Patriot's Pride

by Penelope Marzec

  “It doesn’t need to be immaculate,” Mrs. Ulery admonished.

  “Maybe not, but I want to keep busy.” If she stood still for more than a few minutes, anxiety took hold of her. Cleaning kept her mind occupied with the task at hand.

  “In that case, I’ll ask if there’s a brush you can borrow.” Mrs. Ulery walked off.

  Margaret tucked a few wayward tendrils of hair under her cap, sat back for a moment, and sighed. She would be at Broadcraft Hall soon, but only by the grace of the Lord and the help of Mrs. Ulery, Derrick, Finney, and now Finney’s nephew, Theo.

  She closed her eyes and offered up a prayer.

  Ham and his son soon arrived with the horses and put them in their traces. Derrick showed up at the appointed time, clean-shaven, with his dark hair glossy in the summer sunshine. For a moment, his eyes studied her with a curious intensity that set her cheeks flaming.

  She glanced down at her skirt and brushed at the dirt still clinging to her after her thorough scouring of the coach’s interior. “I suppose I resemble a tatterdemalion at the moment. I hope my grandfather’s solicitor doesn’t turn me away.”

  “You look like Lady Sunshine to me.” His white teeth gleamed against his tanned skin.

  A flood of delight coursed through her, and her heart filled with affection for him. She realized she had no control over her emotions when he was nearby, and she did not know what to do about it.

  He tied his horse to the back of the coach. “I’ll sit on the box with Theo.”

  Ham thanked him and proceeded to give further instructions to his son.

  “May I help you ladies into the coach?” Derrick asked.

  “Only if I’m first,” Mrs. Ulery asserted.

  Derrick chuckled as he handed her into coach.

  Margaret struggled to calm herself. He could be such a gentleman if he chose to be, and he had never looked handsomer. The hard labor on the Prosperity had lent color to his skin and filled in his once gaunt cheekbones.

  He turned to her and held out his hand. He smelled of lavender soap, and water drops glistened in his hair. “You’re next, Lady Sunshine.”

  She found the silly appellation rather endearing. Her manner had been less than cheerful on several occasions on the Prosperity, but she assumed Derrick now overlooked those times.

  “I’m sorry we caused you anxiety over our safety.” Margaret slid her hand in his and warmth flowed through her veins. “I never expected to be waylaid by highwaymen.”

  “I was thankful to find you both safe,” Derrick confessed. “I will look in on Finney on my return.”

  “I shall pray for him.” She climbed inside the coach and sat down on the leather seat, proud of herself for behaving with suitable decorum even though her pulse raced.

  “Broadcraft Hall isn’t far from here,” Mrs. Ulery reassured her. “As long as the weather remains pleasant, we will be sleeping there tonight.”

  Margaret stared out the window and twisted her hands in her lap. She did not know what would be required of her once she reached her destination. The solicitor had not been specific, but he had been insistent. According to him, her presence was of the utmost importance, though she knew she could not inherit the estate for Edwin explained women did not inherit—only men.

  Margaret watched the countryside roll by. England was beautiful at this time of the year, but nowhere was as dear to her heart as little Leedsville. She sat up straighter and reminded herself this was her grand adventure. The Lord had graced her with the opportunity, and she was well on her way to completing this task.

  They stopped along the way to water the horses and eat a light meal, but soon the coach rumbled off again.

  “Theo doesn’t drive the horses hard,” Mrs. Ulery commented. “I put them through their paces, poor things, but I think they understood. I should have given them a special treat. Their hearts were near bursting when we finally got to the inn in Great Leighs.”

  “They pulled us through mud a foot deep in some places.” Margaret had feared they would get stuck in a quagmire, but the horses kept going. “They are magnificent creatures. My father wanted to raise horses.”

  “Did you ever ride?” Mrs. Ulery asked.

  “No.” Margaret laughed. “Though I think I should try it sometime.”

  Mrs. Ulery smiled. “Riding is a most delightful exercise.”

  “As good as driving horses in a desperate race?”

  “Far better, my dear.” A wistful expression crossed the older woman’s face.

