Lady Harriet tried, almost successfully, to repress her grin of triumph. Her heart beat faster at the very thought – she would get to spend whole days in his company! Surely, with such proximity, she could get him to start seeing her as a woman, not a child?
~~~~~
Unbeknownst to Lady Harriet, at that very moment, Lord Geoffrey was most decidedly seeing her as a woman.
He had been, quite unsuccessfully, trying to avoid looking at her all evening. From the moment that he had been shown into the parlour, he had been acutely aware of her – of the sensation of her leaf green eyes following him, of the delightful shape of her beautiful body, the flushed red of her lips, the slightly dishevelled fall of her dark gold curls, that seemed never to stay quite as tidy as her maid had intended, and the subtle rich floral scent that she wore – a mixture of rose, and daphne, with perhaps a tiny touch of lemon sharpening the sweetness.
He had never met another woman who used that combination of scents – a combination that instantly took him back to the scent garden of his grandmother’s house, so long ago. It made him want to simply soak it in, for it brought him a sense of peace and safety that he had not felt since his childhood years. Which felt odd to him, as, at the same time, her presence roused in him a much more carnal appreciation of everything about her. No matter how often he told himself that such an appreciation of his closest friend’s sister was not a good idea, his body refused to obey his mind, and flamed into awareness the instant he found himself in the same room as the delectable Lady Harriet.
Her childlike manipulation of the conversation had charmed him, even whilst it brought him a sensation of sheer terror – for how could he possibly carry out his mission to search the house for evidence of the traitors if he was to be continuously distracted by her presence? He would have to make sure of her safety, and still somehow search, whilst concealing what he was really looking for. His head hurt at the very thought of how hard that would be.
For Lady Harriet’s keen intelligence and bright curious nature would ensure that she cheerfully investigated everything…
He had been sure that Charlton would save him, but the rogue had just sat there, and let his sister gull Geoffrey into doing as she wanted. They would have words about that later!
Still, he couldn’t help but be warmed by the sight of the glowing smile on her face, now that he had agreed to allow her to help. Perhaps it was worth it, to make her look that happy.
The staff at Witherwood Chase has greeted the additional two footmen and the valet with suspicion, having all been working at Witherwood Chase for many years. They had their own routines, their own unstated, but agreed, divisions of authority, and had, largely, got over interpersonal politics years ago. Which wasn’t to say that there were no secrets, or that they all trusted each other.
Newcomers, however, had caused them to silently close ranks and defend their territory, without any discussion required. Peterson, as one of the newcomers, was acutely aware of the wall of silence that they presented to him. Cold politeness hid secrets, but whether those secrets were a previous complicity in treason, or simply a resentment of the invasion of the place that they saw as their own, he had not yet discovered.
In time, he would do so. Baron Setford had chosen him for his skills, which included things unusual in a footman, such as weapons training, lock-picking, tracking and investigation, amongst other things.
Lord Geoffrey was a man he could respect – a man who appreciated his capabilities, and left him to get on with things. There was nothing soft or foppish about Lord Geoffrey, and his reputed skill with weapons was something any man would admire.
This evening, with Lord Geoffrey away visiting Viscount Pendholm, Peterson was using the time to apply those investigative skills of his. Most of the staff were in the servants’ hall, enjoying a quiet evening. But at least two were not. After Peterson had excused himself from the gathering, supposedly to take to his bed early, he had quietly waited in a small storeroom just outside the servants’ hall.
His patience was rewarded when Jobs, one of the grooms, and Ashley, one of the footmen who had long been with the house, quietly left the room. They paused a moment, not far from the storeroom door, and spoke in whispers.
“Ash, if his Lordship keeps a’diggin around like this, he’s sure to be findin a door soon. Things aren’t safe. Not up here. They’ll have to go deep with t’others.”
“Aye, but how’ll we get ‘em moved? Can’t be a’doin it now – we don’t know when His Lordship’ll be back, and you’ll have to be in t’stable to take his horse when he gets here.”
