“Was the house still entirely rose?” His mother had been obsessed with the shade and ignored all fashion in favor of it.
Aunt Mary shuddered. “Dreadful, yes? I was only safe in my room. But now I am walking in the kitchen garden. I have taken up my embroidery hoop. Alys is teaching me how to decorate cakes, though I’m a bit too shaky to do it properly.”
“You sound positively girlish. Next thing you know, you’ll have a beau.”
She grinned, exposing decaying teeth. “Now dear, you know I lost my heart long ago. I promised my late fiancé I’d never marry. A foolish thing to do perhaps, but I have been comfortable enough.”
Judah felt the baggage being loaded, and then the carriage moved away from the station. He watched out the window, recognizing familiar landmarks while Aunt Mary sang the new marchioness’s praises.
Pleasure flowed through him as he saw how well tended the grounds were. He was glad to see new stands of elms had been planted in place of the ones felled by a bad storm the winter before he left. His parents hadn’t sent him to Eton as they had his brother. He’d had tutors on the estate. He no longer knew if it was because his father had gambled away the funds, or if they just hadn’t cared about him. However, a major-general in the Indian Army had taken him under his wing. He had done well. The man, deceased now, had been some connection of his mother. Now, of course, he had to wonder what the connection was.
Soon, they rolled up the gravel drive to Hatbrook Farm, a three-story brick building covered in stucco to imitate stone, a design by the famed architect Henry Holland. He’d found architecture fascinating as a boy and dreamed of building his own stately home one day, after he cut his teeth improving the look of this one, by rebuilding the front entirely of stone in neoclassical style. He wondered where he thought he’d ever find the money. An heiress, he supposed. He’d always had an easy way with women.
“Rather a shock being home, isn’t it, boy?”
He nodded. “There have been times when I didn’t think I would make it back.”
“I am glad those premonitions did not bear fruit,” she said as the carriage door was opened by a footman.
Inside, Aunt Mary greeted the staff, all of whom were strangers to Judah. He allowed himself to be led to a room, and had a chuckle when he was put in a rose room, the best of the old marchioness’s style. It must have been decorated not long before her death. A fresh rose bouquet toile covered the walls, curtains, and bed hangings, as well as the upholstered furniture. Though no real flowers were in the room, the prints were so vivid he felt he could smell actual flowers. At least he hadn’t been returned to the nursery, where he had stayed until he went into the army.
The footman deposited his baggage and shifted his stance. “I’ll be your valet while you are here, my lord. I’m Matthew.”
“ ‘Captain,’ if you please. If you would unpack? I’ll be leaving on the early train Monday, so this will be a short trip.”
“Very good, Captain Shield.”
Judah washed his hands and face in the rose-patterned basin, after pouring water from the rose-patterned ewer, and then went to wander the house. He had arrived between lunch and tea so he decided it would be all right.
First, he visited the nursery, which he could see was just beginning a transformation. Rugs had been removed, leaving faded spots on the wood, and wallpaper was pulled up around the edges, exposing old paint. He wondered how many children would play here during this generation and hoped his brother would have a happier marriage than their father. At least he didn’t seem ruled by the same demons.
Of course, he remembered, the marquess hadn’t been his father at all. With that thought, he went down a hall, found a flight of stairs, crossed to another wing of the house, and entered his mother’s rooms. Here, the walls were still decorated in rose-covered silk, a pure saturation of the color. He felt instantly unsettled by the intensity of the shade. The estate had lacked for funds during most of his mother’s later years and he could see that here, in faded spots on the furniture and a discreetly mended curtain.
But, that was Alys’s problem to correct, not his. He wanted knowledge. Would his mother have kept any evidence of her love affairs? Was it a passing fancy or a long relationship that had led to his birth? He found her desk in her sitting room and opened the scroll top. Papers abounded, so he sat on the rose cushion of the delicately feminine chair and began to look through them.
He found dressmakers’ bills from the past two years as well as notes about medical appointments, communications from caterers, and menus for the household. A few invitations, both for here and in London. All of this material was entirely too new for his purposes.
