“No.”
“I knew it! Wrong direction.”
“Your powers of observation amaze me.”
“No, they don’t. Never did.” Puck remained silent until they had crossed to the other side of the street, then said, “If it ain’t Sellafield House, then where do you come from, Justin?”
“I hesitate to snub you, Puck, but—I beg your pardon. Did you speak?”
“You know I didn’t,” his friend retorted. “I snorted, because you never hesitate to snub me, my lad—or anyone else, come to that.”
Justin sighed. “Others tend more easily to heed my gentle hints, however.”
“They’re afraid of you, that’s all.”
“Dear me.”
Puck chuckled. “You know they are. For that matter, when you lose that damned temper of yours, you can scare the liver and lights right out of me, too, even though I know you’d never do me any great harm.”
“I trust that I may live up to your confidence.”
“If that’s by way of being a warning, it missed its mark,” Puck said as they crossed Park Place. “You’d never strike anyone so short of matching your weight.”
“Perhaps not,” Justin said, turning to mount the wide steps of Brooks’s. As they approached the front door, it opened, and when they entered the stately hall, the porter bade them a good morning, taking their hats and gloves, Puck’s walking stick, and Justin’s long coat.
“It’s good to see you back in London, sir,” the porter said to Justin. “Lord Sellafield is in the front morning room, by the bye. He asked that you wait upon him there if you should chance to come in.”
“Thank you, Marston.” Justin glanced at Puck. “I expect I shall be detained some few minutes. Do you want to accompany me, or—”
“No, no,” Puck said hastily. “I haven’t had my breakfast yet.”
“But my dear chap, it’s nearly eleven o’clock!”
Puck raised his eyebrows. “I believe some deep meaning lies concealed in that observation, but I don’t immediately perceive what it may be.” Appealing to the porter, he said, “One can still get a passable breakfast here, can one not, Marston?”
“One can, indeed, sir.”
“There, you see, Justin. Will you join me when you have attended to his lordship’s wishes?”
“I will, but not to have breakfast. I ate mine several hours ago.”
“Gad, is that why you noted the time? But surely you know that I do not rise with the sun, or ride in the park when there is no one to admire my seat or the cut of my coat! Nor do I have affairs of business to occupy my time. I ask you, what other purpose would serve to roust me out of bed before nine o’clock?”
“I can think of none,” Justin admitted. “Go eat your breakfast, then, and I will join you when I can.”
He found the Earl of Sellafield alone, sitting in a comfortable chair in one of the morning room’s two window embrasures. The morning papers surrounded his lordship, most of them on the floor near his chair where he had dropped them.
“So there you are,” he said gruffly, scowling at Justin as he lowered the paper he had been reading to his lap.
“Good morning, Father,” Justin said. “How may I serve you?”
“Where the devil have you been?” the earl demanded. “I was out by the time you arrived yesterday. You were asleep when I got in last night, and although I thought I’d got up early enough to have a word with you this morning, they said you’d gone out. Moreover, you neglected to tell Latimer whither you were bound.”
“I did not know you wanted me,” Justin said, stifling irritation and glad that, for the moment at least, they had the room to themselves.
Sellafield snapped, “Good God, sir, it is no more than common courtesy to make your whereabouts known to the rest of your family.”
“As you do, sir?”
“You keep a civil tongue in your head,” retorted the earl, who rarely bothered to tell anyone where he was going or when to expect his return. “I’m still your father, by God, and I’ll have none of your damned insolence. Sit down, damn you! I cannot talk to you whilst you loom over me like the Colossus of Rhodes.”
Drawing a chair nearer, Justin obeyed, saying evenly, “How much?”
“Just a trifling amount,” the earl said without pretending to misunderstand him. Casting his newspaper to the floor to join its fellows, he added matter-of-factly, “Yesterday was settling day at Tatt’s, you know.”
“I cannot see how that concerns me, however, or you, since you assured me that you would back no more horses until you could better afford to do so.”
