by Louise Allen
She opened the door for Susan to pass through with Jethro’s breakfast and drifted back to the table, regarding Maria’s heavy eyes with concern. ‘Is Jethro so very poorly, Maria? Perhaps we should send for the doctor again. Do you not think that perhaps some laudanum drops would help him sleep, then you can get some rest too?’
‘No, it is only what you would expect,’ Maria assured her. ‘He is thoroughly uncomfortable, still somewhat shocked, and miserable that he cannot get up. Shall I coddle some eggs? I could just fancy egg and toast. Do we have a coddler, do you know?’
They scanned the shelves, but failed to see one. Maria opened one of the doors to the cupboards flanking the fireplace, peered in, shook her head and opened the other. ‘Goodness, that’s a dank, draughty hole.’
‘I know, I think I must get a builder in to look at it. There must be a crack that the rain gets in, but I am certainly not going to investigate myself, last time I looked there was an enormous spider.’
Miss Prudhome shuddered and closed the door briskly. ‘No coddler. Never mind, I can improvise with a small bowl.’
By the time Susan came down-’I thought I’d better cut up his ham for him’-Maria was spooning eggs over slices of toast and Hester had made a fresh pot of coffee.
‘So what are we going to do today?’ she enquired briskly. ‘Other than all of us having a rest this afternoon? I think I might take the gig and drive into Tring to speak to a builder about that cupboard.’
‘His lordship’s groom’s been and seen to the cob,’ Susan volunteered. ‘I saw him when I came down to make up the range. Do you need me to help get Hector hitched up?’
‘Yes, please, Susan. Would you like me to fetch anything for either of you in town? I don’t feel more than one of us should be away at a time.’
‘If you could just find some darning wool for me.’ Maria produced a basket from beside the hearth. ‘I cannot match these stockings of Jethro’s in the village shop.’
‘And we are low on coffee,’ Susan added, helpfully tucking one stocking into Hester’s basket. ‘Do you think you should be driving into town all by yourself, Miss Hester? His lordship would lend you a groom, I’m sure.’
‘His lordship would probably tell me I shouldn’t be driving myself, more likely,’ Hester muttered under her breath. ‘I will be fine, thank you, Susan.’
They had just finished backing a placid Hector into the shafts, and Susan was tickling him under the girth to make him breathe in so she could tighten it, when the sound of hooves on the cobbles made both women look up.
Hester’s instinctive frown yielded to a smile at the sight of Sir Lewis Nugent astride a neat bay hack. ‘Miss Lattimer!’ He swung out of the saddle and came across to take over the last of the harness buckles from her. ‘Sarah told me about the accident to your manservant and I came over to see if there was any way in which I might assist you. How is the boy?’
‘Well enough, I thank you, Sir Lewis. Bruised and very shaken and sore, but he will soon mend with rest. The doctor has ordered him to stay in bed and I suspect the effort of keeping him there for a Sunnite will prove to be the main challenge.’
‘Then there is nothing I might do to help?’
‘You might recommend a builder to me if you will. There is a cupboard in the alcove of the kitchen chimney breast that is constantly damp. I assume there is a crack of some sort and I want to have it fixed before it damages the brickwork. I was just on my way to Tring to find someone to look at it for me.’
‘Let me see.’ Sir Lewis handed her Hector’s reins and strode towards the mass of the chimney.
‘The left-hand side, Sir Lewis. Oh, do take care of your boots, there is such a tangle of rubbish on that side.’
Nugent heeded her warning, stopping at the point where the cobbles were obstructed by a broken hurdle and a large, very mossy water butt.
‘That will be your problem.’ He gestured at the butt. ‘It is overflowing, and possibly there is a cracked downpipe, or perhaps some damage to the wall. It needs emptying and the pipe diverting away from the corner. Then we can see whether it will dry out.’
‘My steward will send one of the estate workers down to have a look at it. Why do you not drive back with me to Winterbourne Hall and speak to him yourself? Then you can agree to a convenient time, and I am sure Sarah will be delighted to offer you luncheon.’
