Chapter 17 #2
Mrs. Norcroft’s lips compressed together.
“What is the matter?” Cecilia asked her, observing her stiff manner.
“It’s weak. A sign of weakness both as a man and as an Earl.” She walked away.
Cecilia felt sorry that she had led her to that conclusion. She wondered how she would feel when the truth willed out.
“Don’t mind my sister,” Miss Nieves said. “She likes the world ordered to her satisfaction. I don’t know why she has decided his lordship’s ploy to be weak. I think it intelligent.”
“I will say thank you to you in his lordship’s favor. However, I don’t think he would trouble himself with what she or anyone else thought. Oh, bother! Did you feel that?” Cecilia asked Miss Nieves as she saw a stray drop of water fall before her eyes to land on her dress. She looked down at it.
“Rain.”
“Gideon should say his piece quickly or everyone should leave.”
Baron Compton escorted his wife back to their carriage, but instead of getting in with her and leaving he walked back to where all were gathered. “There is space in my carriage for two more women if any would like to join my wife under the carriage bonnet, out of the rain.
The women looked at each other, at first no one admitting they wanted to be out of the rain. Then, “I should like to join her,” said Mrs. Johnston.
“And I as well,” admitted Miss Nieves, looking apologetically at her sister. Her sister looked at her dismissively, then turned back to looking down into the clay pit.
Gideon walked over to the edge of the mine near the split beech tree. The others followed him.
“I find myself facing an important decision,” Gideon told everyone. “Everyone here should know that this mine represents my livelihood. But now, Roman artifacts have been found here.”
“How deep were these Roman artifacts found?” Baron Compton asked.
Cecilia and James glanced at each other.
“Curious question,” James drawled, canting his head to the side. He pulled his snuff box out of his pocket.
The baron looked over at him. “Only a practical one,” he said.
“For whom?” he returned, but he walked away from him, not waiting for an answer.
Gideon continued. “Do I continue the mine…or yield the ground to the antiquarians for the length of time required to excavate?”
Mr. Lamont frowned as if that was a ridiculous question. “One should not halt industry for speculation!
“Only consider, Mr. Lamont,” Mr. Hawley said, his long arms flying awkwardly about to cut him off. “Remember, coins have been found in the area in the past,” he reminded him.
Mr. Bagnall-Bently snorted. “You’ll find pottery shards and that’s about all you’ll find. This was likely their garbage pit. Consider how long this has been a working mine and this is the first time a piece of a pot has been discovered.”
“That’s not quite true, Mr. Bagnall-Bently,” Gideon told him. “My workers tell me they have found other broken pieces of Roman pottery here. They call it Roman Rubbish. I didn’t think about it until I learned about the Roman coin Mr. Norcroft found on my property.”
“Is this where the pottery shard was found?” Mr. Hawley asked, pointing to the hole James and Gideon had been digging in the other day.
“Yes,” James said.
Mr. Hawley took off his jacket and jumped down into the pit. Mr. Thornbridge jumped in after him. He was promptly followed by Mr. Lamont and Mr. Entwhistle.
Cecilia thought it funny to see four fairly well set out gentlemen scrabbling in the dirt. She held her hand up to her lips to still her laughter.
The rain increased to a light drizzle.
“You’ll find nothing but dirt,” Mrs. Norcroft said dismissively.
The men dug with leather gloved hands, moving the dirt aside. When the first pottery piece was found it was held up for all to see, then laid on the terrace. A larger piece appeared. Digging intensified.
Cecilia moved away from Mrs. Norcroft to stand closer to Mrs. Hargrave. She leaned closer to her. “What he has not said is, if he yields to the antiquarians, he will tear down Pomum Court and build a smaller, less costly manor in its place,” she said privately to Mrs. Hargrave.
The woman turned her head sharply to look at Cecilia. “No!”
Cecilia nodded, her expression grim.
“Excuse me,” Mrs. Hargrave said abruptly. She crossed the area to where Gideon stood with his arms across his chest.
Cecilia watched her go with satisfaction. Now it is up to Gideon, she thought as she moved nearer to the beech tree to listen.
Mrs. Hargrave walked up to Gideon. She placed a hand on his arm. “I’ve heard something most disturbing, my lord.”
“Hmm? What would that be?” he asked, not turning toward her, but continuing to watch the men digging in the mine.
“If you were to allow the antiquarians here, you will need to tear down Pomum Court to build something smaller?”
He nodded. “We don’t know how long an excavation will take. That house represents a good portion of my expenses.”
She slid her hand along his arm. “You don’t have to do that, Gideon,” she said, purposely using his given name.
“I think I do.”
