Seventeen
Arnaud
By the time Arnaud reached the drive, his presence was superfluous, which was fine by him. Beheading the enemy with a medieval broadsword wasn’t his idea of sport.
Surrounded by growling dogs, ex-soldiers, and a few stablemen, Lord Fortescue had his knee in the back of a protesting stranger and was tying his wrists.
“Sailor, were you?” Arnaud asked of the tutor, while hauling the prisoner up by his arm.
Fort shrugged. “Spent a summer on a ship. Knotting passed the time.”
“I am just measuring walls!” their prisoner cried as Arnaud dragged him toward the stable. It wasn’t worth taking him to the crypt at this hour.
“At midnight?” His lordship followed, dusting off his rather disreputable breeches.
Arnaud had never seen the tutor less than immaculate.
“You chased me off when I tried to measure earlier!” The prisoner made a weak effort to struggle, but he was most definitely not a fighting man. “I’m Calendar, Humphries’ architect!” He said it as if it should mean something to them.
“Then you should have introduced yourself earlier so we could have thrown you out sooner.” Stopping outside the stable, Arnaud gestured for one of the lads to hold up a lamp so he could see who they’d caught.
In the lantern light, he finally noticed the army of servants and ladies surrounding the manor, armed with their kitchen weapons. Calendar was fortunate he hadn’t had his hair trimmed and his hide spackled with vicious shears and spatulas.
“Anyone recognize this lout?” Fort asked. No one answered.
“He looks about the right size of our intruder.” Arnaud studied the rather healthily padded young gentleman, who did seem armed with only pencils.
“I just want some idea of size,” the prisoner cried as Fort searched his pockets and divested him of his notebook. “Mr. Humphries is impatient to begin. The faster I finish, the more he’ll pay me. I don’t see why I must wait for boys to recover from measles! That’s quite unfair.”
“Do we send for the bailiff?” Ignoring the protests, Fort tucked the notebook into his own coat.
“Let Rafe sleep. You wish to tell the ladies to go back to bed or shall I?” Arnaud knew that Thea should be inside. Whether she had stayed was another matter.
“I’ll secure the prisoner while you tell the ladies what to do. If Minerva’s in that mob, she will only argue with me.” Slender but no weakling, the tutor took the prattling prisoner’s arm and quite capably shoved him inside the stable.
Arnaud had left Lavender and Thea with the curate’s ferocious wife, guarding the east wing. There would likely be no arguing. Mrs. Upton, the housekeeper and curate’s mother seemed to be leading their army. She easily accepted his orders to take the servants back inside through the service door.
Humphries’ architect. How was that possible? Had the rich lump of manure thought to let his staff measure the manor while he pursued Thea? Perhaps Arnaud ought to have a personal chat with the poseur on the morrow.
After sending the Ladies’ Army inside, he returned to the stable, where Lord General Tutor was securing the intruder’s ankles as if he were an ill-bred horse.
“You have been waiting to use those knots since school, have you not?” Arnaud leaned against the wall. Lady Elsa and her horse-mad lieutenant had reinforced the old stable so it was probably more solid than the manor. Ropes were merely butter on the croissant. Now, he was hungry.
The tutor sat back on his heels. “It’s good to know I haven’t forgotten how. None of the ladies insisted on accompanying you?’’
“It is midnight. I do not know why they are up and about. Should we let him stew until morning so the ladies may take him apart? It is fun to watch.” Arnaud had observed the intrepid Priory women trap, tackle, and assault evil-doers over this past year and a half.
He wished they didn’t have to fight for themselves, but it was fortunate—and occasionally frightening—that the Wycliffe family had bred women with the same courage and intelligence as the men.
Fort threw him a dark look. “You have an odd notion of amusement.”
Arnaud nodded acknowledgment of that.
“I’ll have you all arrested!” Their captive’s cries became more coherent. “You don’t know who you are up against. Haggarty will sue you!”
Arnaud sent a questioning glance to Fort.
The tutor shrugged. “Humphries has apparently hired the most expensive solicitors in the kingdom. Not the best solicitors mind you. The best work for my father. But a Haggarty always has Prinny’s ear.”
“Then you know they’ll have you hung for this!” the prisoner shouted.
Fort stood. “No, they won’t. Solicitors might write nefarious circles into wills or marriage settlements, but you’ll need a barrister to prove we’ve broken the law by protecting our home from trespassers.