Ten minutes later, he pushed the last drawer closed with a sigh and looked around the room. He spotted an old trunk against a wall that he’d seen in his childhood, so he knelt before that and lifted the lid.
After half an hour of searching, he decided this information was too old. He found miniatures of his mother’s parents, and a sister who had died in childhood, as well as correspondence from her brother who had died in the Crimea. Newspaper clippings of death, birth, and marriage notices were present. Faded nosegays gave no hint of provenance.
“I wondered where you were hiding.”
Judah turned to see a familiar face. “Hatbrook.”
“Don’t give me that,” said his brother, coming to stand next to him. He wore a clean pair of shoes but his trousers had dusty hems.
“Been walking the estate?”
“Alys was restless. We missed you coming up the drive. She wanted to attack immediately and grill you about Redcake’s.”
Judah chuckled. “She’s lucky the place hasn’t fallen in on itself. I had no idea how hard it was to run a business. All that machinery failing randomly, customers demanding to see the manager, aristocrats wanting to talk to the senior man to arrange their parties.”
Hatbrook brushed off his lapels. “Are you certain you want to be in business?”
“I like London. I realize, of course, that August is not November and the bad winter air will make life harder there, but I had a very rustic youth, so all this is new for me. The theater, the busy streets, the endless variety of people.”
“That’s true. You were very isolated as a child.”
“The army was not so different. I spent a lot of time in small villages, but I certainly had fun.”
“I envy you the hunting.”
“Yes, both for food and sport. The animals are magnificent there.” Judah came to his feet and shut the lid of the chest. “A lot of family history in this chest.”
He nodded. “Mother suffered great losses when she was young.”
“You think it prevented her from attaching to others when she was older? She certainly seemed to have her hooks into you.”
“I was away at school, Judah. Beth, on the other hand, saw a great deal of her. Like you, she stayed home.”
“I have received letters from her. One a week, just like when I was in India. Is she here? I thought I might see her at the station, but Aunt Mary came instead.”
“She insisted. Wanted to let you know she still considered you family.”
“Kind of her.”
“And presumptuous, to think that anyone here might treat you otherwise.” The marquess’s voice took on an icy tone reminiscent of their mother’s. “I would not have her planting that thought in your head. You are family. Legally and morally.”
“Still, I hope your first child is a boy, so that there is never a concern about the title.”
The skin around his brother’s eyes tightened. “I hope I have several healthy children of both sexes, but not for that reason. The title would be far better served by you than it ever was by Father.”
“Not concerned about protecting the bloodlines?” Judah inquired.
“Considering our parents?”
They both laughed.
“What about Beth? Any deathbed confessions regarding her? I expected she would have been presented by now, since she turned eighteen in May.”
“No, no deathbed confessions. Beth could have been presented in mourning, but chose not to be. Her court presentation is in early December.”
So the family would return to London. “Who is presenting her?”
“Aunt Mary, I think. She is quite excited by the idea since she has not seen Her Majesty since Prince Albert died.”
“Good for her.”
“Now, what were you looking for?” asked the marquess.
“Some evidence of my parentage,” Judah said. “Obviously.”
“And you’ve found?”
“Papers from the last couple years, and memorabilia from the eighteen-forties and fifties.”
“So you need the sixties.”
“Exactly. Any ideas?” Hatbrook could have asked him not to search, but Judah was pleased that his brother accepted his quest.
“There is another chest in her bedroom. And the attics, of course. Didn’t she keep a journal when we were children?”
Judah’s attention perked. “Did she? That could contain some very interesting information.”
“Let’s ransack the bedroom,” the marquess said.
They spent an hour turning the room inside out, until they were interrupted by Beth.
“Judah! Oh, you are handsome!” Beth ran into the room, holding out her arms.
