The Duke's Challenge (7 page)

Charlotte
attempted to get to her feet, her face ashen.
‘The children!
Jack, I must check on the children. They’ve been out on their own all morning.’
She attempted to step forward but the pain was too great, and with a soft cry,
she sank back into her chair.

‘Meltham, are
the children inside?’

The butler
nodded as he blew his nose vigorously. ‘They are, your grace, they have been
indoors this past hour helping Annie with her duties.’

Jack returned
to her side and dropped down, taking her cold hands in his. ‘I must leave you
here, my dear. Don’t try and walk. I shall send the children to talk to you.
And also have a tray brought up from the kitchen.’

He strode out,
talking quietly to the butler. It was hardly credible how much they had both
changed over the space of a few days. She had grown up, discovered what it
meant to be a woman and he had metamorphosed from a bad-tempered drunkard, to a
formidable soldier, a man well able to take charge.

She shook her
head in disbelief. How could Jenkins be dead? He had been here conversing with
her in this very room but a few hours ago. Her eyes filled; he had had all his
life ahead of him. Why would anyone wish to snuff that out? What evil was
stalking this place? First the attack on herself; next the unseen watcher at
the front of the hall and now poor Jenkins had been cruelly killed.

There were
childish voices in the hall and Beth and Harry burst in, their faces
tear-streaked. She held out her arms and they flung themselves in.

‘Oh Lottie,
it’s terrible! Poor Mr Jenkins is dead,’ Beth sobbed, ‘and he was so nice to
us. How could anyone do such a terrible thing?’

Charlotte
stroked the girl’s hair. ‘I don’t know, Beth, but Cousin Jack will find out. He
will bring the perpetrators to justice, never fear.’

Harry sat back,
scrubbing his eyes with his fists. ‘Who’s Cousin Jack, Lottie? Is he coming to
stay here too?’

‘No, darling,
Cousin Jack is Lord Thurston. We have decided to dispense with formality. In
future you must address him in the same way.’

This astounding
news dried Beth’s tears. ‘But he’s not our cousin. We hardly know him, Lottie.
In fact
we
have never even spoken to
him. I believe he goes out of his way to avoid us.’

‘I’m sure
that’s not so, Beth. I know he’s not a real cousin, but he did not wish me...
us to call him Lord Thurston and it would be disrespectful to call him by his
given name alone, so Cousin Jack it has to be.’

This
interesting development pushed their distress aside. ‘Does this mean we’re
staying here for ever, Lottie?’ Henry asked eagerly. ‘Then I should like a
puppy and Beth would like a kitten.’

Pleased they
were so easily distracted Charlotte nodded ‘I see no reason why not, but we
also need two full-grown cats and terrier to catch the rats.’

‘And he told us
that new
staff are
coming later today. Parlour maids,
kitchen maids, extra footmen and also a housekeeper—
is
that true?’

‘It is Beth.
Cousin Jack has agreed to allow me to organise the refurbishment and repair of
the house. In a few weeks we should be living in clean and luxurious
establishment.’

‘Not a pigsty!’
Harry added innocently.

‘Harry! That’s
quite enough. Things are not as bad as that.’

‘But Betty and
Annie said it is, so it must be, for they wouldn’t lie to me, would they?’

‘Beth, I said
that’s enough on that subject. Now settle yourselves down and tell me what
you’ve been doing all morning and I shall tell you how I come to have damaged
feet.’

Up to this
point neither child had noticed this interesting fact. Harry scrambled down and
peered closely at her bandages. ‘You have no stockings or shoes on,’ he
observed seriously.

‘No, Harry, I
do not, my feet are too sore.’

The next hour
was happily taken up by shared explanations and a light repast. Charlotte’s
eyes turned repeatedly to the ormolu mantle clock. Why did Jack not return?

‘Beth, could
you ring, I need Annie’s assistance.’

‘Can we help
you,
Lottie.
We’re very sensible.’

‘Thank you,
Harry, this is something I have to do for myself, and unfortunately I need
Annie’s assistance first.’

Beth understood
her oblique references. ‘I’ll take Harry upstairs. We can play ‘hide and go
seek’ in the attics.’

