by Amanda Scott
“Mr. Oakes,” Colin responded promptly. “Heard he’d been here. What did he want?”
Sarah was taken aback by his blunt approach, but it didn’t seem to bother the Randolphs. Sam pulled up chairs right there in the kitchen, and Martha quickly set out sweet biscuits on a platter and poured a small glass of her own elderflower champagne for them each before she answered.
“Sam’l thinks the man’s touched in his upper works. Not sure, m’self.” She settled her bulk upon a small bench near the stove and sipped her wine.
“Man’s got to be daft,” Sam put in. “Couldn’t keep to a subject two sentences runnin’. Asked about changes up t’ the house, then about that Beck fellow what called hisself his lordship’s valet, then about the house itself—priest holes, passages, and what-not. I ask ye, Master Colin, did ye ever hear the like?”
“Sounds a curst rum touch to me,” Colin agreed. “What then?”
“Says he’s doin’ a history of old houses on the Common,” Sam said. “Collectin’ fer a book. Doubt the fellow could write one. Talked more cant than flash. Need t’ be flash t’ write books, I’d say.”
“Right.” Colin fell silent after a speaking glance at Sarah. “Did he say anything else? I must say, he seems a curious rogue.”
“Aye, he does that, lad. Asked a few questions about the fourth earl—where he got his money—like that.”
“What did you tell him?”
“What could he tell him?” Martha snorted. “Didn’t know t’ last earl had any money till he got hitched, beggin’ your pardon, I’m sure, my lady. Couldn’t prove his wealth by this place, that’s certain enough.”
Sam agreed, adding that things looked to be much better under the fifth earl, who seemed to have a good sense of what was needed as well as the blunt to pay for it. From there, the conversation drifted to roofs and repairs and livestock, and Colin made no effort to turn it back again. When Sarah taxed him about it on their return trip, he explained that the subject had plainly played out.
“If there had been more, Sam would have said so. My guess is they couldn’t tell him what he wanted to know either.”
Sarah could only agree, but she had been thinking. “If he murdered Darcy, why does he continue to stay so near?”
“The treasure, of course.”
“But, Colin,” she protested, “if that treasure is so large that Mr. Oakes is willing to risk his neck to find it, why on earth would Darcy have abducted me?” Colin stared at her, awe-stricken, and Sarah quickly realized her error. “You didn’t know. Well, I probably should not speak of it to you. In fact, I’m quite sure that to do so is most improper, but it’s true, nevertheless. He abducted me on account of my grandpapa’s fortune. Why on earth would he have done so if he had already discovered a fortune of his own?”
Colin was silent, digesting this new tidbit and striving to force it into conformation with his theory. “Perhaps he felt he needed a cover for his own sudden wealth,” he suggested finally. “Would people not have wondered about his affluence otherwise?”
Sarah opened her mouth to state that there had been nothing sudden about it, that Darcy had always looked affluent enough, that it hadn’t been until her uncle’s investigation that there had seemed to be any mystery about its origin. But, the words never came. Her attention was diverted instead by the view of a rapidly approaching horseman. Colin saw him, too.
“Why, it’s Uncle Nick!” he exclaimed, waving. “Mind now, my lady, not a word to him about our discoveries!”
X
SARAH HAD NO INTENTION of confiding in Nicholas, but she could not repress a smile of appreciation, for he rode as though he were part of his magnificent bay stallion. He reined in. “Good morning, Countess. Have you not wandered rather far from home?”
“We’ve been visiting Sam and Martha Randolph,” piped up Colin before she could speak. “Martha gave us cake and elderflower champagne. Only a small glass,” he added hastily.
Nicholas turned to him with a smile. “So I should hope! Sam says two glasses of that brew will make the paths go all boggly. I must hope you are both still able to navigate properly.”
Sarah chuckled. “It was very good,” she said, “and it certainly didn’t taste very dangerous.”
Nicholas had turned his steed, and the three of them continued back toward Ash Park. There was a momentary silence following Sarah’s light observation before he spoke again. “As to the danger,” he said then, “I doubt you’d find it with Sam and Martha, but there is danger, my lady, when you ride outside the confines of the Park with only this young rattle for an escort.”
