Game of dukes, p.12
Game of Dukes, page 12
He wondered if Celeste’s feelings for Matthew went to the heart of her criticism of the novel her mother had recommend that she read. It was not her mother’s friendship with his uncle that had coloured her judgement, but her own situation prior to Matthew’s death. He wasn’t aware precisely how close she and Matthew had actually been, but it didn’t require too much imagination on his part to make an educated guess. If they were secretly romantically involved then Celeste would have known immediately that her circumstances closely resembled those of the girl in the novel—and were equally doomed.
Unlike the youthful earl in the novel, the Matthew who Phin recalled had always trusted his own judgement, even as a child. But he would also have been conscious of his responsibilities. Celeste would not have been considered suitable duchess material and his father, a stickler for protocol, would not have approved of his choice. Besides, if the duchy’s coffers were almost empty, Matthew would have felt duty bound to marry an heiress. Perhaps her mother had guessed at her feelings and encouraged her to read the novel for that reason.
It hardly mattered now. All Phin knew was that he would never allow the opinions of society to influence his decisions. But he also knew that Celeste had given her heart to Matthew and he would always own a part of it. He would not permit himself to develop feelings for a woman whose heart was already spoken for. Astonished by the turn his thoughts had taken, he gave himself a mental shake. Much as he admired Celeste, he was not contemplating a permanent connection to her, was he?
‘Come along,’ he said abruptly, standing and helping her to her feet. ‘We had best continue with our tour.’
They did so, taking an hour to return to the Abbey, but Phin barely spoke, his mind full of other matters. Celeste sent him constant sideways glances, clearly troubled by the manner in which he had withdrawn from her, but she remained silent for the rest of the ride and spoke only when he addressed a question to her.
*
Toby stood at the drawing room window, wondering why he felt so out of sorts. Webster—he stubbornly refused to think of him as Suffolk, as was now the man’s right—was doing just what he had wanted him to do, and far quicker than even Toby would have imagined possible. The Abbey was positively bustling with activity, both inside and out. Webster appeared to have money to burn—which meant the reports that had reached him regarding his father’s success in America had not been exaggerated. He seemed perfectly willing to plough as much blunt as was necessary into the restoration of the Abbey, just as Toby had intended he should, so he was at a loss to understand his unsettled mood.
‘He’s purchased a mare for the little whore and has spent the entire morning riding out with her,’ he remarked to Alice, scowling as the pair rode into view, the dog running in circles around the horses.
Alice chuckled. ‘And you imagine they have done more than simply inspect the estate, which is why you have a face like thunder.’
‘She failed with one heir, so…’
‘Phin wouldn’t stoop so low. He might have adopted some vulgar American habits, but he’s still a gentleman. Matthew didn’t deflower the hussy, despite the fact that she gave him every opportunity, and Phin won’t either. But nor can you, Toby, let’s be clear on the point.’ Alice fixed him with a hard stare. ‘I know that was once your intention and I was happy to go along with it. The presumptuous chit needed to be brought down a peg or two. But things are different now. If you lay a finger on her and she tattles to Phin then you will find yourself without a roof over your head. Do you really want to take that risk?’
Toby moved from the window and threw himself into a chair with an indifferent shrug, but inside he was seething. How dare the old hag tell him how to behave? She was jealous of Celeste, of course. Toby had always known it but she had never displayed her resentment quite so openly before. She’d become used to Toby running to her whenever the need came upon him, which happened frequently, and seemed to think she was his only port of call. She was becoming far too possessive. She didn’t know anything about the lass at the local tavern who did more than simply serve ale and who, at Toby’s request, had recently extended her precious son’s education. Alice would have a conniption if she knew, and Toby was so out of sorts that he almost told her.
Almost.
Common sense prevailed. He and Alice needed to maintain a united front. Besides, she was right to say that Webster must be handled with kid gloves. Even so, if he decided to have a little overdue fun with Celeste, he was damned if he would permit a jealous harpy’s warnings to prevent him from acting upon his impulses.
‘What do I care how she chooses to deploy her favours,’ he said in an indolent tone. ‘We must, as you say, remember the bigger picture. Thus far Webster had been boringly sentimental and behaved precisely as you predicted that he would.’ He paused and fixed Alice with a look of mild derision. ‘Except perhaps you did not appreciate just how readily Alvin would take to him.’
Alice brushed his comment aside. ‘Alvin is easily manipulated, you know that as well as I do, and it suits my purpose for him to have a new hero. It makes it look as though we all welcome Phin’s return.’
‘Yes well, we’ll see about that.’
Toby got up again and headed for the door. Webster would return to the house momentarily and Toby was unwilling to be found idling his time away. He wouldn’t put it past their new lord and master to find an occupation for him, as if he was some underling obliged to dance to his tune. Toby gave a derisive snort. He was a gentleman of quality and nobody’s lap dog, no matter what there was to be gained by pretending otherwise.
‘Excuse me, Alice,’ he said, abruptly leaving the room before she had an opportunity to respond.
