Chapter 15
CECILIA LEARNS MORE
The group walked back to Pomum Court, the men leading their horses. When they reached the top of the rise, they looked down on the manor, the sun glistening on its limestone granite facade.
Gideon paused. “How could they wish to sell this?” he asked, his voice hushed by love.
Behind the stately manor, a pasture fell away, its verdant grass dotted with cows.
A light breeze playfully bent the grass.
Where the pasture stopped, an apple orchard grew, its trees planted in rows that marched back up the ridge.
Occasionally the stream that ran along the far side of the orchard could be seen in flickers of light.
Beyond, the hills rose again, revealing the village tucked among stands of trees.
“I don’t know, cousin,” James said, coming up beside his cousin to lay a hand on his shoulder. “This is a grand estate that promises to give you all you need and more.”
Gideon nodded, but a frown pulled his eyebrows and lips down. “I don’t understand why they wished to carve it apart.”
“And you may never,” James said. “Let those thoughts go. Concentrate on ensuring the estate becomes whole for you and your daughter and whatever children you may have in the future.”
“For my daughter. I have no intention of marrying again,” he said flatly. He walked ahead, leaving James’ hand to fall away from his shoulder.
James let the remark go, for Gideon needed to resolve in his head what had been going on around him before he could think of tomorrow and the tomorrows after.
“James,” Cecilia said as she watched Gideon march ahead.
“Yes, my love.”
“We now have two lines of mystery. Or are they one? That is what I can’t determine and it scratches against me like my cat, Randy, does when he wants attention.”
“Hmmm. What do you mean?”
Cecilia noticed her husband did not object or agree. An inner smile sent warmth through her.
“On the surface, everything is about land.”
James nodded. “I have a similar sense; however, I would like to hear how you see it.”
“There is the value of the land for potential Roman finds—especially a hoard,” Cecilia said.
James’ head canted to the side. “Not even Mr. Hawley believes in a hoard, just that it is a fun conjecture.”
“True, however, it appears others believe, or want to believe.”
“Yes, my lady,” interjected Sarah from where she walked a pace or two behind them. They paused to let her catch up. “Not a day goes by that someone in the servant’s hall doesn’t bring up the hoard. Many think it will be found on the Monteith estate, too.”
“See?” Cecilia said to James. “And you know what the servants at Pomum Court say will be repeated in the village and other homes.”
“All right,” James conceded. “So, an aspect of the land as the root of all evil is the land as the source of treasure that must be found.”
“From a Roman antiquities aspect,” Cecilia clarified, her voice slow.
“You think there can be another aspect?”
“Not think as much as I feel,” she said. “I do not see a tie with the wire across the road. I can’t think of a narrative for that incident. And for that matter, I don’t see a connection between Lord Jasper’s death and Roman antiquities, either. Those antiquities have always been a ruse.”
“Why?” asked Sarah, coming up beside them again.
“What began as a ruse…” James mused. “Forget the notes, then?”
“Yes,” Cecilia said.
He smiled at her. “There is only one thing left, and it could tie everything together.”
She nodded, knowing James’ thinking was now aligned with hers. “The broken entail.”
“Someone wants the Monteith estate,” James said.
“I know, from casual statements made to me by Mrs. Norcroft and Mrs. Hargrave, that their husbands were aware the old earl was contemplating breaking the entail. Advising him, even! Who else knew and who benefited?”
“And both of them lost their husbands shortly after the entail was dissolved,” James observed. “Quite the coincidence.”
“If you are considering deaths and their impact, what about Mr. Searle?” Cecilia asked. “Or the old earl dying after being thrown by a horse? It wouldn’t take much—”
“A burr under the saddle…” James suggested.
Cecilia nodded. “Five deaths, all within a year.”
“Cor…” Sarah breathed out.
James turned to her. “You are not to say anything to anyone of what Cecilia and I have been discussing. Not even to William. Am I understood?”
Sarah’s eyes grew wide. “Yes, Sir James. I promise.”
Gideon stopped and turned to them, waiting for them all to catch up to him. “What are you all nattering on about that you must raise your voice?” he asked James.
“I was strongly telling Sarah she is not to speak to anyone about what we said and what she heard today.”
“Yes, I agree. I have been pondering how to approach the magistrate,” Gideon said.
“I don’t think you need to,” said Cecilia. “I feel certain he will learn the error of his ways.”