‘Are you sure
the floors are safe to run around on up there?’

‘Yes, Lottie,
we asked Mr Meltham and he said we can play up there,’ Beth replied.

Harry jumped
up. ‘Yes, please Beth, can we go now? Can I hide first?’

The children
left, chattering happily and Annie arrived soon afterwards. As her maid
assisted her to a chamber pot, she gave her some disturbing news. This was not
good –

indeed
matters were far worse than she could possibly have
anticipated.

Chapter Seven

‘No money?
None at all, Annie?’
Charlotte was almost too shocked to
speak.

‘Well, as to that,
I don’t rightly know, miss. It was Mr Meltham who overheard his grace’s
comment.’

‘And lost no
time telling everyone else, it would appear.’

Her maid
shifted uncomfortably. ‘He was that upset, Miss Carstairs, what with poor
Jenkins and everything, that he couldn’t help himself.’

‘What exactly
did you overhear?’

Annie helped
Charlotte back into her chair before answering. ‘Let me think. He came back
into the kitchen white as a ghost, muttering to himself. Betty fetched him a
drink of water…’

‘I do not need
to know the details, just the substance, please Annie.’ Charlotte was beginning
to lose patience.

‘He said, “The
ships went down’’, that’s it - it was to do with ships. ‘‘The ships went down
and Thurston’s fortune went with them.”’

‘So grandfather
didn’t gamble away his money or invest it unwisely; unforeseen circumstances
have caused this neglect, not poor management. I’m glad about that.’ Charlotte
blinked as her vision blurred and she rubbed her temples. ‘I fear I’m getting a
megrim, Annie. I’ve been trying to ignore the pain building over my right eye,
but it’s getting worse.’

‘I’m not
surprised, miss; there have been too many shocks and upsets today.’ They both
knew what was coming next. Charlotte did not get sick headaches often but when
she did she was prostrate, sometimes for days. ‘Come; let me take you back to
your chamber. I’ll get Betty to make you a tisane and bring it up immediately.’

‘But I need to
know what the lawyers have said - to know just how bad things are.’

‘Whatever it
is, miss. It will be the same when you are well again. The sooner you are
resting quietly, in the dark, the better.’

*

Jack pulled
himself a large brandy, downed it in one swallow then refilled his glass before
sinking into his chair. He stared morosely at the flickering flames, sunk once
again into despair. He had thought his life turned around and that he had
finally come to terms with his injuries. He could move on with his life. Seeing
a lovely girl with her eyes sparkling, her lips swollen from his kisses he had
felt like a whole man again.

Then some
bastards had ambushed the footman and smashed his head in. He thought he dealt
with that efficiently, more like the old Major Griffin. He had sent one groom
to bring back the militia who were stationed in Ipswich and sent the remaining
footman and the second groom to recover the corpse.

In the midst of
this drama the carriage containing Messrs Blower and Thomas, the lawyers, had
arrived in answer to his summons. He gulped down his drink; the alcohol
beginning to serve its purpose, dull the pain as it had these past two years.

One of the
black crows informed him that there was no money - that the old lord had
invested heavily in shipping and his fleet had gone down in a tropical storm
taking his fortune with it. He swirled the dregs of his cognac around the
crystal glass. He needed another brandy. He would get drunk as a wheelbarrow,
return to his alcoholic fog. He didn’t feel better in his cups, but at least he
didn’t have to think. He had consumed his fourth glass before he began to
forget his despair.

His world had fallen apart for the second time. Without funds there could
be no improvements, no restoration of Thurston Hall. Even if he wanted to, how
could he offer for Charlotte when he was as destitute as she? He reached out
and after several attempts managed to grasp the decanter. This was almost
empty.
Devil take
it! He couldn’t get through the
night without refreshment. He tipped the remains into his glass not spilling a
drop. He nodded, smiling at his skill.

He had been
ignoring the repeated knocking at his door, not wishing to speak to anyone.
Then realized if he answered he could send whoever was there for more brandy.

‘Enter,’ he
shouted, not bothering to turn his head.

