Chapter 9
Nine
“Aunt Aurelia,” called Justin in a loud voice to get his aunt’s attention. “Lord Branford is going to join us for tea.”
“Oh!”
Squinting through the shadows cast by the piles of books staked on the long table, Branford was just able to make out an elderly lady half hidden by the tall leather-bound book she was reading.
“How nice,” added Lady Beckworth, smiling vaguely in their direction as she let the volume close with a thud. “He isn’t going to shoot anyone today, is he?”
Justin sucked in his breath.
“Rest assured, madam, I shall endeavor not to put a period to anyone's existence for the next hour,” answered the earl.
“Sorry, milord,” mumbled Justin in a low voice tight with embarrassment. “I must apologize for my family’s odd manners. It would be completely understandable if you wish to reconsider taking tea with us.”
A look of unholy amusement glinted in Branford’s eyes. “I wouldn’t dream of crying off, Chilton. “I’m very much looking forward to it.”
An hour later, Branford found that he was truly enjoying himself.
He had reviewed the upcoming races at Newcastle with Justin, making the young man laugh with some very pithy anecdotes concerning the jockeys due to ride …
He had discussed Homer with Lady Beckworth, delighting the older lady by quoting passages in the original Greek …
and he also discussed—though argued was a more accurate description—the aesthetics of garden design with Alex, taking secret pleasure in her strong opinions and her confidence in espousing them …
“What fustian,” snapped Alex in reply to an observation he had just made. “That is a typically male point of view—if there is a rock where you want a tree, simply dump a barrel of gunpowder on it and get rid of it.”
Branford regarded her thoughtfully. “And what, pray tell, would be a typical female reaction?”
“A female would look at the rock and the surroundings and consider whether the rock might work in harmony with a different arrangement of plantings —or whether the tree one wished to plant might look just as well in another spot.”
The earl crinkled his eyes in amusement. “Be honest, Miss Chilton—would you settle for a rock in your garden?”
Alex smiled. “Quite likely not,” she admitted.
“I rather thought not. My sense is that you would inform the rock of all the reasons its presence was unacceptable there … and it would scurry off of its own accord.”
Justin let out a peal of laughter. “You have the right of it, sir,” he said, ignoring Alex’s indignant expression. “Why, I could tell you some tales of what Alex did …”
“Justin! I’m sure His Lordship is not interested in such childish nonsense.”
“Remember the time you and Papa …” Justin stopped and a pensive look clouded the laughter from his features.
“Lord Branford was asking me earlier about Papa, and what sort of a man he was. It seems that His Lordship feels it might be helpful to know something of Papa’s quirks .
” He glanced at the earl. “Perhaps you should ask Alex and Aunt Aurelia the same question, sir.”
Alex frowned in thought. “You are thinking about the code?”
He nodded.
She sat in silence for a few moments, a furrow forming between her brows. “Papa shared his passion for his work with us—his love of flora and fauna—but little of his private thoughts. He was very remote at times, even angry, though I could never imagine at what. For the most part he was—”
“He was a very troubled man.”
Everyone turned to look at Lady Beckworth.
“I don’t know quite why he married your mother,” she continued.
“Forgive me if I cause the two of you any pain, but I believe you are both of an age where you will understand what I am saying. Oh, he cared for Olivia and the two of you, but it was as if it were merely accommodating his … daily needs.”
“It doesn’t sound a great deal different from many marriages of the beau monde,” observed Branford softly.
Lady Beckworth acknowledged his quick insight with a nod. “Too true, milord. But it was not mere indifference or indulgence. Something was eating at him inside. Something he wouldn’t share with anyone.”
“H-How did Mama feel about it?” asked Alex.
“At first, I believe my sister thought she could change him. Later, she simply accepted what part of himself he could give to all of you. As you know, he was never deliberately cruel.”
But blindly selfish, thought Branford with an inward frown. It had been very self-serving to saddle a young daughter with the burdens of an adult. He noticed that Lady Beckworth’s grip tightened on her teacup as she went on.
“However, I thought the fact that he let the responsibility of running a household and managing Justin fall on you at such an age was egregiously wrong,” continued Lady Beckworth, echoing the earl’s assessment.
“I didn’t mind,” said Alex quietly. “And we had a very interesting time growing up—we learned a variety of fascinating things and visited a number of interesting places as he worked on his manuscript of the natural history of England.”
