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‘I do not know this piece well,’ Elizabeth said, ‘but I am willing to try if you will forgive my mistakes.’
‘We shall not scold her if she plays a wrong note, shall we, Mama?’
‘Do not tease Elizabeth,’ his mother told him, looking on complacently. The evening could not have gone better in her opinion.
The earl had a fine tenor voice and they blended well together. Elizabeth managed to find her way through the piece without too many mistakes and left the pianoforte at last just as the tea tray was brought in. The earl then excused himself, saying that he had work to do, and soon after the ladies made their way to bed. It was not until Elizabeth was undressing that she realised she had forgotten to bring herself a book to read.
She hesitated, but decided it would not do to go wandering about her employer’s house half-dressed at night. She would instead write a letter to her brother.
Sitting down at the desk provided for her use, she spent half an hour composing her letter. She told Simon about her meeting with Mr Elworthy, and went on to say that she had heard it on good authority that he was a perfect gentleman, suggesting that nothing could come of insisting on a meeting. She also hinted that she thought Sir Montague dangerous and advised her brother to stay well clear of him.
It had taken her a while to find the right words, for she knew her brother’s fiery temper; it would not do to advise Simon too strongly or he would likely do just the opposite in a fit of rebellion. Laying down her pen, she sanded her letter and sealed it, then stood up to glance out of the window. As she did so, she saw a horseman riding away from the house. The night was quite dark and it was difficult to see, though she thought it was the earl himself.
Where could he be going at this hour? It was surely too late to ride out for pleasure and much too late to go visiting—unless, of course, he was visiting his mistress. Elizabeth squashed the suspicion—it was none of her business, and she ought not to be curious about things that did not concern her.
Retiring to bed, she slipped beneath the covers and closed her eyes, but her mind was busy and she did not sleep immediately. She was sure that she would enjoy her work for Lady Isadora, because she was willing to be pleased, and Elizabeth would find her duties light enough. However, she was not sure that she approved of the earl, though she could not put her finger on why she should have doubts concerning him. He was obviously generous to his mother, and though perhaps a little lazy—or indolent, as he called himself—seemed good-humoured. Why then did she suspect there was much more to Lord Cavendish than he cared for anyone to know?
‘Does he suspect anything?’ Daniel asked of his friend as they met that night at the Cock and Hare Inn, some three miles distant from Cavendish. ‘He did not think it strange that you consented to dine with him, and to drink yourself almost insensible?’
‘I was careful to keep my wits about me,’ John Elworthy said, smiling oddly. ‘And when he suggested a hand of cards to while away the time, I pretended to fall asleep, and sat snoring by the fire until he went up.’
‘Did you learn anything that might help us?’
‘Sir Montague is very close-mouthed,’ Elworthy told him with a frown. ‘But he did say something—just after Miss Travers left the room. He seemed surprised at the way she behaved for he did not know her, and when I told him who she was he looked strange.’
‘You said she left abruptly when he entered?’
‘Yes. We had been speaking of her father—she does not believe that Sir Edwin would willingly have gambled away his estate.’
‘She has told me as much,’ Daniel said. ‘We know that Forsythe and his cronies prey upon the young idiots who venture to town with a pocketful of gold and hardly any sense in their heads. Although we may disapprove, we do not have the right to interfere other than to issue a warning if we get the chance. However, there is this other business…’
‘Do you truly believe that Forsythe is involved in that?’ John looked at him incredulously. ‘The abduction of young girls for sale into houses of prostitution—it is a wicked thing, Daniel. I can hardly believe that a gentleman would do such a thing.’
‘It would never have crossed my mind if we had not happened to be there that night—when Lady Elworthy’s youngest sister was almost abducted…’ Daniel looked angry. ‘I dread to think what might have happened to Maria, John. And you know that she firmly believes Sir Montague had something to do with it.’
