At the Earl's Convenience (5 page)

Frobisher hadn’t mentioned the housekeeper. There must be one, surely. Selina sat to eat her luncheon and set out the tasks ahead. First, she must employ servants for the house and an army of gardeners. Workers to mend the roof and paint the rooms. Heavens, she hadn’t even visited the stables, although she suspected they were in good order, if the carriage and horses was any guide.

There was a good supply of fresh produce if her luncheon was anything to go by. The mushroom soup was creamy, and the chicken pie delicious, with a flaky pastry as light as air. Only the hands of an accomplished cook could produce such excellence. She ate heartily at a small table near the fireplace. Except for the roll and coffee that morning, she’d eaten nothing since her wedding breakfast the day before, and she’d been too excited to do more than nibble. Her life had seemed so full of promise then. What would Anne make of this? Somehow, she must keep it from her.

Thank goodness, the cook, Mrs. Marshall, was competent. Selina dreaded having to put anyone off. The few servants who wandered the vast mansion like ghosts seemed eager to help. She was already confident that, under her direction, they would prove to be assets. They merely suffered from a lack of authority. Devereux hadn’t come here much of late, Frobisher had told her. He’d said the place made him miserable.

As well it might. Another thought struck her, tightening her stomach. How long before he came again?

Chapter Six

On the outskirts of Paris, Giles barely managed to avoid a French patrol. He pulled up to water his tired horse at a stream, and changed into his American uniform. Then he rode on into Paris.

It was a different city since the Revolution. The newly laid out streets were crowded, impressive new architecture, museums, and monuments. Stylish ladies in white dresses laced-up to the neck, and straw bonnets, strolled the pavements. The restaurants were busy with diners. Giles passed an arcade of shops. The window of one featured a green dress. It was the perfect color for Selina. A peace offering, if he ever made it home again. He ducked inside.

An hour later he entered the house where Grant was staying, a small two-story dwelling in a narrow lane, excitement gripping his chest. He hadn’t realized he missed living on the edge. Working with the great man, Grant again, would be a privilege.

****

Two weeks passed and there was still no word from Devereux. During the daylight hours, Selina was so busy she didn’t think of him so much. But the nights were interminably long as she lay awake, confused and hurt by his continued absence.

When a rainy day kept her indoors, she sat at the desk in her bedchamber to write to Anne, breathing in the scent of the yellow lilies she’d picked the day before, which sat in a vase on the mantel.

She dipped her pen in the inkwell and stared at the blank page. Apart from a brief note to advise her sister of her safe arrival at Halcrow Hall, and to say she was in good spirits, Selina hadn’t managed to write more. Anne’s letter in response revealed her curiosity as to why Selina and Devereux hadn’t gone on to London. Selina searched for an appropriate reply. It was impossible not to lie, and even embroidering the truth left huge gaping holes that Anne would see through. She mustn’t give her sister even a hint of what had occurred. It would bring Harry here on the double, and that was the last thing Selina wanted.

Selina made a thorough search of the house for anything that might give her a clue to her absent husband’s whereabouts. In the nursery, cricket bats, balls, and wooden toys that once belonged to two small boys had almost disappeared under a thick layer of dust. When she picked up a much-loved, one-armed teddy bear, tears flooded her eyes. Her feelings confused her. Didn’t she loathe him for what he’d done to her? She couldn’t banish the sympathy that tugged at her heart. Had he been happy here as a child? In the carriage trip after their wedding, when she’d tried to learn why he’d chosen not to come home after his brother died, he’d merely shrugged and refused to explain. Did a guilty conscience make him behave the way he did? Despite everything, she still yearned to understand him. She couldn’t banish the kernel of hope that, when she learned what lay behind this, all would right itself. Selina shook her head. She’d always been a foolish optimist.