At eighteen, she was as lovely as a fawn. The marquess had often written of her sweet nature and certainly her letters had been endearing, but he hadn’t seen her for nearly half her lifetime and the much younger sister hadn’t interested him as a boy. They had never shared staff or rooms. He noted her hair had remained blond, unlike her brother’s, whose hair had darkened in late childhood. She had the marquess’s blue eyes, and their mother’s angularity. All this was the impression of a moment, then she was flinging her arms around him.
Instinctively, he swung her around, her plain black gown twirling into a bell, before he placed her next to the marquess.
“I would have recognized you anywhere,” she said, pressing her hands to her chest. “You still have tiger’s eyes.”
“I do?”
“Oh yes. I was always jealous of the way amber and brown swirled in your eyes and wanted them instead of my boring blue. But you look a great deal like Michael too. So I would have known you.”
“I am trying to decide if I would have recognized you,” Judah said.
She posed, with raised eyebrows.
“I expected your hair to darken, you see, but all three of us have the same shape to our eyes and noses and even cheeks.”
“It is strange to meet after so long. Why didn’t you ever return on holiday?”
“I didn’t feel welcome, I suppose.” He corrected himself swiftly. “I was very engaged in my work.”
“I would have welcomed you.”
“We hardly knew one another as children. But, I understand you are coming to London in a few months and we will spend a lot of time together then.”
“I would like that. It would be so nice to have a friendly face at all the parties.”
“I am a tradesman now, not a member of Society, but you can come and visit me at Redcake’s any time you like and I’ll give you tea and listen patiently to your amours.”
Beth laughed and blushed. “Don’t be silly. I am going to be an old spinster lady and knit by the fire.”
“Does that mean you’ll be staying?” the marquess asked, ignoring Beth but for a roll of his eyes.
Judah took a deep breath. “I thought the army was a challenge, but Redcake’s is all consuming, so yes, if your wife will have me, I will stay.”
“She will be delighted to hear it.”
Judah arrived back in Town late Monday morning. He left his cases at his house, then rushed to Trafalgar Square to get a newspaper before heading up to Redcake’s. The pleasure of interesting work that he was anxious to get on with was not lost on him.
Nor could he forget to enjoy the very end of August weather, with a bit of crisp in the air under a bright sun, though clouds were coming in. He should have brought his umbrella, but had done nothing more than change his coat and run out the door.
“So then the maid says,” Eddy Jackson said loudly as Judah approached, “I never ’ad a follower.”
“Tell me the rest?” said a woman’s voice. Her back was to him, but he thought he recognized her.
Eddy tapped his cap when he saw Judah. “Well, don’t you know it, but a couple a nights later, the mistress smells strong drink in the kitchen, so she comes in, and what does she find but a soldier in the kitchen!”
Judah stepped closer, to hear the rest of the joke. Eddy nodded to him as he fished in his pocket for a penny.
“Oh, dear,” said the lady.
Judah took another step and saw Magdalene Cross’s face, though he might not have known her, she seemed so pale.
“So then the mistress, she says, ‘Who is this man?’ And the maid says, ‘You know I ain’t got no followers, this ’ere bloke must a been left by the last maid!’ ”
Judah chuckled, sharing a smile with Miss Cross, and pulled another penny from his pocket.
“Two papers this morning, Captain?” Eddy asked, catching the coins.
“One for the lady,” he agreed. “Going to Redcake’s this morning, Miss Cross?”
She smoothed her jacket with red, graceful fingers, and Judah’s attention was brought to her skirts—thin and definitely patched. He could see something was terribly wrong. It had been less than a month since he saw her, but she didn’t seem like the same girl.
“How is your sister-in-law?” he asked. She wasn’t wearing mourning clothes, but still, something had happened.
“Very bad.” She sighed. “We nurse her around the clock. She’s such a dear soul, we can do nothing less.”
He wondered how long the woman had been an invalid. “Does she take medicine?”
“Yes, and we’ve had the doctor round three times a week. She sleeps a great deal, however, and does not eat much. I feel guilty, but I was desperate for a walk before the weather changed, and Eddy is always so cheerful.”