The Master of Stonegrave Hall

by Helen Dickson

  There were coach houses and stables at the back of the house; the mixture of the grey and pale-honey colour of the stone from which they and the house were built mellowed into a timeless graciousness.

  She did not see the man who propped his shoulder against the window of his study, a closed and brooding expression on his face as he watched her. As if sensing his presence, she turned and looked in his direction. He turned away.

  * * *

  Victoria was enjoying the calm and the pleasant fresh air, yet listening with delight to a trilling blackbird, when a carriage came speeding up the drive and came to a bone-jarring halt in front of the house. A groom ran forwards and the young gentlemen tossed the reins to him and jumped down, striding purposefully up the front steps to the house.

  ‘Good day, Mr Rockford,’ Jenkins intoned as he opened the door and stepped aside.

  ‘Is my brother at home?’ Nathan Rockford asked, handing him his hat and gloves, clearly agitated about something.

  ‘Yes, sir. You’ll find him in his study.’

  Nathan stalked past him and down the hall, his quick strides eloquent of his turbulent wrath as he flung open the study door and confronted the older brother he had last seen in London two months earlier. Laurence was engrossed in his ledgers at his desk. He glanced up and, seeing his brother, shoved back his chair and stood up to greet him, taller than Nathan by a head.

  ‘Nathan! Good to see you back. How was Paris—and how is Diana?’

  ‘Well—she is well. But I haven’t come here to talk about Diana or Paris. Laurence, I cannot believe what you have done! When I got your letter I don’t think you need me to tell you that I was outraged. How could you bring that—that woman into this house! It is not to be borne! I take it she is still here?’

  ‘If you mean Betty, then, yes, she is.’

  ‘Then she must leave. At once.’

  He gave Laurence that beguiling look that ever since their childhood could get nearly anything he wanted out of him, but this time Laurence was unmoved. ‘No,’ he stated implacably, undaunted by his brother’s soaring fury. ‘Betty stays, Nathan.’

  Victoria was passing through the hall to the stairs. Hearing raised voices coming from behind the closed door, she paused, intending to walk on, but on hearing her mother’s name mentioned she became rooted to the spot. She felt a coldness seep into every pore at the words that came next. She was stung by them, as sharply as if by a hornets’ nest.

  A pulse drummed in Nathan’s temple as he fought to control his wrath. ‘Have a care, Laurence. By raking over old coals you are in danger of exposing our sordid and most intimate family linen to the scrutiny of all.’

  ‘That won’t happen.’

  ‘And you can be sure of that, can you? I am telling you that bringing that woman here will portend no good. To allow her to remain at Stonegrave Hall is detrimental to our own well-being. If we are to avoid a public and very unsavoury scandal, she must leave. For goodness’ sake, Laurence, she shouldn’t be here and I strongly resent what you have done. Did you not think to consult me? Did my opinions on a matter as important as this not count?’

  ‘Of course they did, but you weren’t here.’

  ‘And if I had been I doubt very much you would have sought my feelings on the matter. I have always respected your judgement in the past, but not this time. What in God’s name made you do it?’

  ‘You know why. I promised our mother that Betty would be taken care of should the need arise—and it did.’

  ‘Mother’s dead and this woman hasn’t been inside this house for over twenty years. And if taking her in isn’t bad enough, I believe you have extended your hospitality to her daughter. It beggars belief, Laurence, it really does,’ he thundered, combing his fingers through his hair and pacing the carpet in frustration.

  ‘None of this is Miss Lewis’s fault. You must understand that.’

  ‘Really! Then she must be made to understand that I don’t want her here and you know damned well why.’

  ‘I do,’ Laurence retorted fiercely, ‘and I’m going to find it very difficult keeping it from her whilst she lives in this house. I wish you would just tell her, Nathan, or at the very least allow me to do so.’