“So I’ll be in t’stable. But you go now and make sure all’s still where it ought to be, and pack em up so’s we can move em the next time he’s away – or sooner, if’n he gets too close.”
“I don’t like it, but ye have the right of it, we can’t do more’n that tonight.”
The two moved on, from the sound of their steps in two different directions, and moments later Peterson heard the door to the back garden open as Jobs headed back to the stable. A lone set of footsteps echoed along the corridor towards the servants stairs.
Peterson eased out of the storeroom, moving along the corridor on silent feet, listening to the footfalls ahead. With great care, he followed Ashley up the servant’s stairs to the floor above, and along the servants’ corridor there. The corridor turned, a short distance after exiting the stairs, and Peterson paused at the corner, peeking carefully around to assess Ashley’s progress. The corridor was empty. Peterson shook his head. That wasn’t possible – there were no doors off this corridor for quite some distance – he couldn’t have gone that far yet. Yet the corridor was empty.
Peterson eased around the corner, and walked the length of the corridor – no door, no sign of Ashley. He shook his head and took himself to his bed, mulling over what he had heard, and seen – or rather, not seen.
~~~~~
The next morning brought two visitors to Witherwood Chase. One was expected – Lady Harriet, with the long-suffering Miss Carpenter (who, unlike Lady Harriet, did object to dust and spider webs…) in tow, and one was unexpected, but most welcome.
Barnstable, still recovering from the shock of Lady Harriet’s somewhat energetic arrival, turned in surprise at the second knock on the door.
Upon opening it, he discovered a sprightly gentleman of middle years, dressed in fashionable clothing better suited to a young dandy, on the doorstep. The gent stepped inside, doffed his hat, and presented his card.
Winston Featherstonehaugh Esq.
Valuer of Artworks
Bowing, he looked Barnstable in the eye and declared -
“I am here to see Lord Geoffrey Clarence. Sent, at his request, by Mr Raphael Morton. Please let his Lordship know that I have arrived.”
Barnstable, rather flustered by this apparition, showed him into the visitors’ parlour, and went in search of Lord Geoffrey.
Lord Geoffrey, who was just in the process of settling Lady Harriet and Miss Carpenter into the morning room, and offering her tea (whilst he worked out how on earth he was going to keep her occupied and entertained, without giving up on his own investigations completely), was as startled as Barnstable had been, when handed the gentleman’s card and told of his arrival.
After the surprise wore off, however, he was rather pleased. He had written to Raphael shortly after arriving here, when he had come to the conclusion that the place was packed with horrible art, asking if he might advise on getting it valued, as a step towards disposing of it profitably. It would appear that Raphael had gone one better than simply advising, and had, before setting off on his travels, engaged a valuer on Lord Geoffrey’s behalf.
How typical of Raphael! He was always generous, and often chose to simply act, rather than fuss about anything. And, perhaps, this was also a solution to occupying Lady Harriet, at least for a while, and doing so in a way where he did not have to be in her presence (and thus tortured by his awareness of her). He
turned to her, smiling, and waited a moment whilst a maid delivered the tea, and left the room. Once the maid was gone, he spoke.
“Lady Harriet, might I ask you to carry out an important task for me?”
“Why of course, Lord Geoffrey – what can I do to help?”
She sounded genuinely delighted that he had a task for her, and he found himself charmed yet again by her positive, energetic nature.
“I am sure that you heard me mention, yesterday, that this house contains a vast quantity of artworks that are… not to my taste… shall we say?”
She nodded, wondering what was coming next.
“A gentleman has just arrived, whose skill is in valuing artworks. I have need of someone to go from room to room with him, and to take down notes for me on what he says about each painting, and to also make those notes very clear about the exact position of each painting, so that, later, we make no mistakes when sorting them for sale. I can provide Peterson, my footman, to be guide and escort from room to room, if you, and Miss Carpenter, will be my scribes, and capture this information for me?”