Good luck with that. We’ll have questions in the morning.
Get some rest and contemplate finding an employer who doesn’t lie. The Priory is not for sale.”
“What do you mean?” In the lantern light, the plump young man looked wild-eyed. “We’re drawing up plans! Gas lighting and gilding and doubling the size of the ballroom! It will be magnificent!”
Arnaud wanted to kick the ass’s ass but simply replied in scorn. “You cannot expand the ballroom without destroying gothic windows of medieval leaded glass that are historical works of art!” Those magnificent, two-story soaring panes of beauty had kept him alive while he’d lived here alone.
The young man attempted to dismiss his objection with a shrug but the ropes held him firmly. “Old glass is too thick and uneven. We have modern replacements that will flood the ballroom with light once those trees are removed. The manor will be seen for miles around at night!”
The whole purpose of a forest was to conceal the fortress from sight. The trees had probably been planted in the 1600s. They provided homes for deer and other creatures the locals hunted to prevent starvation in winter.
Arnaud regarded their prisoner as if he’d just croaked like a toad. “I think we had best depart before I stomp him.”
Fort shook his head and walked out, leaving the fool shouting hoarsely. Arnaud slammed a bolt across the stall door and signaled one of the stablemen to stand guard. With a stable full of extremely valuable horses, there was always an armed sentry.
“This is not good,” Arnaud muttered as they crossed the drive to the manor.
“Do you think Humphries has convinced a firm like Haggarty’s that he’s bought the manor? Or does he actually believe it himself?”
“How did he earn his wealth?” Arnaud asked with cynicism.
Fort headed for the rear tower. “English maternal grandparents had titles and estates. Paternal ones owned ships and slaves. Marriage brought together the two dynasties to form an international trading company. Maternal grandparents died and left grandson large sums, although their estates and titles went to a direct male heir, an uncle, I believe. Father died and left him another fortune and half the trading company to help him bear the loss. He’s never known anything but wealth. ”
Arnaud nodded. That’s what he’d surmised. “Never worked for a penny? Expects to be given all he wants? You do know French history, do you not? What becomes of men who are given everything and have only to amuse themselves?”
“English history, too, although one might argue that hiring proper staff to run an estate or manipulating parliament to improve one’s fortunes is a form of employment.
And perhaps conceiving schemes to rob the less fortunate to pad one’s reputation and liquor cabinet might be considered work.
” Fort rapped on the locked rear tower door.
“And I thought I am cynical!” Arnaud bowed as Lavender opened the door for them. Thea stood behind her, holding a pistol.
Arnaud wanted to disarm his beautiful, otherworldly beloved and carry her off to bed. He did not have that right. Instead, he finished the argument. “English wealth cannot compete with centuries of privileged European royalty. They must kill each other to keep the money in the immediate family.“
Then, because this was something he could do, Arnaud disarmed his bien-aimée and pulled her slender curves into his embrace. He needed reminding that this world held more good than bad.
“We are arguing history?” Lavender asked in distaste, taking their lantern. “If we are not to be murdered in our beds, I think I’ll retire now.”
Sinking into Arnaud’s embrace, Thea glanced up at him questioningly.
He had to remember that ladies needed reassurance. “Delusional but harmless architect,” he explained. “There is no danger except from greed and stupidity. Retiring is a most excellent idea.”
Releasing temptation, Arnaud stalked down the hall of empty rooms. He’d have to find one of those wretched jewels just so he was wealthy enough to wave it in her father’s face and prove he didn’t need Thea’s funds. She easily kept pace with him.
“Weston?” Fort asked anxiously from behind.
“Your brother is armed to the teeth and awaiting explanations,” Thea assured him.
Arnaud groaned. “Not tonight. In the morning. I take it you have told Clare and Minerva all?”
Shoving his hair from his eyes, Fort stopped at the schoolroom. “I am not meeting the ladies like this. In the morning, yes. Until then, Weston may sleep or rot in hell.”
Lavender looked startled. Thea giggled.
Arnaud loved hearing her laugh. He wished she had reason to smile more.
He feared none of them would be amused in the morning when they dug into this new turn of events. Wealthy men with the king’s solicitors had too much power. Hunt better stay alive to ram his petition through all officialdom so he could come home safely soon.
Arnaud didn’t think he had the tolerance to arm the Priory against invaders, not when strangling them in their sleep seemed so much simpler.