Chapter 26 #2
“I am ravenous,” Hart said as they came into the house.
“For food?” Emeline teased.
“Naughty minx.” He lifted his brows, smiling.
They were passing through the flagstone entry hall when Mrs. Peachey appeared, as if she had been waiting for them.
After offering her good wishes for their betrothal, she said, “I feel that the time has come to speak to you about an important matter. Might we meet in the dowager duchess’s bedchamber? ”
Hart blinked. “What the devil can you possibly have to say to me there?”
“My lord, please trust me when I say I have a good reason. I promise to be brief, for I know you both must be eager to have luncheon.”
“Peachey, you know I hate that place.”
Her smile brooked no refusal. “Shall we say…ten minutes?”
“Fine.” He scowled.
As they walked slowly up the broad staircase and along the passageway, Emeline marveled at how quickly Hart’s old barriers had risen.
Hoping to distract him, she said, “Before we go back downstairs to the dining room, I must get the book I brought from London about ancient coins.” Briefly, she explained about Panizzi loaning her a volume from his private collection.
“It will be invaluable, helping us to pinpoint the date of the coins in the grave!”
“Yes.” His tone was distant. “That’s an excellent notion.” Had he heard a word she’d spoken?
At the end of the corridor, the door to the Dowager Duchess of Caversham’s bedchamber loomed up before them. Emeline recalled all too well how Sarah had told her that no one ever went inside that room except Mrs. Dawson, to tidy up.
Today, there was a key inserted in the lock. “Apparently Peachey has been planning this,” Hart muttered as he unlocked the door and they entered.
Hart felt as if he were entering a tomb, scented with the stale remnants of his mother’s expensive perfume.
The cavernous bedchamber had windows overlooking both the long avenue in front and the ruins in back.
However, the views were obscured by heavy draperies, and the room was chilly, damp, and cluttered with the dowager duchess’s eccentric possessions.
Nothing had been touched since her death a decade ago.
Certainly Hart hadn’t wanted to go through her things, and it was easier just to lock the door and stay away completely.
“God, it’s freezing in here,” he muttered.
Emeline touched his shoulder, clearly waiting for more, but he couldn’t look at her. He walked away, over to an ornate writing desk. It was still littered with his mother’s notes and papers, as if she might return at any moment.
“I wish I could pretend none of my family existed, but it’s impossible in this house,” he said, picking up a letter opener. “You surprised me, turning up here, and now I have no choice about it.”
“But if we are to be married, you cannot keep your family and your past locked away. You have told me a bit about your father…and your brother. It sounded as if you had an unhappy childhood…”
“It’s in the past.” His heart felt like it was folding in on itself. “I can’t change it, so why dwell on it? That’s why I rarely come to the priory or, for that matter, even see my brother.”
Just then, Mrs. Peachey appeared in the doorway. “Ah, there you are.” She walked briskly to the tall windows overlooking the drive and opened the drapes. Soft, late autumn light shone in, lifting some of the gloom. “There now! Isn’t that better?”
“I would prefer to not be here at all, Peachey,” he replied in a hard voice.
“Of course I know you’d like to go, my lord, but I cannot allow that.” The housekeeper crossed to stand next to him. “Your mother entrusted me with a series of tasks before she left this world.”
He sent her a skeptical look. “You are having me on.”
“Not a bit. You see, Lord Jasper, it was the duchess who asked me, along with William, to leave the duke’s employ and go with you when the time came for you to leave university.”
“But Mama died before I completed my studies.” Hart stared at her. “Devil take it, Peachey, are you telling me she made these arrangements with you in advance—when all these years, I believed that you and William came with me simply because you…preferred me to Father and Austell?”
“Have I ruffled your feelings? Of course, we preferred you to them, Lord Jasper. We came to you because we cared.” Peachey touched his arm, and Hart felt a stab of old pain before she continued, “But we were also with you in service of the duchess. When she left Caversham Castle and returned here to live, she wrote to me very clearly about her wishes. And now that we have gotten you safely to this juncture in your life, I believe you are ready for the next step.”
Hart mutely turned toward Emeline. She came to his side, reached out to him, and squeezed his hand.
“What juncture do you mean?” he asked.
“Today you announced your betrothal.” The older woman beamed at them. “Now you are no longer alone, Lord Jasper, and although it won’t be easy, it is time for you to learn the truth.”
Hart couldn’t decide if he was glad or not for Emeline’s presence. He spoke through clenched teeth. “Go on then.”
“You have already discovered the little red chest your mother kept in the back of her armoire. Those were artifacts that she discovered on her own, near the ruins when she was a child. But there is something more, hidden in plain sight, for years.”
As Hart and Emeline watched, the housekeeper pointed to an ugly footstool in front of his mother’s favorite chair by the window. He snorted. “If you mean that hideous thing, in my opinion it should remain hidden. Or better yet, disposed of.”
Peachey gave him a cryptic smile. “You say that now.” She perched on the edge of the duchess’s chair and regarded the footstool, which consisted of a cushioned tapestry top, frayed and soiled, over a flat-bottomed wooden base, intricately painted with crimson and gold flowers against a pale green background. The entire thing was a monstrosity.
Glancing over at Emeline, Hart shrugged slightly. “Perhaps she’s gone mad.”
But when Peachey reached out to press a hidden catch beneath the cushioned surface, the top sprang open to reveal an interior that resembled a large jewelry box.
Hart felt a chill. Inside were four hinged, covered sections, and one by one Peachey opened them.
Soon the entire footstool appeared to be filled with glittering pieces of jewelry, many of which Hart recognized.
“Her Grace desired that all of these should to go to you, Lord Jasper, or should I say…to your bride? She knew your father or even your brother might come here one day and poke around, but no one would suspect this old footstool could conceal the dowager duchess’s private jewels.”
He was stunned. “But the current duchess has the Caversham jewels. I’ve seen Margaret wearing some of them.”
“These were pieces your mother accumulated separately during her lifetime. She had no way of knowing that you would amass a fortune on your own, and so this was her way of providing for you once you married,” Mrs. Peachey explained.
“Right. But I don’t bloody need my mother’s jewelry.” Hart felt his mouth twist in a cynical smile. “Have I shocked you?” He shrugged. “All of this is entwined with a past I want no part of.”
Even before Hart finished speaking, he felt Emeline’s light touch on his back. “You and I may find a way to use this added fortune for good,” she said softly.
Peachey raised a hand. “Let me assure you, Lord Jasper, the real treasure for you cannot be measured in shillings and pounds. It is in this secret drawer.” Pointing to a thin, wide drawer tucked into one of the compartments, she brought a fragile key out of her pocket and handed it to him.
“Her Grace gave this into my keeping shortly before her death and I’ve been waiting ten years to put it in your hand. ”
Hart sent her a dark look. “You’re killing me, Peachey.” But he took the key, sat back on his heels, and inserted it in the tiny lock. More of the musty perfume assailed him as the drawer slid open. Inside, like a ticking bomb, was a letter.
His heart froze as he read the inscription in his mother’s familiar curving hand.
To my son, Jasper: His Grace, the rightful Duke of Caversham.