Chapter 9
D ominick might not be allowed to work on the folly, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t look .
“Ah, Mr. Trent, good afternoon. Come to keep an eye on things?”
Captain McConnell was carefully stepping his way along the narrow ledge of earth that stood between the new folly and the sudden drop down the crag. As he approached, he wiped his hands with his handkerchief, then reached out to shake Dominick’s hand.
“Captain,” Dominick said. He liked McConnell. The man had a plain directness to him that Dominick could appreciate. Probably a good trait in a man who dealt in straight lines and solid rock. “What progress today?”
“It’s going a bit slower than I’d like,” the captain admitted, looking up at the scaffolding around the tower. “But if a project ever went exactly to plan, I’d probably worry more. If we can get another two feet added to this section of the wall before nightfall, I’ll be pleased.”
Dominick was pleased as well. He didn’t know how long these sorts of things usually took, but at the rate McConnell and the army of workers Gil had found were going, it couldn’t be more than another month or two until the folly was complete. The tower itself was nearly twenty feet high and while the walls that extended from the sides weren’t nearly as tall, each time he visited they were always a little longer and a little higher, giving the impression that the folly wasn’t so much being built as growing out of the ground.
It was tall enough now that the room at the base of the tower was complete, with a wooden door already affixed so it could be used to store tools, and several of the stone stairs that would lead to the top of the tower were already spiralling up to nowhere within.
Captain McConnell looked him up and down. “In fact, you’ve arrived at the perfect time. We’re just about to lay the first stone to mark out the window in this wall. It’s a larger piece, and you look like you have a strong back, if you don’t mind my saying. Care to give us a hand? You’ll be able to say you built it yourself.”
Dominick ducked his head. “Am I that obvious?” But he was already pulling off his coat so it wouldn’t be damaged.
McConnell chuckled. “Most gentlemen want to put their mark on the work at some point in the process. Usually though, I just give them a trowel and let them smooth a bit of mortar. You don’t look like you’d collapse under a bit of real labour, but if you’d rather, there’s a whole bucket of trowels right behind you.”
“I think I’ll manage,” said Dominick, failing to pretend he wasn’t delighted to be put to work. He remembered Gil’s warning about upsetting the natural order, but he’d been invited by the captain himself. It would be rude to refuse.
Within minutes, he was lowering a long rectangular block into place, moving it slightly left and right under McConnell’s orders. He could feel the strain in his shoulders and it felt good.
“Left a bit. Bit more. Bit more. There! Down!”
Dominick set the block in place.
“Excellent!” exclaimed Captain McConnell, before turning to direct some of the actual workers to the next step in the process. Dominick stayed there a moment, his hand on the stone. Once the folly was complete, he could stand right here, looking out the window to the sea, his hand resting on this very stone and know that he’d been a part of it. A small part perhaps, but when centuries passed and he was long gone, this stone would still be here, and he’d still be a part of Balcarres.
The thought warmed him, sad as it was. He’d have to drag Alfie up here one day, make him lay his own stone so they could both be a part of it.
“Captain McConnell,” Dominick said, when the man rejoined him. He rapped his knuckles against the stone, his stone. “I think this deserves a celebration. Will you and your wife join us for supper?”
It was an impulsive question, but it seemed like the sort of thing a gentleman would offer. Besides, now that a crib had been safely delivered to the kitchen, Agnes was able to truly focus on her work and had been outdoing herself. The fact her grandmother was still hovering about the kitchen doing twice as much meant that every meal was a bounty best shared, and Captain McConnell seemed like the sort of man to enjoy a good meal.
“We’d be honoured!” the captain beamed, then his face fell. “Unfortunately, however, we’ve already accepted an invitation for this evening.”
“Invite them along. I can have word sent when I get back to the manor.” Dominick offered. Surely no one would turn down the offer to dine with the earl, and he was in too good a mood to delay.
“If you’re certain,” said Captain McConnell hesitantly. At Dominick’s nod, he pulled out a notebook and scribbled a few lines before tearing the sheet out and passing it over.
“Wonderful,” Dominick said, tucking the note into his waistcoat pocket and gathering up his discarded coat. “Who should it be sent to?”
Dominick found Alfie in the library, eyes closed in sleep and a book in danger of slipping from his fingers to the floor. Shutting the door softly behind him, he removed the book and set it on a side table before pressing a kiss to Alfie’s hair.
“Mm, Nick?”
Dominick gave him another kiss, this one on sleep-softened lips. “Forgive me. I’ve done something dreadful.”
Alfie’s eyes flew open, and Dominick put a hand against his chest to keep him from leaping out of the chair.
“Not that sort of dreadful,” he added. “No one’s bleeding.”
That was enough to get Alfie to relax at least a little.
“Go on then. What dreadful thing have you done?”
“I’ve invited the McConnells to supper.”