It wasn’t exactly the sort of task that Harriet had hoped for, but still, it was a start. And Lady Harriet found, rather to her own surprise, that, because it was Lord Geoffrey who was asking, she was willing to take on this task, even if it sounded rather less adventurous than what she had been imagining.
“Certainly, Lord Geoffrey. I would be pleased to assist.”
Had his shoulders just sagged with relief? Surely not, she pushed the thought away. That must have been her imagination at work.
“One moment.”
Lord Geoffrey left the room, and went to greet Mr Featherstonehaugh. As he stepped into the room, he suddenly better understood Barnstable’s reaction. The man was unusual, to say the least. Still, Raphael had recommended him. A few minutes conversation confirmed Lord Geoffrey’s faith in Raphael.
However eccentric the man might appear, he seemed to know his field, providing a rapid and somewhat passionately enthusiastic assessment of the painting on the parlour wall as demonstration of his knowledge. And the number he named as a value for the painting left Lord Geoffrey a little shocked, and very pleased. If all of the paintings had similar values, he was about to be a wealthy man indeed.
After enquiring as to Mr Featherstonehaugh’s arrangements, and sending a footman to pay off his driver and bring in his luggage, then to see the housekeeper about having a room prepared, he led the man into the morning room.
Upon introducing Mr Featherstonehaugh to Lady Harriet and Miss Carpenter, he was surprised to see that, within minutes, Lady Harriet had charmed Mr Featherstonehaugh, and that Mr Featherstonehaugh had charmed Miss Carpenter – which, based on his past observation of the woman, was quite an achievement! Leaving them chattering enthusiastically about the paintings on the morning room wall, he sent Peterson to fetch some pencils and suitable paper, as well as a slate to rest the paper on. Stepping back into the room he breathed a sigh of relief – perhaps his day would contain useful work after all, for the ladies appeared to be forging a firm friendship with Mr Featherstonehaugh already.
When Peterson returned, he explained the requirement, and that Peterson should, for the next few days, or until such time as the inventory was complete, place himself at Mr Featherstonehaugh and Lady Harriet’s command. Given that the inventory would also need to deal with those paintings currently in the attics, which would need to be brought down for inspection, it was likely to take some considerable time.
As they set off into the house, Lord Geoffrey breathed a sigh of heartfelt relief – even though a traitorous part of him regretted letting Lady Harriet out of his sight.
~~~~~
Lady Harriet was delighted when Lord Geoffrey actually seemed to be taking her wish to help seriously. Expecting a tedious task, and quite prepared to be a martyr to her regard for him and do it anyway, she was pleasantly surprised.
For the gentleman valuer was entertaining, passionate about his subject, and quite willing to treat a Lady’s assistance with respect. He was, she suspected, the only other person that she had ever met, who was quite as… vigorous… a personality as she herself was. And, even better, Miss Carpenter appeared to actually like him! Perhaps she might not moan about the whole process after all.
Therefore, when Peterson has supplied her with pencils, paper and a slate, she was happy to leave the room and begin the apparently extensive task of cataloguing the paintings in this rather large house. Happy that is, all but a little anguished regret at not being able to stay in the same room as Lord Geoffrey, who, it seemed, had other work to do, elsewhere. She was sure that it was important. He would surely not, after all, be avoiding her company.
Two sennights passed, and Christmas was upon them. It was two sennights of tedium, interspersed with moments of humour, frustration and delighted discovery. Lady Harriet, in a manner that quite astounded her family, stuck to her stated intentions, and went, accompanied by Miss Carpenter, every day, to continue the work. Such persistence, from the normally volatile Harriet, made her mother begin to think that, truly, it was possible that her tendre for Lord Geoffrey was more than a passing infatuation.
What astounded them all more (including Harriet herself), was that Miss Carpenter also went willingly and cheerfully, without complaint. For once she seemed to actually be happy with being dragged along by Harriet, willy-nilly. No-one mentioned either fact. But the general interest in what might be found in the rooms and attics of Witherwood Chase was high.
Lord Geoffrey was both pleased with the progress and utterly frustrated.
