Papa. We shall come about.'

  *

  Sophie busied herself around the house, trying to push thoughts of Mr Grieves and his threats to the back of her mind. The meeting had both shocked and frightened her, but as she helped Joan in the kitchen her thoughts grew more rational. The man could not force her to be his mistress, but he could make life very unpleasant, so perhaps moving to another home would not be such a bad thing. It would be hard, but not impossible.

  Later that afternoon she made her way back to her father's workroom.

  'Papa? I have brought tea for you, and a little cake. Joan tells me you have had nothing since breakfast.'

  'No, no. I want to complete this chapter today,' he replied, not looking up. 'I thought, if I could just finish volume one, Mr Murray might take it immediately. There is no doubt that a little extra money would be useful at the present time.'

  'It would indeed, but you must eat, Papa.' She put the tray down on the corner of his desk and moved over to drop a light kiss on his head. 'It is a fruit cake, your favourite. I baked it myself and I shall be very hurt if you leave even a crumb!'

  He put up one hand to cover hers, where it rested on his shoulder. 'Merci, ma chère. You are a good girl.' He looked up. 'I am very sorry, Sophie, for what happened this morning. You should not have had to endure such an insult.'

  She shuddered. 'That was not your fault, Papa. Mr Grieves is an odious creature and if we have to move away from here, we need never see him again. But never mind that now, I wanted to remind you that Mr Wyre should be here soon. Perhaps you could leave your books for a little while and talk to him. You always enjoy his company, do you not?'

  For a moment her father looked brighter, then he shook his head.

  'Alas I cannot spare the time, my dear, not today. This passage on the Bourbon King's execution is not going well and I must get on.'

  Her heart sank as he turned away from her and picked up his pen again.

  'Can you not leave it, even for half an hour? The boys are not here, you see. When Joan and I came back earlier, Owen noticed that Hercules had lost a shoe, so they have had to take him to the smithy.'

  'No, no, every interruption loses precious time. Give Mr Wyre my apologies. Explain. I am sure he will understand.'

  He would not be swayed and she left him, knowing full well that when she or Joan went up to clear the room later the tea and cake would still be there, untouched.

  Perry arrived at the castle shortly after four o'clock. He left his hired hack with Owen and told him he would find his own way to the house. He had spent the day in the market, talking and listening to both landowners and tenant farmers. What he had learned had given him much to ponder. Grieves, the agent, was not much liked and in fact Perry suspected some even feared him, but without divulging his identity he could not probe too deeply.

  Perry was no expert, but what he had seen and heard during his stay in Hyndmarsh suggested that the farmers were struggling with high rents and poor yields, and even he could tell that no money was being spent on the farm buildings. He would need to discuss it with Rafford, of course, but he thought that the poverty and discontent he noted here was at odds with the accounts of well-regulated and maintained tenancies contained within Mr Grieves' reports. Well, he would be meeting with the agent tomorrow and if the fellow could not give him a satisfactory explanation then he would ask Rafford to investigate further.

  When he reached the great hall it was empty and he suspected everyone would be in the garden, but when he glanced towards the parlour he saw that the door was open and Sophie was in there alone. She did not hear him enter and he stood for a moment, watching her. She had her embroidery on her lap but was staring out of the window, deep in thought. Then, as if suddenly aware of his presence, she turned towards him.

  'Oh, Mr Wyre!' She jumped up and made a small curtsy, her embroidery clutched in one hand.

  'Why so formal today?' he teased her. 'I had grown used to you calling me Perry.' His smile faded. 'Has anything occurred to upset you?'

  The way her eyes flew to his face told him it had, but she shook her head at him.

  'No, no, but I am afraid Papa cannot see you today. He is working on his book, you see. He is very close to finishing the first volume and is eager to send it off to his publisher.' She looked down at the embroidery frame as if wondering why she was holding it, and slowly put it aside. 'He sends his apologies, but when the mood is on him to work…'

  'I quite understand. And are the boys at their studies?'

  'No. They have taken Hercules to be reshod.'

  She shifted restlessly, glancing towards the door, and Perry realised she was not comfortable being alone with him.

  'It is very pleasant out of doors, Miss Coutras, perhaps you would like to take a walk with me? We might stroll around the lake path.'

  'Yes.' She looked relieved. 'Yes, I should like that, thank you. We might even meet the boys coming back from Hyndmarsh.'

  He waited in the hall while she went off to fetch a shawl and bonnet. When she returned they walked through the yard together and crossed the bridge, turning to follow the path that ran around the perimeter of the lake. They walked in silence for a while, listening to the birdsong coming from the surrounding woods.

  'I can see why you love living here,' he remarked. 'I have rarely visited such a peaceful spot.' He looked at the water, sparkling in the sunlight, then glanced at Sophie. 'Perhaps we should return and fetch you a parasol.'

  'No, no, my bonnet will suffice. I am out of doors so much that my complexion is beyond saving now.'

  'On the contrary, you are glowing with health.'

  'Oh! I―I was not looking for a compliment.'

  'And I was not giving one, merely telling the truth.'

  'Then I thank you. I am sure I would be considered very unfashiona
ble by society, but living here it does not matter if I am a little bronzed by the sun.'

  He frowned at this reminder of the difference in their status.

  'How long have you kept house for your father?' he asked her.

  'Since Mama died, five years ago.'

  'You must have been still at school then.'

  'I have never been to school. Neither have the boys. Mama and Papa looked after our education between them.' She added, a hint of defiance in her voice, 'Papa has collected an extensive library here, and he allows us to read whatever we wish.'

  'But books cannot replace people,' he said, 'Your society here must be limited. Do you have no female to live with you, no companion or relative to bear you company?'

  'No.' One shoulder lifted slightly. 'I am quite content without.'

  'But when you have visitors, like myself,' he persisted. 'A single young lady should have a chaperone.'

  'My brothers and father are protection enough.'

  'But your father is working, and your brothers are not here,' he pointed out.

  'No, because they are running an errand. With only two servants we must all do our part.'

  'That is just it, you should not have to do these things. The boys should be at school, and you should have a female companion to look after you.'

  They had both stopped and he watched as she drew in an indignant breath and pulled herself up to her full height.

  'I do not think you realise our situation, Mr Wyre. Our circumstances here are―straitened. Papa is too proud to ask for more money from his friends to educate his children, and another mouth to feed here on a permanent basis is out of the question. There. I have said it, I have made it quite plain to you how very poor we are. Now, if you will excuse me―'

  It was as if he had been punched in the gut. She began to walk on and he saw that she was blinking, trying to keep the tears back. Suddenly he could stand it no longer.

  'Then let me look after you!'

  The words were wrung from Perry before he could stop them. Sophie stopped and turned slowly back towards him, a look of confusion in her wide eyes, but there was hope there, too and he realised with growing alarm how his words must sound. He cursed himself for a fool.