Chapter Fifteen #2
Harry was glad of the rain. It gave him the opportunity to rest his leg after the previous day’s riding, even though he didn’t want to admit, even to himself, that he needed to.
And it gave him an opportunity to continue examining the ledger books and maps in the library, sometimes with Crawford in attendance.
Quite definitely an estate manager to take care of all the business side of running an estate would be a good idea.
As he was also aware that his visit to Thornby Grange was approaching fast, he felt an examination of his wardrobe might be a good idea.
Having been an army medical officer, he’d had few opportunities to socialise while on campaign, but did still have his once-smart evening clothes from before he’d joined up.
So, after a morning spent poring over the books, he took himself upstairs to sort through his available apparel, some of which he’d not examined since before he’d taken his commission.
Thomas the footman, who showed great enthusiasm for the job, was tasked with the unenviable job of rendering his rather crumpled evening wear garments fit for a dinner party.
This took him some time and, when he returned them in order for Harry to dress for dinner, Harry confessed himself impressed with the results.
Not only had Thomas succeeded in making the once crumpled coat and breeches look almost new, but he’d also worked a similar kind of magic on his evening pumps.
Perhaps he should revise his original opinion that he didn’t need a valet and promote Thomas.
They could find another footman more easily than a new valet.
Especially not a valet with the skills Thomas so clearly possessed.
He wondered once again about what had happened to Sir Geoffrey’s man.
He’d been very quick to leave after his master’s death, it seemed.
Thomas, who was undertaking an intricate knot in his master’s cravat in preparation for yet another lonely dinner in the large dining room, provided an answer for that when asked.
“Sir Julian Horncastle’d had his eye on him for a long time,” was his succinct reply. “As soon as Sir Geoffrey was buried, he sent a note round here, to the servants’ hall, asking Mr. Farnon to enter his employ. Mr. Farnon showed us all, like he was right proud of it.”
“I suppose he must have thought he needed to find another position,” Harry said, advocating for a man he’d never met.
“After all, I don’t think anyone knew at that point that a new master would be arriving here so soon.
I gathered from Mr. Pratt that the whereabouts of a male heir was not certain for some time. ”
Thomas gave a snort. “If that Sir Julian…begging your pardon Sir Henry, as I know I shouldn’t talk about him like that, but I can’t help it. He makes my blood boil.” He looked very much as though he wanted to say more, and manners were keeping his mouth shut.
Harry nodded to him to go on, intrigued about what he might reveal. “Feel free to air your views on the man. I can’t say as I liked the cut of his jib when I met him.”
Thomas appeared pleased to be given free rein. “If that Sir Julian could have done it, he’d have poached more than a valet.” He gave an eloquent shiver. “All of us servants know what he’s after now Sir Geoffrey’s not here to prevent him.”
“He would? You do?” He had a fair idea himself what Sir Julian wanted, but he also wanted to hear it from the mouth of another. His servants, after all, must know the man far better than he did.
Thomas nodded. “It’s not my place to say just what, Sir Henry, but take it from me, he would’ve taken what he wanted if he could.
And he still will take it if he gets half a chance.
” He finished the cravat and stepped back, his lips sealed in a hard line.
“Not that any of us would stand back and let him do it.”
Harry looked in the mirror, pondering Thomas’s words but pretending not to.
“Perfect. Where did you learn to tie such an intricate design?” He had more than a passing idea of what Thomas was talking about.
Sir Julian had appeared very possessive of Miranda when he’d called.
His eyes, those curiously pale and slightly manic eyes, had held something more than admiration.
Despite Harry’s own lack of experience with ladies, he’d seen lust in the eyes of men before and knew what it presaged.
The man coveted Miranda with an almost obsessive desire.
And, if he was right, which he felt sure he was, she did not return his affections.
As if lust could ever be reciprocated under these circumstances.
“Once or twice I stood in for Mr. Farnon when he was took poorly, Sir Henry, and attended Sir Geoffrey. Mr. Farnon taught me how to tie a cravat.” He dropped his gaze. “Mr. Farnon was a very good valet but a bit fond of a drink…”
Harry smiled. “Well, in that case I’m glad he’s gone and you’ve taken his place.”
Thomas held out his coat for him to slip his arms into the sleeves. “Thank you, Sir Henry.” His face had colored with pleasure at the praise. He must remember to dish more praise out when it was due. One should never take one’s servants for granted had been more of Hester’s parting advice.
Harry shrugged his shoulders into the coat, which was a little loose on him due to the weight he’d lost both at war and after his injury. “Tell me, Thomas. Is Sir Julian married?” What he really wanted to know was if Sir Julian’s intentions towards Miranda were honorable or not.
Thomas shook his head. “Not now. He was, but his wife died a few years ago. Even when she was alive, it didn’t stop him coming round here, sniffing like a…” He stopped, his cheeks reddening. “Best you ask Mr. Crawford more about that. It’s not my place to say.”
Harry took his advice. The next morning, another rainy one, when he and Crawford were ensconced in the library with the estate books, Harry brought up the subject of his neighbor.
“I’m invited to dinner on Friday night at Thornby Grange.”
Crawford looked up, his expression giving nothing away. “You will require the carriage, I assume, Sir Henry.”
Harry nodded. “And I will be collecting Lady Madeley and Miss Madeley to accompany me.”
“As you wish, Sir Henry. What time will you require the carriage? It’s only four miles to Thornby Grange.”