  Nathan paled and gave his brother a desperate, beseeching look, sudden fear clouding his eyes. ‘No, Laurence, I implore you not to,’ he said, his voice low and hoarse with tension. ‘Diana and I have just returned from our honeymoon. To have this thrust on me now is intolerable. I could not bear it—the explanations... For my sake, I beg you to keep this to ourselves.’

  Laurence was silent. Seeing the tortured look in his brother’s eyes he nodded. ‘Yes—yes, I will.’

  ‘Thank you. It means a lot to me. I am sure Miss Lewis is capable of taking care of her mother in her own home, where she doesn’t have to hang about the Hall like a beggar or some charity case.’

  ‘No,’ Laurence said sharply. He might have agreed to keep the secret within the family to protect Nathan, but he would not turn Betty and her daughter out of the house. ‘Betty is too ill to be moved. Whatever your feelings on the matter, mother and daughter are staying, Nathan, so you’ll just have to get used to the idea.’

  Nathan reacted to his brother’s statement with withering contempt. ‘I don’t want to get used to it! A girl who is on a par with the kitchen maids?’

  ‘Stop it, Nathan. She’ll never be on a par in any way with the maids in the kitchen and you damned well know it—no matter how hard you try to ignore the fact by pretending she doesn’t exist. She is the daughter of a schoolmaster—an academic, whose own father was a high-ranking military man. Betty is from good stock—the Nesbitts of Cumbria. The family fell on hard times and her parents died, which was the reason why Betty became a lady’s maid, but they were of the class.’

  ‘Good Lord, Laurence! We have gone into their heredity, haven’t we?’ Nathan retorted, his voice heavily laden with sarcasm. ‘I was already aware of it.’

  ‘I want you to know that my actions in bringing Betty to this house did not stem from a flash in the pan. I thought deeply on it.’

  ‘And did you not consider the effect it would have on her daughter?’

  ‘I did, but Betty has consumption and needed taking care of. She was my primary concern. I expect you to accept it.’

  ‘You don’t know what you are asking of me. I will never accept it! I may not live in this house any longer, but this is still the family home and I want her and her daughter out of it.’

  ‘Nathan, I know you are not as heartless and unfeeling as you sound right now. At least try to imagine how Miss Lewis must be feeling—in a strange house, her mother at death’s door.’ When his brother remained silent and unmoved, Laurence ran out of patience. ‘Damn it, Nathan! Have you forgotten how you felt when our father died? How you went to pieces? Think how she will feel when her mother dies. You are not unacquainted with death and loss—or have you forgotten the pain?’

  They were facing each other now over a distance and the older brother’s countenance had darkened. His lips were drawn tight and his unblinking eyes were implacable. Looking at his brother, he could see in his eyes that which must not be spoken between them, not named, not defined, for fear it would become an active, swift, deadly danger, rather than something still contained, locked away, for as long as possible.

  Struggling with his emotions, Nathan stared at him hard, then abruptly turned and strode to the door where he paused and looked back at his brother. ‘I will not set foot in this house until Mrs Lewis and the girl have left.’

  ‘If you wish to take it like that, Nathan, then it is up to you. You’ll always be welcome here, you know that.’

  Too angry to reply, Nathan went out, leaving his older brother glowering after him. Closing the door behind him, he almost bumped into the very person who was at the heart of his fu
ry and frustration. For a moment he was taken by surprise and shock and bewilderment—or was it fear that clouded his eyes?—but he quickly recovered.

  ‘I don’t believe it! Aren’t you the girl my wife and I met in Malton yesterday?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied tightly, his words still hammering painfully in her brain. ‘The same.’ Having heard quite enough, with humiliation washing over her in sickening waves, Victoria had been about to flee to her room, but now she stood her ground and looked him directly in the eyes. Unlike his brother, he was only a little taller than she was and perhaps five years older. He did not resemble his brother, his hair being fair and his features more refined. He also lacked the aura of power and authority that seemed to surround Laurence.

  ‘I take it you are Miss Lewis?’ His angular face was etched with slowly deepening shock.