“I can take care of her,” Colin put in stoutly.
“Perhaps,” his uncle replied kindly, “but I should be much easier in my mind if you had taken one of the grooms along as well. One who is not afraid to carry a sidearm.”
“A pistol! Whatever for?” Sarah demanded. “Surely you exaggerate the dangers, my lord!”
“You may be right, Countess,” Nicholas agreed with a rueful smile. “I know I must seem censorious to you at times, but I am trying not to seem so now. My first thought was to forbid your riding out altogether—”
“But, it was you who encouraged me!” Sarah protested.
“That is perfectly true, although it was against my better judgment. However, I realize I cannot keep you locked up—”
“So I should hope!”
“Steady, Countess. I have said I cannot. Nonetheless, there is danger and will be until Darcy’s killer has been caught.”
“Oh!” Sarah had not considered that the murderer might be a threat to herself. “But, why? I am no threat to him!”
“I daresay that’s true,” Nicholas agreed. “However, it is possible that he does not know that. There may be reasons unknown to us for his considering you a threat to his safety. Now, don’t fly into a pelter,” he advised when she stiffened. “I can protect you well enough at Ash Park. I’ve sent Tom, Matty, and Beck away, and everyone else is either answerable to me or well-trusted by you. But once you stray beyond the gates, I cannot offer that same protection.”
Sarah gazed at him, wishing she could ask about Jeremy Oakes. But she was certain it would do no good. He would only fob her off with one Banbury tale or another. At least, he seemed to be making an attempt, however feeble, to be reasonable. Thinking it would be wise to encourage him to continue in that vein, she smiled.
“We did not mean to worry you, sir. I shall certainly take a groom in future. Perhaps I should take Erebus as well.”
His eyes narrowed, as though such prompt capitulation gave him cause for suspicion, but Sarah couldn’t help that. She knew he was perfectly capable of giving orders that would make it impossible for her to ride at all if he didn’t trust her to obey him. Then she would be a virtual prisoner.
Nicholas left them as soon as they reached the stables, and Colin watched him go, a musing look in his eye. “I believe Uncle Nick knows more about this business than he’s telling us,” he said slowly. “It would definitely be one in the eye to him if we could solve the mystery.”
Sarah agreed that she would like to surprise his lordship by finding the murderer, but she pointed out that he had rather effectively restricted their opportunity. “For we can hardly ride out to investigate Mr. Oakes with an armed groom. We should have to take him into our confidence, and that would never do.”
Colin shrugged it aside. “I daresay if worse came to worst, we could rely on Jem not to split. But there are things we can do right here, you know.”
“Here?”
“Certainly. That treasure is bound to be nearby. I doubt Cousin Darcy would have let it far out of his sight. We can search for it. I’ve already done a bit on my own.”
“Where?” Sarah asked, interested in spite of herself.
“In the main house, mostly. I look after Uncle Nick sends me off to bed. I’ve searched Cousin Darcy’s bedchamber and the one you had—most of that floor, actually.”
“Colin! You haven
’t!”
“But I have. I am never tired so early as that, and it seemed a very good notion. You should do the same at Dower House.”
“Nonsense,” Sarah replied with a touch of asperity. “That house has been cleaned from attic to cellar—well, nearly anyway—and nothing out of the way was found. I shall certainly not go about poking and prodding at the paneling. I am by no means as positive as you are that such a treasure even exists.”
Colin shot her a very speaking look but refrained from comment, allowing her to change the subject as they wandered back toward the main house. Sarah left him at the library terrace and returned to Dower House to partake of a light luncheon with Miss Penistone. She described their visit to the tenant farm, observing that things seemed to be moving along at quite a good clip.
“If improvements on the other farms have kept apace of the Randolphs’, his lordship can expect to begin receiving quite decent rents next year.”
“It would certainly seem so,” agreed Miss Penistone. “Mr. Dasher commented only this morning that things seemed to be going very well. I think his lordship must be well-pleased.”