‘My lord,’
Meltham said nervously, ‘the lawyers are still waiting in the library for your
return.’

‘Tell them to
go to hell. I don’t wish to speak to them.’

‘Shall I ask
them to return tomorrow, my lord?’

Jack ignored
the question. ‘Refill this; in fact bring me two bottles and then leave me in peace.’

He heard the
butler depart leaving the door open, which allowed him to hear the worried
whispering outside.

‘Lord
Thurston’s indisposed, sir. Perhaps it would be best if you return tomorrow or
the next day?’ The lawyer’s words were too indistinct for Jack to hear but he
heard Meltham’s reply. ‘It is certainly good news, Mr Thomas. I shall make sure
his lordship sees the documents as soon as he is well.’

Jack pushed
himself upright, replacing his glass clumsily on the side table. Good news? How
could there be any when the old crows had said all his fortune was beneath the
waves? Should he enquire further before they left? No - tomorrow was soon
enough. All he wanted at the moment was to drink
himself
into oblivion.

*

‘Annie placed
the bowl on the bed where I can reach it then leave me alone please.’

‘Yes, miss.
I’ll put the little brass bell next your bed. I shan’t be far away.’

Feeling too
sick to answer Charlotte rolled over on her side, praying she would fall asleep
and wake feeling well again. The shutters were closed and what was left of the
bed hangings had been drawn round. But the room was still too bright. She tried
pulling the comforter over her head, but with her face covered she felt even
worse and uncomfortably warm.

She twisted on
to her other side; turning her back to the windows, and without the light
flickering across, she immediately felt better. There was so much to think
about. What would happen to the new staff, would they be sent away? Her head
throbbed and the pain over her eye intensified, feeling as though a hot needle
was being plunged into it. She gave up any attempt to reason and resigned
herself to enduring a miserable twenty-four hours.

Charlotte slept
through the afternoon and into the night. She woke in the small hours to discover
her headache was waning, her brain ready to function. Glad she had not had to
use the china bowl, she sat up. She was a trifle weak but otherwise quite
restored.

She wriggled
her toes experimentally and found they too appeared to have recovered. Slipping
out of bed she groped for the tinderbox on her bedside table. Deftly she struck
the flint then lit the candle. Her wrapper was draped over the end of her bed
and she pulled it on. Her room was chilly; there was a definite autumnal nip in
the air.

After standing
up she walked carefully about the chamber testing her toes. They bore her
weight quite happily. She picked up the candlestick and, holding it aloft, went
in search of supper. It seemed a long time since she had enjoyed the meat pasty
and bread and cheese in the library with the children.

The house was
silent, everyone asleep. Then she heard the patter of small feet above her head
and knew the rats were awake and busy about their own business. She crept along
the empty passageways not wishing to disturb the children by her nocturnal
ramble. The flame of her candle threw eerie shadows up and down the walls. A
woman of weaker nerves might believe that she was seeing ghosts, but she was
not given to missish vapours of that kind.

The hall, with
its high ceiling, seemed alarmingly large. She paused in the small pool of
light from her candle, trying to get her bearings. The passageway that led to
the kitchens was on the far side, to the left of the entrance. The stairs faced
the front door so she needed to follow the wall to her right until she found
it.

She squeezed
her eyes closed and opened them again hoping to see more clearly. One of the
after effects of her headaches was impaired vision and tonight was no
exception. She could not stand on the stairs all night; if she wished to go to
the kitchen to find herself something to eat she would have to be brave, step
out into the darkness and trust her memory was correct. She fingered her way
around the newel post then back until her feeble light showed she was standing
in front of the dark wood panelling of the wall.

She raised her
candle again – there was a door ahead -that would have to be Jack’s. She would
make certain she was quieter than the mice as she passed. If she appeared in
his domain dressed in her nightgown, he would take that as an invitation to
continue what they had started earlier. In the eyes of the world she was a
woman of loose morals but as long as this was without substance her conscience
was clear.

She negotiated
the endless panelling, avoiding all three doors, until she reached the far side
and was facing a corridor - but was it the correct one? Did this lead to the
kitchen or somewhere else entirely? In this rabbit warren of the house it was
hard to be sure.

