“Aye, sir, I do. Horses don’t judge like people do. If you treat them right, they behave themselves and respect you and they’re glad to see you when you bring them hay or a carrot.”
“And people do not?” Humphrey said gently, sitting down on the bed and tucking the dagger away in his boot again.
“People see a poor man, a man with no money or learning, and they treat him like dirt, just because he’s got less money than they have. See, if you was to take me to the magistrate and say I’d broke into your room, he’d send me to Australia without a second thought, even though I took nothing. Whereas if you was to stand before the magistrate, he’d waggle his finger and tell you not to do it again. And he’d probably have dinner with you after, and you’d be the best of friends.”
“That is very likely true,” Humphrey said thoughtfully. “But the world is an odd place, Charlie. Sometimes unexpected things happen. Now, if I were just another traveller passing through on my way to or from York, I might be so annoyed by a petty thief like you that I would haul you off to the magistrate, and there you would be, taking ship for Australia. But I am not just another traveller passing through. I am Lord Humphrey Marford from Drummoor, and I find you most interesting.”
“Me, sir?” His face was a picture of apprehension.
“Not for any sinister reason, I assure you,” Humphrey said. “In fact, it may prove to be materially to your advantage. I wish to know you a little better, Charlie. Would you like to be a groom at Drummoor? There is just one condition, however. You will have to give up your nocturnal wanderings and live a blameless life henceforth. What do you say?”
For a moment, Humphrey thought Charlie had been struck by some seizure or other, for he froze, his mouth hanging open, and his cheeks aflame.
“Charlie? Does the idea appeal to you?”
Charlie’s mouth flapped open once or twice, but no words emerged.
Humphrey laughed. “Might I assume that your silence signifies agreement?”
Poor Charlie was too much overcome to speak, but he nodded vigorously at this.
“Excellent. Then your first task as my employee is to get these wretched boots off, before my feet expire altogether.”
~~~~~
After an indifferent breakfast, Humphrey and his new groom found a lift from a wagon driver heading towards Drummoor, and began the slow ride home. They had not gone far, however, when they were hailed by a gaggle of riders with dogs, heading in the opposite direction.
“Good day to you,” called a familiar voice. “Have you seen any sign of a fine black horse, or perhaps a rider without a horse? For my brother is missing and he came this way yesterday, and we are concerned for his safety.”
“Carrbridge!” Humphrey cried, jumping from the back of the wagon before it had properly stopped moving. “I am safe and well, as you can see.”
Carrbridge leapt down from his horse and flung his arms around his brother. “Whatever happened to you? When you did not come home— Where is Ganymede? He did not fall?”
“No, no, he is fine, but… it is a long story. Thank you for coming to my rescue. It was not necessary in this instance, but I am glad of it, nevertheless.” He looked about at the assembled search party. Merton was there, and Reggie, who must only have arrived the day before, a couple of the Whittleton cousins, as well as several grooms. And Ben Gartmore was there with the dogs. He was a recently discovered natural son of their father, the eighth marquess, now employed as an under-gamekeeper.
That reminded Humphrey of his newest employee. “I would have you all meet my new groom. This is Charlie. Get down here, Charlie. Let everyone see you.”
Slowly, reluctantly, Charlie climbed down from the wagon. There was a collective gasp of surprise.
“Good God!” Carrbridge said. “How is that even possible?”
Merton laughed. “His name is Charlie, my lord. I daresay he was named for his father, would you not think?”
“It must be so,” Carrbridge said. “But it is extraordinary, nevertheless.”
Charlie looked from one to the other, bewilderment plain on his features. “What do you know of my father?” he said, lifting his chin. “Even I don’t know nothing about my father.”
Carrbridge gazed at him, then at Humphrey. “He does not know?”
“There has been no opportunity to discuss it. When we get to Drummoor—”
“No, now!” Charlie cried. “If you know something about my father, you’d best tell me right now, whoever you are!”