Sarah had no notion of whether his lordship was pleased or not. He still seemed to be always either displeased or critical where she herself was concerned, but she let Penny’s comment pass unchallenged and maintained her end of the light conversation without difficulty. After luncheon, Miss Penistone retired to the drawing room with a pile of linens that needed to be mended and counted, and Sarah wandered out to the garden. Lizzie had brought Miss Austen’s Emma with her, atoning for her earlier oversight by having kept it safe from Lady Hartley, and it seemed a very good time to get on with that tale.
Settling comfortably against a magnificent oak and soon chuckling at Mr. Woodhouse and his comments upon the horrors of matrimony, she sat long into the afternoon, interrupted only once, when Erebus plumped down beside her and pressed his head into her lap. It was thoroughly relaxing, so deciding that she had earned a respite from chores, she stayed until the afternoon grew chilly. Rolling cumulus clouds drifted overhead, now and again obscuring the sun, and a wind rose, stronger than it had been in previous days. Finally, even the warmth of the great dog curled beside her was insufficient, and with a sigh she shut her book and returned to the house.
Lizzie was busy doing unknown things with Sarah’s wardrobe, so she went back downstairs to the drawing room, where her services were gratefully received, and counted and tallied until it was time to dress for dinner.
Nicholas seemed to exert himself to be charming at the dinner table and told several interesting anecdotes, both about life in the Peninsula and about his adventures on the London scene.
“You are a member of the Corinthian set, are you not, Uncle Nick?” interjected young Colin at one point.
“I have been accused of it,” replied his uncle with a smile, “though I trust my interests include other things than mere sport.”
“But it’s true that you once won a wager by driving your sporting curricle to Brighton in under four hours, is it not?”
“Three hours and forty-eight minutes,” affirmed his uncle, “but it was a racing curricle. How the devil did you come to hear of it?”
“Oh, Antony Baldridge’s father wrote him about it. Said he dropped a pony on account of it. Risked it only ’cause he said you were well-foxed at two at the Great Go, so he never thought you’d make it out of bed the next day, let alone to Brighton.”
Nicholas frowned. “I think this conversation has gone beyond what is pleasing. We will change the topic, if you please.”
“Do you attend cockfights, too, my lord?” Sarah inquired sweetly. Colin chuckled but fell silent again when he encountered a straight look from under his uncle’s lowered brows.
“Upon occasion, my lady, but I draw the line at dog fights and bull-fighting.”
“I am delighted to hear it, sir. What else amuses such a noted Corinthian as yourself?”
“A number of things, not many of which are intended to provide subject matter for the dinner table.”
“Ah, yes, Jackson’s Boxing Saloon, Cribb’s Parlor—you are no doubt a member of the exclusive back-room set there—Angelo’s Fencing Rooms, White’s, Watier’s, Boodle’s, Brooke’s. No doubt, you think nothing of driving twenty miles or so to see a good mill, and naturally you go to Newmarket for the races and dread settling day at Tattersall’s. Let me see, have I omitted anything?”
“Just the ladybirds,” offered Colin, carried away by Sarah’s banter and not looking at his uncle. There was a markedly heavy silence before Nicholas directed his frowning gaze at his nephew.
“You may be excused, sir,” he said pointedly.
“Yes, my lord.” Biting his lower lip, Colin slid from his seat and made a rather hasty departure.
Sarah glared at Nicholas. “There was no need to send him away, my lord. He merely followed my lead.”
“That is quite true, but he should not have done so.”
“Perhaps you should send me away, too.”
Nicholas’s lips twitched and he said wryly, “It is not my place to teach you manners, Countess. Besides, I confess that I encouraged you, however unwisely. Nevertheless, the boy was impertinent. I could not let it pass.”
Miss Penistone nodded in agreement, and Sarah dropped it. She knew he was right. She had carried matters too far, but Colin had crossed the line between the acceptable and the unacceptable.
Directly after dinner, she retired to her room with a branch of working candles to finish her book. By the time she turned the last page, it was fairly late, the fire had gone out, and the candles had burned low. Shivering, Sarah quickly changed to her nightdress and pulled down her quilts. The candles began to gutter, so she snuffed them carefully, then remembered her window was still shut and went to open it.