Pleased, because Mr Featherstonehaugh’s valuation list was providing growing evidence that the dusty collection of paintings, antique furniture and tapestries in the house represented an astounding amount of wealth – even if Geoffrey only sold a small portion of them.
Frustrated, because he was still only marginally closer to fulfilling his mission for Baron Setford.
Peterson had confirmed that at least two of the staff who had come with the estate, appeared to have been party to the treasonous conspiracy, and that he suspected the house contained secret passageways or rooms. But he had been unable to find an entry, or to get enough detail of the men’s involvement for Lord Geoffrey to take any action.
In addition, the daily interaction with Lady Harriet was a source of constant stress. The more he saw of her, the harder it became for Lord Geoffrey to think of her as ‘Charlton’s sister’, and the easier it became for him to see her simply for herself – an attractive young woman, who had more determination and less fussiness about her than any other woman of his acquaintance. That she stuck at the dusty and somewhat boring work impressed him, and his respect for her grew daily. As did his attraction to her. He wanted to know more about her – how she thought, what on earth possessed her to want to do this for him, why she saw him as anything more than her brother’s friend. Surely she could not still be casting him as some fairy-tale hero, based on the events of nearly a year ago?
Her scent had subtly infiltrated the house, and he was, even when in another wing of the building entirely, always aware of her.
~~~~~
They had fallen into the habit of gathering in his study each afternoon, to go over the achievements of the day – the latest finds in various rooms, as far as paintings and other items of value (for they had, some time ago, dealt with the items he had already seen, and headed into previously unexplored territory in the long unused wings of the house), the progress of repairs and renovation of many parts of the house, and the plans for the morrow.
When it was but a few days to Christmas, Mr Featherstonehaugh spoke up, after reporting his latest finds.
“Lord Geoffrey – I would like to make a pause in this work. Whilst I am keen, extremely keen, to see this through to the end – for never before have I had the privilege to assess such a remarkable collection -…” his eyes shone as he spoke, and he almost bounced on the spot, his enthusiasm still as bright
as the day they had begun, “- I am also keen to return to my family for this holiday season. Now that my wife is gone, whilst they are happy in my mother’s care, my children will want to see me at this time If it is agreeable to you, my Lord, I would take leave of you until just after twelfth night, then return to your most gracious hospitality to continue this work.”
Whilst Lord Geoffrey felt ready to grind his teeth in frustration at the thought of another few sennights of delay to his mission, he could not, in good countenance, refuse such a request. Added to that, he, and Charlton’s family, had committed to spending twelfth night at Meltonbrook Chase, where most of the other Hounds would be present.
He would need to devise a way to ensure that the servants suspected of being conspirators had no chance to remove anything in his absence.
“That seems, Mr Featherstonehaugh, to be an admirable plan. I must commend your good work to date, and that of Lady Harriet and Miss Carpenter in documenting your findings. I wish you the best of the season and will gladly release you to your family for now. Peterson will see to making travel arrangements for you.”
He turned, unable to prevent himself, aware, as always, of Lady Harriet. She was watching him, her face a picture of conflicting emotion. Her emotions often showed on her countenance, and he was beginning to understand more of her thoughts, just from watching her face. It seemed that she felt as he did – both glad of the rest and the holiday, and reluctant to lose the excuse to spend each day, at least partly, in company with him. He most certainly felt that way with respect to her.
He had come to look forward to her arrival each day, to her bright enthusiasm lifting his spirits and to watching her sparkling green eyes light up with delight each time some new and interesting treasure was unearthed, revealed by the removal of a tattered dust sheet, or the unlocking of a previously locked chest. When she spun about exuberantly with childlike joy in the discoveries, he sometimes had to stop himself from sweeping her up and spinning with her. The impulse rather shocked him, for he had never been one for such outward show of his feelings. But stop himself he did, for he suspected that, should he take her into his arms like that, it would not stop at simply spinning about.
Being Lady Harriet's Hero: Sweet and Clean Regency Romance (His Majesty's Hounds Book 4) Page 3