“Don’t take that tone with me,” the earl snapped. “I am not a child, and if I choose to attend the races, I must put money on my friends’ entries, even when I’ve none of my own nags running.”
“But since you have no money to waste—”
“Waste, is it? Now, see here—”
“Waste,” Justin said firmly. “You should be putting your energy into restoring our estates, sir. Since they are the primary source of your income—”
“Dash it all, how can I put them in order without money? This is a fine state of affairs, I must say, when I am forced to discuss such things with a son who owes me both his duty and respect. Had your mother inherited Augustus Benthall’s fortune as, by rights, she should have, I’d have full control of that fortune, instead of you, and I could do all that needs doing at Sellafield and more. But as it is …”
He went on, but Justin had heard it all many times before and did not bother to listen now. He had kept his temper in the past, not only because he knew it was his duty to show respect to his father but also because he felt a certain guilt at inheriting the fortune that Sellafield had counted on for so many years. Now, however, he found himself running out of patience.
“My dear sir,” he said when the earl paused at last for breath, “I cannot undo what has been done, nor in all candor, do I want to. For years you lived on an expectation that proved to be false. Indeed, you must see by now that you had small cause to be so certain of getting the money. Cousin Augustus might just as easily have left it to one or both of my great-aunts.”
“Poppycock! The man was a mischief-maker, God knows, but he’d never have been so daft as to leave such a vast fortune to those two dotty old women. I own, I did fear he might leave them the house, but how could anyone have guessed he’d bequeath everything but the house to you and leave the house right out of the family, and to a damned Tory, at that? What devil can have possessed him to do such a crack-brained thing? Why, he did not leave your poor mother a sou, and she was his favorite relative. I heard him say so myself, many and many a time.”
“He did not forget her, sir. He left his mother’s jewelry to her.”
“Bosh, trumpery stuff,” sneered the earl. “Nothing even worth selling, except for the one diamond set.”
“Mama is very fond of those diamonds, sir,” Justin said with an edge to his voice. “You must not try to sell them.”
Sellafield dismissed with a gesture any interest in the diamonds. “Couldn’t raise more than a thousand on them, anyway.”
“I collect that you need more than that to settle your account at Tatt’s.”
“I do, but only fifteen hundred, so don’t fly into alt over it. You can spare that amount easily enough.”
“Yes, I expect I can. I’ll write you a draft on Drummond’s Bank, but I feel it only fair to tell you, sir, that I will not serve as your banker indefinitely. I intend to abide by Cousin Augustus’s wishes, so do not think you can continue to waste the ready as though you and not I had inherited it. As I said, you would do better to tend to your estates.”
“Why should I work to increase your inheritance?”
“Perhaps because at present your fortune, not mine, derives from them.”
“If you could see your way clear to putting money into them …”
“I’d do it if I could be certain you would not just take it out again; but so long as I canno
t control what you do, sir, I’ll not waste a penny on them.”
“Then will you agree to break the entail so I can sell some of the land?”
“I will not. I have every right to expect you to set them in order.”
“Aye, you do, but the expectation is empty, lad. I’ll take that fifteen hundred straightaway, if you please.”
“Certainly,” Justin said, rising without haste. “I’ll write the draft.”
Borrowing paper and a wafer from one of the several writing desks in the room, he did so. Then, leaving his father, he found Puck upstairs in the dining room, discussing a large breakfast.
“Sit down,” Puck commanded. “I ordered enough food for both of us. Call it luncheon, if you must, but fill a plate. Some ale for his lordship,” he said to the steward who had moved quickly to draw a second chair to the table.
As Justin sat down, he became aware of a shrewd, appraising look from his friend, but by the time the steward had poured Justin’s ale and left them alone, Puck had returned his attention to his plate. Justin helped himself from a platter of rare beef running in juice, and broke a large chunk of bread from the loaf. He did not think the silence would last long, nor did it.