Chapter Eight
Phin’s fear that the estate’s grounds would have been allowed to deteriorate at the same rate as the Abbey itself proved unfounded. He was surprised to find the majority of the land in a reasonable condition. A lack of livestock had given the pasture an opportunity to recover and the recent rains ensured that it flourished green and lush. A few weeks of repairs to walls and outbuildings and they should be able to restock. Then he would talk to Goddard about crops. It was too late to plant this year, but they could begin making their plans for next season.
The conversation he’d had with Celeste at the ruins had unsettled him. He was now more determined than ever to discover the reasons for his father’s estrangement from his brother, and more particularly the cause of the accident that had robbed Celeste of the people who meant the most in the world to her—especially Matthew. If he had to spend the rest of his days in a position he had never aspired to then it would help considerably if he could find out what circumstances had brought the situation about. He had a niggling feeling that the accident was no accident, but deliberate murder, and if that was the case he would exert whatever authority necessary to bring the perpetrators to book.
‘I want that lodge manned night and day the moment it’s put back into a proper state of repair,’ he said to John as they shared a cold collation in the dining parlour, worried that whoever had contrived the accident could, as things stood, just as easily get to him and the rest of his family. ‘Fortunately, it’s the only direct entrance to the estate, other than the smuggling routes, and I want access carefully monitored.’
‘I will engage the appropriate people,’ John replied calmly.
‘Have Goddard engage a couple of gamekeepers too. I want all the local ne’er-do-wells to look elsewhere for their illicit sport. They must be made aware that this estate is no longer a free for all.’
‘Word of your return has already spread.’ Phin rolled his eyes, resigned to the inevitable. ‘Several cards were delivered this morning. Alice lined them on the mantle in the drawing room.’
‘As soon as the gate lodge is completed, I want the driveway and front courtyard weeded and the front steps repaired. Best have Goddard hire several gardeners, too. Once they have done that, the courtyard is their next priority. The maids and footmen can carry on bringing the large drawing room back to good order.’
‘What about the roof?’
‘We’ll take a look at it later. It seems sound enough on this part of the house, so it can wait. Once you’ve eaten enough, we’ll meet with the tenants in the estate office and see what demands they have to make. Then we’ll take ourselves off to have a word with the squire, Sir Richard Boyle. He’s also the local Justice of the Peace and was a close friend of my uncle’s.’
‘He investigated at the time and you want to know if he suspects that there was more to it than a straightforward accident?’
‘I do.’ Phin gave a grim nod and then stood. ‘I’ll go and change into something more formal whilst you finish here.’
‘I’m replete,’ John replied, standing also. ‘I’ll help you to change.’
The tenants were already assembled in the estate office when Phin and John reached it, looking sullen, muttering amongst themselves. They seemed wary of Phin when he appeared, tugged respectfully at forelocks, but had little to say in response to his questions.
‘Come along,’ Phin said impatiently. ‘I heard you have grievances to air and I can’t do anything about them unless I know what they are.’
‘Begging your pardon, your grace, but your uncle didn’t take kindly to us expressing ourselves and tended to do the opposite of whatever we asked for, being contrary like. As though he wanted to emphasise his power over us.’
Phin shared a glance with John. It wasn’t the first reference he’d heard anyone dare to voice since his return regarding his uncle’s stubbornness. Phin suspected that it was a fair assessment of the short-tempered man he recalled, a man who was very aware of his elevated status and seemed to think it afforded him carte blanche to do whatever he liked. He and Matthew had been wary of his moods and both had felt the sharp edge of his belt many times, punishments for relatively minor offenses. Phin’s father, on the rare occasions when he had spoken about his brother at all, never failed to refer to his sense of entitlement.
‘I am not my uncle.’ He fixed each man in turn with a penetrating look. ‘If your grievances are legitimate then you have my word that they will be addressed. It’s in all our interests to see the estate returned to a profitable state.’
One by one the men spoke up, reluctantly at first and then, when Phin didn’t shout them down and instead listened to their complaints, with more vigour. Glossop made diligent notes and Phin promised that efforts would be made to resolve their problems. The tenants still seemed sceptical and Phin knew that immediate action on his part would be required if he was to win their trust. He spoke with Glossop after they’d left and agreed upon priorities which Glossop would put in hand.
Phin and John rode away from the estate without telling anyone where they were going. Rufus refused to be left behind. Every time Phin told him to stay, he lay flat on his belly and then squirmed along on it, looking pathetic. Phin gave in and whistled to him. The dog sprang to his feet and ran alongside the horses, spiralling his tail like a windmill.
‘He lost Matthew and doesn’t intend to let you out of his sight,’ John said, chuckling.
‘So it seems.’ Phin pretended an indifference he didn’t feel. He was already inordinately fond of the mutt. ‘How does the gelding suit?’ he asked.
‘He’s perfectly obedient, unlike that hellion,’ John replied, nodding towards Malachite, who insisted upon dancing sideways down the driveway and tossing his head, looking everywhere except where he was going. ‘You rode him all the morning but he still has energy to spare.’
‘He’s a free spirit.’ Phin laughed as the horse, sensing that he was being talked, put in a half-hearted buck. ‘See what I mean?’
‘Rather you than me,’ John replied, shuddering. ‘My bones are too old to risk being broken.’
