Chapter Ten
Roland had almost worn out the carpet at his lodgings in Woodbridge, pacing back and forth as he debated returning to London and forgetting about the entire plan.
He’d completed one of his duties, the one that Mrs. Dove-Lyon hadn’t told him about, which was chaperoning Lissy to Mundlingham.
His other task, however, the theft of the sapphire necklace, no longer brought any thrill of excitement.
The idea of stealing something from Lissy’s home, from her family, made his stomach twist. She would never forgive him, and Leo would be so ashamed if he found out what his younger brother had done.
The taking of the necklace was exactly the sort of gamble to excite a foolish young buck, but he was no longer such a one. He wanted to be honorable, to make his family proud, and to have a stainless name and reputation. The wags at White’s would have no excuse to lay wagers against him. Ever.
He’d just made up his mind to refuse Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s commission when a letter arrived from the lady herself. Flicking open the seal, he’d scanned the contents, then crumpled the missive in his fist, emitting a heartfelt groan.
“I finally make up my mind to jump ship, and my dashed employer finds a way to keep me on board! She really does like her pound of flesh, does Bessie Dove-Lyon.”
She still expected him to return the necklace to her, by fair means or foul.
But not immediately—he must remain at Mundlingham Castle to draw out Henry Sutton.
Sutton would not accept defeat easily; he’d lost not only the income he’d extorted from Piers Darvill, but he’d failed with his subsequent mark, Roland. Now Roland was to be offered as bait.
There was no admission in the letter that Mrs. Dove-Lyon knew about Lissy’s situation, or that she’d arranged for Roland to accompany her to Suffolk. So how did the woman know that Henry Sutton had any idea where Roland was to be found?
He groaned again and shook his head. Why hadn’t Sutton just sold the coach he’d stolen, along with its contents and the horses? It would have saved a lot of trouble. The man had all the right connections for selling stolen items on—he could have made a small fortune.
Roland walked across to the window, gazing down at the street below. No one was staring at his room or shuffling quickly out of sight; no curtains twitched in the windows of the house opposite. Sutton hadn’t found him yet, but then he hadn’t known Roland would be spending a night in Woodbridge.
But what if he was headed straight for Mundlingham? Treadwell would have told him where Lissy was going. Even now, this devious malefactor and his accomplice could be close to the castle. The idea of the danger that threatened Lissy squeezed his heart in an icy fist.
It all made sense; it was exactly what Sutton would do.
With Treadwell’s intimate knowledge of the building, Sutton would have no difficulty getting into the place.
Treadwell would claim Lissy and her inheritance, and Sutton would help himself to whatever he wanted, doubtless blackmailing the family into the bargain.
His fear for Lissy’s safety finally convinced him to agree to Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s plan.
So he presented himself at Mundlingham Castle at the time agreed and managed to avoid seeing or being seen by Lissy before heading into Lady Ashby’s study for his interview.
It had all gone astonishingly well; he’d used his charm, avoided any mention of Brampton Hall or the surname Chetwynd, and succeeded in giving the impression of being a competent young man with high hopes and ambitions.
In no time at all, it seemed, she was shaking his hand and offering him the position of secretary.
Following the interview, Roland paused in the passageway outside Lady Ashby’s study, wondering how long he’d got to fulfill his mission. At any moment, Lissy might see him and expose him. Then his punishment, which he couldn’t help but think well deserved, would begin.
His feet felt like lead as he made his way along the main landing toward the aged oak staircase that led down into the entrance hall. He imagined Lissy at the bottom, her face twisted in disgust at his deception, and bile bit at his throat. How was he to persuade her to keep his identity a secret?
He was still lingering at the top of the stairs, searching for the words to explain himself to Lissy, when a young man came cantering up the steps.
Pulling up short, he looked Roland up and down. “Hullo—who might you be?”
Those cornflower-blue eyes, the determined set of that chin—Roland knew immediately who the young gentleman was.
“My name’s Cowley. You must be Mr. Hugo Ashby.” This was Lissy’s younger brother, the water-diviner, for sure. He was far too handsome to be a curate.
“Good morning, Mr. Cowley. You guessed correctly. Are you joining the household in some capacity?”
