Chapter 4 - Stephen #2
“Is someone ill?” Stephen asked.
“Not anymore.” Jacqueline nodded. “Sheldon ate some cake, the little scamp. It upset his stomach.”
“A servant’s child?” he guessed, heading to the sideboard. “Mr. Thornton, would you care for a whisky?”
“Thank you, but I already have one.” He lifted his glass of amber liquid as if to prove his statement.
“Sheldon is a hedgehog,” his mother said.
“Are you still rescuing the wildlife?” He poured himself a tipple, then thought better of it and added another half-inch to his glass. “When will Sheldon be ready for the hedges once more?”
“Never, my darling. Sheldon is a permanent resident of the house.”
His glass paused halfway to his mouth. “A permanent resident?”
Good heavens, he should have given himself a heftier pour.
Vera pursed her lips as if she were delighted at the direction the conversation was headed but didn’t want to let on. He frowned as she laced her fingers together. There was something vaguely mocking and self-satisfied about her expression, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure it out.
“I’ve had Sheldon for well over a year now.” Jacqueline nodded. “It’s just luck that he and Clarence get along so well.”
“Who’s Clarence?”
Vera pressed her lips together as if she were trying desperately not to laugh. He frowned at her; she arched an eyebrow.
“My fox, of course.”
“You have a fox? A fox who lives on the property?”
“In the house, dear. If it were safe for him outside, I would have kicked him out long ago.”
Stephen looked around the room. “Where on earth is it?”
She waved a hand airily. “Heaven knows. Though lately he’s taken to curling up at the end of Benjamin’s bed, so it’s possible he’s there.”
“He hogs the blankets,” Benjamin added cheerfully.
“You allow him to sleep with your son?”
The baroness frowned, considering. “Allow is a strong word, Stephen. I don’t know that one allows a fox to do anything. They’re wild animals, after all. Very instinctual.”
“Which is why they should remain outdoors, Mother.”
“Don’t be silly—Clarence is quite well-behaved. I’ve had him for years. He’s not at all dangerous. Now, the badger was another thing altogether.”
Vera exhaled something that sounded suspiciously like a snicker; Stephen ignored her.
“Are there badgers in the house right now?” Stephen blinked at the corners of the room.
“Of course not.” His mother said it with the same inflection as one might say Don’t be an idiot. “I’ve just told you—badgers aren’t safe. No—all we have right now is Sheldon, Clarence, a raccoon, a squirrel, and three voles.”“Where did you acquire a raccoon in this part of the world?” Hamish asked.
“He was given to me when he was a baby by a sea captain.”
“Naturally,” Stephen said. He knocked back his drink and crossed to the sideboard to pour himself another. He’d returned to find his household gone half to Bedlam.
He glanced toward the far sofa. Hamish was grinning at his mother as if she were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. Vera was smiling smugly, as if the entire conversation so far had been of her design and was progressing perfectly.
Stephen rethought his second drink; he set his glass down upon the wood with a thunk. He’d need to keep his wits about him—he was vastly outnumbered and didn’t understand the motley array of characters who’d infiltrated his house.
He aimed to get rid of them one by one—starting with this Hamish fellow, who was casting too-familiar looks at his mother, Miss Vera Ashbury, who had some nefarious design, and ending with every single rodent his mother had named in his absence.
“Shall we go through to dinner?” he suggested, offering his elbow to his mother.
The table was set lavishly. Crystal glimmered; china plates gleamed amid an array of shining cutlery.
Stephen was relieved to see that not everything had gone awry in his absence, and that no one had been allowed to make off with the silver yet.
He escorted his mother to a seat, but before he could react, Hamish took the place directly across from her.
Benjamin claimed the spot to her right, which left Stephen to take the empty chair at the head of the table, with Vera on his right.
She didn’t look any more pleased with the arrangement than he was—she frowned down at her plate before clearing her expression.
“What did everyone do today?” Hamish asked. Then he grinned across the table at the baroness. “Well, I know what you did. What did everyone else do?”
Stephen frowned—his mother had spent time with this secretary today? He opened his mouth to ask what, precisely, they’d done, but his brother beat him to the silence.
“Arthur and Seamus came over. We went for a walk to the creek.”
Vera’s smile was dazzling; Stephen tried very hard not to notice. Good heavens—who were Arthur and Seamus? At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised if they were two drunken louts who lived down by the creek.
“Who on earth are Arthur and Seamus?” he demanded.
Benjamin pressed his lips together and stared down at his plate.
His mother answered gently, “Arthur is the Duke of Canterbury’s son. Seamus is his dog.”
“Ah.” He cleared his throat to cover his embarrassment. At least Benjamin hadn’t fallen in with the wrong sort—yet.
“Were you able to trap the fox?” Vera asked Hamish.
The man smiled at the baroness again; Stephen stifled the urge to lob a butter knife at his head. “Not yet, though we’re hopeful we’ve found what the bugger likes to eat.”
“You’re feeding him?” Stephen raised his eyebrows.
“In order to lull him into a false sense of complacency.” His mother nodded. “Foxes are wily.”
“Aren’t they, though?” Hamish agreed, then nodded acknowledgement at the footman who set a plate before him.
“Of course, I would’ve had the animal weeks ago, if someone hadn’t scared it off.”
Hamish looked heavenwards. “I thought you were a poacher.”
Vera and Benjamin both laughed, as if this were a running joke and they were all in on it. Stephen didn’t want to admit how much that stung. He was the interloper here. Even this secretary seemed more comfortable in this house—his house—than he was.