‘Yes, I do know that she suspects him. We have talked several times for it is not a subject that she feels able to discuss with anyone else. She has not told her sister or my brother what happened, because she thinks people would believe she had done something to encourage the attack, though of course she did not. But as far as Sir Montague is concerned, she says that when she refused his offer of marriage he threatened that she would be sorry—and something the men said as they were trying to capture her made her believe he was at the back of it.’ John frowned. ‘Perhaps it was merely planned as an abduction, to force her into marriage. She is, after all, an heiress and Forsythe has already run through more than one fortune.’
Daniel was thoughtful. ‘You know that Charles Hunter’s young sister Sarah was abducted a year ago, of course.’
John nodded. ‘It was a terrible thing, Daniel—and nothing has been heard of her since?’
‘Nothing. Mrs Hunter was so distressed that she had a mental breakdown and has not come out of her room for the past six months—and Charles has vowed to kill whoever was responsible if he ever discovers who it was.’
John Elworthy nodded and looked solemn. Lady Elworthy’s younger sister was young enough at seventeen, but Charles Hunter’s sister had been no more than sixteen when she disappeared when out walking near her home. To imagine her fate if she had fallen into the wrong hands was unimaginably horrendous.
His eyes narrowed. ‘I think I should have gone mad with grief if we had not recovered Maria that night. I cannot imagine how Hunter must feel.’
‘Angry, bewildered, frustrated,’ Daniel said toying with the handle of his tankard as he struggled to control the fierce emotions raging within. ‘He has been drinking too much of late. It was only my intervention that kept him from playing cards with Forsythe the other evening. Imagine what they would have done with him in a fit of recklessness! He might have been ruined as well as broken in spirit.’
‘Poor fellow,’ John said. ‘But I still cannot believe that gentlemen would be involved in such wickedness, Daniel. One hears from time to time that a pretty maidservant has gone missing and wonders if the poor creature has been spirited off to a whorehouse—but the daughters of gentlefolk…’
‘Young, innocent and virgin,’ Daniel told his friend grimly. ‘If men will pay for such things, there are those that will supply it—even to the extent of sending the girls abroad to eastern potentates.’
‘No!’ John looked sick. ‘Do you think…?’
‘I surmise nothing,’ Daniel told him. ‘I am determined to find proof somehow—and believe me, I shall one of these days. Sir Montague is being watched day and night. Wherever he goes, one of my spies follows. If he makes a wrong move, we shall have proof this time.’
‘Sir Montague has an evil temper,’ John said, his forehead creasing. ‘Be careful, my friend. If he is what we believe him, and suspects that you are investigating his affairs, he would not hesitate to have you killed.’
‘I am aware that he is dangerous,’ Daniel said. ‘Some think him just an opportunist, and feel no pity for the flats he fleeces—but I believe there is much more to him. I have wondered if perhaps Sir Edwin stumbled on something he should not have seen.’
‘You think that he may have been drugged, forced into making that wager somehow? But why? I do not see how…’
‘He may have been forced to drink too much—or take some foul drug. Where the wager comes in I do not know, unless Sir Montague saw some profit in it for himself. And if he wished to dispose of Sir Edwin—what better way to cover murder than to ruin him in public and make it seem that he had taken his own life in a fit of despair? But that is mere speculation and I keep an open mind,’ Daniel said. ‘But you said he looked strange when he saw Miss Travers—did he say anything?’
‘Only that the fool had it coming,’ John said. ‘And that his daughter might think herself lucky…’ He frowned. ‘Do you think he meant some harm to her?’
‘It is possible, but we must not speculate too much for the moment. We must listen and watch, and when the time is right we shall act,’ Daniel said. ‘At least Miss Travers is safe enough with Lady Isadora—but I have vowed to help Charles Hunter find his sister, and to discover what I may about Forsythe’s affairs. What I need is proof.’
Daniel stared moodily into his tankard. He had hardly touched his ale; when he thought of the possible fate of Sarah Hunter, he was sick to his stomach with anger. She had been but a child, sweet and pretty and trusting. Several times he had been on the point of forcing a duel on Sir Montague, but he had fought his natural desire for revenge, knowing that one man alone could not be responsible if something evil was afoot. He must wait, watch and listen until the time was right.
