Chapter 17
The man’s mouth gaped open as he stared at Max. “Bloody hell.”
“I’ll repeat my question. Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?” Max asked in an arctic tone that rivalled his father.
“I’m the duke’s land agent, Augustus Cobbins.” He stared at Max. “Why didn’t you let us know you were coming, sir? We would’ve been more prepared-like.”
The woman who’d been seated next to Cobbins stood and bobbed a curtsy. “I’m Mrs. Cobbins, the housekeeper, and this is Mrs. Smith, our cook.”
“Have my servants arrived?” Max asked Mrs. Cobbins.
“No, sir, or else we would’ve known you were coming.”
“Is there anyone working in the stables?”
“Yes, sir,” Mr. Cobbins said.
“Good, we require sustenance, and Mrs. Cobbins, perhaps you will escort my wife to our suite.”
“Nothing’s been prepared, sir,” Mrs. Cobbins stammered. “If you’d be so good as to wait—”
“Perhaps the marchioness and I should have a look at the state of the house ourselves while Mrs. Smith makes us some tea,” Max said.
“I wouldn’t recommend that, sir.” Mr. Cobbins had the audacity to step in front of Max. “Things aren’t ready for you, but we’ll set that to rights when the rest of the staff get here, eh?”
“Move,” Max snapped. “And it’s my lord, not sir.”
Max and Allegra left the kitchen and headed past a butler’s pantry, which was unoccupied, and a housekeeper’s room that appeared to be stuffed with furniture and that had a roaring fire in the grate. Max held the baize door open so that Allegra could proceed into the entrance hall.
“The proportions are nice.” Allegra looked up at the domed ceiling. “The house goes back much farther than I imagined.”
“Why are you talking about the damned ceiling when it’s obvious that something is seriously wrong with this place?” Max demanded.
He took her hand and marched her down the first of several corridors leading off the hall.
Dust hung heavy in the air, along with the smell of damp and encroaching mold.
All the shutters were closed over the windows, but it was still bright enough to see that the rooms contained almost no furniture or art on the walls.
“Where’s everything gone?” Allegra asked. “Do you think it’s being stored somewhere?”
“Somehow, I doubt it,” Max said, as he shut the final door and they set off again. “Ah, here are the more formal rooms.”
They entered a drawing room with a beautifully decorated ceiling and a large marble fireplace.
The carpet needed cleaning, and again, there was almost no furniture.
The dining room, which could be accessed through double doors from the drawing room, was similarly bare.
The study was occupied by a large spaniel sleeping in front of the fire who barely bothered to acknowledge their existence.
Allegra assumed it must belong to Mr. Cobbins. “I don’t think the duke would like his agent using his study,” she observed.
“He would not.”
Just as they were about to go upstairs, someone banged on the front door. Max looked out of the window and immediately tried to open the door, which creaked and groaned from lack of use.
“Oh, my goodness, my lord.” Claude almost collapsed into Max’s arms. “A wheel came off the cart, and we had to stop at an inn in Corsham to have it fixed, and it took forever!”
“We’re glad that you’re here now,” Allegra said. “Perhaps you might meet us back in the kitchen? The cook is making some tea.”
Claude departed, and Max shut the door and turned to Allegra. She’d never seen him look quite so formidable.
“I don’t know what you think, my dear, but it appears to me that the Cobbinses haven’t been doing their job.”
“I agree.” Allegra shuddered. “Do you think there will even be a bed upstairs to sleep in?”
“I damn well hope so.” He took her hand. “Shall we go back to the kitchen and ask our amiable hosts exactly what is going on?”
Max had nurtured a foolish dream of presenting Allegra with a home fit for a princess, and instead, he’d brought her to a disaster.
Like some flashy courting male bird, he’d finally hoped to impress her, and now his feathers were bedraggled, his head was down, and if he wasn’t careful, his preferred mate would be flying the coop.
She walked ahead of him into the kitchen with a calmness he wished he could emulate. Claude, Allegra’s maid Anne, and his head groomsman had crowded into the room and were all talking at once.
“Where is Mr. Cobbins?” Max asked.
“And Mrs. Cobbins?” Allegra added.
“We saw two people in a gig on the drive as we came in,” Claude said. “They appeared to be leaving in some haste.”
Max took a deep breath and inwardly cursed. Allegra took his hand.
“I’m sure they won’t get far.” She smiled at Claude and Anne. “It appears that our arrival was not expected. We are not even sure if there are any beds.”
Claude gasped, but Anne returned Allegra’s smile and said, “We’ll do our best to make things comfortable for you, my lady, don’t you worry about that.”