  Daylight began to fade by the time they turned off the main road. Margaret’s anxiety spiraled as she watched for the appearance of the grand turrets of Broadcraft Hall. Shadows lengthened as they drove along a tree-lined avenue and came upon a wide lawn. The coach slowed to a stop.

  Margaret peered out the window and gasped. Was this Broadcraft Hall? Her heart sank. It did not look at all like the small image on the cameo her sister always treasured. Of course, she had expected it to be quite large and it was, but it was not the soft pastel color of a cameo either. Instead, dark, nearly black stones covered with ivy and mold lent it a threatening appearance. The leaded windows were small. This was not the fairy-like dwelling she had imagined. It was hideous. She fought to swallow her disappointment.

  “Just as I remember it,” Mrs. Ulery sighed.

  “Was it like this then?” Margaret found it difficult to hide her dismay.

  “Yes, quite the same,” the older woman nodded. “Centuries old and solid as a mountain.”

  I will not inherit it. Margaret reminded herself. She did not have to live in it. No wonder her mother ran away from it!

  Derrick opened the door. “What do you think of the place?” His eyes searched her face. She sensed him gauging her reaction.

  “Well, it needs a bit of paint or perhaps a good scrubbing, and all that ivy...” Her voice faded away.

  “Are you disappointed?” Derrick asked, his brow creased with worry.

  Should she lie about her feelings? “It’s enormous and ugly—and doesn’t look the least bit cozy.” Her lips quivered and mist gathered in her eyes, but she refused to succumb to tears. She had reached her destination. Inside that huge monstrosity of a building must be a portrait of her mother and, if she were lucky, she might take it home. Time spent strolling along the halls, viewing portraits of all her ancestors, and memorizing their names could be pleasant.

  “You’ll like the kitchen,” Mrs. Ulery promised. “It is spacious.”

  Margaret pasted on a smile, though a sense of foreboding chilled her. They walked up to the huge wooden door studded with rusty metal nail heads. An angry lion-headed knocker glared at them. Derrick lifted the heavy iron ornament and let it fall against thick portal.

  When nothing happened, he knocked again. The hollow sound echoed.

  The hair prickled on Margaret’s neck.

  “I’ll go around to the back entrance.” Theo appeared eager to explore.

  “Maybe the staff went on a picnic,” Mrs. Ulery suggested. “When I was young, they used to do that sometimes. Everyone enjoyed a holiday.”

  Derrick knocked louder and waited for a response, but none came.

  Theo returned. “There’s a horse tied to a post back there. Somebody rode him hard and nobody took care of him yet. Should I take off the saddle and curry him?”

  Derrick nodded and the boy set off to handle the task.

  Margaret’s unease increased, but this was not the time to allow her nebulous fears to control her. She had come a long way and things must be settled, plus she had companions to bolster her courage. “I suggest we all go around to the back entrance.”

  Derrick brought two lanterns from the coach, since the light was fading fast.

  As Theo had said, the horse stood tethered to a post. Margaret smoothed her hand along the horse’s flank. “He needs to be cooled off. Is there water, or a well, nearby?”

  “The well’s right there.” Theo pointed at it and ran off.

 
; Margaret stepped up to the door, which was slightly ajar. “Anyone here?” she called.

  Nobody answered. Her heart thundered in her chest, but she refused to allow her misgivings to hold sway.

  “They must be upstairs,” she said. “I’ll look for them.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Derrick insisted.

  “You’ll get lost without me to show you the way,” Mrs. Ulery added.

  Grateful for their company, Margaret breathed a sigh of relief, though her pulse continued to race.

  Theo returned with a bucket filled to the brim. He promised to care for the horse while the rest of them searched for the horse’s rider. Derrick left one lantern with him.

  Margaret’s skin crawled with goose bumps as they entered. The wavering light of the lantern sent ghostly shadows flickering on the walls, for it was dark as pitch inside.

  “There used to be a cupboard full of candles in the pantry,” Mrs. Ulery trailed off to the left. “Come with me.”

