Chapter 26
THEO
The next morning, Mr. Norris called at the house. Theo, George and Norris sat around the dining room table while George went through the ledgers, asking questions and taking copious notes.
Norris was not a land steward but a bookkeeper by trade, which meant there were quite a lot of George’s questions he couldn’t answer.
“I’d suggest you ask Mr. Martin about that,” Norris said in response to the latest one. An answer he’d already given numerous times.
“Of course,” George said, and made another note in his book while Theo—who had realised he was staring at George’s mouth—dragged his gaze away, pretending absorption in the large open volume on the table.
It was impossible to concentrate on the boring columns of figures, especially when he couldn’t stop looking at and thinking about George.
The lust that heated his blood troubled him far less than the other, newer feelings he was experiencing.
Helpless yearning. Bewildered affection.
Feelings that he was finding it increasingly difficult to ignore.
Finally, after another hour, George ran out of questions, and Norris closed the ledgers, tucking them back into his satchel.
“If there’s anything else I can help you with, Mr. Asquith,” he said, as he stood to take his leave, “please let me know.”
“Thank you,” George said. “I will.”
Theo rose to his feet too. “I’ll see you out.”
When they reached the front door, Norris paused. “Mr. Caldwell, do you remember the brief discussion we had the last time you were here? I mentioned to you that there’s a local gentleman who may be interested in acquiring this property.”
“I remember,” Theo said coolly. “And I gather there’s a rumour going around that I’ve already agreed to sell to him.”
Norris frowned. “Really? I can’t imagine how that started.
” Then he shrugged. “That said, it’s widely known that he’s interested in purchasing more land in the area and people do love to gossip.
At any rate, I was speaking with him a few days ago and he mentioned the matter again.
He’s off to Liverpool for a few weeks, but he told me he'd like to meet with you when he returns.”
Theo stared at Norris. Just a few days ago, the prospect of an easy sale that would leave him with a tidy sum in his hand would have elated him, but after his conversation with the Morgans, and the one that followed with George, he felt rather differently.
Finally, he said, “I’m willing to consider selling, but not on any terms.”
“Of course,” Norris said easily. “It would only be a conversation, to see if you can agree something mutually acceptable.”
Reassured, Theo said, “Very well. In that case, I’d be happy to meet with him.”
Norris smiled then, displaying an alarming array of crooked teeth. “Very good. I’ll speak with him when he returns, and let you know the date. Is there any particular day of the week that would suit you best?”
“No, I’m happy with whatever you arrange,” Theo said. “My days are quite free presently.”
“Excellent,” Norris said, and thrust his hand out. “Then I’ll take my leave of you, Mr. Caldwell, and let you know the date as soon as I can.”
When Theo returned to the dining room, it was to find George still scribbling in his notebook. “So,” he said. “What did you think of the ledgers?”
“They look fine,” George said. “They’re well kept and everything looks in order. Norris is doing his job well enough, but—” He broke off, frowning.
“What?” Theo prompted.
George met his gaze, and his own was troubled. “It’s not what’s in there that’s the concern, Theo. It’s what’s not there. The things I’d expect to see in the ledgers. The upkeep costs, that sort of thing.”
Martin’s words came back to him then, about the state of repair of the house, the cottages, the roads.
The expenses that had not been… expended.
A hot flush of shame washed over him. These last months, he had assumed Blackfriars would continue running without him having to actually do anything.
Plainly, he’d been wrong—feckless as usual—and now he felt like the worst kind of thoughtless fool.
He was no better than his father, expecting the rents to be paid without him even troubling to think about the place.
He hated that George was seeing his ineptitude.
“You wrote down a lot of questions for Martin,” he said at last.
“He seems to be the man we need to talk to,” George replied. “It’s good that we’ve already arranged to meet him today.” He tapped his fingertips on the table, thinking. “Perhaps you should invite him to join us for dinner after? Mrs. Ford will probably be delighted to cook for him.”
Theo nodded. “Good idea.” He tried to smile, but knew it was poor effort.
The truth was, he could already imagine how the day and evening were going to go.
He would have nothing to contribute to the discussion but his attention, listening while George asked his pointed, intelligent questions and Martin answered him with all his years-long knowledge of Blackfriars.