  ‘I am.’

  ‘And by the look on your face you must have overheard what my brother and I were discussing.’

  ‘Yes—at least, most of it.’

  ‘In which case I won’t have to repeat myself, so before you go any further you should know where you stand,’ he told her coldly. ‘When anything happens to your mother you will leave here. Is that understood?’

  ‘Don’t be absurd! After what I have just heard, why would I want to remain here a minute longer than is necessary? I make my own way in life,’ she said, her tone sharpening as she showed him her determination. ‘I won’t starve.’

  ‘You have cheek, I’ll give you that.’

  ‘I give as good as I get, that is all.’

  ‘Your impudence is most unappealing!’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry. Your comments don’t bother me. But next time have the decency to say them to my face.’

  ‘My brother may be acting a little soft in the head where your mother is concerned, Miss Lewis,’ he said coldly, ‘but as far as I am concerned you would be wise not to outstay your welcome. It is a warning.’

  Victoria arched her brows. ‘Welcome? It is hardly that. And as far as issuing a warning—why, it sounds like a threat to me. However, it is what I intend,’ Victoria told him, equally as cold.

  ‘Good. Then we are in agreement.’

  ‘Absolutely. And for your information,’ she said, her voice low and shaking with anger, ‘I am not a beggar nor am I a charity case. My mother did not ask to come here and I most certainly did not. I do not know why Lord Rockford insisted on bringing my mother to the Hall. One thing is certain. Had I not been away it would not have happened.’

  ‘As long as that is clear.’ Grim faced, the look of hatred in his eyes was as potent as a spoken curse. Without another word Nathan Rockford strode across the hall and out the door—but not before Victoria had seen the tortured, fractured look in his eyes.

  She stared after him. It was not his reaction to her presence at the Hall that unsettled her. It was his reaction to her, as a person. It was as if she meant something to him. She had surprised him—she had more than surprised him—seeing her had frightened him. There was something there. Something very strange—and she had to find out what it was. It was too important to ignore.

  ‘I’m sorry you had to hear that,’ Laurence said, watching her closely, having followed his brother out of the room.

  ‘I’m not,’ she retorted, beside herself with fury. ‘And before you say another word I was not eavesdropping. Your brother was assassinating my mother’s character and my own in a voice that could be heard in Ashcomb. How dare he? He insulted my mother and I will not allow anyone to do that. She is the kindest, gentlest of women ever to draw breath, but that is something a man as conceited as your brother would never understand. It is your fault that this has happened. I hate being here and I do not stay where I am unwelcome.’

  Turning on her heel, her arms rigid by her sides, her hands clasped into tight fists, she marched to the stairs and up to her room, where she began shoving things into her bags, which had been delivered to the Hall earlier. The thought of staying in this house a moment longer was anathema to her. Suddenly the door was pushed open.

  Victoria glanced up. Lord Rockford’s eyes touched hers—coolly arrogant, he raised his brows. Looking away, she carried on packing. ‘Someone should have taught you that before entering a room you should knock.’

  ‘Why, when the door was partly open?’ Laurence said with dry mockery.

  ‘Well-bred young ladies do not entertain gentlemen who are not their husbands in their bedchamber, but since I do not come into that category I don’t suppose I count,’ she retorted drily.

  Laurence was aware of his own transgression in being there. He chose to ignore the issue in favour of speaking to her. He glanced at the bag and gave her an arched look. ‘Going somewhere?’

  ‘To Ashcomb,’ she replied, stuffing her hairbrush into the bag.

  Chapter Three

  Laurence crossed to the window and perched his hip on the ledge, crossing his arms with a casualness that aggravated Victoria’s temper still further. ‘Why?’

  ‘I will not stay where I am made to feel uncomfortable. I will stay with Mrs Knowles. I do not want to be here.’

  ‘And your mother? Are you about to abandon her? Because she is certainly not well enough to be moved.’