‘Well, thank you, Sir Lewis.’ It was a kind offer and very neighbourly and Hester scolded herself for the sinking feeling that the promise of some time spent with Miss Nugent produced. Sir Lewis, on the other hand, was much more pleasant company. ‘I would be glad to do that if you think an unexpected visitor would not inconvenience Miss Nugent. Susan, expect me back after luncheon, and do make sure Miss Prudhome lies down for a rest later.’
‘I must not be away too long, Sir Lewis,’ she explained as he helped her up into the driving seat. ‘Ackland has had a very restless night and Miss Prudhome was up at all hours nursing him.’
The baronet swung up on to his mount and fell in beside the gig. ‘If you turn left out of your gate, it is straight on for about a mile. Restless, you say? Why not try a sleeping draught? I used one when I had a broken arm and I found it answered wonderfully; there is nothing like a good night’s sleep to set the healing process on its way.’
He dropped back as they passed through the gate and then cantered for a few strides to catch up. ‘The doctor did not give me anything,’ Hester said doubtfully.
‘I am sure I have the bottle still, it was only last year. It was Dr Forrest himself who prescribed it, merely a mild extract of poppy juice, you know. You can check with him,’ Sir Lewis added comfortably. ‘I can certainly recommend it. Good day, my lord!’
Hester looked to her right with a start to see the earl emerging from the vicarage driveway on his bay hack. Sir Lewis was already reining in, but she dropped her hands and the cob broke into a canter, sweeping her past Lord Buckland. She raised her whip in a neat salute as she passed and simply drove on until Sir Lewis caught her up.
Hester knew her colour was up and wondered what she could say to Sir Lewis to explain away her snub to Lord Buckland. She glanced across and caught a look of amusement on his face. She smiled ruefully in return.
‘Ah ha!’ he said in a rallying tone. ‘Have I discovered someone who is not one of his lordship’s numerous admirers?’
His look was so quizzical that she laughed. ‘Not at all; the earl has been all that is kind. It is just that he feels I should remove from the Moon House and I am not inclined to oblige him.’
She expected Sir Lewis to assume that worries about Jethro’s accident and the rumours about the house were behind this concern. Instead he looked serious. ‘Then he still wishes to purchase it? With the benefit of hindsight, I wish he had been before you in applying to my father.’
‘You know? Oh, but of course you must.’ Hester reined back to a walk.
‘His agent contacted my father only days after he had agreed the sale to you. Naturally he sent a refusal, but the man persisted, most strongly, asking for your name and direction.
‘Of course my father refused to disclose such details, particularly as a lady was involved, and soon after that he died. At the time we were in no mood to be harassed by such matters and I wrote to say there would be no further correspondence on the subject. Obviously the man was over-eager on behalf of his employer; I am sure the earl would not press in such a manner.’
‘No,’ Hester agreed thoughtfully. ‘No, of course he would not.’ But it seemed he had known when she was intending to move down to Winterbourne St Swithin and had taken care to arrive a few days before her.
She was still biting her lip thoughtfully when they arrived in front of Winterbourne Hall. Sir Lewis directed her round to the stables where he called over a taciturn red-haired man in gaiters and explained her problem.
‘Yes, sir, I’ll get right on it. Happen you’re right about the butt and the downpipe.’ He knuckled his forehead to Hes
ter and strode away to a group of labourers who were grouped round a pile of bricks in one corner.
‘We’re always building,’ Sir Lewis remarked, helping Hester down. ‘Place seems to need constant attention; sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever get on top of it.’
Now he had drawn her attention to it, Hester could indeed see that the Hall was in poor repair. There was a long crack across one wall, a tarpaulin covered the roof of part of the stables and the paintwork on the windows of the main façade left much to be desired.
‘It is very charming,’ she said politely. ‘Is it Queen Anne?’
The baronet was explaining the history as he ushered Hester into the hall. ‘Now, where has Sarah got to? I left her engrossed in a book in the library.’
‘Miss Sarah is still in the bookroom, Sir Lewis.’ The butler took Hester’s gloves and pelisse. ‘Shall I send to say you are home, sir?’
‘No, we will go in.’ He opened the door on to a pleasant panelled chamber, its walls lined with shelves. ‘Sarah? We have a visitor.’