Word had spread about the refurbishment of Halcrow Hall, and a line of people from surrounding villages formed at the door, seeking work. Selina hired a housekeeper, a Mrs. Lark, to replace the one who’d departed in despair months ago. Two stable hands and an under-groom were to work with Joseph. Four sturdy men were to assist the head gardener, as well as a new under-gardener who’d gained experience in one of the big houses in the district. Sarah was elevated to lady’s maid, and Mrs. Marshall had new staff for the kitchen. An under-butler was hired to relieve Frobisher of some of his tasks. There was still so much to do, but it was a start.

The house became a hub of activity. Carpenters worked in the house while laborers assisted the gardeners, stripping away the vines and doing the heavy work in the grounds. Painters ventured into every room while roofers patched leaks and replaced broken slates. Samples of material were brought to the house for Selina’s approval.

When she strolled in the gardens, she met cheery stonemasons repairing stone walls and paths while others filled the potholes in the carriageway.

The house was so large that she decided to narrow her focus, restoring to order the reception rooms and a handful of bedchambers. The housekeeper supervised the maids with a keen eye. A villager who came to the house said Selina’s restorations had lifted the spirits of the tenants and many in the area had prospered.

In the office, Selina spent hours paying bills and putting the accounts into order. She purchased a horse to ride around the estate. She visited the tenants, restocked the home farm, discussed the planting of vegetables with the head gardener and the menus with Mrs. Marshall. Worn out every night, she fell into bed and prayed for sleep. But slumber was long coming as she struggled with sadness and longing. Where was Devereux?

****

Dressed in their American uniforms, Giles and Grant had been successfully running coded messages out of Paris without detection. But when the clergyman, Delaunay, was arrested and thrown into the Conciergerie prison, Giles knew he had to act quickly to get Grant back to England. Giles met a man Delaunay had contacted, on the stone bridge in the decorative English gardens of Parc Monceau. It was arranged for a fishing boat to be waiting in an inlet near Deauville.

Giles left Paris with Grant at dawn the next morning. They arrived close to nightfall two days later to find the boat bobbing about on waves stirred up by a stiff sea breeze.

Giles remained on horseback as Grant made his way to the shore. Grant swiveled. “You’re not coming, Halcrow?”

“I hope to get Delaunay out of jail if I can.”

Grant walked back to him. “I know of a jailer in the Conciergerie who will assist you, if you grease his palm.” He gave Giles the man’s name, tossed him a bag of coins and with a salute, climbed aboard. After the boat set sail, Giles turned his horse to ride back to Paris.

Returning to Paris, Giles spent the next day organizing the operation. He followed Pierre Valmont after he left the prison, and approached him in a tavern. When the man agreed, Giles visited the jail dressed again in his American uniform. Using forged orders, and with the jailor’s assistance, he quickly obtained the release of Delaunay, who looked like he wouldn’t last many more days in the appalling, reeking place, the air filled with cries and groans. The hair on the back of Giles’ neck prickled as he half-carried the man out into the Boulevard du Palais. A hired carriage waited to take them to a prearranged place where his daughter waited.

Giles once again left Paris. This time, a few miles into the countryside he wasn’t so lucky. A group of French militias had spotted him. He urged his tired horse into a gallop, but the soldiers were gaining on him. Maybe he wouldn’t deliver the dress to Selina after all.

****

The trees in the park of Halcrow Hall turned gold, red, and brown, and the days grew shorter, the weather colder. The results of all the hard work were now evident. Selina thought the gardens would be magnificent next spring. Most rooms were in good order, and an efficient housekeeper was determined to keep them that way.

Selina now set her sights on the estate lands. She donned a pair of Devereux’s leather breeches with the bottoms rolled up. Word soon spread about her clothes, but according to Frobisher, she was spoken of in the village with affection. The villagers commended her for taking the man’s role in running the estate with her husband away at the wars. As no one expressed an opinion as to where Devereux actually was, the deception continued.

A sense of purpose drove her on. She rode out to chat with tenants and took some of Mrs. Marshall’s pies and preserves to those in need. It became part of her daily routine.