Puck reached for the jam pot and spooned a generous dollop onto half of a crusty bun. Pausing before taking a bite, he gazed at Justin, his eyes half shut. Long, dark lashes hooded their expression, giving him a sleepy look. Gently, he said, “Sellafield in the suds again?” When Justin grimaced, he added, “Don’t tell me it’s none of my business. I’m a slave to curiosity, as you know; and besides, it’s as plain as a pikestaff that he’s put you out of sorts, and that’s the most likely reason.”
“I don’t want to talk about it, however,” Justin said. “He is still my father.”
“He’s a sponge,” Puck said roundly. “And if I didn’t like your brother, Ned, I’d call him the same.” He bit into his bun but kept his eyes fixed on Justin.
“I don’t want to talk about my family, Puck, not any of them.”
There was warning in his tone, but either Puck did not hear it or he chose to ignore it. Talking as he chewed, he said musingly, “Now, Ned don’t know any better. Can’t blame him for expecting someone to frank his entertainment when someone’s always done so. As for the expense of his tuition and his chambers …”
“I promised long ago to bear his expenses while he studies law.”
“I know you did. Know, too, that your father don’t like it. Thinks Ned ought to purchase a pair of colors or become a parson. Can’t imagine Ned a soldier or a psalm-sayer, myself, but those are more traditional occupations for a second son.”
Justin smiled at the thought of his mischief-loving brother preaching sermons.
“That’s better,” Puck said, smearing jam on the second half of his bun. “I won’t ask how much the earl wanted this time. That jolly well ain’t my business. But I don’t mind telling you I’ve seen the look you get whenever he wants more, and dashed if I don’t think you somehow believe you owe him the money.”
Justin cut his meat without comment.
“I knew it,” Puck said, waving the remains of his bun to punctuate the words. “You think Augustus Benthall ought to have left his fortune to Sellafield!”
“I never said that.”
“Never denied it, either.”
“Damn it, Puck, I don’t know why I bear with your impertinence.”
Puck chuckled, and the resulting expression would have enlightened at once anyone desiring to know how he had come by his nickname. He said, “You bear with me, my lad, because you’ve known me since the first day we found ourselves abandoned at Eton, and at the mercy of Jack Sproul, deciding which of us he would force to fag for him.”
Justin smiled at the memory.
“Aye, you can smile. He didn’t knock you tail over topknot.”
“He was just trying to see which of us could bear punishment better,” Justin reminded him.
“He was a damned bully. I daresay he never expected a new boy to floor him, though. You had a pretty left hook even then, my friend.”
“Even so, my introduction to Eton might have been exceedingly painful if Sproul had succeeded in having me flogged for my insolence.” The word reminded him of his father, but Puck was chuckling again.
“The beak could have flogged us both. It’s a good thing he laughed instead.”
“He couldn’t help it,” Justin said. “You were half my size even then, and both of us were smaller and younger than Sproul. When you insisted that you, rather than I, had floored Jack Sproul, the absurdity of your claim sent the beak into whoops. No one of sense could have blamed him, either.”
“I suppose not.” Popping the last bit of bun into his mouth, Puck chewed silently for a moment. Then, swallowing, he said, “It must have occurred to you that Augustus Benthall left his fortune to you because he knew your father would reduce it to a pittance in a twelve-month. Sellafield learned from the best, Justin—from the old king and his profligate brothers. It’s habit makes him the way he is, not intent.”
Though no one could like hearing facts put so baldly, Justin held his temper. He was used to Puck’s plain speaking and, in truth, was surprised that his friend had taken so long to speak out. Still, there were details that Puck did not understand.
“It would be hard for any man to stomach such an insult,” Justin said quietly. “To cut him off without a penny like that was cruel when Cousin Augustus must have known he expected to get the money.”
“Shouldn’t have expected to inherit,” Puck said. “Not related to Benthall.”
