“Oh, excellent!” Reggie cried with some heat. “So he is not deceptive, merely negligent in carrying out his duties. What a high opinion you have of him, Miss Chamberlain! And It is not obvious to me how you would know anything of those duties when you have been here all of a fortnight?”
“The maid who attends me told me of her mother’s situation,” she said, lifting her chin, her eyes flashing in anger. “The roof of her cottage has been leaking these two years past, but will Mr Sharp do anything about it? No, he is too busy gallivanting off to remote parts of Lord Carrbridge’s holdings all the time. The village next door to Drummoor is too insignificant to warrant his attention.”
“That is, perhaps, a matter I might raise with Lord Carrbridge?” Merton said politely. “In regard to Lake Cottage, I believe I should like to look more closely at the kitchen wing at the earliest opportunity.”
“Perhaps we should all go?” Lady Hardy said.
“Splendid idea!” Merton said. “Miss Chamberlain, would you be willing to accompany us?”
“I should be delighted. When would be best? Before breakfast tomorrow?”
Merton and Lady Hardy both agreed to it, and the arrangement was made.
“I shall bring some tools to help us open the door,” Merton said. “Then we shall see just what is going on at Lake Cottage. May I fetch you some more tea, Lady Hardy? Miss Chamberlain?”
The three of them moved off towards the tea tray, leaving Reggie feeling like a child left out of a treat. Was he being excluded? No one had waited for his assent to the proposed plan. Well, whatever the intention, of one thing Reggie was certain — when Miss Chamberlain left the house, Reggie would be at her side.
7: Briars And Gossip
Robinia was not surprised to see Lord Reginald waiting in the entrance hall the following morning. He had not been expressly invited, and she had rather hoped he would not after they had quarrelled not once but twice yesterday, but she took it as a compliment to herself that he had chosen to come anyway. She responded to his cheerful greeting with a small nod, and then wondered if that might be too unfriendly a response to a man who was, after all, her host’s brother. Her reserve was not merely because she was still cross with him. She understood his intentions all too well by this time, and was reluctant now to give even the smallest scrap of encouragement. It would not deter him, she suspected, but it would make it easier to refuse him when the time came.
For a few minutes they stood together at the foot of the stairs with only a footman and a passing housemaid for company, but Lord Reginald kept up a stream of inconsequential chatter that removed any discomfort she might have felt at the awkwardness of their situation. Eventually, Lady Hardy came down the stairs, and finally Mr Merton arrived, with many apologies, brandishing a fearsome looking piece of metal.
“I have not the least idea what this is normally used for,” he said, “but it may do the trick with one or other of the doors.”
A light rain was falling as they made their way across the park. The path crossed the lawn and then dived straight into a towering shrubbery, their steps muffled by the mulched remains of last year’s leaves, and then out through a small gate set in the wall onto the road. Lake Cottage was but a hundred yards away, and beyond it a small copse before the village proper began.
This time they went straight round to the back of the house.
“There is no smoke today,” Lord Reginald said. “No bucket of potatoes, either.”
“And the curtains are all drawn across the windows,” Robinia said, rather pleased that he was so observant.
“Somehow this does not surprise me,” Mr Merton said.
Robinia rounded on him, puzzled. “Why do you say that?”
“Because it fits with my theory that Mr Sharp knew of the unorthodox occupation of the house,” he said, unsmiling.
For an instant, Robinia was angry with him. Was he deliberately trying to goad her into a quarrel? She was quite sure that Mr Sharp had known nothing of the matter. But then she realised it was only Mr Merton’s manner, and not open hostility. He was habitually a serious man, but always respectful and not one to intentionally provoke. She recalled, too, that he had only recently lost both his friend and his home with the death of Sir Osborne Hardy. Such a double loss must lower his spirits a great deal, and he must therefore be an object of compassion, not anger.
“So you suspect that he came back here under cover of darkness, and warned away the trespassers?” she said cautiously.
“That is exactly what I suspect, and if we find within all the signs of a sudden removal, I shall consider the case closed.”
