He put those thoughts aside when they reached the house. After they had helped the ladies down, Davy invited him to visit the stables. “We shall have to change for tea, of course,” he said, “but I thought you might like to see if any of the horses strike you as agreeable.”
“If you like,” Will said. “Not that I would know one from another, but since you’ve offered me the chance to learn, I shall be happy to take you up on the offer.”
Davy handed his hack off to a waiting groom, who also took the reins of Jane’s horse, and climbed into the gig with Will. As soon as the groom was out of earshot, he said, “Oh, Will, you’re going all stiff and mannerly on me. I know you too well to believe that! But while you needn’t be
happy
, I do think the practice will be of some use to you.”
Will sighed. “I hadn’t meant to be distant, Davy. I just thought it best to maintain...a sort of quarterdeck formality. Particularly after that remark about ‘closer than brothers.’”
“I expect you’re right.” Davy let his hand slip over to Will’s thigh, and gave it a quick squeeze. “But only as a precaution; Ronald’s been making that sort of remark about me ever since he realized I would rather sit indoors and read than chase some benighted fox to its death—I generally felt more kinship with the quarry than with my dear brother.” He smiled wistfully. “I wish, now, that we had traveled by post-chaise from Portsmouth, and been able to spend a few more evenings in quiet inns along the way.”
“As do I. But you’re needed here, I can see that—at least by your mother and your sister. Lady Amelia, I mean; your other sisters—”
“Anne is closest in age to Ronald,” Davy said. “I think she feels some sympathy for him. Though I do not believe she knows him well; she married while he was off at school. She barely knows me at all. When Anne was presented in Society, I was crawling around the nursery. And when I went off to sea, Genie was a sweet child whose life had very little to do with mine. I suppose it is often so in large families when the children are born so far apart.”
“I feel like a visitor in a different country,” Will said. “Before I met you, I was so often alone that I used to wish I had had brothers and sisters.”
“I could say the experience is overrated,” Davy said, “but it most likely depends on the brother or sister. I love Amelia dearly, and I do wish you had been able to meet Mark. We were so far apart in age and interests that we were never very close, but he was kind enough, and he never tormented me the way Ronald did. Both of them were mad for any form of sport, though, and to me anything but riding always seemed a waste of time. I wish now that I had spent more time with Mark, even though I suspect he found me rather dull.”
“I cannot see why he would,” Will said. “And to my untutored eye, you ride very well.”
“Oh, that’s nothing. All Archers ride, by my father’s decree—except for my mother, who gave it up after Anne was born. For me, it was mainly a means of taking myself out of harm’s way—to be elsewhere when Ronald was spoiling for a fight.”
Will felt he needed to ask the uncomfortable question. “What ails him, Davy? Is there a reason for his animosity, or has he always been so distempered?”
Davy shrugged. “Partly disposition, I think, and partly spoiling. My maternal grandmother lived with us for some years. She made a pet of Ronald, taking his part and making excuses for him, giving him money from her own allowance so he never had to learn to make do with what Father provided. She always supported him in the quarrels he picked with us, even lied for him, and in turn he spied for her.”
“I’m sorry,” Will said, sorry indeed that he had asked.
“It’s a complicated story, Will, and I doubt I know all of it. She was a discontented old woman, and I think she had reason to be; her marriage had not been a pleasant one. But I never did understand why she seemed determined to make everyone else as unhappy as she was. She disliked my father, too, though I never understood that, either—perhaps it was only that he treated my mother so well and proved Grandmother wrong. I suppose he tolerated her for my mother’s sake.”
“What are you going to do now? This must affect all our plans—” He caught himself. Back on the Mermaid, at Christmastime, he and Davy had exchanged promises that to Will could have served as marriage vows, but it was his own fault, and his alone, that Davy could not go back to sea with him. “Your plans, I should say. I don’t mean to intrude.”
“This changes everything,” Davy said somberly. “Mark was a good man, steady and responsible. With him at the head of the family, I would have been able to range as I liked, knowing that everyone was safe in his care. Now…”
“Now you have responsibilities. It would be wrong for me to try to interfere.”
