Chapter 10 #2
Roderick was still thinking about the argument that evening.
Unable to clear his head, he had decided to take himself for a walk.
His feet had taken him, without his conscious consent, back toward The Barley Mow.
He looked up at the sign outside the building.
Slowly, he allowed himself to step inside and order an ale.
“Mr. Vale!” a familiar voice called out. Roderick felt his shoulders relax as he heard Mr. Bell’s voice. Roderick smiled and walked over, taking the seat across from him..
“So nice to see you,” Roderick said, attempting to hide the fatigue in his voice.
“And you, good sir! I am glad that you have graced us with your presence. What has brought you to The Barley Mow tonight?” Mr. Bell asked with a smile.
“I was in need of some fresh air,” Roderick admitted. “And I ended up here.”
“You have good taste in evening entertainment,” Mr. Bell laughed.
“It would seem so,” Roderick smiled.
“Now, do you know anything of horses?” Mr. Bell asked.
“I know more than enough,” Roderick chuckled. “Is there something you wish to know?”
“Yes,” Mr. Bell nodded. “One of my horses has decided that he does not wish to walk over the paths to the North of my little home. Why would he decide that?”
“What are the paths made of?” Roderick asked, suddenly quite interested at the mention of horses.
“It is a combination; some of it is gravel, and some of it is mud,” Mr. Bell said. Roderick nodded and leaned back in his seat as he thought about the dilemma.
“Have your farrier check his hooves,” Roderick suggested. “I am not a betting man, but if I were, I would be putting money on the thought that your horse may have ill-fitting shoes or has gravel pressing in a painful place.”
“Ah!” Mr. Bell gasped, understanding lighting his eyes. “I had not thought of that! I will ask my farrier to arrive and examine him at his earliest convenience. If you are right, I believe I will owe you an ale next time you are at the inn!”
“I would not go that far,” Roderick chuckled. “I would simply be glad to know that your horse is happy and healthy.”
“You are a good man, Mr. Vale.” Mr. Bell grinned but the smile slowly faded from his face. “Which is why I must tell you, the town is full of gossip of a certain type.”
Roderick tensed.
“Really? What are they saying?” he asked nervously.
“They have been speaking about a man living at Briarwood Hall with the duchess,” Mr. Bell said, his eyes hard as he watched Roderick.
“Some say he’s a creditor. Some say it could be to do with an inheritance issue.
A few people have also been saying it could have something to do with the fact that the duchess killed her first husband… If rumors are to be believed.”
Roderick nodded slowly, his fingers tapping on the table nervously.
“I do not believe that people need to be so worried,” he began, sipping his ale. “After all, it is only estate business.”
The room around them seemed to chill slightly. Roderick watched Mr. Bell, waiting for the moment that the other man would snap at him or demand more. Mr. Bell watched Roderick carefully, his eyes focused and stern.
To Roderick’s surprise, Mr. Bell chuckled and nodded.
“I see,” Mr. Bell smirked. “I am always pleased to meet a man who keeps his own counsel. I will not pry if you are not ready to share, good friend.”
“Thank you,” Roderick said, the tension in his neck and shoulders loosening.
“You are most welcome,” Mr. Bell nodded. “But there is something you should know.”
“Which is?” Roderick asked.
“It appears Lord Casterleigh has been asking questions about the duchess. Things such as her finances, her legal situation, and her possible protectors. I heard him say that scandal-touched women make grateful wives.”
“You heard him say that?” Roderick asked, his fingers tapping the table harder.
“I did,” Mr. Bell nodded. “I did not like the sound of it, but I must admit that I did not confront the man. He was surrounded by friends and allies, and I know one of them is an especially good swordsman.”
“Ah,” Roderick said, understanding. “I do not believe many would wish to make an ally like that upset.”
“Exactly,” Mr. Bell nodded. “But if he had been on his own, then I would have spoken.”
“I am sure you would have,” Roderick agreed.
Even so, his mind was racing at the thought of a lord saying something like that.
Roderick had known men to think of their wives a certain way, but for a man to speak like that so openly?
That was a man who had never been challenged on his beliefs. A man who had never faced consequences.
Roderick shuddered. His mind drifted back to the journal with pages and pages of inky confessions from his mother. He thought of the duchess as she stood in his study, spine straight, chin lifted, refusing to yield an inch of ground even as her voice shook. Not with fear or sadness. Fury.
She had built something for herself after her husband’s death, and men like Lord Casterleigh were circling, waiting for the moment the law or circumstance might have her sold off to someone new, as though independence were merely a temporary state to be corrected.
Her actions made more sense the longer he thought about it. Roderick closed his eyes shut and took a big swig of his ale. He was proving himself to be a foolish man.
I might understand, but I still need to find a way to have her removed from the inheritance issue. Briarwood Hall is mine. Her feelings may have to be… placated…
“Ah, in happier news,” Mr. Bell said, pulling Roderick out of his thoughts. “We should go to the local archery course at some point. I can show you how it is done.”
“You are assuming that means I cannot shoot?” Roderick asked, a smirk coming back to his face.
“I assume nothing!” Mr. Bell laughed. “Only that I am a significantly better archer than any man around.”
“We shall have to see about that,” Roderick grinned. Mr. Bell held up his tankard. Roderick grinned and reciprocated. Mr. Bell barked out a laugh and the two men fell back into warm, easy conversations.
The duchess can wait.