Scandal at the Dower House (14 page)

‘Small pieces of silverware, they say. Easy enough to carry away in their pockets, but worth some money. I wonder if it was thieves from Bristol? Perhaps they think it’s easier to break into country houses where there are no neighbours to see them like in a town.’

That made sense, but Catarina was suspicious. After the trouble Mr Lewis had encountered she suspected the culprit came from nearer home. She hoped it was not Dan. Despite everything she had a sneaking sympathy for him. There was also a mild feeling of guilt, which she knew was irrational, but which persisted, that it had been her own cook Ellen who had tempted him to betray his wife, which had led to Ellen’s murder.

Blodwen was still talking, a scarcely concealed excitement beneath her scandalized tones.

‘Mr Staines has looked all round the Dower House and now he is checking the garden. He said there are no signs anyone has entered the house and nothing is missing. He had me check your jewellery, my lady, but I told him, I did, that no one could have come into your bedroom without your being aware of it. My lady is a light sleeper, I told him; she always wakes if the baby cries during the night, but “Better safe than sorry”, he says to me.’

Catarina was not listening. Mr Trubshaw would be bound to report the theft to Jeremy who would probably come down to Marshington. She shivered. She could face seeing Jeremy, but if Nicholas came too she would probably see him, and that would be unbearable.

She had schooled herself to bury her thoughts deep in her mind. It did no good to brood over their encounters, or regret what might have been. At some time she would no doubt have to see him again, for he would occasionally visit his brother here. She hoped it would not be soon, she needed time to regain enough composure for when she once more came face to face with him.

Nicholas had to go to the embassy to discover Delphine’s
direction
. The young man he saw who gave it to him smiled knowingly, then blushed and stammered an apology when he encountered Nicholas’s most arrogant look.

Nicholas nodded and turned away. Fortunately the house where she was staying was not far away and he decided to walk there. To his frustration he found that Delphine had gone out of Paris with friends for a few days, so he left a message asking to speak to her as soon as she returned, then went back to his own rooms.

By the time she replied to his message he was fretting with unconcealed impatience. Chettle, normally chatty, was careful not to make a sound or utter any but the most essential words when in his master’s presence. Nicholas neither noticed nor, if he had done so, would he have cared.

He felt an enormous burden lift from his spirits when a note came from Delphine, inviting him to call on her that afternoon. It was irrational, he told himself, it didn’t change anything, but it brought him closer to discovering more about Catarina’s time in Lisbon. He had almost reached Delphine’s address when it suddenly occurred to him that he could hardly walk straight in and demand to know whether Catarina had been pregnant
when Delphine knew her last November in Lisbon. Besides, if she were in Catarina’s confidence, she might not tell him.

Delphine welcomed him with a slightly puzzled air.

‘My lord, how can I be of help?’ she asked, when he was seated in her drawing room.

‘I believe you were in Lisbon last year. Did you meet Joanna and her husband, Eduardo? Was it a good match? Catarina told me she was happy, but she is so far away and, I
understand
, not a very satisfactory correspondent. Do you believe the man will treat her well?’

Delphine shook her head. ‘I didn’t see Joanna in Lisbon. In fact, I only knew she had been there when I met Catarina again in England. Catarina never mentioned her and I rather assumed she had been staying elsewhere. We left Portugal in November, before Eduardo and the other Brazilians arrived, so I never met him.’

‘Catarina was living there alone? I find that rather odd.’

‘Joanna may have been with her, but I saw Catarina briefly one day, just long enough to invite her to the farewell dinner we were giving our friends. At the dinner itself, we were only able to exchange a few words.’

‘And you left in mid-November, I believe?’

‘Yes. My lord, why these strange questions?’

Nicholas thought quickly.

‘Something Catarina said to me once, which rather puzzled me. She was not staying with her family, then?’

‘I don’t think any of them live in Lisbon. But why don’t you ask her yourself? You will be visiting your brother in Marshington soon, no doubt, and will meet her there.’

It was a question, and suddenly Nicholas was certain Delphine knew about his proposal and was encouraging him to renew it.

‘I will be going back to England soon, but I will have to visit my own home first. I have been away rather longer than I expected.’