What was Hugo Ashby doing at home? Lissy had said that he worked in Somerset.
It was a complication, having another family member in the household.
The man could be a useful ally against Sutton, but if Roland let slip anything about his primary mission, he’d make an instant enemy. Best to say no more than was necessary.
“I am to be your mother’s secretary.”
The young gentleman’s brows lifted. “What happened to old Dashwood, then? Nothing unpleasant, I hope.”
“Not at all.” Lady Beatrice had explained the reason during his interview.
“I understand your mama was disappointed in something she’d detailed Mr. Dashwood to do down in London.
” Although the lady had not said as much, Roland assumed Dashwood had taken the blame for Lissy’s elopement and for the time it took before the couple was discovered.
Poor fellow. People who lived in the provinces had no idea of the size and complexity of the Metropolis, or how difficult it was to find those who wanted to remain hidden.
Did Hugo know his sister had attempted to elope? Roland must proceed cautiously and try not to reveal that he knew some of the family’s dark secrets.
“Welcome to Mundlingham Castle, then.” Hugo held out his hand, and Roland shook it, remembering just in time to conceal the shaft of pain that shot up into his shoulder. He must deal with that, but later, after he’d established himself in his new post.
“Has anybody shown you around?”
“No. I was just about to take the carrier to Woodbridge and collect my things. I understand I’m to have lodgings here.”
“In the old coach house, I imagine, where poor old Dashwood was. Don’t worry!
The place has been modernized and is very comfortable.
If you’re not in a hurry, I could give you a tour.
This place is a bit of a rabbit warren. The Elizabethan living accommodation butts up against the medieval remains of the castle.
Modern adaptations have been added at various times, like the orangery and the laundry. ”
Roland pressed his lips together. This was exactly what he needed—ascertaining the layout of the buildings might help him work out any chinks in the fortifications through which villains like Sutton and Treadwell could slink unnoticed.
He almost laughed. Here he was, with the castle already exercising its influence on him, making him ponder the value of its defenses.
He felt a moment’s sympathy for Lady Beatrice—it was quite a place to manage, even with servants.
Brampton Hall, built all in one go at the end of the previous century, was well lit, refined, and extremely well organized.
Mundlingham Castle had been tweaked, adjusted, undermined, and rebuilt, according to the whim of its owners and the fashions of the times.
Character, it had in abundance. Convenience, it did not.
“I should love to have a look about the place, Mr. Ashby. Do you mind if I take notes?”
He fished a small notebook out of his pocket and a stub of pencil. Along with the pebble-lensed glasses, which he was wearing again, he considered these stationery items an essential part of his role as secretary.
“Not at all. You might even want to draw a map. If I take you down into the medieval dungeons, you could get lost. There’s a hidden postern as well, and tunnels.”
“You make this place sound like a feature in a Gothic novel, Mr. Ashby.”
“Probably what inspired me to take up dowsing. I’ve found two separate wells within the castle precincts, you know, neither of which was visible.”
Roland was eager to see the different points of entry into the castle, but such pointed interest might arouse suspicion.
“Your dowsing sounds interesting.”
“It was at first, but it’s now just a job.
However, I can claim to be the only person who knows exactly where all the galleries, shafts, and adits at the Midnorton mine are located.
I was invaluable when we had a cave in—I got them all out with barely a scratch. Divining’s a skill anyone can learn.”
The young man gave Roland a hopeful look, like a dog expecting a bone.
A fascinating family, the Ashbys! Thus far, those he had met were out of the ordinary.
But then, being brought up in an environment like this, surrounded by the resonance of one’s medieval ancestors, it would be very hard not to be an exceptional kind of person.
“I have no objection to learning when I have the time. Meanwhile, I’d be most grateful for a tour of the tunnels and that postern gate you mentioned.”
“I’ll be here for a couple of weeks—Mama has decided, quite out of the blue, that she wants to throw a costume ball, and I am required to help.
You’ll be entangled in the preparations, too—nobody escapes when Mama has a project in mind.
I imagine it’s to cheer up Lissy, who’s been melancholy for months. I don’t know why.”
Hugo paused and glanced toward the hallway. Expecting to see Lissy standing there, Roland’s heart launched into an uncomfortably rapid beat. There was no one there.