‘Malachite’s wild unpredictability is worth the risk. There have to be some benefits to being a damned duke, at everyone’s beck and call.’
‘Well, it’s your neck.’
Their route took them through the local village, where their presence was immediately noticed, causing quite a stir. They were pointed at, acknowledged and remarked upon by everyone they passed. The place looked orderly enough, Phin decided, and it was immediately obvious to him that his return was welcomed rather than resented. That was hardly to be wondered at, given that he had already provided employment for almost twenty local people. He heard his name whispered and saw more than one lady look at him with speculative interest.
‘It seems smaller than I remember,’ Phin said.
‘You last saw it through the eyes of a boy.’
‘True enough.’
Phin touched his hat for the umpteenth time as yet another gentleman hailed a greeting. It was the local vicar, he belatedly realised, but Phin wasn’t about to be detained by a man of the cloth. The way he saw it, if there was a God then his uncle and cousin would still be alive but he had no desire to endure a lecture upon His mysterious ways. Rufus gave a bark, deterring the vicar from stepping into the road and physically blocking their path.
‘You can look forward to a visit from the good parson in the near future,’ John said, laughing at Phin’s dour expression.
They rode on, and the moment they cleared the village Phin gave Malachite his head. Four miles later they arrived at Sir Richard’s home, steered their horses to the side of the manor house and surrendered them to a groom who came forward to take them. Phin told Rufus to stay with the horses and he settled down obediently, having the intelligence to realise that Phin couldn’t leave without his horse and therefore without him.
Their knock was answered immediately and they were shown into a neat parlour by a uniformed maid. Sir Richard entered the room almost immediately with hand outstretched, a wide smile on his lips. Phin took his hand in a firm grasp as he assessed the older gentleman. Sir Richard possessed a halo of sparse white hair and equally white whiskers. But his stance was upright and keen intelligence gleamed from faded blue eyes.
‘Phin, or should I now say your grace? It is a very great pleasure to see you again, although you were a small boy when you left here and I probably already seemed old to you at the time. I doubt whether you remember me.’
‘I remember you very well, sir. You tanned my backside, I seem to recall, for riding your young gelding around your paddock without permission.’
‘Bareback with just a halter to guide him with, and the beast hadn’t been backed before that.’ Sir Richard chuckled. ‘Quite remarkable. I was convinced that you would break every bone in your body and that your father would blame me. But you had a way with horses even then.’
‘Matthew dared me to do it,’ Phin said, laughing.
‘I don’t doubt it for a moment. You two were well known for your wild antics, and you got away with them more often than not.’
He motioned them to chairs in front of the fire and offered refreshment, which was accepted. The maid took herself off to prepare the tea, at which point Phin introduced John.
‘A great pleasure, sir,’ Sir Richard said, shaking John’s hand. ‘Although I don’t envy you the task of keeping this independent spirit in line all these years.’ He motioned towards Phin to emphasise his point. ‘But still, I am glad that he had you. I have often wondered how you fared in America, or if you would ever come back. Your father promised to write, but I never did hear from him.’
‘I think Father decided that a clean break was in everyone’s best interests,’ Phin replied. ‘But now I am back, although I wish my return had not been made necessary by such unhappy circumstances.’
‘I don’t doubt it for a moment.’ Sir Richard shook his head. ‘A terrible business. Just terrible. I doubt whether you welcome your inheritance under such tragic circumstances.’
‘I don’t welcome it at all, sir. I was perfectly content with my life in America, did not anticipate ever becoming the duke, and in truth had no wish to.’
‘But we must all do our duty, my boy, like it or not.’
Indeed, which is why you find me here.’
The tea arrived and no further conversation was made until the maid had withdrawn and it had been poured.
‘You have come to ask me about the circumstances surrounding the death of your uncle and cousin, I assume,’ Sir Richard said, stirring his tea.
‘Naturally, I am curious about the accident. Matthew and I might have been wild boys but I am absolutely sure that responsibility came to my cousin along with maturity. He was a first rate whip, I’m told, and I don’t doubt it’s true. That being the case, he would absolutely not have driven a carriage at a reckless pace on that narrow road. He would have known the risks.’
‘One would think so, but only those in the carriage that day know what actually happened. And, alas, none of them lived to tell the tale.’
‘But you are satisfied that it was an accident?’
The older man gave a reluctant nod. ‘There was no evidence to suggest otherwise, and believe me, I looked.’
Phin leaned back in his chair, obliged to accept Sir Richard’s conclusions. ‘Did you still socialise with my uncle and cousin?’ he asked.
‘Your uncle had been unwell and gradually withdrew from local society. I still called upon him and we enjoyed a game of cribbage, but he did not issue invitations and accepted them rarely. He was greatly attached to Mrs Stirling and those invitations were seldom extended to include her, you see, which offended him.’
Phin nodded to indicate that he saw all too clearly. ‘You are remembering, I imagine, just how aware of his status my uncle actually was. He did not approve of the modern way, as he put it, of the social classes intermingling. I recall that about him, so it must have come as a surprise to you when he defended Mrs Stirling’s position.’