“What happened?”
“As I said, I thought she was a poacher, so I hauled her out of the hedge by her arm. By the time I realized the true situation, the fox was long gone.”
Stephen blinked, tried to absorb this information.
“You’re truly lucky she didn’t shoot you,” Vera said, chuckling.
“Isn’t that the truth?” The man sounded like the prospect would have been delightful.
“I came closer to shooting my son yesterday than I ever came to shooting this one.” The baroness shook her head. “I still don’t understand what you were thinking, busting in the door, yelling like that.”
“I was mistaken,” Stephen said, stiffly. “I thought…”
He trailed off, but the baroness raised her eyebrows expectantly. “You thought what? Vera hardly looks like an intruder; you looked far more frightening than she ever has. I don’t blame her one bit for trying to brain you with the fire poker.”
“Wish I’d seen that,” Benjamin grumbled, so lowly that Stephen wasn’t sure he was meant to have heard it.
“It’s amazing she didn’t shoot you, from what she told me,” Hamish added with a knowing chuckle.
Stephen frowned at the knowledge that the man had heard a report of his eventful homecoming already. Just how close were his mother and this secretary?
“All’s well that ends well,” Vera supplied.
He pressed his lips together. Vera and Hamish claimed not to know each other, but what if that was part of the scam? What if his mother was the target, after all, but it was Hamish who was the main player, and Vera was just cast in a supporting role?
“How did you say you two met, again?” He waved his hand toward Hamish and Vera.
“We just met recently,” Hamish said, slicing into his fish. “The first time Jacqueline invited me to dinner.”
Stephen raised his eyebrows. Oh, it was Jacqueline, was it?
Hamish quirked a smile as if he’d read Stephen’s mind and was replying, Yes, what of it?
Benjamin asked Hamish a question, drawing both the man’s and his mother’s attention away.
Stephen leaned toward Vera and murmured, “When’s the last time you and the duchess spoke? If you’re so close with her?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I spoke with her last week.” Vera flushed as if he’d caught her in a lie, but her chin jutted and she continued lowly, “I don’t know why you’re determined to find fault with me. I’ve done nothing wrong. I’ve no ill intent toward you or your family.”
“If that’s the truth, then why won’t you answer simple questions about where you’re from, who your family is?”
“I have. I’ve told you—my family is in London. My parents are Lord and Lady Ashbury—”
“And you’ve been gone from home for how long?
Months, by my estimation. Why haven’t you returned home to your parents?
You aren’t part of a grouping of young people, where your absence might be explained by general merrymaking.
No—there’s a reason you’re still here, and I aim to find out what it is. ”
Her eyes were large, pleading. “It’s nothing, I assure you. I’m here as a guest of your mother’s because I’m fond of her and your brother.”
Her fingers trembled as she picked up her knife, and he marked it as evidence of a falsehood.
“Perhaps I’m mistaken.”
“That’s what I’m telling you.” She canted her voice low, to keep it private.
“Then you aren’t staying with my mother because she’s offering you free room and board?”
“What?” Her eyes were round.
The sight of her distress panged his conscience, but he soldiered on, determined to find the truth. “It seems to me that you’ve been moving from grand house to grand house as a guest. Is there any reason for it? One might think you have naught but charity to live on.”
Vera blinked, her mouth agape. She set down her fork.
He leaned forward, trying to capitalize on her being flummoxed—perhaps she’d let something slip. “Who are you exchanging letters with, in the village?”
“Stephen.” His mother’s voice was sharp. “What are you two talking about down there?”
“Correspondence, Mother. How unreliable the post is these days.”
He sipped his wine to settle his stomach. He wasn’t sure if he was sickened or satisfied at the look of alarm that had crossed the lovely Miss Ashbury’s features when he’d mentioned the letters. He didn’t relish her fear, but there was something she was hiding—he was certain of it.
“I cannot help but agree with you,” the baroness said, her voice still terse. “After all, the last letter I had from you stated that you’d bring a wife home. Was she lost in the post, as well?”
His eyes crawled up to meet his mother’s narrow-eyed stare. This was why he had to find out what Vera was hiding. Because his mother cared so much for the lady that she was protective of her, even in defiance of her own son.
“It’s as I told you, Mother. She and I parted ways. Amicably.”
“Ah.” She nodded. “That’s right. Silly me—sometimes I forget that once a person has answered a question, it’s rude to ask it of them again.”
Though he doubted his mother had been able to hear what was said, apparently his exchange with Vera hadn’t gone unnoted. The baroness turned back to her conversation with Benjamin and Hamish as if she hadn’t just dressed down her eldest son in full hearing of everyone.
“Then tell me something I don’t know about you.” He smiled at Vera, endeavoring to make the expression reach his eyes; it fell far short.
“That won’t be difficult. You haven’t endeavored to get to know me. You’ve only tried to get to know about me.”
He took a bite of his fish, pointedly waiting for her reply.
“I like to read. I’ve always wanted a dog, but my mother would never allow it.
I’m not fond of swimming in bodies of water where I cannot see the bottom.
Brown washes out my skin tone, makes me look sallow.
I have two brothers and five nieces and nephews.
” She tapped her chin, looking toward the ceiling. “What else?”
“How about why you’re really here?” he whispered. “Though you don’t want to tell me, I will discover the truth.”
She exhaled an incredulous gust, shaking her head. “Why on earth would I waste my breath repeating myself when you won’t believe the truth when it’s told to you?”
They were silent the rest of the dinner.