“That doesn’t seem so bad.” Alfie wrinkled his nose. “A bit short notice, but to be honest, I probably should have extended an offer weeks ago.”
“They already had plans, though, so I told them just to invite the others along as well.”
That was enough to make Alfie tense again. He’d known Dominick more than long enough to know he wasn’t going to like what he said next.
“Who?”
Dominick braced himself for Alfie’s reaction. “The Carnbees.”
“Magistrate Carnbee?” Alfie hissed. “Oh, for God’s sake, Nick!”
“I didn’t know it was them when I offered!”
Alfie groaned. “Well, it’s done now. And it’s not like they can turn down supper with the earl, even if they think this place is a den of murderers. Tell Jarrett to make himself scarce though, just to be safe.”
“I will,” Dominick said, kissing Alfie again. “Sorry.”
“It’s not the worst thing you’ve done,” said Alfie, which was true. No one was bleeding.
Alfie pressed a finger against Dominick’s lips, halting yet another apology kiss. “It might even mend some bridges. However, you get to be the one to tell Mrs. Hirkins she and Agnes are cooking for seven tonight instead of three.”
Dominick groaned, but it was a punishment he deserved.
To say Mrs. Hirkins was unhappy about the new supper arrangements was putting it mildly.
“I’m just meant to pull another two ducks out of the air? Fully plucked ones too, because Lord knows we haven’t the time for that! Perhaps in a proper city, but the flea-bitten souse that calls himself a butcher here never delivers half what I ask nor half on time neither!
“Nan, I think we can manage,” Agnes offered quietly, but she didn’t look any more pleased than her grandmother.
“We might manage, if that girl Janie wasn’t filching half the larder for the fairies! I tell you, no English spirit eats as well as these Scottish ones. That means no bread to go with the no meat from the butcher. So you tell Master Alfie that if he’s expecting supper for seven on no notice, he can just—”
In the end, Dominick decided against conveying the rest of her message.
As it turned out, it was supper for six instead of seven, but that hardly dulled the wrath of the Hirkins. Gil had begged off, claiming a headache that Dominick suspected was more of an unwillingness to share a table with the man who’d had his lover arrested, which was more than fair. In his place, Dominick would’ve done far worse. Anyone who laid a hand on Alfie was lucky to still be bleeding by the time Dominick was done with them.
Magistrate Carnbee seemed to be just as unhappy about the situation, slumped into his seat across the table, his great moustache twitching with displeasure as he glared down at one of the finest roast ducks Dominick had ever tasted. Carnbee’s much younger wife seemed not to notice his dour mood, dividing her time between catching the McConnells up on local gossip and attempting to secure an earl for her second husband.
“Thank you for inviting us to join you this evening, Your Lordship!” she gushed, placing her hand on Alfie’s arm. “It was ever so kind. And with such delightful company! Did you know Captain McConnell designed the rose gardens at Charleton House? I know Catriona Charleton quite well, you know. I believe her husband is your overseer’s brother. Or is it his cousin? I can never keep track. Regardless, she and I are practically sisters, so I suppose that practically makes me a Charleton as well!”
Practically a suitable wife for a bachelor earl! was what she meant. For once, Dominick was glad he and Alfie had to hide their relationship. He’d already had poison put in his food once and he didn’t want to risk it happening again if Madam Carnbee thought he was in the way of her becoming a countess.
Unless she’d heard rumours and the sheep’s heads were her way of warning him off.
Unlikely, but not impossible. He couldn’t imagine such a flighty woman determinedly dragging two severed heads down the lane and mounting them on the gateposts. If she had though, she’d probably done it as alluringly as possible, just in case the master of the house happened to be watching.
No, Dominick was probably safe from her for now. The magistrate was on his own though. If he wasn’t good enough at his job to notice when his wife was blatantly flirting with other men in front of him, then Dominick doubted he’d notice if she poured his tea straight from a bottle of rat poison.
“Actually,” said Captain McConnell, drawing some but not all of Madam Carnbee’s attention. “I could never have completed Baron Charleton’s gardens without the help of my wife.”
“Oh Captain, how gracious you are to say such a thing. You know, I think humility is one of the finest traits in a man,” Madam Carnbee said, leaning over so Captain McConnell had an uninterrupted view of the lush acreage of her bosom. Apparently, if she couldn’t have an earl, a renowned architect and former military man was good enough.
Despite himself, Dominick was impressed. If he’d been half as good as she was at flattering men back when he was working the streets, he’d have had himself a nice set of rooms in Mayfair as a kept man and not that hovel in Spitalfields.
“I’m only telling the truth,” Captain McConnell said, oblivious to Madam Carnbee’s charms as he gazed at his wife in complete devotion. “I don’t think I’d be able to find my socks in the morning if it wasn’t for Olive, never mind build gardens or follies or anything larger than a stack of toast.”