Miss Nugent appeared from an embrasure, a book in one hand and a parchment in the other. Her reaction on seeing who was at her brother’s side was startling.
‘Miss Lattimer! Oh, no! How can I tell you… oh my goodness!’ She sank down on a chaise, fluttering the parchment before her face.
‘Tell me what?’ Hester demanded with more sharpness than was strictly polite. ‘Please, do not distress yourself, Miss Nugent. Here, try this.’ She searched in her reticule and thrust a smelling bottle under the afflicted lady’s nose, producing a sharp recoil and an end to the posturings.
‘Lewis, look, see what I have found in this old book.’ Sarah thrust a volume into her brother’s hands. ‘I was looking up the family histories in an attempt to find more about the hauntings at the Moon House and this parchment fell out. You see, it says the evil grows with the waxing of the moon-the thing that walks by night in search of its lost love, hating all that are happy and live, strewing its love tokens as it passes. And then at the full moon…’
Love tokens? The roses? ‘Well?’ Hester demanded, looking at Lewis’s face as he studied the worn scrap in his hand.
‘At the full moon?’
‘At the full moon…, his voice shook slightly ‘…at the full moon death walks and-’
‘And what? What about death?’
‘I do not know.’ He handed her the paper. ‘It is torn at that point.’
‘And the moon is waxing,’ Sarah said, her eyes enormous.
CHAPTER TEN
‘Local legends-how amusing,’ Hester said lightly, resisting the urge to tear up the parchment in her hand. It felt unpleasant: old, dirty, strangely gritty. She handed it back to Sir Lewis with an attempt at a bright smile. ‘You must not lose this from your archives, Sir Lewis. One of the family was obviously a collector of antiquarian lore.’
‘Great-uncle William, I believe.’ He frowned at his sister. ‘You should not be alarming Miss Lattimer with this nonsense, Sarah.’
‘I am not at all alarmed.’ Hester eyed Miss Nugent warily.
From suspecting her of having airs to be interesting, she was now wondering if the girl was of a hysterical nature; she was certainly flushed and her eyes glittered. ‘But I appreciate Miss Nugent’s concern and I think this discussion is distressing her.’
Far from eliciting a sympathetic response from Sir Lewis, he said sharply. ‘Sarah, you will make yourself ill; leave these musty books and this foolish superstition. Fresh air will do you good-the day is fine, why not show Miss Lattimer around the gardens?’
‘I would not dream of inconveniencing…’
‘How could you?’ Sarah flared at him. Hester took a step back. ‘How can you forget and call this foolish? Father sold the Moon House and look what happened to him.’
‘It was an accident. He was unwell and slipped.’
‘He was unwell from the moment he signed the deeds away. And an accident? To slip on the steps in full moonlight? And where did the rose come from, pray?’ She broke off panting, staring defiantly at her brother, who appeared lost for words.
‘Rose?’ Hester queried, not wanting to hear the answer.
‘There was a dead rose in his hand,’ Sarah burst out and ran from the room.
‘I…’ Sir Lewis gave himself a little shake. ‘I apologise. Allow me to offer you some refreshment while my sister composes herself.’
‘No, please, I would not dream of imposing upon your time when Miss Nugent is unwell. Please give her my apologies for not waiting to take my leave of her.’ Hester felt she was babbling and added, as she stepped into the hail, ‘You must both come to dinner one evening when she is feeling more herself.’
‘Let me walk you back to the stables.’ He fell into step beside her in awkward silence. Finally he said, ‘I am sorry if Sarah alarmed you. She is distressed because her betrothed is kept longer than expected on his plantations in the West Indies. She misses him and, of course, the wedding had to be postponed anyway because of our bereavement. She reads too much to pass the time and broods on what she has read. If I had my way, I would burn every Gothic novel ever written!’
‘She has a vivid imagination.’ Hester struggled to find something helpful to say. ‘I am sure she is very sensitive.’
‘The trouble is,’ Sir Lewis said grimly, ‘it is not all her imagination. I do my best to play down her fears and the strange stories, but something is very wrong with that house; I hope you will be careful, Miss Lattimer.’
