Chapter 43
Forty-three
Fletch
Ignoring the ancient paper and blackened stones that had ruined an exemplary piece of clockwork, Fletch smiled in relief when he produced an intact mercury container.
“These pendulums are newer than the clock. The late earl must have replaced the original with these oddly engraved ones,” he told anyone listening, which was probably no one.
He studied the mercury container and the pendulum it came from.
“We’ll have to weigh everything to see what adjustments are needed. ”
“Open the other!” young Davy cried in excitement.
In surprise, Fletch glanced at the chubby scholar. Clockmaking was mind-numbingly dull work to most. To his amazement, it wasn’t just Davy, but he had an entire audience eagerly watching. Did they really want to know about mercury?
“Jewels,” Kate murmured, touching one of the dirty stones that had broken a perfect timepiece. She nodded at the crumbling paper the librarian had removed from grubby boy hands. “Treasure map.”
“Treasure? This clock is a treasure of human craftsmanship,” Fletch muttered. “Pretty sparkles to hang on your ears are just pebbles dug from dirt.” He used the felt he’d wrapped the weights in to slide the second weight closer. “The clock, however, is a precision instrument built by a genius.”
Listening, Miss Talbott was distracted from the stones she assessed. “There is a small but very profitable market for rare timepieces. If it’s rare or by a famous maker, it might be worth a great deal.”
Fletch stared at her in horror.
Beside him, Kate snickered. “I have tried so hard to persuade the gentleman to talk, and you have frozen his tongue again, Miss Talbott.”
Arnaud snorted. “She has that effect on most people. Give her an item of beauty, and she monetizes it. It’s the pirate blood.”
Thea swatted his big arm and whispered an angry retort.
Fletch ignored the lovebirds who sparred like sparrows.
“It is unlikely this clock was made by anyone famous.” He worked at the back of the second pendulum, ignoring the gathering crowd.
“It’s unsigned and unique and someone has tampered with it over the years.
Clocks are meant to be useful instruments, not treasure chests. ”
Arnaud’s merchant brother, Henri, studied the tiny diamonds that had spoiled the weights. “These have been fashioned to string together. I fancy they were once part of the missing parures.”
He handed them to Jack, Fletch’s former lieutenant.
Jack had once lived in India and knew precious stones.
Fletch didn’t recognize the French word, but the others understood.
Excitement rippled through the crowd. Even those studying the parchment looked up in surprise. Fletch glanced questioningly at Kate.
Blessedly, she understood. “It is rumored our mad earl concealed the family jewels.”
Ah, right. Fletch shook his head in disgust. “Anyone mutilating a precision instrument like this had attics to let.”
Loosing the back of the pendulum, he gently opened it.
Another vial of mercury, thank the heavens, more useless paper, and red stones this time.
Fletch could almost feel the clock sigh in relief to be rid of the trash.
He’d have to test the weights, see how far off they left the timing, Perhaps he could adjust—
“Rubies and diamonds,” Jack confirmed. “A fortune’s worth, but I think not the major stones that adorn the parures in the paintings.”
Wondering where he could find an accurate scale, Fletch hefted the mercury in his palm.
Clare Huntley examined a small stone. “I’m no expert, but the cut appears similar to our pendants. The earl did leave us an inheritance! Can we restore the village now?”
A whispered discussion broke out among the onlookers, but Fletch wasn’t interested. He’d just discovered the engravings on the inside of the brass weight.
“More puzzles to copy,” Oliver announced, studying the second piece of crumbling paper.
Puzzle was scarcely the word for it. “Better copy this too.” Fletch pushed the inscription over to the boys.
He supposed, as the family’s only males, they would eventually inherit the position of trust executors that Hunt held now.
Fletch recognized the Latinate words in the inscription but didn’t see reason to rack his brain translating.
He sat back and waited for them to finish exclaiming so he might put the clock together again.
At the rise of excited babble, Hunt finally entered to stand behind his wife and lean over to hear her whispers. He raised his eyebrows and glanced at Fletch. That generally did not bode well. Fletch hoped he wouldn’t be deprived of repairing the clock.
Hunt picked up one of the stones to examine it and consult with Jack. Fletch held his breath while they whispered. Maybe he could buy the clock if the manor did not want it. . .
Dragging out Fletch’s agony, Hunt turned to converse with others. Jack polished the stupid stone with his handkerchief until it sparkled in the lamplight.
While little Oliver copied the inscription, Fletch wondered if he dared demand permission to restore the clock.
Jack handed the now-shiny stone to Hunt, who leaned over and placed it in front of Fletch.
“This might not be sufficient reward for the discovery your efforts have provided. Once we have some notion of the value of your find, we may consider your payment more fully. Our immense gratitude for solving part of a truly worrisome puzzle and ensuring the manor and village’s future. ”
Fletch stared at the stone in consternation. Did that mean they were paying him off and they didn’t want the clock fixed? He poked the stone on the table, unable to fathom its purpose. “What do I do with it?”
Thea laughed. “You put it in a ring for your intended. You sell it. You put the proceeds in a bank account for your old age. It’s money!”