Davy turned on him suddenly, the hurt plain on his face. “No! How can you call what we have between us ‘interference’? Will, I mean to keep
our
plans, even if we must adjust them to some degree. I cannot bear to think that you’ll vanish from my life. I may someday wind up as my sisters’ guardian, but you heard Amelia—the girls would be in Mother’s care, not mine. There must still be a way for us to salvage something.” He kicked at the edge of the gig, dislodging a bit of mud from his boot. “Or perhaps there is no way, and I’m a fool to think there might be. You’ll be off to sea before long, and I had better get used to the idea.”
He looked so sad that Will made a clumsy attempt at levity. “Well, Lady Amelia seems to have set her own course. We can but hope that your mother makes a quick and lasting match for your sister Eugenie.”
“Oh, I do,” Davy said. “Fervently. I hope she falls in love with the perfect man at her very first ball.”
“And vice-versa, of course.”
“Lord, yes.” He smiled. “But knowing Genie, I pity the gentleman who tries to ignore her!”
* * * * *
As David might have expected, Will made polite noises when shown the various horses in the stable but showed no sign that he saw any difference, other than size, between the Earl’s prize hunter and the dappled pony that would soon be bearing Anne’s little girls around in careful circles.
David enjoyed the warmth and scent of the stables, one of the places he’d always felt comfortable as a child. He hoped he’d be able to find Will a mount that would let him learn how to enjoy riding. Odd, he thought, that a man who could walk on a yardarm a hundred feet above a hard and unforgiving deck would be nervous sitting atop a horse, a mere five feet off the ground, but Will was so confident at sea that the small weakness was all the more endearing. And it could be cured, David was sure of that.
They were halfway down the line of stalls when a spare, grey-thatched man called down from the hayloft. “Master David! Good to see you, sir!”
“Afternoon, Hubbard! That’s Hubbard,” David said, unnecessarily. “We’ll need to find a good teacher for Captain Marshall,” he said after introducing Will. “He’s death to the French on a quarterdeck, but went to sea too young to learn horsemanship.”
“Fair enough,” Hubbard said. “I’ve no sea-horses just at the moment, but I think Pennant will do. My lady Anne found him a very biddable mount.”
“If he’s patient enough for my sister, he’ll do for you,” David assured Will. “She fidgets, and you don’t. I think we shall go out tomorrow, Hubbard, in the late morning or early afternoon, if the weather’s fair. Just for a short while.”
“Aye, sir. I’ll be sure to let out the stirrups for him.” He seemed about to fidget himself, then blurted, “Master David, about Dancer…”
David brushed it away. “No need to apologize. My sister told me what happened. There was nothing you could have done, and it’s all worked out for the best. Perhaps I’ll ride over to Bentley Hall tomorrow and sort things out.”
Hubbard nodded his thanks, and returned to his work. David watched him go. “It’s going to be hard on our people when Ronald takes over,” he said. “My father is a stern taskmaster, but he’s always looked after them—made sure the cottages are kept in repair, brought in the doctor if they fall ill…. Ronald seldom thinks of anyone but himself. I wish there were something I could do, but anything I might attempt would only make things worse.”
Will said nothing, only put a hand on David’s shoulder as they turned to leave the stable. He let it drop as a shadow moved across the doorway.
Chapter Six
Ronald was standing outside. Had he been waiting for them? Or only trying to eavesdrop? He fell into step with them as they headed back toward the house, the wind blowing cold in their faces. “Did you enjoy your ride, ‘Captain?’” he asked blandly.
“Indeed,” Will said neutrally.
“I was sure you would. My sister is a very pleasant young lady, is she not?”
“Indeed she is.”
“Yes, indeed,” Ronald mimicked. “I hope you are not getting ideas above your station,” he said, after Will made no further comment. “I have plans for my sister’s future, and they do not include her being leg-shackled to a common sailor.”
Will gave the insult the response it deserved—an indifferent silence.