He escaped, but with much to ponder. He sat in his rooms toying with a glass of brandy and tried to work it all out. Ladies of Catarina’s class did not go to parties when on the verge of motherhood, and Delphine’s dinner party had been very close to the date of Maria’s birth. Neither would they attend such a party for at least three weeks after giving birth. Therefore it seemed conclusive that Maria was not Catarina’s own child. Yet Joanna seemed to have told the Brazilian the child belonged to her sister.

She could not, however have been telling the truth about a cousin dying. Thomas was adamant no such cousin existed. He had once thought the cousin may have given birth to an
illegitimate
child, and quite possibly a strict Portuguese family might have disowned her, but he trusted Thomas to have discovered that. The old housekeeper he had talked to would, he was sure, have said something when he was asking such specific questions. If there was no cousin, why had she adopted a child? A glimmering of a possible solution to the mystery began to form in his thoughts.

Suddenly making up his mind, he called for Chettle, gave orders for his bags to be packed immediately, and sallied forth to settle all his bills. He would go first to Brooke Court, send for Jeremy if his brother were not there, and discover what he could of Catarina’s present whereabouts. Then, if she was at the Dower House, he would go to Marshington and make her tell him the truth. 

Chapter Thirteen

I
T WAS
O
CTOBER
before Jeremy returned to Marshington Grange. Mrs Eade had learned from Mr Trubshaw that he was staying somewhere in the north, but had omitted to tell any of his relatives exactly where. It was only when he appeared one day at Brooke Court that he could be told about the theft.

‘What the devil they expected me to do about it, even if I had been here, I can’t imagine,’ he said to Catarina, when he called on her the day after he arrived.

‘There have been several more incidents, despite the watch people are keeping,’ Catarina told him. ‘Most of them are small, and from gardens only, not from inside houses.’

‘What kind of thefts? Things they can sell, like my silver?’

‘No; food, such as thefts of eggs and the occasional chicken, or winter vegetables dug up from gardens. Mr Trubshaw keeps suggesting another manhunt through the woods; he is convinced it is Dan living there.’

‘I thought they’d driven the fellow away last time.’

‘Apparently not. But he cannot find enough people to make it worth while. Only the better off men who have been robbed show any enthusiasm for it, The villagers tell him it was unsuccessful last time, Dan managed to elude the searchers, so why should they bother, especially as he would be unable to offer them payment.’

‘If I catch him, or anyone else robbing me, I’ll make sure he is transported. It doesn’t do to show weakness, or others begin to take advantage.’

‘Many of the villagers are already short of food,’ Catarina said, ‘I and a few more do what we can; we give them money, but even when there is money there is little to buy.’

‘There’s plenty of work in the towns,’ Jeremy said. ‘I’m told many countryfolk are leaving the land, so there must be. If they are not able to support themselves here they should move. Of course, if they had listened to me and been willing to amalgamate their old-fashioned strips, they might be faring better now.’

‘Even the ones who did that are suffering,’ Catarina said sharply. ‘No one can do well with the sort of weather we’ve had this summer, when the crops won’t ripen and there are
shortages
of everything. My own gardeners complain that the vegetables are poor quality, small, and in some cases they rot before we can save them. It isn’t the fault of the farmers.’

Jeremy grinned at her and for a fleeting second she could have imagined it was Nicholas sitting opposite. It had been bad enough anticipating the embarrassment of meeting him again, but to have his younger brother living here, constantly reminding her of him, would be torture.

‘You always appear willing to support the weak and
unfortunate
,’ he said, ‘and that’s probably why all the villagers love you. Oh, don’t blush, you should hear the compliments they heap on you. Whenever I am in the village it’s Lady Brooke helped someone, or gave them some food or money, and I swear, if the Church of England had saints you would be in the running for canonization!’

Catarina laughed. ‘What nonsense! Who else is to help them? Walter was always generous, especially when times were bad, or someone had suffered some misfortune. I can give them money, but there is little point when there is almost no food to buy.’

Soon afterwards Jeremy left her, saying he intended to ride round the estate and visit his tenants to talk with them to see what could be done to help matters.

‘I’m not heartless, Catarina. I will help wherever I can. I have to carry on Walter’s traditions, don’t I?’