Humphrey and Carrbridge exchanged glances, then Carrbridge nodded. “Now, Charlie,” he said, “I am the Marquess of Carrbridge — the ninth of that line. And you — I will say this plainly, so that there is no misunderstanding, for your name and your looks all tell the same tale. You are the natural son of my father, the eighth Marquess of Carrbridge. You are, in fact, my half brother.”
“What?” Charlie said. “You mean I’m a bastard? Well, stone me! And my mother told me my father was a soldier what died in France. Women! Can’t trust a word they say!” And he spat disgustedly on the ground.
5: Reflections
“There!” Humphrey said. “Can you see the likeness now?”
Charlie stared into the looking glass on the wall outside the servants’ hall. “Lord love us! We could be brothers!”
Humphrey laughed. “Almost certainly we are brothers, or half-brothers, at least. The nose… that is a true Marford nose you have there, Charlie, and Father was blond like that, once, although all the portraits show him either powdered or grey-haired. You must be a little younger than I am, though. I am seven and twenty. Do you know how old you are?”
“Not sure.”
“I would guess you are about Monty’s age — three and twenty. You are a bit shorter and thinner than I am, but with a haircut and a shave and some decent clothes you could pass for me anywhere. In fact, if I teach you the quadrille and the proper way to a bow to a lady, I could send you to all the most boring balls of the season in my place.”
Charlie grinned. “That’d be fun — pretending to be you. And I can do the accent right enough. ‘If I teach you the quadrille and the proper way to bow to a lady, I could send you to all the most boring balls of the season.’ See?”
Humphrey laughed. “That is a neat trick. But it astonishes me that no one commented on the likeness. I am well-known at the Old Cross, and surely someone would have noticed.”
“Aye, the ostlers used to tease me about it when I first went there. You was never mentioned by name, but they said I looked like a toff, and asked me if I knew who me father was. But only one of them called me a bastard to me face, and he’s still got the scars to show for it. They shut up about it after that. Never occurred to me there was anything in it. I always believed what me mother told me. Ha! That were a mistake.”
“Where is your mother?” Humphrey said.
“Still down the vale — Silsby Vale House, where she’s always been. I were born there. She’s the cook there now.”
“Now that is very interesting,” Humphrey said thoughtfully.
“Don’t see why,” Charlie said sullenly. “Don’t see why you care about any of this. Even if it’s true that your father planted one on me mother, what does that matter to anyone? Happens all the time. Why did you bring me here anyway? Do you really want me to be a groom?”
“As to that, it is up to you. When my father died, he charged my brother to look after his sons — all his sons. We did not understand him at the time, but it seems he left more than one natural son behind, and he wanted us to ensure they were looked after and given careers. It is probably too late for you to train as a lawyer, Charlie, but we will give you work here and make sure you never have to worry about finding your next meal. After all, you may have been born outside of wedlock, but you are still the son of a marquess.”
Charlie’s eyes widened. “Lord! Me, the son of a marquess — who’d have thought it?” And he grinned widely at Humphrey.
~~~~~
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Carrbridge, Humphrey, Reggie and Merton had retreated to the ship room, leaving Charlie to the care of old John Coachman, who already accommodated Ben Gartmore and was very glad to extend his household to include another of the late marquess’s by-blows. Humphrey had told his brothers all that had occurred at Silsby Vale House.
“So Sharp keeps a mistress down the Silsby Vale,” Lord Carrbridge said thoughtfully.
“As to that, it may be so, who can say?” Humphrey said. “I should not like to malign the lady without greater knowledge of the situation. But what is certain is that Sharp goes there regularly — on my horse, if you please — and is regarded as the master there. Both the groom and Mrs Andrews herself told me that he owns the place, and perhaps it may be so, for ought I know.”
“He could have inherited it, I suppose,” Merton said, but his tone was dubious. “But the expense of a house such as you describe would be beyond his means, unless he has other income. I know his salary to the penny. Although perhaps the lady pays the expenses. It is very much a mystery. All I can tell you for certain is that I have not encountered any reference to Silsby Vale House in the accounts or paperwork so far. Mrs Andrews… I might take another look at the accounts, to see if there is any mention of such a person, or her husband, perhaps. I do not like mysteries, and there are far too many surrounding Mr Sharp, as well as your late father, my lord, if I may be permitted to say so.”