She walked a
little way down, sniffing the air like a hound. Yes - she could faintly detect
the smell of food - this had to be the right direction. Feeling more confident
she increased her pace, knowing that the butler’s pantry, housekeepers rooms
and the servants quarters all led from this passageway and that the
old-fashioned kitchen was at the far end.

Charlotte
glanced over her shoulder nervously. Was there someone behind her? She spun,
and held her candle high.
Nothing suspicious.
The
silence and the darkness were beginning to unnerve her. The light from her
candle didn’t shine far, it would be easy for someone to wait, quite close, but
remain out of sight. By the time she reached her destination she was almost
running.

She pushed
harder, the kitchen door was stuck. The latch was difficult to lift with one
hand but she was reluctant to put her candlestick down. She looked over her
shoulder, checking to see she was alone and then risked placing it on the floor
beside her. She gripped the heavy latch with both hands and managed to lift it
clear of the hasp. Triumphantly she threw her weight against the door.

It flew open
and, losing her balance, she tumbled forward to find herself enveloped in the
arms of the one person she had been at pains to avoid.

‘Charlotte, my dear, what an unexpected pleasure.’
Jack’s words was slurred and his breath pure alcohol.

‘You are foxed,
sir. Let go of me at once, before we both fall.’

He released his
hold and stepped back, swaying alarmingly. She was glad to see he had managed to
light two oil lamps without setting fire to himself or the kitchen.

‘I have come to
find food, are you on a similar errand, Cousin?’ She rather thought a good meal
would be exactly what he needed. She could recall her father once telling a
young lieutenant he had to eat in order to sober up. She frowned, or was it to
eat before he drank in order to remain sober?

Jack dragged
out a chair and subsided. ‘Actually, sweetheart, I forget why I came here. But
I expect you are right, I came in search of food.’

She smiled
relieved he was no longer looming over her, breathing brandy fumes down her
neck. ‘In that case, I shall make us both a meal. No, do not look so surprised,
you will discover I am a proficient cook, even in such an antiquated kitchen.’

She busied
herself finding the makings for an omelette. The bread was still fresh. She
would ask him to cut it; it could keep him occupied, stop him staring at her in
that disconcerting manner. She put the bread, the board and a sharp knife
beside him.

‘Do you think
you could cut us some bread without slicing of your fingers?’ She smiled, as
obediently he began his task. It took all his concentration to hold the blade
straight. Satisfied she had achieved her aim, she returned to her cooking.

A short while
later the impromptu meal was ready. She found the butter dish in the pantry and
he had hacked off two thick slabs of bread. She divided the creamy yellow
omelette between two plates, added the slices of thickly buttered bread and
placed one on either side of the table. The appetising smell of eggs wafted
across the room.

Jack looked at
it with distaste. ‘I find I am no longer hungry.’ As she watched she saw his
complexion pale to an almost greenish tinge. Then he kicked back his chair and,
hand to mouth, headed for the scullery. She tried not to listen to the
unpleasant noises. Her own nausea threatened to return and she pushed her plate
away.

She heard him
washing his face and then he returned his colour restored, and quite
unrepentant. To her horror he sat down, picked up his fork and started to
shovel down his meal with obvious enjoyment.

He paused just
long enough to say, ‘If you’re not intending to eat yours, may I have it?’

She nodded, too
disgusted to speak. He was behaving with the same disregard for another’s
feelings as her little brother Harry. Had he no delicacy at all? The kettle
hanging on a trivet over the fire began to hiss. She supposed she could make
him a cup of tea. It might help to dilute the brandy he had consumed.

She rose,
forgetting she was not dressed, and her wrapper gaped open revealing far more
than she considered proper to the interested spectator munching his way through
her
supper! He made no comment.
Angrily she pulled the edges together and retied the belt. The man was a
Philistine - more interested in filling his belly than anything else.

She unlocked
the tea caddy and put three spoonsful into the pot. She was reaching over to
lift the heavy black kettle when he spoke sharply.

‘No, Charlotte,
wait. I’ll do it.’

So he had been
watching her after all. ‘I can manage. I’m not a milk sop.’