She had a suspicion he was mocking her, but surely he would listen to the villagers and his tenants, and if he did not try to help he would be utterly unfeeling. She did not believe he was.

It was several hours later, almost dusk. She was up in the nursery playing with Maria, who was approaching her first birthday and trying to walk, when she heard a commotion outside. She looked up and went to peer out of the window which overlooked the small front garden. She could hear several men shouting, but could see little. Then there was the sound of a shot, and two men on horseback galloped past the Dower House.

‘My lady, what is it?’ Clarice asked nervously. Her English had improved, but she now spoke with the local accent.

‘I don’t know, but we had better not venture out.’

She stayed watching. The shouting had ceased and she sensed the men making the noise had departed. Then she saw a man running up the path to the front door to hammer on it.

Catarina went swiftly from the room and leaned over the banisters.

‘Staines,’ she called to the butler who was approaching the door. ‘Don’t open unless you know who it is and what they want!’

‘No, my lady, of course not. We heard the shot from the kitchen.’

He pushed home the bolt on the door before shouting through the thick oak to ask who was making such a noise. Catarina could not hear the reply, but suddenly Staines was pulling back the bolt and dragging open the door. Before she could ask what was happening he ran outside.

Puzzled, apprehensive, she ventured down the stairs and reached the front door just as two men came through the gate and up the path. One of them was Staines. They were carrying another man between them. Staines, looking across to her, spoke.

‘It’s Mr Jeremy, my lady. He’s been attacked and has a nasty wound to his head.’

Liza and Blodwen were standing at the back of the entrance hall, looking apprehensive.

‘Go and make sure everything in the green bedroom is ready, Liza. Blodwen, get a warming pan and some hot bricks wrapped in flannel. Send one of the men to fetch the doctor. Can you carry him upstairs?’ Catarina asked. ‘The room at the back, on the left, is ready.’

The second man helping to carry Jeremy was Mr Lewis.

‘My fellow’s already gone for Dr Holt,’ he said. ‘Can you get some hot water and plenty of rags, and something for
bandages
?’ he added, as he and Staines carefully began to negotiate the stairs. ‘He’s bleeding badly.’

Catarina went to organize this and, by the time she went to the bedroom, the men had stripped off Jeremy’s boots, breeches and coat and laid him in the big bed.

She could see he had been viciously beaten about the head. A large swelling had risen on one side and he was bleeding from a severe cut on the other. One arm hung at an odd angle and seemed to be broken.

Mr Lewis took control, smiling at her briefly and taking some of the sheeting she had torn to strips to serve as
bandages
.

‘I’ve had a fair bit of experience tending my men when they’ve had accidents,’ he said, as he dipped the sheeting in the water and began gently wiping away the blood. ‘He’s been knocked unconscious, poor lad.’

‘Who was it?’

He seemed willing to talk as he worked gently on Jeremy’s head.

‘We didn’t see. They scattered when I fired my gun in the air. But I’ve a fair idea who they are.’

‘How many were there? We heard several voices.’

‘Half a dozen, at least, maybe more. I’ll hazard they lay in wait for him just inside the gates, where the trees give some cover. I told him to take care and always have a groom with him when he went out, but these young ’uns always think they know better. It was a fortunate thing for him I was riding back from the village, or it might have been even worse.’

Staines, who had gone downstairs, now came softly into the room followed by the doctor.

‘My lady,’ the doctor nodded a greeting. ‘So, Mr Lewis, you’ll be doing my job, will you?’

‘Not now you’re here, Dr Holt. I’d far rather you set this arm, then if it’s crooked I won’t be blamed.’

How could he jest when Jeremy lay comatose in front of them, Catarina wondered.

The doctor trod over to the bed.

‘Nasty. Your man explained what had happened. I’d better have a good look at him. My lady, perhaps you would excuse us?’

Realizing she was tactfully being got rid of, Catarina went out of the room and back to the nursery, where she found Blodwen and Clarice talking softly together.

‘Is Mr Brooke dead?’ Blodwen asked.

‘No, but he’s seriously injured. Clarice, put Maria to bed and try not to let her sense there is something wrong. Blodwen, I’m going to write a note to tell Mr Brooke’s people he is here. Can you ask one of the men to be ready to ride up to the Grange with it?’