‘Perhaps I should sell to the earl after all.’ Hester brushed her fingertips together to try and get rid of the unpleasant gritty feel of the parchment before pulling on her gloves. ‘I am sure he could rout the spectre.’
‘I do wish you would decide to sell, and that you would sell it to me.’ Lewis Nugent halted her with one hand on her arm. ‘I feel it is the only honourable thing to do. I would not wish you put in fear, nor to transfer the curse or whatever it is to anyone else; this seems to be a problem for the Nugent family.’
Hester looked up into his handsome, anxious face. ‘No, Sir Lewis. I thank you, but the Moon House is my home now and I am not going to be scared out of it by ghostly or human agency.’
He let her go then with renewed pressure to reconsider and an offer to send a groom with her, both of which Hester refused firmly. She was just guiding Hector past the front door again when he ran out, a brown medicine bottle in his hand. It was half-full of a thick liquid and, as he held it up to her Hester could see a label in a thin hand attached to the neck. ‘Do try this; it will help the lad sleep and give you all some much-needed rest as a consequence.’
Thanking him, Hester drove thoughtfully home. It was difficult to imagine the sort of dangerous spectre that Sarah Nugent conjured up on this brisk, sunny day. Poor girl-she had judged her too harshly. Perhaps it was no wonder she thirsted after attention and excitement, what with the loss of her father and her betrothed’s prolonged absence. A gentleman with plantations in the West Indies seemed a good catch for a country baronet’s sister and she could be excused for wishing to have the knot tied as soon as may be.
Hester could see no sign of Susan when she arrived home, so she unhitched Hector herself and carried the sleeping draught across the yard. She would see what Maria thought about using it.
To her surprise she met Parrott at the kitchen door. He doffed the hat he had just assumed and opened her own door for her. ‘Good day, Miss Lattimer. I took the liberty of calling to see young Ackland. I had promised to speak to him, if you recall, and I thought it might help keep him entertained.’
Hester stamped firmly on her immediate, heated reaction, which was to ask if his lordship thought she needed a minder, and smiled. She was surely misjudging the butler. ‘Thank you, Parrott.’ Jethro would have thoroughly enjoyed such a visit and it was kind of Parrott to have remembered his promise. ‘That was most thoughtful. I appreciate you sparing the time.’
‘A well-run household needs but the light
est touch, Miss Lattimer,’ Parrott said serenely. ‘Is there any way in which I may assist you while I am here?’
Nothing except to carry out a quick exorcism, she thought wildly. ‘No, nothing, thank you, Parrott.’
With a bow he left, shutting the door behind him, and Hester went upstairs to see whether his visit had left Jethro overexcited and running a temperature.
She found him sitting up looking pale and bright-eyed, but with no sign of a fever. Across the landing she glimpsed Susan in her room with the door open, a basket of mending at her feet. From Miss Prudhome’s chamber a faint bubbling snore made itself heard.
He tried to sit up more when he saw her, but the effort made him wince and he fell back again. ‘Do have a care, Jethro, you must take pains not to strain your shoulder.’ Hester laid a hand on his forehead-it was cool enough. ‘How are you feeling? I see you had a visitor.’
‘I’m fit as a flea, Miss Hester. Mr Parrott stayed a whole hour and he told me so much! All about how he started off as a boot boy to Sir Jasper Ings and worked his way up. He says it’s a matter of strategy and planning and one can’t just wait for a post to come up. He says he used to listen in the clubs-did you know footmen and butlers have clubs in London, Miss Hester?-and work out where the next vacancy was likely to be and then read up all about the household.’
‘Well, we had better start our research,’ Hester said lightly. ‘Where do you want to start?’
‘I can’t leave you, Miss Hester!’ Jethro sounded scandalised. ‘I just mean that when you… when you don’t need me, like… then I know all about finding a new job.’
‘And when will that be?’
‘When you get married, of course, Miss Hester.’ Jethro was bending over a book, which was lying on the covers, and missed Hester’s blush of confusion.
Bless the boy, who does he think is going to marry me with my reputation and lack of a fortune?