Elizabeth rose early as was her usual habit, washed and dressed in a plain grey skirt and a pretty white blouse with a high neck, which she fastened with a gold brooch. She looked elegant despite the plainness of her dress, her hair swept back from her face into a knot in the nape of her neck.
She knew that the household would hardly be stirring, but she wanted to begin her duties. It was not likely that Lady Isadora would have need of her before eleven, for she did not come down until noon. That meant Elizabeth would have some free hours in the mornings, which she might spend in one of several ways. She could walk down to the church with flowers, tend the vases in the house—or begin work on the library.
She had decided to make a start in the library, for she thought it would be best to consult the gardeners before raiding the garden for flowers. She knew from experience that it was unwise to pick blooms without first consulting the man who tended them, who could often be fiercely protective of his flowerbeds.
As she went downstairs she met one of the maids, a young girl dusting in the hall, who looked startled when Elizabeth smiled at her and asked if she might borrow one of her feather dusters.
‘Have I missed summat, miss?’ the girl asked, looking puzzled.
‘Oh, no, I am sure you have not,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I am to work in the earl’s library and I wish to begin by dusting some of the books.’
‘Are you sure, miss? Only none of us is allowed to touch ’is lordship’s books.’
‘I promise you that I have permission,’ Elizabeth said, hiding her amusement as the girl reluctantly handed over one of her feather dusters. She made her way to the library, feeling a tingle of excitement as she entered the long room.
She looked round her with satisfaction, thinking about where she wished to make a start, for it would be best to plan her work rather than rush into it and find that she must begin again. Noticing that there was a shelf with rather fewer books on it than the others had, Elizabeth decided to investigate. It was at the far end of the room, and it was only as she reached the shelf that she realised that someone was lying on the sofa, which faced it. She halted, her heart catching as she saw it was the earl, and he looked as if he might have been drinking the previous evening. There was an empty decanter of brandy on a small wine table beside the sofa and his glass had fallen from his hand. He looked vulnerable, younger in his sleep, and, as she bent to retrieve his glass from the floor, he murmured a woman’s name and moaned as if in some distress. He opened his eyes and looked at her just as she was straightening up, his face on a level with hers.
‘Good God,’ he said in a voice of what she took to be revulsion. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’
‘Forgive me,’ Elizabeth said, embarrassed. ‘I did not know you were here, sir. I was about to make a start on dusting some of the books before putting them into order.’
The earl sat up, groaning as he felt the pain in his head. He remembered his foul mood on returning home the previous night, the frustration he had felt at being unable to get any nearer to finding Charles Hunter’s sister. He had foolishly started drinking brandy, and this was his just punishment.
‘I shall go,’ Elizabeth said as he gave her what she thought was a look of dislike. ‘I am sorry…’
‘Why? It is I who have reason to be sorry,’ Daniel said, uttering a muffled curse. ‘I had forgotten where I was as I woke. Please do not go. I thought myself in my bedchamber and it startled me when I saw you bending over me.’
‘Oh…’ Elizabeth was relieved—he had seemed so angry at seeing her. ‘I see. It was to retrieve the glass only, but…it would be rather startling had I come to your bedchamber at this hour, sir.’
Daniel caught the hint of mischief in her voice and looked at her sharply. Her eyes were bright with laughter and he realised that underneath her slightly prim manner lurked a wicked sense of humour.
‘Just a little,’ he said wryly, ‘but it has happened, Miss Travers. Let me assure you that you would not be the first, especially when I was in Spain with the army.’
‘I dare say you have been much plagued by eager ladies, sir?’
‘As it happens I have,’ Daniel growled, a little piqued by her manner. ‘You would not believe how often a young lady feels faint when I am near.’
‘If you look at them so severely, I should not be at all surprised, sir.’ Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled, and for the first time Daniel realised that she was something out of the ordinary.