“Don’t quibble. He had every right to expect my mother to inherit, which would have given him control of the money. That’s generally the way of things, and most folks expected it. He borrowed more than once on the expectation, after all.”
“Oh, aye, everyone knew he expected it. My own father, rest his soul, said Sellafield was a fool to think he’d get the lot, though. My father thought Benthall would put portions in trust for your mother, her aunts, your brother, and you. That would have been the sensible thing to do.”
“Yes, I’ve wondered about that,” Justin admitted. “Had he left me the house and everything else to Mama and the aunts, I’d not have been surprised.”
“You didn’t know him very well, though, did you?”
“I met him fewer than five times in my life,” Justin said. “How well could I have known him?”
“Well, I didn’t know him, either,” Puck said, “but people interest me a deal more than they interest you. Probably a form of self-defense when all is said and done. All you need do to depress a bully’s inclination to violence is to stand up and narrow your eyes a bit. Not being blessed with your height or muscle, I must pay greater heed to character. Thus, I listen to what people say about themselves and each other, and I observe their actions and mannerisms more than you do.”
“And what, my bantam, did all this listening and observation tell you about Cousin Augustus?”
“That he knew perfectly well what your father expected, and it amused him. He also knew a good deal about you.”
“Good Lord, how could he? He never even came to London. The aunts have lived in his Upper Brook Street house for donkey’s years.”
Puck shook his head as he pushed his plate away. “You really must take more interest in what makes people behave as they do. Augustus Benthall may not have set foot off the grounds of Benthall Manor in thirty years, but he corresponded with everyone. A collection of his letters would rival that of the prolific Horace Walpole. He not only knew everyone, he knew what they were up to. And from what I’ve learned, I’d say the man liked creating situations. He would pass on a titbit from one person to another, guaranteed to stir up strife. It amused him, they say. I daresay it amused him to leave his money to you just because he knew your father expected to inherit it and would loathe having to appeal to you for funds.”
Though Justin longed to tell Puck he was wrong, he did not. The
description of Augustus Benthall seemed too likely to be true. Instead, he said thoughtfully, “That might explain why he left the house the way he did. He must have known it would irritate us all to learn that a Tory owned it.”
“Perhaps,” Puck said, “but in truth a Tory don’t own it. Women don’t take sides in politics, old chap. Can’t vote, after all. What point would there be?”
Justin did not argue the point, although he had known women who certainly took interest in politics. He found himself suddenly thinking of the young woman he had nearly knocked down on Clifford’s stoop. It was an odd, errant twist of mind at best. He recalled little more than that she had been a small woman swathed in green velvet, with a pair of speaking gray eyes and a mass of dark red curls.
She was unlikely to enter his orbit again. No lady would visit a solicitor’s office, so the grim dragon at her side most likely meant she was a wealthy tradesman’s daughter. That fact alone would preclude future acquaintance. Clearly, the chit was beneath his notice, and he could not think why he was wasting time thinking about her. Recalling that he was due at the royal court by one, he turned the subject to political matters and firmly put the young woman out of his mind.
THREE
Jervaulx London House
“PULL THOSE LACES TIGHTER, Jenifry,” Miss Dibble commanded two hours later as she supervised Letty’s preparations to appear at Buckingham Palace.
“Elvira, I cannot breathe as it is,” Letty protested, holding on to a doorpost between the dressing room and her bedchamber so that Jenifry’s exertions would not topple her over.
“Then do not waste your breath complaining,” Miss Dibble recommended. “You are going to court, after all. From what I hear of the place, the smaller your waist looks, the better you will fare.”
Letty laughed, then gasped when Jenifry yanked the strings tighter. “That’s enough, Jen! I shall have to stand up in the carriage to breathe if you draw them any tighter. Moreover, since this gown is intended for morning wear, I wore only a demi-corset when Sarah Glass fitted it on me. Do you fear that the queen will think me enceinte, Elvira, like she thought poor Lady Flora Hastings was?”
Amanda Scott - [Dangerous 04] Page 3