“Not so hasty, if you please,” Lord Reginald said. “Sharp would naturally have returned here yesterday as soon as he located the correct keys, and would naturally have chased out anyone found inside, whether he knew them or not. A sudden removal is no proof of anything.”
Mr Merton looked as if he would say more, but then decided against it, merely making a small bow to Lord Reginald. “I shall start with the scullery door,” he said, in his usual level tones.
Robinia wondered if he ever got angry or passionate, or felt deeply about anything. He could be quite lively with Lady Hardy, and displayed a dry wit, but then they knew each other well and he felt at ease with her. With others, he was more circumspect. He was, after all, only a paid employee now and must mind his manners with those above him. How dreadful to have to watch every word one said, in case one lost one’s position! She was glad she was not quite so constrained, beyond the requirements of common politeness.
The scullery door proved a worthy opponent, and Mr Merton retired, defeated. “There is a bar or bolt of some sort across the inside which is too firmly wedged to be shifted. Perhaps the kitchen door will be easier.”
“I wonder if there is another door on the far side of the house,” Robinia said, and promptly set off to find out. Beyond the yard, the weeds were waist high, and she had to step carefully.
“Miss Chamberlain! Miss Chamberlain, pray do not! Let me go instead.”
She gave an exclamation of annoyance, but ploughed on regardless, although one or two puddles caught her unawares and she was forced to slow down. “You are most obliging, Lord Reginald, but I would not put you to the trouble.”
“No trouble at all, but— Oh, Miss Chamberlain! Your shoes! Your gown!”
She looked down ruefully at her muddy boots, and the hem of her gown caught on a spiky bush of some sort. The long grass was damp, too, and she was sopping wet from the knees downwards. She tugged at her gown and it came free with a sad ripping sound. Well, it was done now, and turning back would not undo it. “I do not regard such trifles,” she said stoutly, setting off again determinedly, although already calculating in her mind the number of hours required to mend the damage.
“You really should not—” he began, hopping from one dry patch to another.
Stopping with an angry exhalation, she spun round to face him. “Really, Lord Reginald, what is it to you if I walk across a muddy field and tear my gown? I must insist that you refrain from telling me what I should and should not do.”
“I beg your pardon,” he said huffily. “My only desire is to spare you any discomfort or distress, and to shield you from any possible danger. There is no knowing what may be awaiting us around the next corner. At least let me go ahead of you to determine the safety and suitability of the terrain. I am merely anxious for your welfare, Miss Chamberlain.”
“And what possible concern of yours is my welfare, my lord? You are not any relation of mine who could claim the right of protection.”
“It is the responsibility of every gentleman to ensure that a lady is not exposed to any situation which might cause her harm or distress,” he said with dignity.
“Well, a poor opinion you have of the female sex, if you think we need such assiduous shelter. Do you think us all simpering misses who would be terrified of a patch of mud or a straying sheep? We need no protection, sir. Your sister does
not, Lady Hardy does not and nor do I. On the contrary, I am perfectly capable of looking after myself.” He listened to her quietly, not attempting to argue, but there was a look in his eye that disturbed her, although she could not say why. “Oh, this is such nonsense! I shall not stand in the middle of a field and argue with you. I am going on, and you may follow or not, as you please, but give me no more fustion about welfare.” She stormed off, heedless of puddles and brambles alike, marching around the corner of the house, where she stopped dead.
“Oh!”
“Good Lord!” Lord Reginald said, coming up alongside her. “What a splendid vegetable garden. Harris would be wildly envious of those leeks.”
“Harris?”
“The head gardener at Drummoor. Well, this answers the question as to how long our secret lodgers have been in residence. Those perfectly formed rows were not created in a day.”
It was indeed an impressive sight, with row after row of well-weeded vegetables, and squares of herbs at the corners.
“Did you find a door?” said Mr Merton, coming round the corner. “Oh!”
“No door,” Lord Reginald said. “But look over there — I spy a window left ajar. It is not too high, so I should be able to climb through.”