Money? Might he now afford the damned clock so he could finish restoring it?
Beside him, sensible Kate paused his confusion by abruptly crying out in excitement and leaping from her seat. Distracted, Fletch shoved the stone in his pocket and swung to see what had disturbed her.
A tall, golden-haired boy—disconcertingly resembling a young Damien, who stood beside him—endured Kate’s excited hugs and kisses with pleased embarrassment.
Arthur, Kate’s eldest, home for an Easter break.
If Fletch meant to court Kate, he would have to accept the resemblance. He knew Damien wasn’t the boy’s father, but people must talk. Kate had hidden away in the country for a reason. As usual, he hadn’t given her predicament a single thought. He had a lot of learning to do.
Abandoning the clock, the treasure map, and jewels, Fletch rose to greet the boy.
At fourteen, Arthur was taller than Kate, almost a grown man.
Faced with a future he hadn’t considered in his fascination with Kate, Fletch had to adjust his thinking to realize that she was a mother, first, last, and foremost.
That might mean he took second place in her thoughts, but he could live with that, if he could live with Kate.
He didn’t need introductions to the boy. They’d worked together in the past. But if he wanted to be seen as a contender for Kate’s hand. . .
Which he did, very much, Fletch realized. He was a man of instinct, not deep thought. Whatever part of his upper story still functioned told him Kate was the only woman for him. Lady tigress, both fierce and quiet—he wanted to hear her laugh more often.
Which meant he had to start paying attention and conquer his addled tongue. In greeting, Fletch pounded the boy on the shoulder as if he were Hunt or Rafe. “Glad you made it home in time for the treasure hunt. Lyn and Rob will be delighted to see you.”
Fletch turned to Kate. “I imagine Rob is chomping at the bit to see what’s happening with his friends and will love to know his brother has arrived. Shall I fetch him?”
Kate gave him a look so full of delight, he forgot about the clock entirely. It had been a very long time since he’d known that thrill.
“Treasure hunt?” Arthur lit up just as the young boys had. The call of the pirate was strong.
Fletch left Kate and Arthur to the library’s excitement. The only treasure he had on his mind was Kate and a normal future. Although in Gravesyde, normal was a matter of relativity.
Damien and Brydie stood in the hall behind Arthur, the obvious reason for Arthur’s return.
Fletch knew he had to impress all of Kate’s protective family.
Not easy, given his past behavior. “If I’m to fetch Rob and Lyn while waiting to reclaim my clockworks, will Verity let them loose if I’m the one asking? ”
“I’ll go with you. Brydie can get in her hugs and tell me about treasure later.” Damien slapped him on the back much as Fletch had done Arthur.
Maybe they ought to take up Hunt’s American hand shaking for greetings.
Fletch swallowed. He not only needed Arthur’s approval, but Damien’s. The lawyer was far more experienced and tough. . .
In school, Fletch had never wasted time worrying about tests.
This was a test he did not dare fail. The prize was too great.
“Brydie tells me you wish to court Kate.” Damien didn’t waste time in small talk as they passed the dismantled clock to traverse the marble stairs to the next floor. “Kate’s like a sister to me. She’s only been a widow for a year.”
“And she might have better prospects,” Fletch finished for him. He acknowledged his limitations. Instinct and lust might be the same, for all he knew, but he was willing to take his chances. He might as well make his claim first. “I think Kate is more than smart enough to judge for herself.”
“Good answer. But that farm is Arthur’s inheritance. You’re not a farmer. I hate seeing it go to waste.” In the upper corridor, Damien led the way past empty guest rooms to the attic stairs.
“Again, that’s up to Arthur and Kate. But if they want it farmed, I can manage tenants. I was a major,” Fletch added dryly. “I own half the inn and hope to return to clock repair, although I understand staying here limits my income.”
Taking the narrow stairs first, Damien shrugged. “It’s not as if clients are lined up outside my door. We’re gambling with our futures. But children are enough to drive any man to drink. You need to take time to learn your limits.”
Fletch winced at the point scored. “If I let a room at the farm. I’ll learn my limits.” He hoped. So far, Kate’s household had calmed his need for drink.
They arrived at the schoolroom door, where Rob had heard their approach and greeted them with a worried expression.
“Arthur’s downstairs,” Fletch told him. “Fetch your sister. We’ll make Rafe feed us at the pub to celebrate.”
As the children delightedly raced downstairs, Fletch shoved his good hand into his pocket and followed at a more sedate pace.
“Kate plans to celebrate both their birthdays tomorrow, so she need only bake a single cake. She’s sewed new clothes as gifts.
But today is Rob’s special day. Would you and Brydie join us at the pub in celebrating that, as well as Arthur’s return? ”
Damien slapped him on the back again. “Excellent idea. Does Rafe expect us?”
“We had a word or two earlier. Soldiers learn to strategize.” Taking that as approval, Fletch took the stairs down two at a time.
He hadn’t planned on kidnappings and killers and courtrooms, but children needed attention. He might add toymaking to his list of future tasks.