Chapter Twenty-One #2
Annalise blushed. “It was about a mouse. He moves back and forth through the house and listens in on the conversations of the household. My mother would read through each episode, and we would talk about the people and what the mouse thought he had heard, which was usually incorrect. I think his name was Thimble, but I cannot speak to how accurate that is.”
Mrs. Manfried smiled sweetly. “It is Nimble—the mouse’s name is Nimble. You possess an excellent memory considering how young you must have been when you heard the tale. Did your mother read it often?”
“It was the only book she brought with us to Honduras. She said it had always been my favorite, as my brother Alexander had outgrown it, so it now belonged to me,” Annalise explained.
“The book is entitled The Life and Perambulation of a Mouse. By Dorothy Kilner. Unfortunately, we do not have a copy of the story in our store, but Mr. Manfried can secure an edition and have it delivered to Beaufort House. Can you not, sir? He knows the shop which originally published the book.”
“I could have it brought around tomorrow or the next day, my lady,” Mr. Manfried told her.
Annalise knew a bit of disappointment, for she wished to send the book off with her letter. “If possible, I would like it by tomorrow. I want to send it to Derbyshire with a letter to Lady Smithfield.”
“Your grandmother shall be ecstatic, my lady. She is a fortunate woman to claim you as family,” Mrs. Manfried declared.
Annalise knew none of her family had known fortunate circumstances, but she made no comment other than to ask, “You shall add the book to my husband’s account, shall you not?”
“Yes, my lady,” Manfried responded. “Is there anything else?”
“No. I should return to Beaufort House. I have an appointment and another errand to complete today. Do you wish me to sign for the charge, sir?”
“We will address that when I deliver the book, my lady,” Manfried assured.
“Then I should be on my way. Come along, Mr. Holt. Thank you again, sir. Ma’am.” With that, Annalise departed the shop. “Lead on, Mr. Holt,” she instructed, “but do recall we are looking for lilies.”
The footman smiled easily. “Yes, my lady.”
They crossed the street again and reentered the park, but avoided the walkways, choosing rather to stroll across the lawn.
“There is a bit of crispness on the grass in the shade, is there not, Holt?” she said, while worrying whether Beaufort was still in County Kerry.
Surely the weather there must be turning to winter quicker than it is here, she thought.
Will he be made to remain until the new year?
The idea saddened her, and she paused to pronounce a silent prayer for her husband’s safety.
“I have found the names of some of the lilies, my lady,” Mr. Holt said as he pointed to a small plate in the flower bed.
However, before Annalise could respond, a voice behind her said, “So you are the one Beaufort married?” The woman’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
Annalise turned slowly to view a beautifully clad woman. She wore a gown more appropriate for the evening, and it was covered with a fur-lined cape.
Annalise did not know how to respond, but Mr. Holt had returned to her side. “Miss Julia, his lordship would not approve of your speaking to his wife.”
“Who are you to instruct me?” the woman snarled.
However, before either Annalise or Mr. Holt responded, another woman came striding towards them. “Is there an issue with which I might be of service, Lady Annalise?”
Despite the impropriety some might believe, Annalise knew a bit of relief when Mrs. Dove-Lyon approached them. She knew the woman was not of the nature to tolerate fools. “I am not confident, ma’am,” Annalise explained. “This lady seems to think she knows me.”
“I know your husband,” the stranger said in triumph. “Intimately.”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon hissed, “You think Lord Beaufort would ever return to your side after you dared to approach his wife in a public park? That is the trouble with you girls nowadays. You choose a lifestyle with its limitations and then expect something different to occur. You have read too many stories of the Cinder Maid and the prince. That is not reality.”
The woman said with a defiant lift of her chin, “My business is with Lady Beaufort.”
Though the unknown woman was more than a head taller than Mrs. Dove-Lyon, the one Mr. Holt had called “Miss Julia” backed up when the Lyon’s Den’s mistress crowded her.
“Your business was once with her ladyship’s husband, but, as I am confident Lord Beaufort released you some weeks before he proposed to Lady Annalise, for I have stood witness to his devotion to Lady Annalise, you should take your wares elsewhere.