“What’s wrong?” George said, frowning.
Theo shook his head. “Nothing.” He smiled and rose to his feet. “Shall we head over there now? It’s a quarter to twelve.”
* * *
George was quiet as they walked to Martin’s farm.
“What’s wrong?” Theo asked, nudging his arm with one elbow. “You seem preoccupied.”
George glanced at him. “I was thinking about your uncle and Martin again.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, oh,” George said with a half-hitched, rueful smile. “I’ve been brooding over what you said yesterday—that if they were lovers, that means Martin had to leave his home when your uncle died.” He shook his head. “It’s just so unbearably sad.”
“Don’t brood too much,” Theo said gently. “We don’t even know for certain that they were together.”
“I know, I just—I wish I could ask him.” George’s brows were pinched together. “I’ve been trying to think of ways to do so subtly but—”
“Absolutely not,” Theo interrupted, coming to a stop. “What if you’re wrong? What would Martin make of you asking such scandalous questions? We can’t—”
George's anxious expression shifted into something that looked more like impatience. “I’m not an idiot, Theo. I wouldn’t just blurt it out.”
“Good. Then don’t,” Theo said shortly. “The least said, the better.”
“Do you really think that?” George said hoarsely. “I’m not sure I do anymore. I keep thinking about how he must feel, grieving the man he spent his life with and not even being able to speak of it. To anyone. I can’t imagine anything more lonely. Can you?”
Theo could only stare at him. George was right—but Theo was right too. Raising the subject would be reckless. For some reason, though, this particular story had struck a nerve with George.
That was when, the words George had uttered at dinner last night came back to Theo.
“I’m tired of being lonely.”
George knew what it was to be lonely, and the realisation made Theo’s throat ache. “I just think we still need to be careful.”
George scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck and began walking again. “I know. You’re right.” Silently, Theo fell into step beside him.
After a while, George said, “What was your uncle like?”
Theo shrugged. “Honestly, I barely knew him. I only met him once or twice when I was very young. You could have knocked me down with a feather when I learned he’d left me Blackfriars.”
“How did he come by it?” George asked. “Did he inherit it from someone else in your family?”
Theo’s mouth quirked. “No, it’s quite a story actually. I told you before that he lived in London before he came here, and spent all his days drinking and gaming?”
George nodded.
“Well, one night, he won Blackfriars in a game of Faro. Everyone thought he’d sell the place, but instead he gave up his hedonistic life in town and came here to settle down and become a farmer.”
“Oh my word,” George gasped. “He and Martin moved here so they could be together! That must be it, don’t you think?”
Theo considered it. His mother had told him that everyone had been astounded that Stephen Lockhart had given up his decadent life in town to become a farmer in the back of beyond.
If he had come here so he could live out his life with Martin in peace, though, that decision made a great deal more sense.
Theo glanced at George. His gaze was hopeful. Happy. For some reason, the story of these two men—the truth of them—mattered to George, and suddenly, Theo couldn’t think of a single reason why he was expending so much effort denying that George was probably right.
He sighed. “All right, let’s see what we can learn without being too obvious,” he said. “It may be that if we drop a hint or two, Martin will take us up on it.”
George’s smile deepened, and his gaze went soft. “That sounds like a plan.”
His approval settled over Theo like a warm blanket that felt far too good. He didn’t want to crave George’s happiness, or make compromises to win his approbation, yet somehow he found himself doing just that.
When they crested the rise of the hill, they could see Martin’s farmhouse in the valley below. It looked quiet and still, but as they approached the house, they began to hear wild barking and distressed whining.
“Is that his dog?” George said, brows drawing together in concern.
It certainly sounded like it. When no one answered the front door, they hurried around the back of the house.
As soon as they appeared in the farmyard, the collie, Fen, raced over to them, barking like mad, only to wheel around and go hurtling right back to where it had come from.
“What on earth?” Theo said glancing at George. Already, the collie was running towards them again. It stopped to raise its head and let loose another wild flurry of barks before careering off in the same direction.
“He wants us to follow,” George said, hurrying after the dog. Theo’s heart began to race. He knew with a deep down certainty that something was wrong.
He found out what it was as soon as they turned the corner.