She tapped his ring finger. “We could wed instead. I have the funds to support the manor, fix the cider mill, and fix the clay pit mine.”
He looked up at her, his brow furrowing. “You are talking nonsense, Mrs. Hargrave.”
“No, no! Only consider. We are both widowed. We could have a pleasant marriage.”
“Mrs. Hargrave, I will admit I enjoy flirting with you and I apologize if I have given you the impression there could be something between us.”
“I know ours would not be a love match,” she said, her voice sounding resigned.
“Not at all,” he said firmly.
Cecilia watched the interplay, pleased with how it was turning out.
Who was watching? She slowly scanned the area.
Mrs. Johnston, as one would imagine. Baron Compton watching intently, no doubt for the neighborhood theater, Mr. Entwhistle, looking up and down as he scrambled in the hole, and of course, Mr. Bagnall-Bently who saw everything.
Miss Nieves turned her head away. Mrs. Norcroft looked pleased.
Cecilia witnessed Mrs. Hargrave’s expression change to perturbed determination. Cecilia frowned.
“I can still help you,” the woman said urgently. “I have long loved Pomum Court. Everyone knows that. I could purchase it from you.”
“Mrs. Hargrave, I like the location of Pomum Court, and besides, your executors will not allow you to spend your funds in that manner.”
“Yes, they will,” she said excitedly. “I have a funding partner, someone who’s said they will help me. With his assistance, they wouldn’t dare block my plans. You wouldn’t need to tear it down and you would have the funds to build a new manor house of any size on other Monteith land.”
Funding partner? Cecilia asked herself. That was a twist she didn’t see coming.
“No, Mrs. Hargrave. I am not selling the one piece that may turn out to be all I have left of my daughter’s legacy.” He removed her wandering hand from his arm.
“You are just as stubborn as your brother was, and he deserved what he got!” she declared stridently, stomping off toward the side of the mine.
Those not in the mine looked up, then looked at each other. Cecilia and James nodded, satisfied. But they weren’t done, and they knew it.
“I think I see something—” Mr. Thornbridge suddenly called out.
There was not another sound for a moment, just scrabbling in dirt.
“A coin,” Mr. Lamont said as the rain increased.
“Give it to me!” cried out Mr. Hawley, sharp and excited.
“A single coin proves nothing,” Mr. Lamont scoffed.
“You’re wrong. It proves presence!” Mr. Hawley said as he tried to scrape the dirt from the coin, but his gloves were too muddy to do more than push mud around.
Mrs. Hargrave stepped closer to the collapsed wall, anger radiating from her. James tried to pull her back, but she pulled against him, glaring at him as rain began to pour.
“Mr. Hawley’s correct. One does not leave such things half done!” she said wildly.
Cecilia raised her hand to her mouth. She’d misjudged Mrs. Hargrave. The woman was not the emotionally strong woman she’d displayed yesterday. What had they done by their ruse, their threat to Pomum Court? And what of this funding partner?
“Right, Mr. Entwhistle? Nothing half done,” she said with a toss of her head. “When Monteith is exactly like his brother!” she finished through clenched teeth.
Cecilia gasped. “No! No!”
“Madam, one does not rush blindly into unstable ground,” James said firmly.
“Entwhistle!” Mrs. Hargrave called out again, pushing past James. “Let me have the coin!”
“No, Mr. Entwhistle. Get it to me,” demanded Baron Compton.
Entwhistle wrestled the coin from Mr. Hawley and held it out of his reach as he looked between Mrs. Hargrave and Baron Compton.
“Stop! What are you doing?” the antiquarian called out.
Mr. Entwhistle nodded to the baron and tossed him the coin!
Cecilia stared in amazement.
“No!” Mrs. Hargrave yelled. She jumped sideways as she tried to catch it mid-flight, but it flew over her head. She landed on her knees, perilously close to the terrace edge.
The Baron caught the coin and tucked it into his waistcoat pocket.
The ground shifted.
“Careful!” James called out.
“Get back!” Gideon yelled.
Cecilia pulled Mrs. Norcroft back with her to the beech tree, her mind whirling as she did so. Why did Mr. Entwhistle throw the coin to Baron Compton?
On the second terrace, Mr. Entwhistle’s arms pinwheeled as he tried to keep his balance in the sliding mud.
While he stepped forward, the mud pushed him in another direction.
He fell backward into the mud. Mr. Thornbridge tried to grab for him, but the mud pushed him down to his knees.
Mrs. Hargrave fell into the pit beside Mr. Hawley.
Entwhistle tumbled off the second terrace down into the bottom of the pit; face first, completely covered in mud.
He could suffocate!