‘You have a ready wit, Miss Travers,’ he acknowledged, ‘but you must excuse me if I do not respond in kind—I am not at my best this morning. I must go upstairs and make myself ready before Mama sees…’ He glanced at the beautiful gilt mantel clock. ‘Good grief! What are you doing up at this indecent hour?’
‘I always rise early,’ Elizabeth said. ‘And I thought it a good time to begin the task I have promised to undertake for you. I dare say Lady Isadora will not need me for some hours yet.’
‘I should think not.’ He pulled a face at her. ‘It is but ten minutes past the hour of seven. I like to rise early when I have not spent the night hours indulging in too much brandy—but I seldom leave the house before eight.’
Elizabeth laughed huskily. ‘Oh, dear, I am so sorry. It is a custom I formed when young. I used to ride with my brother before our governess was ready to begin the day’s lessons, and I fear the habit has stayed with me.’
Daniel nodded thoughtfully. ‘So you ride, then? I shall inspect my stables and discover if I have a suitable mount for you.’
‘Oh, no, that is too kind,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I have not often ridden since Papa…Our horses were deemed part of the estate, you see, and Lord Wentworth had nothing in his stable that I cared to ride…’
‘Not a good judge of horseflesh?’ Elizabeth shook her head and he gave a snort of laughter. ‘I shall be on my mettle, shan’t I?’
‘Oh, I did not mean…’ She looked flustered and his eyes gleamed in triumph for she had lost her air of unconscious command, which, with a head that felt as if it contained a thousand working hammers, he had found daunting. Now he was back in charge, which was his usual status with ladies.
‘No, of course not. Nevertheless, I shall expect you to ride with me tomorrow morning at eight, Miss Travers. You will not refuse me, otherwise I shall know that you think my cattle not worthy of your skill.’
‘I think you like to mock me, sir.’ Elizabeth gave him a reproving look.
‘My mother says I suffer from an excess of levity,’ Daniel said, though the gleam faded to be replaced by a disturbing expression that sent a little chill down her spine. ‘But this is a cruel world, Miss Travers. If a man may not find something to make him laugh sometimes, it would hardly bear the living.’
He nodded to her and walked from the room, leaving her to stare after him and wonder what had brought that look of near despair to his eyes.
It seemed to her that the Earl of Cavendish was a man of many parts, and she was not sure which was the real man.
Chapter Three
After two hours of uninterrupted work, during which she had become rather dirty, Elizabeth went back to her room to change her clothes. She ought to have worn an apron, and would do so in future, she decided, for many of the books had not been touched for years. She had begun on the shelf that had only a few books and was pleased to discover that they were estate journals, which Lord Cavendish had obviously placed there himself in an effort to make his work easier. She had cleaned them carefully and then put them back on the shelf at the bottom—she thought it might be best to have the older volumes at the top and work downwards. It would then be quite simple to reach up for something when some research into the past was needed. She was pleased with her efforts, though as yet she had not attempted to begin the cataloguing. She would get the estate journals into good order first, before she began on the larger project.
She had just finished changing her clothes when a tap came at the door. She answered it to discover an elderly woman, whom she believed to be Lady Isadora’s personal maid.
‘Miss Travers,’ the woman said. ‘Her ladyship asks if you would be kind enough to visit her in her room this morning.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Am I right in thinking it is the room at the far end of the landing?’
‘Yes, miss, that’s right,’ the woman smiled at her. ‘I am Jean Phipps, and I’ve been with her ladyship since before she was married.’
‘Then you must know her very well,’ Elizabeth said. ‘May I come to you if there is anything I need to know concerning Lady Isadora’s preferences?’
‘Yes, miss, of course. I shall be only too pleased to help you if I can—but her ladyship is well looked after. It is young company she needs, if you ask me. It would have been Miss Jane’s eighteenth birthday this year and she has been brooding over it. With Miss Melanie being mistress of her own home, and a mother herself, it has left her ladyship at a loss.’
‘Yes, I can understand that,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Well, I am here now and I shall endeavour to take her mind from her unhappy thoughts.’
