Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Perry glanced at his pocket watch once more, then tucked it back into his concealed fob pocket.
“I’m not sure how you do it, brother,” Beau said as he stared out of the carriage window. “How you find the strength to leave your wife the day after your wedding is mind-boggling.”
“We are not the typical newly-married couple,” Perry said, his words tasting foul in his mouth.
“She understands what I must do now that I am recovered. If there is a threatening presence on your estates, we must uncover it. This will not wait. Mrs. Boots was the beginning, but there is more to the story, now that my life has been threatened. I’m afraid about what we will find at Bodmin. ”
Beau’s mouth flattened, his appearance grim. “Indeed. Our driver has been warned to keep an eye on his surroundings at all times. I’m convinced we will discover that it was all an accident.”
Perry cast his gaze over the lush golden fields of wheat outside the carriage window.
Once they passed the familiar cluster of trees, the sight of Bodmin took his breath away.
He always loved coming home to the estate in his youth.
Though he had gadded about Fermoy a lot more as he had developed an affection for Charlotte, his heart belonged first and foremost to his family’s estate.
He escaped here many times when the oppressive presence of his father weighed heavily on him.
The former duke rarely ventured into the country as he got older, claiming that it kept him away from his duties too long.
At some point, it seemed as though Perry stopped coming as well, preferring to stay at his estate near London.
His father despised being out of touch and giving his enemies a rest from the iron grip of his power over them.
The older Spencer was a hard, cruel man.
It seemed a waste to curse a dead man, though Perry was still bitter at the role his father had to play in keeping him from Charlotte. From his child.
The man had been buried for over a year, yet Perry still found ways to damn his very existence. He relished the new beginning Rufus Spencer’s death had wrought for his family. Long-protected secrets were free to come out.
Anger simmered low in his chest. It wasn’t the time to dwell on the past. He was on a far more important mission: protecting his family. The ghosts of the past could be ignored a little longer.
“What is the strategy once we arrive?” Perry asked, his eyes moving to watch his brother. “Do you think someone will admit to shooting me?”
Beau chuckled. “Most likely not. I believe we should talk to Mrs. Boots privately first, then go on from there. Hutchins gave me a thorough explanation of his investigation, so I suspect the shooter wasn’t from Fermoy.
The magistrate has agreed to join us as soon as we send for him.
I purposely didn’t announce our arrival, hoping to catch the villain by surprise. ”
Perry was shocked at the appearance of the estate once he emerged from the confines of the Duke of Bridgewater’s carriage.
The neglect was unthinkable; he could only imagine what his brother thought as they took in the changes to the estate.
The gardens were in shambles, overgrown and wild.
Upon entering the grand building, Perry noted the estate had fallen into disrepair.
It was kept clean and tidy, but its appearance fell far beneath the expectations they had been accustomed to during their years spent at the estate.
The butler, Woodsten, seemed surprised when the Spencer brothers appeared on their doorstep.
He cut an imposing figure, though his uniform was more worn than usual.
Woodsten was always immaculate in his appearance and followed the dictates of society exquisitely.
His black hair had taken a salt-and-pepper appearance since Perry had seen him last. The wrinkles on his brow were more pronounced.
Though time had passed, Perry assumed that the condition of the estate would concern Woodsten greatly, as he had filled the position of butler for nearly twenty years.
The decline would be very apparent to him.
“Your Grace, Lord Spencer, I was not expecting you. My apologies. Had we known, we would have been more prepared.” The butler opened and closed his fists at his side nervously.
“I imagine. I have a lot of questions. We require a word with Mrs. Boots in my office, please. Will you fetch her?” Beau asked, his face grim. He handed his hat to the butler.
Woodsten cleared his throat. “Yes, yes, of course. I’m afraid I am truly stricken that you should see the estate in such disrepair,” the butler said, then lowered his voice to a whisper. “We have had issues with our steward of late. My sincerest apologies, Your Grace.”
Beau nodded, patting the butler on the shoulder.
“So we have gathered. Let us speak more in a private setting. You can fill us in on what has been happening. I am much aggrieved to see that the estate hasn’t been well cared for in my absence.