“My lord, let me do it,” Mr Merton said.
“You want to keep all the fun to yourself,” Lord Reginald said. “It will not do, Merton. I claim the privilege of rank. Go back to Lady Hardy, who has sensibly stayed in the yard, I presume…” He shot a look at Robinia as he spoke, but was that a twinkle in his eyes? “I shall make my way to the scullery door to let you in.”
Mr Merton looked from Lord Reginald to Robinia and back again, then prudently decided not to press the matter, turning and walking swiftly back round the corner of the building.
“Why did you not let him do it?” she burst out. “His trousers cost a lot less than yours, I would wager, and you seem excessively concerned about damage to apparel.”
“The trousers are not really a consideration, although I daresay I can bear the loss more than Merton. No, what we are engaged upon here is breaking and entering, which the law frowns upon rather, so better the brother of a marquess than a paid employee, especially when the marquess owns the house.”
“Now you are protecting Mr Merton,” she said with asperity.
“That too is my responsibility,” he said gravely. “As a gentleman protects a lady, so a man of higher rank must protect one of lower rank. There are duties as well as privileges for those higher in the social order. Now, Miss Chamberlain, you will not mind giving me a leg up to the window, since you are so stout-hearted and capable and so forth?”
He gave a wry smile as he spoke, and she burst out laughing. “There is a water trough almost beneath the window which would be a much steadier step, my lord. As you are perfectly well aware.”
He laughed good-naturedly, and at that moment she was in perfect charity with him. Indeed it was hard to maintain her anger in the face of such good humour, and she looked back guiltily on her earlier rudeness. His manner was correct to the point of pomposity on occasion, but he had a charming smile, just a little lop-sided, she now noticed, and he was not at all high in the instep.
He pushed the casement open as wide as it would go, and nimbly shinned up the wall and in through the open window. Turning, he said, “Shall you follow me, Miss Chamberlain? Do mind that nail there. It would be most injurious to your gown.”
Laughing, she said, “How absurd you are! I shall see you at the scullery door.”
Still smiling, she made her way back through the briars and overgrown weeds, snagging her gown twice more but not minding it nearly so much, to find the scullery door wide open and Lord Reginald awaiting her with a sombre countenance.
“I am so sorry, Miss Chamberlain, but I fear you will not quite like what you see inside.”
This time she was quite sure his eyes were twinkling. “You are teasing me, my lord.”
“Just a little,” he conceded. “But everything is gone, not a thing left to suggest that anyone was here.”
“How is that possible?” she said, as he stood aside for her to enter. Yet it was exactly as he had said. When she looked into the kitchen that yesterday had shown her a meal half-prepared, now there was nothing but bare boards. The dresser holding the plates had vanished. The kitchen table was gone, and the kettle over the fire, which was nothing but ashes.
“And the rest of the rooms?”
“The same. But I suspect—” He knelt down beside the ash-strewn hearth and held his hand close. “As I thought, there is still a little heat here. This fire was burning just a few hours ago.”
“Then I was right!” she cried. “There was someone living here.”
“Right about that, yes, but wrong in one other respect,” he said. “I believe Merton had the right of it — Sharp came here last night and gave these people notice to quit, but he left them the liberty to pack up all their belongings and leave in their own good time.”
“So he knew all about them!”
“It could not be otherwise,” he said, standing again. “However negligent an agent Sharp may be, he must have checked Lake Cottage occasionally, and unlike many of the Marford properties, it is right on the doorstep, so it is hardly an arduous journey. And if he came here, he could not have missed the signs of occupation, just as we did not.”
“Yet he brought us all here while these people were still in residence,” she said, shocked. “He knew they were here! If he was party to it, that was a great risk.”
“Only when there is a Miss Chamberlain of the party,” he said, eyes twinkling again. “The rest of us meekly followed Sharp, but you had the boldness to investigate further. Had you not done so, none of this would have been discovered.”