I am confident one word from Lady Beaufort and the watch will see you to a jail cell.
Though Lady Beaufort is quality, I am not, and the next time I speak to his lordship, I shall tell him of your daring.
Beyond finding a new patron, you should also find yourself a new city, or better yet, a new country. ”
The woman apparently wished to say more, but she stormed away instead.
“Thank you, ma’am, for both today and for what you did to tend my wound,” Annalise told her. “I should have sent around a payment for the expenses you incurred. I apologize for not expressing my gratitude.”
“Do not worry, my dear girl, Lord Beaufort paid me well. He was quite distraught when learning what had happened to you.”
Though Annalise could not view the woman’s expression because of the ever-present veil she wore, Annalise thought Mrs. Dove-Lyon smiled.
“Tell me,” she instructed, “how quickly after your injury did you and Beaufort marry?”
Annalise smiled. “A bit over a week. We traveled with Lord Graham to Scotland. I have not yet written to my brother to tell him I am in London. I imagine you understand my hesitancy.”
“Your brother often believes himself smarter than the women around him, but Lady Theodora managed very well in snagging him.”
Annalise said, “Let us not speak of my sister-in-marriage.”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon nodded her head in apparent understanding. “Is Lord Beaufort not in London? I cannot imagine he would permit you to be too far from his sight.”
“His lordship’s grandmother’s estate was in worse shape than he had hoped. Moreover, Lady Klare’s health has greatly deteriorated, even in the short time I was there.”
“Was her ladyship jealous of you?” Mrs. Dove-Lyon asked.
“How did you know?” Annalise inquired.
“Because Lord Beaufort would never have permitted your exit if he did not worry for your safety. The man is quite taken with you and would not wish you too far removed unless he thought you in danger. I imagine he is quite miserable.”
“As am I,” Annalise admitted.
“Then his lordship shall return soon. I guarantee it.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon curtseyed. “I should go before the few people in the park recognize our conversation. I would not wish to ruin your reputation.”
“I believe my uncle and cousin have seen to that already,” Annalise said with a sorry shake of her head. “Beaufort deserves better.”
“His lordship deserves the woman he affects,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon corrected.
“As to your former relations, I cannot say I was sorry to view Jacob Moran’s hanging.
If Lord Duncan and your husband had not taught my staff how to recognize the uttered notes Moran and his daughter passed in my club, I would be ruined, and a hundred souls would be on the streets looking for employment. ”
“I did not know,” Annalise admitted, “until Beaufort and Marksman told me.”
“I would have assumed as such,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon shared. “At least Moran knew the hangman’s noose and his daughter was transported, though one of my contacts says the girl is also dead. Her ship took on water and sank.”
Annalise knew she frowned, for she was well aware that Caroline was an excellent swimmer; yet, she said, “When he returns to London, I shall be cognizant in informing Lord Beaufort of what you shared. Come along, Mr. Holt. We still have flower names to add to our list. It is becoming chilly, and we both could use a hot cup of tea.” With a nod to Mrs. Dove-Lyon, Annalise walked away.
She did not know which bit of news bothered her more—Caroline’s fate or the fact that her husband had turned away a strikingly beautiful woman to marry her.
“Pardon, my lord,” Mrs. Felix said as she tapped on the open door to his grandfather’s study.
Navan should have been concentrating on the receipts stacked prominently on the edge of the desk, but his mind was where it always was since taking Lady Annalise Dutton’s acquaintance.
He wondered whether she had arrived safely in London.
Had his staff treated her properly? Were the Manfrieds as honest as they had appeared to be?
Did Annalise think of him as often as he thought of her?
He looked up and attempted not to frown. “Yes, Mrs. Felix?”
“There is a gentleman here to see you. He says Lord Duncan sent him. He is supposedly an experienced land agent, and, if his accent proves true, he is also Irish.”
“Duncan sent me a land agent? How would he… Never mind. Send the man in, and ask if he wishes something to warm his bones.”
“Yes, sir.”