With the death of my father, I see that I have shirked some of my responsibilities in not coming here sooner.
I seek to remedy the situation as soon as possible. ”
Perry followed his brother to the office, where dustcloths covered most of the furniture and the air in the room was stuffy, indicating that the windows had not been opened in a long time.
Dust floated in the air, a scattering of stars across the sunbeams, as Perry uncovered a chair across from his brother, who was clearing off the desk and his own seating area.
The three men coughed as they cleared the mahogany desk and chairs where Beau and Perry would sit.
“I see our visit was more than necessary,” Perry noted.
Beau crossed the room to toss aside the curtains, letting some much-needed light and air come into the room through the French doors. The coughing sent a sharp pain to his tender wound and he hungrily inhaled the fresh air.
“This is worse than I thought,” Beau confessed, his jaw tense.
“While I was getting my bearings in London, the situation has been sorely neglected at Bodmin. I’m ashamed I’m only learning of this now.
Our steward, Mr. Jeffries, was very good at sending positive reports, giving no indication to what was truly happening.
I expected all to be running smoothly at Bodmin. ”
A muscle ticked in Beau’s jaw as he clenched his teeth.
Perry wondered if perhaps the sneaky steward might have something to do with his shooting. “Did you send a letter informing the servants of my arrival when I left London?” Perry asked his brother.
“Indeed,” Beau said, confusion creasing his features. “I sent a messenger to alert the steward. Gah, I am furious. Once I get my hands on the blackguard, there will be no witnesses, I assure you.”
A breathy Mrs. Boots pushed open the door and closed it behind her.
“Thank goodness you are here, my lord. The situation has become very grave indeed.” Her eyes darted furiously between the men, brows drawn in concern.
Her coloring was ashen, with terror marking her features.
The woman had aged more than her years since Perry had last seen her. She had lost her bright spark.
Perry watched as the housekeeper, an older woman with gray hair hidden under a prim lace cap and round cheeks that seemed to be lacking their previous luster. Mrs. Boots had loved him as a mother would a child. It pained him to see her this troubled.
“Start from the beginning. Please,” Beau asked, uncovering another chair and waving for her to sit.
Mrs. Boots stood for a moment, then sat, pressing her lips together with a resigned expression.
“Leave out no detail. I promise you, there will be no consequences for any servants who continue to work loyally for the family. I seek to punish the one who left the estate in such disarray.”
“When Mr. Jeffries was appointed, the former duke assigned him to ‘cut costs on the estate and eliminate waste,’ as the steward put it,” the woman began.
“Sounds like our father,” Beau inserted, his face grim.
“Mr. Jeffries quickly went through our budgets, necessary budgets that I spent wisely and managed carefully. Funds for properly maintaining an estate of this great size. Mr. Jeffries made cuts that harmed the care and resources we had to maintain the property. It was impossible to keep all the servants on such tight funds. Whispers in the village were that he had tripled rents for no reason. Simply to line his own pockets, I suspect.”
“This is very concerning. I was not aware the former duke was using such means to extract more from the estate than it could handle.”
Mrs. Boots nodded, her eyes wide and fretful.
“It wasn’t right. To see our beautiful Bodmin fall into disrepair.
Mr. Jeffries threatened all the servants and me when I said I would contact the new duke to make things right.
I was quite afraid. He had the look of a man who meant us harm.
He intercepted any correspondence.” She sniffed, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbing at her eyes.
“Anyone who opposed him was let go without a recommendation. We grew fearful of upsetting him. If Woodsten or I left, who would ensure the estate was put to rights?”
Tenting his fingers before him, Perry absorbed the information without judgment.
Losing a job without having a recommendation from their former employer was devastating.
It meant some former servants might have ended up on the streets, or worse.
No new employer would look at them without a reference.
“The people in the village must be suffering greatly if they are half as neglected as the house and gardens. We will have much work to do to restore the property. Could you make us a list of the servants who have left us and see if we might hire them back? We will need many hands to return the estate to its former greatness.”