Before this could be done, however, a groom from the Grange arrived, saying Jeremy’s horse had arrived back in his stable, cut about the legs and in a frightened lather.

Catarina waited in the drawing room for the doctor to finish
whatever ministrations he had to do for Jeremy. With no urgent tasks to occupy her, she began to tremble. The shock had been so sudden. She found it hard to believe any of the villagers would have attacked Jeremy. Would he recover?

When Staines appeared and handed her a glass of brandy she smiled her thanks.

‘I know you don’t normally drink it, but it will do you good,’ he said.

‘Have one yourself,’ she said, ‘and I think all the others need something as well, to help them sleep. I’m sure I’ll have
nightmares
.’

‘I’ll sit up with Mr Brooke,’ Staines said, ‘in case he comes to during the night.’

‘What would I do without you!’

A moment later, as Catarina was sipping the brandy, almost choking at the unfamiliar burning sensation in her throat, Dr Holt came into the room. He accepted a glass of brandy and sat opposite Catarina.

‘He’s in a bad way. I don’t like that head wound,’ he said, without any prevarication. ‘He can’t be moved. Can your servants manage to care for him? Staines is a reliable chap, and your maids seem sensible lasses. At least they didn’t go off into hysterics.’

‘Of course we will care for him.’

‘Send for his valet; he can help look after his needs. And I think you ought to let his brother know. We’ll do our best, but I’m making no predictions. I’ve seen men with less serious wounds develop a fever and be gone within the week.’

Nicholas was in the estate office early the next morning talking with his agent when his butler came in carrying a letter.

‘My lord, I apologize for interrupting, but this has just been delivered; it’s from Marshington Grange. The man who brought it said it was urgent. He’s waiting for a reply.’

With a brief smile at his agent Nicholas broke the seal. He
was finding it tedious back in England, doing all the humdrum tasks involved in running a large estate, though his agent and other senior servants were so well trained they were fully capable of managing without him, but he could not yet leave to go to Marshington.

The address was the Dower House and for a moment his heart leapt. Had Catarina repented of her refusal? But she would never have written to him to say so. And the man must have ridden through the night. He was suddenly apprehensive and scanned the brief few lines rapidly. Then he dropped the paper on to his desk and felt numb.

‘My lord, what is it? Bad news?’ the agent asked.

The butler went to the decanter and brought across a glass of brandy.

‘Drink this, my lord, you’ve gone as pale as a ghost.’

Nicholas swallowed and tried to pull himself together.

‘My brother has been badly hurt. Tell the man I will follow him as soon as I can pack some clothes. I’m sorry, but I will have to leave you to do the best you can, as I don’t know how long I’ll be away. Can you ask Lady Mortimer to come here, but please don’t alarm Miss Olivia? Get Chettle to pack what I’ll need for a week or two; he can come with me. I’ll drive the curricle. Send to the stables.’

The butler was almost out of the room before this string of commands finished, already talking to a footman to pass on some of them.

‘I’ll go, my lord, but please give Mr Jeremy my good wishes,’ the agent said, gathering up his papers and backing out of the room.

Nicholas nodded. When he was alone he sank his head in his hands for a moment. Catarina’s note had said Jeremy had suffered a serious head wound the previous evening and was still unconscious when she wrote.

It must be serious, especially if he was still unconscious several hours after the accident. Catarina had not said what had caused it, and Nicholas wondered if he had suffered a bad fall from a horse. He was an excellent rider, but there were always accidents.

His reflections were cut short as Lady Mortimer entered the room, looking anxious.

‘Nicholas, what on earth is it? The servants are all in a pother and you look dreadful.’

He explained. ‘I must go to him; it sounds serious, but please don’t worry Olivia. I’ll send the groom back to you with a report when I discover just how badly hurt he is.’

‘Of course you must go, and don’t worry about Olivia. She is relishing being back at home. I can keep her mind occupied with plans for Christmas.’

There might not be any Christmas celebrations, Nicholas thought, as he set off, then he forced himself to pay attention to his driving. The roads were muddy and the horses found it heavy going, but it would be a disaster if he too had an
accident
. Maybe he would have been better advised to ride. But he would probably need Chettle and his tiger, and he needed a few changes of linen.