  “Wait. Where does this door lead?” Derrick asked. He held the lantern higher.

  “That’s the servant’s stairway,” Mrs. Ulery stated. “I remember using it as a child.”

  “Something’s wrong...” His voice faded as he pointed to the bottom of the door.

  Margaret glanced down and saw the stain trailing out like a dark river.

  Derrick opened the door. The body of a man tumbled to the floor.

  Margaret screamed and Mrs. Ulery fainted.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “I am Margaret McGowan, granddaughter of the late Earl of Broadcraft. My mother, Harriet, was his only child. When she married my father, a commoner, they left England.” Margaret sat in an elaborate chair in her grandfather’s study while an aged constable glowered at her from behind the desk. His suspicions about her character unsettled her.

  “You do not look like your mother.” He narrowed his eyes and she wondered how bad his eyesight was.

  “I resemble my father, who was a blacksmith.” She took in a deep, slow breath to ensure a measure of control over her emotions. “Did you know my mother?”

  “I saw her in church every Sunday until she ran off. Never met your father.”

  “He came from Foxearth, according to my uncle, his brother.”

  “Humph. There’s them what say she was lured away by the man’s use of the black arts.”

  Margaret was stunned to listen to such nonsense. “My father was a good Christian.”

  The constable cleared his throat. “You cannot inherit.”

  “Yes, I am aware I shall not be given a title or the land, but the solicitor insisted upon my being present at the reading of the earl’s will. Therefore, I presume my grandfather left something to my sister and me. Otherwise, my presence would not be required.”

  “The earl’s first cousin, once removed, is to assume the title. He will inherit the entire estate,” the constable informed her.

  “Yes, I received a letter containing the information. Nevertheless, the solicitor was most emphatic on the necessity of either me or my sister’s attendance.”

  “It has been six months since the earl’s death,” the official reminded her. “Do you mean to tell me the will has not been read at all?”

  “That’s what I was told, though I am sure the solicitor was aware of the contents.” Margaret fidgeted in the chair. Her mouth did not have a drop of moisture in it. The situation set her nerves on end. “Please allow me to get a cup of water.”

  “You are one of those rebellious colonists,” he sneered. “Nothing but a troublemaker.”

  His nasty remark was uncalled for, but she took a deep breath to calm herself before she answered. “My grandfather corresponded with my sister and I for the past six years. He wrote of his fondness for our mother, his delight in realizing he had two granddaughters, and he seemed interested in the details of our lives. We enjoyed his correspondence and were sorrowful to learn of his death.”

  “Until today, you never met the solicitor.” He glared at her from beneath his heavy eyebrows.

  “I showed you the letter I received from him containing all the directions and particulars of traveling here. I know him from his letters. When Dr. Fortune opened the door and a dead man fell on the floor at my feet, I had no idea who he was.”

  “He was stabbed in the back, and his throat was slit. Attacked from behind. A messy but efficient way to dispatch an enemy.”

  She shuddered. Why did the constable say such a horrible thing? If he wanted to intimidate her, he was doing a great job of it.

  “My men are searching to see if anything of value has been taken.” He stared at her with venom in his eyes. Did he think she had come to rob the great hall of all its valuables and tote them back to America?

  Annoyed when he called her new, young country “the colonies,” she had corrected him twice which had not helped matters, for he grew nastier.

  The constable’s men had removed the body of the solicitor, but as far as Margaret knew, the stain remained on the floor. The constable had lit two candles in the study, but a chill dampness lingered in the air although it was summer. Padlocked since the earl’s death, the gloomy old mansion was like a tomb.

  “While the men are searching, please let me get some water,” she pleaded. “I must also care for Mrs. Ulery.”

  “Your companion has been revived from her swoon with several drams of whiskey. How did you get in touch with the solicitor?” he demanded.

  “He got in touch with me after my grandfather died,” Margaret explained. “I’m sure our correspondence conducted in the last several months will be filed at the offices of Tinton and Willis where the solicitor worked.”

  “I know the solicitor’s firm.” The constable’s derision was evident in his features. “I want to know what you wanted from the old earl.”