“But it makes no difference,” she said, suddenly cross. “It cannot now be proved that anyone was ever here, still less that Mr Sharp knew of it.”
“True,” he said gently. “But what would you have my brother do — turn off a man who has given good service to the family for years — decades? Sharp has served three generations of the Marford family faithfully, and if he allowed a poor family to live in an unoccupied property, what of it? What harm has been done?”
She nodded slowly. “Well, at least the mystery is resolved,” she said. “Ah, Lady Hardy, Mr Merton. Have you discovered anything of import?”
But they shook their heads. “The house is quite empty now,” Lady Hardy said.
“Then there is nothing more to be done here,” Lord Reginald said. “Shall we go back to the house?”
Robinia clapped her hands together in sudden glee. “I shall go and visit Mrs Cooper, I think.”
“Mrs Cooper?” Lord Reginald’s face was a picture of bewilderment. “Now?” He was too polite to show annoyance at the idea, but she could see that he was displeased.
“The mother of the maid who attends me,” Robinia said patiently. “She will know all the village gossip.”
“Gossip, Miss Chamberlain?” Lord Reginald said plaintively.
Lady Hardy laughed lightly. “I do believe Miss Chamberlain has hit upon the very way to find out the truth about Lake Cottage. Who knows better all the happenings in a village than a respectable matron? But perhaps you will be more comfortable walking through the village when you have changed into more suitable garments, Miss Chamberlain.”
“Less muddy and disordered garments, you mean?” Robinia said, looking down at her torn gown ruefully.
“It avoids awkward questions,” Lady Hardy said, smiling at her. “If we go back to the house, you may change, we shall all have some breakfast to fortify us for the day ahead, and then I shall accompany you to visit Mrs Cooper. I can see that Lord Reginald is keen to volunteer his services as escort, and he is welcome to join us, naturally, but it will be more proper for you to have a chaperon. Besides, I have a strong desire to hear all that Mrs Cooper may tell us about Lake Cottage.”
“Mama was used to take small g
ifts to the tenants and villagers when she visited,” Lord Reginald said. “Potted fish or a piece of cold mutton — that sort of thing.”
“Oh, an excellent idea,” Robinia said, and so it was agreed.
Changed, breakfasted and armed with a jar of gooseberry jam and a pork pie, the four set off once more to walk to the village. They attracted no little attention, for Lord Reginald was known to everyone and greeted with pleasure. He stopped every few yards, it seemed, to exchange a few words with this one or that, respectable shopkeepers, craftsmen and rough labourers alike, enquiring genially after wives or sons or grandchildren, and had the pig escaped again, and would it rain tomorrow? And they smiled and bowed, and the women dipped low curtsies, and asked after the marquess and marchioness, and were the little Earl of Deveron and Lord William much grown? So their progress was slow.
Eventually, after only three enquiries for directions, they reach Mrs Cooper’s cottage, a modest place at the end of a row of similar cottages, which looked in need of a fresh coat of paint and a few new tiles on the roof. A boy of twelve or so worked at the vegetables, and a pair of younger children stopped chasing each other about the garden to stare at the arrivals, before running off shrieking, “Ma! Ma! Quality here to see you!”
Mrs Cooper herself bustled out to greet them, a plump woman of not much above forty, still wiping dough from her fingers. Lord Reginald introduced everyone, and Mrs Cooper nodded as each was named, with a wide smile, as if pleased to put faces to the names that, presumably, everyone in the village knew.
“Ah, Miss Chamberlain!” she cried, when it was Robinia’s turn. “My Meg has talked so much about you. I hope she has been giving satisfaction?”
“Oh, certainly,” Robinia said. “She has a wonderful way with my hair. I never had anyone arrange it so well before.”
Mrs Cooper blushed and curtsied and thanked them all repeatedly for honouring her with a visit, and would they like to step inside and sample some of her elderberry wine? They would and did, but when she tried to show them into the parlour, Lady Hardy stopped her.
Lord Reginald (Sons of the Marquess Book 1) Page 7
