Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
“I called at Risley Manor,” Mr. Jarrow said, “and was told I would find you here today. Lady Chilcombe, I’ve come to apologize for my mother’s rudeness last night.”
“Have you indeed? That is getting straight to the point.” And she didn’t believe him for a second.
There was a ruggedness to this Mr. Jarrow, and a challenging intelligence in his gaze, that must have cowed the men under his command.
She, however, was not one of his men. She held his gaze and waited.
Graeme cleared his throat, and the other man blinked.
“Yes,” Mr. Jarrow said, “I will make every effort to curb her gossiping, as will my sister. Though in truth that is not the only reason I’ve sought you out. I’d like to ask you some questions about your late husband’s death.”
Tension froze her in place and it was a moment before she could speak. “Are you conducting an official inquiry? Or merely satisfying your curiosity? Or your mother’s?” Her voice quivered on the last question and she struggled for composure.
“I do not report to my mother, Lady Chilcombe.”
She sensed Graeme’s presence next to her. He’d visited Jarrow yesterday. He must have known the man’s intentions.
Jarrow glanced at Graeme, all but confirming her suspicions. She sent Graeme a withering look and stood straighter.
“I have nothing to add to what I told your father last year,” she said. “Did he not leave a report?”
“He did.”
“And he ruled the death due to illness.”
“Yes. However, the circumstances of the new will—”
“The purported new will,” she interrupted.
“Yes. The purported new will, as well as the dispute over this property, and the alleged disappearance of the, er, copy of the purported new will carried by Sir Morris Pierpont, as well as his untimely death…” He took in a deep breath.
“Let me begin again. I’ve been urged to review all the events anew. ”
Graeme watched as the color drained from Blythe’s face. Whether she was drawing a mask of calm over herself or about to swoon he couldn’t determine. He moved closer and felt her stiffen. Whatever bit of trust he’d coaxed from her had just vanished.
“Urged by whom?” she asked in a voice as tight as her clenched hands. She turned her gaze on Graeme, a haunted look in her eyes. “You’ve discussed this with Mr. Jarrow.”
He nodded. “Diddenton.”
“Actually, not just the marquess,” Jarrow said, “though he has certainly been hounding me. Will you sit, my lady. I am not here to pass on the hounding to you but to help find the truth.”
“I did not kill my husband,” she said. “I did not wish him dead. I had no influence over his associations with men like Sir Morris or Lord Vernon, or with the women he… he… Many wives do not. Perhaps most. I did not kill wretched Sir Morris either.”
She was well and truly rattled, as she’d been the night before. Graeme put his arm around her shoulders.
Jarrow stepped closer. “Won’t you be seated, my lady? I can see these are painful memories.”
Her back stiffened. “Ask quickly,” she said.
“You are interrupting Lord Chilcombe’s introduction to Bluebelle Lodge.
” She pressed her lips together and looked up at Graeme.
“Or, I’ll take Mr. Jarrow into the study, and you may take tea and cakes with the children.
I won’t have them exposed to…” she flapped a hand toward Jarrow, “to this ugliness.”
To his credit, Jarrow’s face reflected curiosity rather than offense as he waited in silence.
“Jarrow is the magistrate, Blythe. He saw the damage done yesterday. Given this new threat, would it not be good for him to meet them?”
Panic flared in her eyes, and he hastened to speak again before she could protest.
“Blythe is raising two children at Bluebelle Lodge. Perhaps your mother has spoken of them. They are her wards, and under my protection now as well.”
“I have heard, my lady,” Jarrow said gently.
“Yes,” Graeme said, “and though I cannot stop them from being shunned by gossips, they will not be barred from the village shops or from the church.”
“Of course not. I shall look forward to seeing all of you there on Sunday and lending my support.”
Graeme exchanged a look with Blythe.
“You mentioned a new threat,” Jarrow said.
Perceptive fellow. And hadn’t he said something they’d passed over? That it wasn’t just Diddenton urging an inquiry?
The sound of laughter and clumping steps reached them.
“Nicholas has been threatened,” Blythe said in a rush. “You must not say anything, Mr. Jarrow. We’ve just learned of this and we haven’t spoken to him yet. You may stay for tea. I’ll just go and assist them.”
She hurried to the door and stepped out of the room. Graeme hoped she was not running away.
He nodded at Jarrow. “Who else is urging this inquiry?”
“Our old commander,” Jarrow said, “and current Lord Lieutenant.”
“What possible interest—”
“Is there not something peculiar about this property dispute arising just before Chilcombe’s death and the manner of disposition?