“There is more to life than work, and I shall always be cross with him for failing to realize that with his own children,” replied Lady Beckworth, her tone gentle yet edged in anger.
“What of his family?” asked Branford. “What were his parents and his siblings like?”
Both Alex and Justin looked blank.
“He never spoke of them,” answered Alex.
“It was as if they didn’t exist,” mused Justin.
The earl looked questioningly at their aunt.
Lady Beckworth shook her head too. “I remember him telling my sister that his family was—gone. He seemed unwilling to discuss the matter, so she never pushed him further.”
Branford frowned, thinking it very odd.
“Yes,” acknowledged Lady Beckworth, catching his expression. “I suppose it sounds strange. But he was a respectable young man, introduced to Olivia by a friend of our family. It didn’t seem terribly important.”
“You have no idea where he was from?”
Lady Beckworth shook her head.
“You know, I hadn’t really thought about it,” mused Alex, “but in all our travels, Papa never once mentioned that we were near where he grew up.” A frown flitted across her face. “And during the course of our travels, we went nearly everywhere in Britain”
“Except East Anglia,” pointed out Justin. “He hated the Fens—he said the area chilled him to the bone.”
Branford looked questioningly at Alex. “But I thought you said that was where he had his fatal accident?”
“Yes—ironic, isn’t it,” she replied. “It was his first trip there. I suppose that he knew he had to visit it at some time if he wished to finish his natural history of England. After all, he couldn’t very well leave such a well-known place out.”
It was a rational explanation, acknowledged Branford. But something—he wasn’t sure what—troubled him about it
“Does any of this help?” asked Alex.
“I’m not sure,” answered the earl frankly. “I shall have to think on it.”
But he had little time to mull over it at the present. The clock on the mantelpiece chimed the hour, causing him to put aside his cup and rise from the comfortable but worn wing chair.
“I fear I have lost track of the time. As I am engaged for the evening, I regret that I must take my leave.” He bowed to Lady Beckworth, taking her frail hand and pressing it lightly to his lips.
She smiled warmly. “I hope you will visit again, Lord Branford.”
“You may count on it.”
“And don’t forget to bring that volume of Aristophanes you mentioned.”
“Ah,” he gave a mock grimace. “And here I thought it was my scintillating conversation which had garnered the invitation.”
As Lady Beckworth let out a laugh, he nodded to Alex and Justin and took his leave.
A companionable silence reigned in the small drawing room as they each sat engaged with their own thoughts. Then suddenly Lady Beckworth pursed her lips and made a rude sound. “Fools,” she announced. “Utter fools.”
Alex and Justin exchanged puzzled looks.
“Who?” ventured Alex.
“Polite Society! How such cruel and stupid rumors start is beyond me.” She made a facet.
“Why, to listen to the beau monde, one would think Lord Branford was Lucifer incarnate. Now, I may be in my dotage, but I find him delightful—witty, charming, intelligent, and possessing a sly a sense of humor as well.” She expelled a sigh.
“If I were fifty years younger, I would set my cap for him.”
Alex nearly dropped one of the cups she was stacking on the teapot. She quickly recovered, and ignoring her brother’s quizzical look, picked up the tray and hurried off to the kitchen.
Branford glanced in the large gilt looking glass that hung in the entrance hall of his townhouse and straightened the cravat of his evening dress.
Picking up his hat and walking stick from the side table, he gave a brief nod to the footman who quietly materialized from the shadows to open the front door.
His carriage was already waiting at the bottom of the steps, but instead of climbing in, he walked around to the mews.
Inside the area housing the stalls, a short, stocky groom was putting away a newly cleaned harness.
His movements were so deft that few people would have noticed that his left shirtsleeve was sewn shut to cover a stump that ended at the wrist.
“Good evening, Simms.”
Simms acknowledged the greeting with a nod. “Cap’n.”
“I have a special job for you.”
The fellow’s eyes lit up with interest.
Branford handed him some folded sheets of paper. “This explains what I want you to do. Be ready to leave for East Anglia first thing in the morning. Haddan will arrange a horse.”
“Aye, Cap’n.” The ex-soldier still had not lost the habit of addressing his former officer in military terms.
“I needn’t remind you that this is a matter of utmost discretion.”
In reply, Simms spit into the hay.
Branford allowed a ghost of a smile. “No, I thought not.” He placed a heavy leather purse on top of the stall railing. “Expense is no object. Keep me informed of anything you discover.”