“Have you consulted our sister about your plans?” David put in. “I recommend you do so before posting any banns. Of all the people she might consult on the matter of choosing a bridegroom, I doubt your name would be first on the list. In fact, I doubt it would appear at all.”
“I don’t recall asking your opinion,” Ronald said without looking at him.
“When did you ever seek an opinion that was not an echo of your own?” He expected no answer, and got none. “Nonetheless, you might bear in mind that though you are heir to Grenbrook, our father is still alive and in full possession of his faculties.” Some evil impulse prompted him to add, “Or do you have some reason to think that might cease to be the case?”
His brother whirled, his face ugly.
“What did you say?”
“I think you heard me,” David said levelly. “It appears to me that you’ve had a very profitable year, Ronald. First Lenore—so soon after she inherited her grandfather’s wealth, and before she could bear a child who might take some of it away from you. Did you ever tell anyone precisely what became of her?”
“That’s none of your concern!”
“And now Mark is gone, and you stand poised to take his place. I know that Society sees you as one who is deserving of sympathy, but you hardly strike me as a man bereaved. On the contrary—”
He blocked the blow his brother aimed at him, and took a step to one side, out of arm’s reach. “I shouldn’t try that sort of thing anymore. You don’t have me outnumbered the way you did at school, and I’ve killed better men than you in battle.”
Ronald started to speak, then glanced at Will and visibly restrained himself. “So have I, little brother.”
Will spoke suddenly. “And out of battle?”
“I was in London! And what business is it of yours?”
“I do not understand what you mean by that, Major,” Will said punctiliously. “I was referring to matters of honor; I have called a man out and killed him for sufficient provocation, and I thought you might have, also.”
“That, too, seems to me to be none of your affair.”
“I fear that it is.” Officer and gentleman, Commander Marshall could speak from his own authority when the occasion warranted. “I am aware of the courtesy due one’s host, and would have thought it infamous to transgress upon your father’s hospitality. But if you and I should meet when I am not a guest in your father’s house, I suggest you refrain from crude jokes that impugn your brother’s honor and my own. I have received such insults before, and I have dealt with them.”
David felt a thrill of pride at Will’s firm, level tone, and found it hard to maintain an impassive expression in the face of his brother’s frustrated ire.
“What are you doing here, anyway?” Ronald flung at him. “And why have you brought him?”
“I don’t believe I need explain myself to you,” David said without raising his voice.
“You will, brat. Remember, you are dealing with the future Earl of Grenbrook.”
“And the present horse’s arse.” He was angry with himself for allowing this quarrel to escalate, but on the other hand, he was relieved—and not only because Will was here beside him. Until now, he had been burdened with a dread of his brother, leftover memories of childhood pain, but life in the Navy really had made a man of him. After sailing into the face of cannon fire, he had no fear left for this fuming bully. “The future is a long way off, Ronald.”
“Not so far as you think.” His brother turned on his heel and strode back to the stable, with a touch of tantrum in his furious steps.
“Well, I had been willing to like him, for your sake,” Will said, “but somehow it seems that is not to be. Whatever possessed you to accuse him of murder?”
“I didn’t, Will,” David said. He waited a moment to be sure Ronald did not follow them, after all, then headed for the house. “I asked him what his plans were, not what he had done. I wanted to see what his reaction might be. It was you who elicited an alibi, and you were not accusing him of murder, either—I took for granted that you were referring to his duel. Isn’t that interesting?”
“What duel?”
“That’s right, I never mentioned that to you, did I? And I’m sure Amelia did not.”
“No. Neither of you have said anything to me about such a thing.”
David glanced around, but there was no one within sight or earshot on the long path back to the house. “I hate to draw you into the family muddle, but after I think it best that you be aware of the situation. Yesterday, my sister told me that Ronald’s wife Lenore died some time this past year when she was abroad, near where his regiment was stationed. There’s been no explanation of what happened, whether she died of illness or accident...and shortly after that, Ronald was apparently involved in an affair of honor and wounded someone.”