“I’ve also been looking out over the estate,” he said, taking in a big breath and releasing it. He adopted his wry smile once again. “I think,” he said, with a return of that dry, restrained tone that shielded more than it revealed, “that I have been looking at my own land with a solicitor’s eye.”
He glanced once more toward Pomum Court, toward the house and the land that had never been meant to be his. “I have not yet embraced the land as mine. It is time I did so.”
James and Cecilia looked at each other. This might precisely be what the malicious villain doesn’t want.
Cecilia stood before the hall mirror dressed in a spring green walking dress as she placed her matching bonnet on her head and proceeded to tie the ribbons. Looking in the mirror, she saw James come up behind her.
“Have you come with instructions for my conversation with Mrs. Norcroft?” she asked with joking intent.
“Do I need to?” he returned.
“No, but I shall tell you what I am thinking of, and you may rate my choices and suggest anything I missed.”
“That sounds fair.”
“I know Mr. Norcroft passed away; but, I don’t know when or how.
She continues to dress in mourning attire; however, some women do that for years after their husbands pass.
I’m running round and round in my mind contemplating how to bring the subject up without sounding gauche,” she said, making a face.
James laughed. “You’ll think of just the right way to bring up the subject. Sometimes such conversations come naturally.”
She turned around to face him and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “Your confidence is touching,” she said earnestly, then she laughed and stepped back.
“The carriage is here, my lady,” said the footman.
“Thank you.” She turned back to her husband. “I shall tell you all on my return,” she promised as she donned her gloves.
The carriage ride to the Norcroft estate was shorter than Cecilia anticipated.
In less than twenty minutes the carriage was pulling up before a red brick Georgian home with white trim and columns.
It surprised Cecilia that the building was not of native stone.
She wondered at the cost of importing red bricks to the area.
Regardless, it was a lovely building with yellow roses climbing around the columns.
Miss Nieves had the front door open and awaiting her as she stepped out of the carriage.
“I’m so happy to see you,” Miss Nieves said. She hooked Cecilia’s arm in hers. “We seldom have visitors. It’s lovely that you could visit.”
“Why do you and Mrs. Norcroft seldom have visitors?” Cecilia asked. “It was my understanding that Mrs. Norcroft is well-known and invited everywhere.
“I am,” said Mrs. Norcroft, coming down the stairs.
Cecilia turned toward her.
“That is the issue. We have so many invites to visit that we seldom have time to arrange anything here.” Her half-mourning gown today was gray with burgundy accents.
Rather attractive, Cecilia thought. Miss Nieves was as brightly dressed as she had seen her on other occasions wearing a pink and peach gown with cream lace.
“I have a sun room at the back of the house. I’ve arranged to have tea brought there,” Mrs. Norcroft said, leading them down a hall that ended at a glass-enclosed room.
In most homes, the room would be full of plants placed there to escape the vagaries of England’s weather.
Here there was an abundance of plants in the room; however, it was obvious the room was designed for human occupants to thrive.
Comfortable settees and armchairs covered in lovely floral prints cried out for a person to sit down and relax in deep cushions.
Cecilia sat in one of the armchairs. The chair embraced her, willing her concerns and worries away. She sighed. “This is lovely!”
Mrs. Norcroft smiled. “Isn’t it though? This room was one of the last projects my husband undertook for me before he passed on,” Mrs. Norcroft said.
As James said, openings presented themselves.
“If I might ask, when did Mr. Norcroft pass?”
“He lived to see Boney defeated. August 3, 1815.”
“Oh, before the old earl, then?”
“Yes. For the six months prior to his passing, he suffered shortness of breath and difficulty walking any distance before he had to stop and rest. The doctor warned us it was his heart. Then one day while standing in the back garden, overseeing the gardeners’ work, he collapsed and was gone,” she said, looking out the windows into the garden.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Cecilia said softly. Guilt for bringing up the memory settled in her stomach. However, she couldn’t lose the moment.
“The village suffered a round of prominent resident losses that year,” Cecilia observed.
“How do you mean?” Mrs. Norcroft asked.
“James and I were discussing this earlier this afternoon. Five prominent people—friends, if I’m not mistaken—died in 1815. Mr. Norcroft, Mr. Hargrave, the old earl, Lord Jasper, and Mr. Searle.”
“Four in 1815,” Mrs. Norcroft corrected. “Mr. Searle did not die until April of 1816.”
“The Halfpenny Pot Gamblers!” Miss Nieves said laughing.