A movement in the garden caught her eye and she paused, peering into the darkness below. There it was, a flicker of white amongst the trees. She remembered Colin’s warnings about the Dower House ghost, and a shiver went up her spine. There it was again! Carefully, silently, she opened the window, straining to catch the least movement, very conscious of the stillness. Not a cricket or nightbird stirred.
Suddenly, there came a low growl, then a woof followed by outraged barking, and the white creature flitted from the thickest part of the wood, across the main garden, and up the giant oak beside the path. Erebus exploded from the shrubbery and attacked the foot of the tree, loudly expressing his indignation.
Repressing a chuckle, Sarah quickly found a wrapper and thrust her feet into sheepskin slippers before making her way hurriedly to the ground floor and out the front door. As she approached the oak tree, she could hear the dog’s furious barking, punctuated by desperate whispers from above to “hush!” The whispers ceased when she drew near.
“Erebus! Come here!” she called sternly. It took several more similar commands before she was heeded, but at last the great dog lumbered to her side, and the barks gave way to low, menacing growls. “You may come down now,” she said quietly.
There was no response. The branches of the oak were thickly foliaged, but catching a glimpse of white about a third of the way up, she moved closer, peering up through the densely growing leaves. “Come down now. I have him, so it is quite safe, you know.”
Still there was only silence. She had kept her voice low, but she was certain the intruder had heard her, and she was wondering what might be the best approach to the situation when she was startled by a familiar voice from behind.
“What the devil is going on now?” Nicholas demanded.
Sarah turned to him in consternation. “’Tis nothing at all, my lord. Erebus merely treed some poor beast or other. I am sorry if he disturbed you.”
Nicholas glared at her and moved closer to the oak, peering upward as she had done. “Some poor beast indeed,” he muttered. Then, in a louder voice, he added, “Come down here at once.” The leaves rustled a bit, but otherwise there was no sound. A cloud clear
ed the moon just then, and the leaves glittered silver. The white figure was more clearly seen, and Nicholas spoke angrily. “Come down at once, young man. I’ll not tolerate much more of this.”
Slowly, the white figure descended, helped along the last few feet by his lordship’s firm grip, and the sheet was twitched off to reveal a rather sheepish Colin. He glanced up at his uncle only to look quickly away again.
“What is the meaning of this?” The boy shifted his feet but made no reply. “I see. Well, I don’t suppose I need an answer after all you’ve said about ghosts. “’Tis plain as a pikestaff that you meant to frighten her ladyship.” Colin looked up in protest, but the expression disappeared almost immediately, and he looked away again. “Just so,” pronounced his uncle grimly. “It will do you little good to deny it. We shall continue this discussion back at the house. You may await me in the library, if you please. And, as for you, my lady,” he went on in the same grim tone, when the boy had turned glumly away, “I’ve a word or two for you as well.”
Sarah turned to face him, surprised. “But what have I done?”
“I’ll tell you what you’ve done! Whatever possessed you to come out here, unprotected, to take on an intruder by yourself?”
“It was only Colin! I was hardly in danger from a thirteen-year-old boy!”
“So you knew it was Colin?” Sarah nodded, thinking that now he would scold her for trying to deceive him earlier. “How did you know, Sarah?” His eyes were like flints.
“I … I just knew. After the things he said …” She broke off. She hadn’t really known. She had only assumed it to be Colin. It might have been anyone. The thought showed itself as she raised widening eyes to his, and Nicholas nodded, his lips folded tightly.
“Just so, Countess.” He took her by the arm and began to lead her back into the house.
“Erebus was there, sir,” Sarah said quietly, making a last-ditch effort to retain some dignity.
“An armed intruder could have killed both the dog and yourself, quick as winking,” he growled, pushing her through the front door. “Now, mind well what I say to you.” He took her chin in his hand, forcing her to look him in the eye. “If you ever do so cork-brained a thing again, Countess, I shall make you wish you had never been born. Do I make myself clear?”