He reached out and Mrs. McConnell took his hand. Wrapped in his, her hand looked even more delicate. For a moment the two of them just smiled at each other. Dominick knew the look on their faces and couldn’t resist a glance at Alfie, knowing his love would be looking at him just the same way. Some things were worth being a little indiscreet, and absolute adoration was one of them.
Then the magistrate harrumphed and the spell was broken. “I’m sure you’re exaggerating.”
A look of irritation crossed Madam Carnbee’s face. Dominick changed his mind. If she poured rat poison into her husband’s tea, he’d pass her the spoon to stir it.
Captain McConnell shook his head.
“Not at all. In fact when we met…” He stopped then, and something passed between him and his wife. Then he gave her hand a squeeze. “Why don’t you tell it, my dear? You’re far better at this sort of thing than I.”
“Very well,” said Mrs. McConnell, finally drawing her hand back. “Clyde and I met when he was just a young engineer in Australia.”
“Young and foolish,” the captain interrupted, with a wink at his wife.
She smiled. “Indeed. Foolish enough to forget to bring enough water when they sent him out to survey the bushland. I found him wandering half-dead and nursed him back to health. When I was certain he could walk without tripping over the nearest snake’s den, I showed him which trees meant there was water nearby and which berries would give him… a most debilitating sickness. Then I let him go. I was more surprised than anyone when he stumbled back again a few months later, still alive and survey completed.”
“And right then and there,” Captain McConnell added, “I decided I quite literally couldn’t live without her. So I asked her to keep me on the right path for the rest of my life and she agreed.”
Madam Carnbee sighed longingly. “That’s so romantic.”
“My husband exaggerates,” Mrs. McConnell said fondly. “He did nothing then except thank me for saving his life. The rest didn’t come until we met again by chance some months later on the ship back to Scotland. He had the entire voyage to make up his mind as to my usefulness.”
Madam Carnbee shook her head. “That’s even more romantic! Brought together by fate in a hostile land, not once, but twice! Is it quite a beautiful place, Australia? I suppose it would have to be, to make up for all the snakes and poison berries. Never mind all the convicts! Were they quite frightening? I can’t imagine living in a place where half the population are filthy criminals. Although I suppose they were all locked up. Did you build many prisons while you were there, Captain?”
“No,” said Captain McConnell. “For the most part, it’s Australia itself that serves as the prison, cut off from the rest of civilization as it is. Most of the convicts are assigned work to do and live as decent lives as they can. As for the beauty of the place, I think I brought the best of that home with me.”
Mrs. McConnell rolled her eyes at that, but the entire table couldn’t help but smile at the sweetness of his words. All except for Magistrate Carnbee. Dominick couldn’t fully tell what was going on under his moustache, but it looked like more of a sneer.
“Sounds dreadful,” Carnbee said. “I suppose you didn’t have a choice in going, McConnell, but I can’t imagine what would possess any decent Englishwoman to live there.”
Never mind handing her the spoon, if Madam Carnbee poisoned her husband, Dominick would hold the boorish lout’s mouth open and make sure he drank every drop.
“I didn’t have a choice either,” Mrs. McConnell said. Her voice was soft, but it would take a greater fool than Carnbee to miss the steel underneath. “When I met Clyde, I was married to a farmer. It was his land Clyde was stumbling across when I found him. His land , I say again, not my own.
“A farmer’s wife has little choice but to work the lot she is given and hope for the best. And that lot is a hard one, especially in such an untamed land. It claimed the life of my first husband and left me a widow.
“But if it comforts you, Magistrate, as soon as my husband died, I boarded the first ship to leave Australia I could afford. It was the most fortunate coincidence of my life that Clyde was aboard that same ship.”
An awkward silence descended then, made no less awkward by Martin’s arrival to remove the dishes and set out the next course, thick slices of apple cake nearly drowning in cream. Dominick was delighted not only for the cake itself, but because it meant the meal was nearly done.
“How are you finding County Fife, Mrs. McConnell?” Alfie asked, changing the subject. “Is it much as you remember it?”
“Very much so or perhaps even more lovely,” she replied, perfectly pleasant once more.
“I don’t remember things being quite so far apart though,” the captain chimed in. “I swear I lose an hour’s work each day just walking up from the inn, and that’s before climbing that damned crag! Apologies for my language.”
Madam Carnbee looked shocked. “You’ve not been staying at the inn all this time! Why, I’d assumed His Lordship had put you up here. How dreadful! You simply must come and stay with us.”
“No!” cried the magistrate and Mrs. McConnell in unison. They looked at each other in surprise before quickly glancing away.