In good weather, she took her luncheon with her and was gone all day. She rode for hours, exploring corners of the vast estate. Selina thought this to be fine land, sheltered by the hills from the harshest weather with friable, rich soil. After an initial cold snap, the weather was autumnal, fine and cool.

On this particularly fine day, she sat with her back against a willow tree, eating her bread and cheese by the river as a ploughman might while Firefly, her bay stallion, tugged at the grass.

She wrapped her bread in a cloth and rode Firefly over the bridge and up into the home wood. The canopy of trees shrouded the undergrowth in dark shadows. There was still a lot of clearing to be done. The horse picked his way over a broken tree branch and skirted bracken. The bushes ahead rustled, and the carpet of dead leaves crunched as if something or someone walked over them. Selina told herself it would be a fox, but they were light footed, and she hadn’t heard one bark. Perhaps a deer. She rubbed the nape of her neck. The dense foliage could hide an army.

“Is anyone there?”

The heavy footfall was unmistakably human. Someone plunged deeper into the woods. She caught a blur of movement ahead. Unnerved, she pulled on the reins as a shiver traveled down her spine.

“Show yourself.”

Silence.
Vulnerable and anxious to leave, Selina turned Firefly to ride back along the trail. As the way ahead cleared, she urged him into a canter. The horse leapt a fallen tree with ease, and moments later, they burst out into daylight. With a sigh of relief, she slowed the stallion to a walk to cross the stone bridge.

At the top of the rise, Selina glanced back at the woods. They appeared peaceful enough. The new gamekeeper would deal with poachers when he took up his position next week. She set Firefly at a gallop. Riding astride gave her so much more confidence in the saddle. As they raced toward the house, she considered the merit of carrying Devereux’s pistol with her in future. Having decided, she dismissed the matter from her mind. She loved to ride, to feel the wind on her face and the powerful horse moving beneath her. Although the groom had advised her to buy a mare, she was pleased with her choice. She could handle him well enough. Firefly had a calm temperament, and his gait was smooth as they covered the miles toward the hall, hooves scattering gravel.

As she neared the house, a carriage stood in the drive.

Chapter Seven

Selina approached as Joseph, in his footman’s uniform, which had failed to keep him away from the stables, put down the step and opened the carriage door. He bowed to the occupant.

Devereux stepped out, his fur-collared greatcoat resting across his shoulders. He pulled off his hat and gloves, his blond hair catching the sun as he gazed around at the workmen. When he turned in her direction, she couldn’t hide a tiny smile of satisfaction at the astonishment on his handsome face.

She rode up to him, keeping Firefly in check, as the horse, unsettled by the carriage hacks, backed away. Devereux looked thinner, his face pale and his cheeks hollow.
Keeping late hours, no doubt
, she thought furiously, unnerved by the joy at the sight of him that rose inside of her like a swallow on the wing.

Joseph hurried to help her dismount and take the reins. She walked over to Devereux.

His gaze roamed her face, his blue eyes bloodshot. “You’ve been busy.”

“I could hardy live here the way it was.” Her voice sounded calm and measured despite the lump in her throat. His expression and the tone of his voice gave nothing away, and she tried to gauge his reaction. Was he pleased?

“You ride astride?” He raised a brow. “Aren’t they my breeches?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t you have a riding habit?”

She put her hand to her waist where she’d hitched up his leather breeches with a belt. His belt. “I
was
going to have one made in London, remember? Anyway, your clothes are more serviceable than mine.”

An autocratic eyebrow rose, and his eyes glittered. “Serviceable, Lady Halcrow?”

He sounded almost savage. She felt her cheeks burn with anger and humiliation. He didn’t want her here. All of a sudden,
she
was the guilty one.

Devereux turned to look at her horse. “Why a stallion?”

“Firefly is the perfect mount for me to cover the miles around the estate. He’s proved himself a fencer.”

“Has he indeed. Where’ve you been today?”

“Visiting the tenants. They have needs too.”