“I know you will,” Allegra said. “And at least Mrs. Smith is still here. Why don’t we all have a cup of tea and then we can proceed?”
Max sat down and accepted the tea a very apologetic Mrs. Smith gave him. With the Cobbinses gone, she was more than happy to tell them about how the house had been run into the ground, and that their turning up was the best thing that had happened in ages.
“Drove off most of the staff, they did,” Mrs. Smith said. She began cutting slices of fruitcake. “Families who’d worked here for generations let go without any notice, just because they dared to complain about the goings-on.”
“What happened to all the furniture?” Allegra asked as Max remained silent.
“Some of it went into one of the barns and some in the attic,” Mrs. Smith said. “But I think he was selling things off, as well.” She turned to Max. “I’m so sorry my lord, but I couldn’t afford to lose my place, so I stayed. I have a sick husband at home and three children to feed.”
“I don’t blame you for staying, Mrs. Smith.” Max finally managed to speak. “In truth, I’m glad there was someone here to bear witness to what has gone on. Your evidence will be very valuable when the Cobbinses come to trial.”
“I’m sure there are lots of people still living in the village who’ll be happy to speak out, too,” Mrs. Smith said. “We knew the duke would come back here at some point. He’s not the kind of gentleman who’ll take kindly to being stolen from.”
“He is not,” Max agreed.
“Do you think some of the former staff would be willing to come back and work here now that the Cobbinses have gone?” Allegra asked.
“I don’t see why not,” Mrs. Smith said. “They’ll be glad to have a wage again.” She turned to Max. “He’s done nothing to help the village or the farms on the estate for years, my lord. God knows what he’s done with all the money, because he certainly hasn’t used it as the duke intended.”
Anne, who had been speaking quietly to Claude, turned to Allegra. “Claude and I will go and investigate upstairs, my lady, and see the state of the bedchambers.”
“That’s an excellent idea,” Allegra said.
“We brought our own bed linen, so at least we’ll be able to make any beds that we find.” Anne rose to her feet. “Come along, Claude.”
An hour later, Anne was finally able to take Allegra up to her bedchamber.
“There’s only the one bed in the duke’s old room,” Anne said. “I suspect it was too large to get out.” She paused to open the door, and Allegra went in.
The four-poster bed was, indeed, enormous.
Allegra reckoned the whole staff could comfortably fit in with them, but she hoped it wouldn’t be necessary.
Max had gone down to the village with Mrs. Smith to see if he could find more staff for the house.
He was in an extremely bad mood, and for once, Allegra didn’t blame him.
“The duchess’s suite has no furniture, my lady,” Anne continued. “I’m sure his lordship will sort everything out as soon as he’s able.”
“This will do nicely,” Allegra said. “Did you find somewhere for the rest of our staff to sleep?”
“Yes, my lady, we’re all settled in.” Anne smiled. “There are some cupboards and drawers in the dressing room, so Claude and I have managed to put some of your clothes away.”
“Thank you,” Allegra said. “If the marquess and I had known what state the house was in, we would never have brought you all here.”
“Claude says the duke will be furious. Now, do you wish to lie down for a while? Mrs. Smith says she can make dinner whenever you wish.”
“I don’t think I could sleep,” Allegra said, even though she was thoroughly exhausted. “I’d better go down and speak to Mrs. Smith about dinner.”
After a hastily put-together dinner, Max and Allegra retired to bed. Claude had managed to start a fire in their bedroom, although the chimney was smoking a little. Max stared down at it as he took off his coat.
“The chimneys obviously haven’t been swept.”
“I don’t think anything’s been swept for years,” Allegra said as she got into bed. “There are huge spiderwebs everywhere, and the carpets are thick with dust.”
Max groaned as he joined her and lay back on his pillow. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s hardly your fault, is it?” Allegra pointed out. “Your father’s been in charge of this property for years.”
“He obviously hasn’t visited the place for quite a while.” Max said. “I have no idea how Cobbins managed to pull the wool over his eyes. My father is usually a meticulous landlord.”
“You must write to him tomorrow and tell him what you found,” Allegra suggested. “I’m fairly sure the budget he gave you for minor improvements to the property will be insufficient for our needs.”
“I don’t want to ask him for more money.”
“Why ever not? This is his blunder and his responsibility.”
He came up on one elbow to look at her. “Because it’s mine now, and I want to put things right for myself.”
Allegra gazed at him. “Excuse my frankness, but that could take years.”
“So, what if it does? I have nothing else to occupy my time.”
“But you’ll be in London, which means that all the work will fall to me,” Allegra said.