Harry frowned. “I suppose a bit more than half an hour before we’re due to arrive.” Everything was always as he wished. If he’d told Crawford to go up to the top of the house and jump off the roof, would the man answer, “as you wish, Sir Henry” and just go off and do it?
“I was just thinking you might be able to tell me about my host before I go. He seems to evoke a not always happy response.”
Crawford straightened up. “It’s not my place to comment on Sir Geoffrey’s friends and neighbors, Sir Henry.”
Harry frowned. His leg was much better after two days’ rest, so he was feeling less crotchety, but really, all this reluctance to give him the local gossip, which was exactly what he wanted, was irritating.
“I give you permission to reveal all,” he said, with what he hoped was a grin that would produce confidences.
“As I’m new to the house, the estate and the area, I think I need to know as much as possible.
Consider it one of your duties for which I’m paying you.
In other words, talk, man. And talk freely. ”
Crawford pressed his lips into a thin line, much as Thomas had done. “Sir Geoffrey and Sir Julian knew one another as neighbors for many years. The first Lady Madeley was a friend to the late Lady Horncastle, although there was a slight difference in their ages.”
Harry held up a hand. “Wait a moment. There was a first Lady Madeley? My cousin was married twice?”
Crawford nodded. “He was. His first wife, whose portrait hangs in a corner of the hallway, was a Hemsworth. She unfortunately succumbed to childbed fever. It was all very tragic.”
This was a surprise. He had to wonder if Miranda even knew herself.
“Did the child live?”
Crawford nodded, his gaze somber. “He did, for a while. Master Edward, who was never a strong child, most unfortunately contracted the measles and died at the age of four. Sir Geoffrey was devastated to lose his heir, so soon after the child’s mother, and after a year of mourning looked about himself to find another wife. ”
“And he found Miranda?”
“He did.”
No doubt with the intention of so young a wife providing him with another heir or two.
He must have been disappointed when all she produced were daughters.
How would he feel if the woman he married couldn’t give him an heir?
Up until now it hadn’t mattered a jot. He’d just been a military surgeon and marrying had been far from his thoughts.
It wasn’t now. He’d inherited a title and an estate, both of which required a male heir for them to be passed on.
But if he had girls…the realization arose that he wouldn’t care, especially not if they turned out to be like Miranda’s charming, if unusual, children.
What did his title matter? He’d never expected to inherit anything like that, nor to be able to leave it to someone.
If it came to that, he would be more than happy to leave everything to any daughters he might one day have.
Everything but the title. Why in heaven’s name had his cousin not done that for his own wife and children?
Why had he left them with scarcely nothing in such a callous fashion?
He had to wonder if Sir Geoffrey had not been the sort of man he could have liked.
But he was digressing. He still hadn’t found out much about Sir Julian. A gentle verbal prod in that direction encouraged Crawford to continue.
“Sir Julian’s wife became bedridden several years before her death.” Crawford hesitated, as though unwilling to go on.
Harry frowned. “Don’t keep stopping and leaving me in suspense.”
Crawford visibly gathered his wits. “I feel I need to explain that it’s common knowledge locally that Sir Julian has engaged in er…
various liaisons with other…ladies…some of them not quite what you’d call ladies…
since before his wife died. Er…since she became bedridden, and possibly even before that. ”
Harry nodded, unsurprised by this revelation.
He’d seen enough of this as an army officer.
He’d been familiar with men living life at the gallop because they could be going out to meet their deaths at any moment…
careless of the consequences. Men who engaged in affairs of the heart with the gusto of those who might never have a tomorrow.
“I trust he’s never overstepped himself with Lady Madeley?
” If the blackguard had shown her lack of respect, he’d kill him.
The strength of his emotion took him by surprise.
He’d think about the reason for it later.
Poor Crawford. He plainly found this interrogation difficult.
“He, er, he liked to call at the Hall when he was sure Sir Geoffrey was absent, but I’m sure no impropriety took place.
Her ladyship would never have countenanced it and never have received him alone.
There was always either me or Thomas present to serve tea or whatever was required.
She made it very plain that she wasn’t to be left alone. ”
Anger rose in Harry’s chest. “And he’s been calling since Sir Geoffrey died?”
Crawford nodded. “He has. And again, she has not been alone with him, I can assure you.”
Only she had been, hadn’t she? When he’d gone out for a walk in the gardens and left Sir Julian with her in his own parlor.
Why was he feeling so protective of a woman he barely knew?
A woman who had somehow managed to get under his skin to the point that he couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Not that he minded, especially as if he was thinking about her, he didn’t have time for his terrifying memories.
But she was also a woman who wanted to pair him off with her daughter, a girl scarcely out of the school room.
The realization that he would far rather be paired off with the girl’s mother pushed itself to the forefront of his mind.
And shocked him.
However, that was clearly why he couldn’t get her out of his head no matter how hard he tried.
Marriage had never been important before. But this woman was a lady, and it must be marriage or nothing. Did he even want to marry? He’d been thinking about having an heir, so surely he did? And she was still young enough to do that for him.
He became aware Crawford was regarding him in curiosity.
He managed a smile. “Thank you. It doesn’t do to enter the lion’s den without foreknowledge of how fierce the occupier might be.”
Crawford, a somewhat knowing smile on his face, bowed his head. “It does not, Sir Henry.”