  Victoria stopped what she was doing and glowered at him. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes. Furiously she blinked them away. If she broke down and cried, he would have the mastery over her. She would not grant him that.

  ‘Don’t you dare try to make me feel guilty. I would never abandon my mother. Can’t you see that by bringing her here you have placed me in an impossible position? If you were so concerned about her, you should have sent for me. Until then Mrs Knowles would have taken care of her. As it is, your interfering has made the situation worse.’

  Laurence’s black brows snapped together and his eyes narrowed, but his voice was carefully controlled when he spoke. ‘Interfering? You are mistaken, and before you accuse me of abducting your mother, perhaps you should take a look at yourself. You seem to forget that your education at the Academy finished last summer. Your mother has been ill for some time. Had you not returned to further your education you would have been at home to take care of her yourself instead of leaving it to others. As it was, her condition deteriorated rapidly. I had her brought to the Hall where I took full control of her care.’

  His words were insulting and their meaning cut Victoria like a knife. ‘Control?’ she repeated acidly. She should have withered beneath his icy glare, but she was too enraged to be intimidated by him. ‘My mother does not come under the category of property, Lord Rockford.’

  ‘Now you insult me, Miss Lewis.’ His words were like a whiplash, his eyes glacial. ‘I have taken your mother in and I do not need to justify my actions for doing so, not even to you—even though you are her daughter. What matters is that she is in this house under the care of my staff and I—and you, now that you have finally turned up.’

  Victoria glared at him, two bright spots of colour burning on her cheeks. She refused to look away, but there was little she could say in her defence. To a certain extent he was right. Last autumn there had been signs that her mother’s consumption was getting worse and she should not have left her. But her mother had encouraged her in her ambition to become a teacher, insisting she return to further her education, which she hoped would increase her prospects of eventually making a good marriage.

  ‘Have you nothing to say for yourself?’

  ‘What’s the point? You seem to have said it all.’

  ‘You are still going to Ashcomb?’

  ‘Yes, not that it is any of your business. You are rude, dictatorial and I cannot abide your superior male attitude. I shall not stay here a minute longer than I have to.’

  Laurence arched his brows, faint amusement and a stirring of respect in the depths of his
eyes. ‘That bad?’

  ‘Worse. You are also insufferably arrogant.’

  He looked at her with condescending amusement. ‘And you, Miss Lewis, with a tongue on you that would put a viper to shame, can hardly be called a paragon of perfection.’

  Victoria raised her head and gave him a haughty look. ‘Then that makes two of us, Lord Rockford.’

  ‘I realise that you have been inconvenienced by all this, Miss Lewis, but taking everything into account, you must see that I have been more inconvenienced than you.’

  ‘In which case I shall do us both a favour and remove myself from your house. I shall come here every day and sit with my mother—if that is agreeable to you—but I will not sleep under this roof another night. Not only is being under it abhorrent to me, I have no wish to be the cause of contention between you and your brother.’

  ‘You’re not.’

  ‘You could have fooled me.’

  Laurence’s dark brows rose in sardonic amusement. ‘And what will you tell the villagers of Ashcomb? That the master of Stonegrave Hall has turned you out?’

  ‘No. I am not one to tittle-tattle.’ She stopped what she was doing and looked at him squarely. ‘Your brother is clearly deeply upset about my mother being here. In fact, I would go so far as to say he is positively hostile towards her. Why is that?’

  ‘It’s of no consequence.’

  ‘Not to you, maybe, but it is to me. What’s the matter? Do you think it would tax my poor female brain too much to be told the truth? What aren’t you telling me?’

  Laurence’s eyes gave nothing away. Guilt and fear made him turn away from her questing look. Cursing silently, he realised that no matter what he told her now, she was going to feel duped if—when—the truth came out. Between that and the fact that he’d kept it from her because of his promise to Nathan not to reveal the true facts that had led to Betty leaving Stonegrave Hall, she was going to hate him thoroughly when this was over.