Navan straightened the stacks of papers on his desk. Within a matter of minutes, Mrs. Felix directed a young man into his office. “Mr. Liam, my lord.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Felix,” he said as he eyed the man. Shorter than Navan. Stocky built, but no sign of laziness in the sculpturing of his legs and arms and back. Navan gestured to a nearby chair. “How may I be of service, Mr. Liam?”
“Thank you for receiving me, my lord. If I had known you were in County Kerry, I would have called here first,” the man said as he settled in the chair on the other side of the desk.
“I am curious,” Navan said. “Mrs. Felix said it was Lord Duncan’s idea that you call upon me. I was not aware that his lordship knew I was in Ireland.”
“I cannot speak to his lordship’s knowledge. I called upon the barony estate, for the young clerk in your man of business in London told me your current land agent in Staffordshire was considering retiring soon.”
“I have heard no such rumblings,” Navan countered. “I suspect whomever you spoke to in Miegel’s office was simply confused regarding which estate I meant, as this estate actually belongs to my maternal grandparents, but it will be home to one of my minor children when he is old enough to inherit.”
“I recognized my mistake when I traveled to Staffordshire,” Mr. Liam admitted. “The information was seriously in error. I felt quite foolish.”
“Then you are seeking a position as a land agent. Is that what I am made to understand?”
“Yes, sir. Your Mr. Edwards in Staffordshire was very kind once we cleared away the misinformation. He and I had an excellent conversation, speaking mostly of your favoritism for a four-crop rotation.”
“You know of the need to replenish the soil?” Navan asked, his interest piqued. “My brother Graham uses the method exclusively on his Scottish estates.”
“I trained and oversaw what those in America call a plantation, though it was simply a grand estate, not one where the master plants cotton year after year, depleting the soil. I would not approve of that. In Pennsylvania, thoroughbred horses were the master’s obsession. He left the planting and such to me.”
“I have never seen a field of cotton,” Navan admitted, “but my wife might have.”
“Is Lady Beaufort from America?” Mr. Liam asked innocently, but Navan was glad the man had no prior knowledge of Annalise’s history.
“No, but her ladyship has traveled much of the world,” Navan explained and was proud of Annalise’s many fine qualities. He paused before adding, “What would you do about the stubbornness of our fellow Irishmen who treat the land poorly by planting potatoes year after year?”
“We are a stubborn lot, are we not, my lord?”
Though he noted the man had not answered his question, Navan said, “Tell me how you came to speak to Lord Duncan?”
“Mr. Edwards seemed to think Lord Duncan would know of your whereabouts. His lordship did not, but he told me to call upon Lord Graham, for Lord Duncan had heard you followed Lord Graham to Scotland.”
So, Marksman finally put two and two together and decided on betting on the number four, Navan thought.
“And Graham was still at his southern estate?” Navan asked casually. He thought perhaps his brother had followed the Cunninghams north so Aaran might again speak to Lady Freya Cunningham. Navan had never viewed Graham so struck by any woman.
“His lordship meant to depart later in the day when I called upon him,” Mr. Liam explained.
“And Graham told you I was at Klare Fields?” Navan did not think Graham would share that information. It was not in Aaran’s nature to be chatty with strangers, only with women.
“He said you were in Ireland,” Mr. Liam confided. “It was one of your men at Beaufort Court who told me that your Mr. O’Connor was at Klare Fields.”
“May I ask why you have tracked me through two countrysides?” Though Mr. Liam did not appear suspect, Navan was aware that he had enemies who would pay well to see him brought low.
“When I returned to Ireland with the intention of searching out a land agent position so I might marry my sweet Claudine and begin a family, everyone said you were one of the most innovative masters in all of the land. As I said previously, many men would not tolerate my suggestions well. I am hoping you will.”
“Let us discover whether I meet your criteria and you meet mine.” Navan stood and straightened his coat.
“We will walk the estate, which currently is under my grandmother’s care, but, as I said previously, one day, with the king’s permission, it will belong to one of my minor sons.
I shan’t tell you what I have decided, but I wish to hear your evaluations of what you observe.
Afterwards, perhaps over supper, you might tell me what you believe should be done to bring this estate and the manor house into better repair. ”