“You may say what you like about him,” Carrbridge said. “I am beginning to feel as though I did not know him at all. This is the second of his little mishaps we have discovered, and who knows how many more there may be? But this one is your responsibility, Humphrey. The boy has had no education, so we cannot train him up for a worthwhile career.”
“He will do very well in the stables,” Humphrey said. “That is what he has been doing at the inn, after all. Tom will look after him, and show him how we do things here.”
“But what about Ganymede?” Reggie said. “Shall we all go over there and retrieve him? These people cannot deny Carrbridge, after all.”
Humphrey pondered the possibility. There would be some satisfaction in riding over there like a platoon of hussars to rescue the horse, which was legally his, after all, and it was always amusing to see his oldest brother in his full peer of the realm glory. But there were other ways to deal with the problem, which might be even more amusing. However, one aspect of the situation made him uncomfortable. “These people are terrified of Sharp and I do not like to expose them to his anger. Besides, I am certain Ganymede is being well cared for. When Sharp returns, I shall send him to fetch the horse.”
Reggie snorted with laughter. “Oh yes, send Sharp! An excellent notion. Although I should like to know how he explains the matter to his mistress, or whatever she is. Do you know, I used to like Sharp very well, but the more I discover about him, the less I like him. Where is he, by the way?”
“No one knows,” Merton said. “No one ever knows where he goes to, not even his wife. Whenever I have asked him, he merely says that he is about the marquess’s business. But I have been tracking his comings and goings for months, and I can tell you that he is away five days out of seven. Sometimes it is only one night, but more often four or five.”
“That is ridiculous!” Carrbridge said. “Surely he does not need to travel so much? Wherever can he go to?”
“We have found one of his destinations — Silsby Vale House,” Merton said. “But there must be others. Shall I set someone to follow him on his travels, my lord? It is a little devious, but…”
“Hmm, would that be a good plan?” the marquess said. “Humphrey, what do you think?”
“It would certainly be amusing, but I cannot see the necessity. Sharp is your employee, and must answer to you in all matters. Ask him where he goes — precisely where he goes, and what he does when he gets there. If he refuses to answer or is evasive, then tell him he is not to go anywhere without your explicit authority. We have every piece of his paperwork, after all, so it is perfectly reasonable to expect him to wait until Merton has sorted through it all.”
“Very well,” Carrbridge said. “I shall ask him to explain himself.”
“Just make sure I am here when you do it,” Humphrey said. “I have never much liked the man, and I should like to see his face so that I may judge whether he lies or not. I do not care if he keeps a mistress or not, for that is between him and his conscience, but using Ganymede without my permission is beyond anything. And if you do not object greatly, Carrbridge, I should like my horse back safely before you start leaning on Sharp.”
The marquess laughed and agreed to it, and Humphrey reflected on how genial and easy-going his brother had become since he had married. He had inherited the title at the early age of one and twenty, and he had floundered for a few years until chance had thrown Miss Constance Allamont in his way. Despite her provincial background it had proved to be a perfect match. Carrbridge was not a deep thinker, so he was happy to defer to her authority in all domestic matters, and since her understanding was excellent, the outcome was beneficial to all.
Humphrey envied them their happiness, but wondered if he would ever find a wife who suited him quite so well. Not one he would defer to, that much was certain! He liked Connie very much, but he could never see himself tamely led by his wife as Carrbridge was. Now, Reggie’s betrothed, Miss Chamberlain, was a pleasant enough girl, but dreadfully conventional, and Humphrey was not sure that would suit him either. She was currently visiting Drummoor with her parents, who were just as conventional as she was, and although this made them pleasant enough company, they were not, to Humphrey’s mind, the least bit interesting.