‘Oh, she seemed much more cheerful this morning,’ Jean Phipps said. ‘I do not doubt that she will throw off the megrims now that you are here and start to entertain once more.’
Elizabeth nodded to her. They had walked together to Lady Isadora’s rooms, and Miss Phipps indicated that she should go in, which she did, though her companion turned away. As she went into the little sitting room, her ladyship called to her to come through to the room directly behind it. She was sitting at an elegant little desk in her boudoir, a pen in her hand. She rested it on an exquisite French boulle tray, which was made with patterns of intricate silver and gold inlaid into tortoise-shell, and smiled at Elizabeth.
‘I trust it is not too early for you, my dear?’
‘Oh, no, I have been working in the library,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I have made a start with the estate records, which should help Lord Cavendish to find what he needs more easily.’
‘You have been working?’ Lady Isadora looked surprised and then slightly put out. ‘My son is a slave driver. I did not ask you to come here to work yourself to death, Elizabeth dearest.’
‘No, no, I shall not,’ Elizabeth told her with a smile. ‘You must know that I have been accustomed to being busy, and I enjoyed myself. Books are so fascinating, are they not?’
‘Are they?’ Lady Isadora looked so doubtful that Elizabeth laughed.
‘Yes, I assure you that they are for me—and you have such a treasure house here at Cavendish.’
‘Do we?’ Lady Isadora wrinkled her brow. ‘I know Cavendish spent a lot of time visiting sales of old books and was quite excited when he found something special, but it was not an interest we shared—though I believe Daniel has similar tastes.’ She nodded her head. ‘Well, I shall not stop you if it pleases you, Elizabeth—as long as you do not tire yourself.’
‘I shall not, ma’am, and I shall not desert you for the task. It is my habit to rise early and I may easily spend an hour or so in the library in the mornings before breakfast—though Lord Cavendish has asked me to ride with him tomorrow at eight.’
‘The fresh air and exercise will be good for you,’ Lady Isadora said, looking pleased. ‘Now, my dear, do you think you could find your way to the vicarage? I should like you to take a note for me. I wish to ask the Reverend Bell to dine with us tomorrow evening. I can send one of the servants, of course, but I thought you might like to become acquainted with the vicar and perhaps discuss the flowers for the church.’
‘Yes, I should very much like to do that,’ Elizabeth said, ‘but is there anything I may do for you before I go?’
‘Oh, no, I shall not come down for another two hours or so,’ Lady Isadora said, waving her hand vaguely. ‘Please feel free to consider the mornings your own, Elizabeth.’
Elizabeth thanked her, for it was much as she had expected. She took the note Lady Isadora had given her and went out. As she walked along the landing she met Amy, who told her that she had taken a pot of tea and some bread, butter and honey to her room.
‘I wasn’t sure if you would want breakfast downstairs, miss. Her ladyship has just a pot of chocolate and some biscuits in bed at about half past nine…’
‘As you have no doubt discovered, I am always up much earlier. But I do not wish to cause more work for the household—something in my room at about this time would be agreeable, unless you are setting the breakfast room for his lordship? I could just as easily take mine downstairs.’
‘Yes, miss. While his lordship is here we set breakfast at about nine o’clock, when he comes in from his ride.’
‘Then shall we say that I will breakfast downstairs when there are guests or his lordship is in residence, and in my room at other times?’
‘Yes, miss.’ Amy looked pleased. ‘That’s thoughtful of you, though it would be no trouble to do whatever you want.’
‘I shall have my breakfast before I leave,’ Elizabeth said. ‘But then I intend to walk to the vicarage—could you tell me the easiest way to get there?’
‘Yes, of course, miss. It is close to the church, and that is just across the meadow behind the house. That’s the quickest way when it’s dry as it is now. Though in the winter it is best to follow the road to the village, but that is the long way round and you would do better to go in the carriage.’
Elizabeth thanked her. They parted and she went to her room, drinking a cup of tea and eating two of the delicious freshly baked soft rolls with butter and honey.