Perhaps it’s that. Or, perhaps it has to do with diplomatic issues.
Better to forestall a war with China than to wage one, do you think? Of course I am only speculating.”
“I see,” Graeme said. Distraught at the rise in addiction, Chinese emperors had banned the importation of opium supplied by the East India Company through middlemen like the sea captains who worked for Lord Diddenton.
The door opened, and Blythe and the housekeeper each carried in trays. Coralie coaxed Nicholas into the room before he spotted Jarrow and halted.
“Zounds,” Jarrow muttered. “Your young lady is a beauty.”
Coralie took Nicholas’ hand and led him directly to Graeme and Jarrow. Lifting her chin, she sent Graeme a look.
“Jarrow, allow me to introduce Miss Coralie and Master Nicholas. Coralie and Nicholas, Mr. Jarrow is a neighbor who lives at Stonebridge Manor.”
Jarrow greeted both children, and Mrs. Stockwell, who excused herself to return to her work, and took a seat near the children.
Coralie plied both men with questions, and even Nicholas joined in asking about Jarrow’s time in the army and Graeme’s travels in foreign countries until every teacake and sandwich had disappeared.
“Nicholas and Coralie,” Graeme said, “Yesterday, Mr. Jarrow and I helped Mr. Stockwell repair some damage done by someone causing trouble. Have either of you seen any strangers in the garden or in the fields?”
With Coralie’s and Blythe’s coaxing, they drew out a story of not just two men on two different occasions chasing the boy, but also sightings of other strangers nearby.
“Mr. Jarrow,” Coralie said, “you’re the magistrate now. If we catch these men, can you not have them put into jail?”
“Perhaps,” Jarrow said. “If there is evidence of a crime. Meanwhile, it would be good for you children to stay indoors.”
“Your godmama and I have a better idea,” Graeme said. “What do you think about a visit to London?”
Coralie’s face brightened. “May we go shopping? And…” she glanced at Nicholas, “The circus, Nicholas. The menagerie at the Tower. Yes. We want to go, don’t we, Nick?”
Jarrow sent Graeme a skeptical look but kept silent.
Blythe stood. “Help me clear these dishes, Coralie. Nicholas, you too, and we’ll all take them back to the kitchen. I’ll return in a bit, Mr. Jarrow, for the conversation you requested.”
Graeme ushered them out and rejoined Jarrow.
“I’d offer you a brandy but this is not my home,” he said.
“No need,” he said. “When do you leave for London?”
Graeme pressed his lips together, wondering whether he could trust him not to slip.
“I won’t tell my mother. If it’s the child they’re after, there will be more opportunities for someone to snatch him there.”
“And more opportunities to hire protection. We are leaving tomorrow at first light and plan to push through in one day if possible.”
“Do you have outriders?”
“I will be the outrider.”
“If you’ll allow it, I’ll share that duty. I have personal affairs to look into there, and,” he shook his head, “this matter of trespassers has me concerned. I’ll take my leave now. Please give my regards to Lady Chilcombe. I will talk with her more at a later date.”
Blythe decided to spend the night at Bluebelle Lodge. After reading Nicholas to sleep and reminding Coralie to turn down the lamp when she finished her chapter, she retired. After tossing and turning for too long, she made her way to the kitchen.
That morning she’d left the children in Louisa’s care and returned to the parlor, steeling herself for the questioning to come, only to find Mr. Jarrow gone and Graeme preparing to return to Risley Manor.
Grateful for the reprieve, she dashed off quick notes for him to carry to Hermione and Radley, and breathed a sigh of relief that she wouldn’t see him again until the next day.
Since he’d decided to ride alongside the traveling chaise, she’d be mostly spared his company until they reached London.
Time spent with him was a trial. His kindness, his concern, tempted her to trust him and enticed her in ways she’d thought she’d grown immune to.
Too much was at stake to wager on Graeme’s trustworthiness. Not to mention, it was very hard to place trust in him when she herself was keeping secrets. She might wish for a man to solve her troubles, but marriage and life with Archie had taught her to depend on herself.
Dinner with the children had been early and wonderfully congenial, and if either of them had misgivings about the next day’s journey they didn’t reveal them. Neither did she reveal hers.
This journey to London was not quite as terrifying as the one she’d made after her stay at Matron Manor.
This time, she wasn’t facing Chilcombe House and the town alone.
The children would be with her, and she would have Will there when she arrived, as well as Hermione, who had sent a servant with a note assuring Blythe she would return with them.
She would have Will and Hermione.