And that led his thoughts to Miss Blythe, who would arrive in a few days with her two hundred thousand pounds and her curled hair and blue eyes. She reminded him of a china doll Harriet had once had, which had survived Harriet’s robust style of play for a surprisingly long time. Perhaps Miss Blythe, too, would turn out to be more resilient than her delicate appearance suggested, and would match him stride for stride on the hunting field, or at least play a decent hand of whist. He sighed, wondering for the hundredth time if this was such a clever idea. Well, he was not committed to Miss Blythe yet. She was to stay for a month, as part of Connie’s summer attempt to fill Drummoor to its crenellated roof with guests. If she and Humphrey found they did not suit, she would leave again and no harm done. With such a fortune, she would have no trouble finding a husband to her taste, after all. But then where would Humphrey find the money for his gaming house? He would have to begin his search for a rich wife all over again.
He had not long to wait before Sharp returned from his wanderings. Humphrey was in the stables, mulling over the possible mounts for his morning ride, and finding himself unenthusiastic about all of them, when a clatter of hooves echoed around the high ceiling.
“Ah, Sharp, there you are!”
“Good morning, my lord.”
“No, do not dismount, Sharp. I have an urgent task for you.”
“I am entirely at your disposal, naturally, my lord. Always happy to oblige any of his lordship’s family, as you know. Might I be permitted to call at home first, my lord, to change my clothing?”
“No, you may not. You are to ride directly to Silsby Vale House, and tell that fool of a groom of yours to release Ganymede. Then you will bring my horse directly back to Drummoor. You will not need to ride hard to be back in time for your dinner. Which is more than I was last night, for I had to walk home, and a long step it is on foot, let me tell you. I was obliged to spend an uncomfortable night at the Old Cross Inn, which is not an experience I wish to repeat soon — or ever, now that I think on it. I am seriously displeased, Sharp, so I suggest you leave this instant, if you wish to avoid my wrath.”
Sharp’s face was such a ludicrous mixture of fear and dismay that Humphrey was almost tempted to laugh. But that would never do. He jumped up to sit on a cross-rail to bring himself to the same height as the mounted agent,
and folded his arms with a haughty glare, his bearing every inch the aristocrat.
Sharp licked his lips. His eyes skittered left and right, as if he looked for aid, or perhaps an escape route. “Silsby Vale House, my lord?” he croaked. Then, more strongly, “I did not know your lordship had any connection there.”
“Nor did I, Sharp, nor did I, until I went that way on Ganymede and he seemed pleased to be there, and the groom addressed him by name. The lady who lives there — Mrs Andrews, is it? — was most affable. She is a good friend of yours, I take it?” He paused, but Sharp seemed incapable of speech just then, his mouth opening and closing ineffectually. “Mrs Andrews told me that you owned the house, Sharp. I must congratulate you. It is a fine property indeed.”
Now the man’s eyes were wide, and the horse tossed its head restlessly, sensing some tension in the rider. Then, clearly making a decision, Sharp turned the horse. “I will fetch Ganymede at once, my lord.”
And with that he was gone.
Humphrey smiled grimly. “Very good, Sharp, so you do not want to explain now. So be it. But you will explain it later, if I have to thrash it out of you.”
He jumped down from the rail, and at once a familiar face popped up from one of the empty stalls. “That Mrs Andrews?” Charlie said, grinning at Humphrey, the likeness with his own reflection disconcerting Humphrey all over again. “She ain’t no lady, that’s for sure. She’s got some devious ways to pay the bills, that one.”
“That is enough!” Humphrey said, although he smiled a little too. “Do not go around repeating servants’ hall gossip about your betters, Charlie. And remember that your mother still works there. You do not want to set Sharp against her. And you should not eavesdrop. It is very bad manners, and liable to get you cast off without a reference.”
But Charlie just grinned even more. Humphrey began to wonder if he had made a huge mistake in bringing the fellow to Drummoor, son of the marquess or not.
Sons of the Marquess Collection Page 26