  Fury nearly choked her and she fought for peace within. Please help me, Lord.

  “I came here at the specific request of the solicitor as I’ve already explained. It was not an easy journey. I am horrified that someone murdered him.” She started to tremble, but she held onto the arms of the chair to hide her distress. “I wish I could have met the earl while he was still alive but circumstances prevented it. There was a war going on at the time.”

  “You ungrateful rebels caused nothing but trouble,” the constable growled. “Many a good English boy lost his life fighting in your dirty rebellion.”

  “My father died on a British prison ship.” Why was this man torturing her? The war wasn’t her fault. “However, the war is over now. We must forgive each other as the Lord commands us.”

  The man’s face, hardened. “I’ll have none of your pious sentiments!” he thundered.

  His churlish statement took Margaret by surprise. The blood in her face pooled in her feet, and her knees went weak. Would this dreadful man put her in an English jail?

  “You have questioned Miss McGowan long enough,” Derrick’s voice boomed as he stepped inside the room. “I am her doctor, and the distress you are causing her and Mrs. Ulery is completely unwarranted.”

  Derrick towered over the constable. The man seemed to shrink.

  “No need for you to be on the high ropes,” the constable defended. “A good and honorable Englishman is dead.”

  “While you are haranguing the old earl’s granddaughter, the murderer is getting away,” Derrick pointed out. “I suggest you go about your business and ensure that justice is done.”

  Margaret was thankful as the constable gathered his men and left. Derrick was an imposing figure when he chose to be. He led her to the drawing room where Mrs. Ulery sat by the fire, roasting two rabbits skewered on a sword.

  “Nothing like an English rabbit,” Mrs. Ulery smiled. “A succulent, sweet meat. I ate many of them as a girl.”

  “Where did you get them?” Margaret slid into a chair, grateful she had not collapsed during the relentless questioning. The constable acted as if she had killed the solicitor, which made no sense a
t all.

  “Theo and I captured them in the barn,” Derrick explained.

  “Did Theo eat anything?” Margaret worried.

  “He had some dried meat and bread, but he was more exhausted than hungry.” Derrick dusted off a serving trolley. “He decided to sleep in the coach tonight.”

  “What if the murderer is still here?” Margaret asked.

  “The constable’s men checked every room, top to bottom. There are no furnishings at all on the upper floors.” Derrick placed glasses on the serving trolley.

  “The rooms are empty?” Margaret’s heart quailed. What about the portraits of her ancestors?

  “Completely. However, I found a varied selection of wines in the pantry.” Derrick uncorked a bottle and poured a small amount into one of the glasses. He held the glass close to the candle, swirled the liquid around, sniffed it, and sipped. “German Riesling, excellent with English rabbit.”

  Mrs. Ulery chuckled. “I am glad you found Margaret’s book of verse and decided to return it. Without you to accompany us, I doubt we would have survived this night. I know how to drive a team of horses, but I have never been able to snare a rabbit.”

  Derrick’s face clouded and he drew his brows together. “Hunger can teach you to be exceedingly clever.”

  Margaret shuddered. “After the war, one of the first lessons my uncle taught the twins was how to snare a rabbit.”

  Derrick drained his glass. “How did they do?”

  “We ate a great many rabbits.” She stared at her fingers as she wove them together. She was uncomfortable with a murderer on the loose, but though she appreciated Derrick’s help, she could not expect him to linger with them much longer. “You need not remain, since I know you’re eager to get back to London, but though the accommodations are somewhat lacking, I hope you’ll stay until sunrise.”

  Derrick filled all the glasses with the Riesling. “The study has a chaise in it. I shall lay my head there, though in truth I am uneasy. I doubt I’ll get much sleep at all.”

  The sadness in his features mirrored the gloom in Margaret’s heart. He needed to rest, for he would be alone on the long journey back to London, and he must stay alert. The thought of murderers and highwaymen roaming the roads made her pulse race with fear. She slipped the small volume of Phillip Freneau’s poetry from her pocket and held it out to him. “This might help to relax your mind.”