“What I mean is—”
“I’m sure they don’t—”
The two began to talk over each other and Dominick had to wonder if Captain McConnell had been so quick to accept his offer of supper because they hadn’t wanted to deal with the magistrate alone. Dominick could understand. But had they been supposed to offer the McConnells lodgings as part of their employment? Gil hadn’t said as much, but perhaps he’d assumed they knew.
It didn’t matter now. They hadn’t offered, and now that Madam Carnbee knew, it wouldn’t be long until the entire county knew the Earl of Crawford was a poor host. It wasn’t the most scandalous thing a man could be, but it wasn’t exactly reputation-building either. There was only one thing for it. From the grimace on Alfie’s face, he knew it too and wasn’t any happier about it than Dominick was.
Alfie schooled his face into something slightly more welcoming. “I completely apologise for my oversight. Allow me to make it up to you by offering one of Balcarres’ guest rooms for the remainder of your time with us.”
“That’s very kind,” said Mrs. McConnell. “But we couldn’t possibly impose.”
“Oh, but you can’t stay another night in that dreadful inn!” interjected Madam Carnbee. “Our home isn’t a lordly manor, of course, but if you won’t stay here, you must stay with us.”
Caught between a rock and a hard place, the McConnells shared a look before the captain cleared his throat.
“Thank you for your generous offer, Madam Carnbee,” he said. “But logistically, I suppose it would make more sense to sleep where we work, as it were. If you’re sure that’s quite all right, my lord.”
“Quite,” said Alfie, not sounding nearly as defeated as Dominick felt. Two more sets of eyes and ears to worry about. “I’d be delighted for you to stay here.”
Before the McConnells could give their politest thanks or—as Dominick would prefer—make up an excuse to remain at the inn, Madam Carnbee let out a shriek.
Dominick and Captain McConnell were both on their feet instantly. The magistrate seemed more interested in the contents of his glass and Alfie was hampered by the amount of Madam Carnbee suddenly clinging to him.
Dominick’s hand went for his dessert knife. “What is it?”
“It was the most dreadful thing!” exclaimed Madam Carnbee as Alfie did his best to keep her from hiding her face in his lap. “There was something dreadful at the window. A man, I think, but he looked so ghastly. He must have been some awful spirit! It was terrible!”
The McConnells were both seated on the window side of the table and the captain immediately went over, cupping his hands against the glass to peer out into the night. Dominick joined him, but couldn’t see anything in the darkness. What little moonlight there may have been was covered by clouds and he couldn’t even see the end of the terrace, never mind any lurking spirits.
“Nothing out there,” Captain McConnell said at last.
“What did this man look like?” asked Dominick with a sneaking suspicion.
“Oh, simply awful!” Madam Carnbee replied, her hands pressed against Alfie’s chest in despair. “The ghost had the most wicked look about him. He must have truly been an evil man in life! He had sneer, aye, and… and oh, a scar! A most dreadful scar! Perhaps he wasn’t a ghost at all, but some frightful murderer! It can’t be safe to travel tonight. You don’t suppose—”
Carnbee harrumphed. “It was just your imagination, dear. Those silly novels you’re always reading are to blame, I’m sure. I don’t know how you can stand such nonsense.”
Despite the magistrate’s boorishness, Dominick decided he wouldn’t help poison the man’s tea after all. He’d stopped his wife before she could invite themselves to stay the night. Besides, if he died, there would be nothing to stop her campaign to become an earl’s wife from turning into an all-out war.
Alfie had finally extracted Madam Carnbee from his lap, much to her dismay. “It was real! A real ghost, right there. I’m overwhelmed just thinking about it.”
She appeared about to swoon herself right back into Alfie’s lap. Dominick debated helping him, but his cake had been neglected far too long. He returned to that instead. Alfie could fend for himself.
“In that case, perhaps we should be getting home,” the magistrate said, knocking back the last of his wine. “Captain McConnell, can we offer you both a ride? To either the inn or our home, whichever you’d prefer.”
“Actually,” the captain said, with a look at his wife, “I believe we’ll take His Lordship up on his kind offer to stay here, if that’s quite all right?”
“Of course,” replied Alfie, sounding only a little strangled.
“But we do need to go collect our things,” Mrs. McConnell added.
Madam Carnbee placed her hand on Alfie’s arm again, not realising how close she was to getting Dominick’s dessert fork stuck in it. “My Lord, if you send a servant for their things now, they wouldn’t have to return to the inn at all and we could all stay much later. I’m sure I shouldn’t be travelling so soon after witnessing such a terrible apparition. Do you have a pianoforte, my lord? I’m told I’m quite skilled on that… or any other instrument you have that I can get my hands on.”
Dominick nearly choked on a bite of cake. It was all too much. Spluttering, he left the table with an excuse about finding Martin to go collect the McConnells’ things. As he abandoned Alfie to his fate, Dominick caught one last look of utter betrayal before he made his way out into the hall, his howls of laughter muffled by his sleeve.