Forsters 04 - Romancing the Runaway (13 page)

“Bless you, miss, there was nothing you could have done about it.”

“But now you have no help at all,” Lord Gabriel suggested.

“No. When Peacock came down six months ago he had a fancy lawyer with him and some other gent, whose name we never knew. That’s when they told us that you were getting married, miss, and that the property would be sold. They dismissed the maid and gardener and told us we could stay until the new owners took over.” She rolled her eyes in disgust. “Very good of them, I must say, but what choice did we have at our age but to hang on and hope for the best?”

“My father promised you positions for life,” Miranda said hotly. “Mr. Peacock had no right to suggest you would be dismissed.”

“That he did,” Dalton replied. “But we had no way of proving it. It was more by way of a verbal promise that we knew you would have kept.”

“And so I shall, Dalton.” Miranda straightened her spine. “Rest assured that I have no intention of marrying. What’s more, I’m home to stay.”

Tears sprang to Mrs. Dalton’s eyes. “My prayers have been answered,” she said with feeling.

“What of the livestock, Dalton?” Miranda asked.

“Just three horses left. The ones they didn’t see fit to sell.”

A hand shot to Miranda’s mouth. “Don’t tell me they sold Sultan. I can’t bear it.”

“Sorry, miss, but he’s gone to a gent over Penzance way.”

Lord Gabriel’s hand came to rest on her shoulder. “Your father’s stallion?”

“Yes, and Mr. Peacock had no right to interfere. That horse was mine!” Miranda was so angry she almost cried. “I had plans for him.”

“I did manage to hang on to that old brood mare you were so fond of, miss.”

“What, Jinx?” Miranda felt slightly mollified. Not that a brood mare was any consolation for the loss of a valuable stallion. Even so, Jinx was as old as Miranda herself. The two of them had grown up together and Miranda held the mare in great affection. “Well, that’s something.”

“Peacock didn’t ask if she was in foal so I didn’t see the need to tell him she’d been covered by Sultan.”

Miranda actually laughed. “Well done, Dalton!”

“Yeah well, he didn’t ask if there was any other stock around, either. He just assumed all we had was what he could see. Something about it didn’t smell right. I knew you’d never agree to part with Sultan, miss, and I figured you’d never see the money from the sale anyway. He was swindling you somehow, I just knew it. Anyway, if he’d been inclined to walk to the lower paddock, he would have seen the two-year-old colt of Sultan’s what I’ve just broken to halter.” Dalton rubbed his nose. “Worth a bob or two is that youngster, I shouldn’t wonder.”

That was a long speech for the taciturn yet kind-hearted Dalton, a testimony to just how aggrieved he obviously felt.

“What do you intend to do now, miss?” Mrs. Dalton asked.

A very good question. Miranda turned to look at Lord Gabriel. “Well, I was going to suggest that we all stayed here until you felt inclined to return to Denby. I realise you can’t do that until Wright’s crew have repaired the mast and patched the sails, so perhaps an inn for you in the village until—”

“Nonsense, we shall be perfectly comfortable here. Besides, I’m in no hurry to leave the area.”

“But, my lord.” Mrs. Dalton looked horrified. “The house isn’t fit for human habitation.”

“Then we’d best make it so.” Lord Gabriel clapped his gloved hands together, seemingly unperturbed by the disastrous state of the house. “Presumably the chimneys need sweeping.”

Mrs. Dalton grimaced. “At the very least.”

Lord Gabriel glanced at Miranda. “With your permission.”

She lifted her shoulders. Attempting to stop Lord Gabriel when he decided on a project was, she’d already discovered, like trying to halt a tidal wave. “By all means.”

Miranda wouldn’t have admitted it for the world, but at that precise moment she was grateful to have someone else take over her responsibilities. All she needed was a short respite to get over this latest disappointment. She would then be quite herself again and would relieve Lord Gabriel of his temporary control.

His lordship strode into the hall and called to Wright. “Take the cart back into town. See if you can find a chimney sweep—”

“Fourth cottage along on the harbour,” Dalton said. “That’s where the sweep’s to be found.”

“Did you hear that, Wright?”

“Loud and clear, m’lord.”

“Then enquire at the inn. See if you can find a couple of girls in need of work.”

Miranda gasped. He went too far already. “But there’s no money for—”

Lord Gabriel held up a hand to cut off Miranda’s protest. “We need to be comfortable.”

Miranda suspected he could make do along with the rest of them and that his insistence on putting the house back in order was for her sake. She obviously hadn’t concealed her horror as well as she’d thought.

“Then bring back as many of the crew as can be spared from repair duties. By dinnertime this house will have come back to life again.” He smiled at Miranda. “Just you wait and see.”

“How can you be so sure?”

He answered her question with one of his own. “Have I ever let you down?”

Miranda didn’t know how she was supposed to answer him and so she turned to Dalton instead. “Do we still have transportation?”

Dalton flashed a conspiratorial grin. “I hid your father’s curricle when those interfering so-and-sos came nosing around. Didn’t seem like it was any of their business.”

“You’re a diamond, Dalton. Papa loved that curricle and I should have hated not to have it.” Miranda jumped to her feet, rejuvenated, ready to do her share of the work. “Let me give you a tour of the house, Lord Gabriel, and then perhaps we can decide together in what order things should be done.”

“I’ll come along,” Mrs. Dalton said.

“Just a moment, Mrs. Dalton.” Jessie’s voice stayed the housekeeper. “I reckon we’ll be needing to feed all these men if they come up here and help us out. Perhaps you’d be kind enough to direct me to the pantry and I’ll make a start.”

Miranda glanced over her shoulder and noticed a broad grin gracing Mrs. Dalton’s homely features. “That we will, Jessie. That we will.”

Chapter Thirteen

“I realise the entire house would fit into one wing at the Hall,” Miss Cantrell said defensively as they started their tour of the ground floor. “But it’s more than large enough for my requirements. Besides, I like it just the way it is. It holds precious memories.”

Gabe nodded as he peered around the double doors. The drawing room was the size of the small parlour at the Hall. The furniture was shrouded in dust sheets, the curtains were pulled closed and there was a musty smell of disuse in the air. Even so, cleaned up and with a roaring log fire in the rather handsome fireplace, he imagined the room would be cosy and intimate.

“I can quite see why you’re so attached to it,” he said.

“Can you?” She offered him a suspicious look. “You don’t need to be kind, you know. The Wildes isn’t a grand house in the fashion you’re accustomed to.”

Gabe leaned a shoulder against the door jamb and appraised her. Their gazes locked and something inside him—an unfamiliar feeling—tugged at his heart. And lower. It was a feeling that had nothing to do with his determination to keep her safe. It was a feeling he’d done his damnedest to keep at bay since leaving Cambridge. That ambition had been easily achieved so far since none of the ladies he’d met—not even Beth—had come close to working their way beneath his guard. But there was something about this wilful child that agitated his passions, scattering his determination to remain aloof to the four winds.

“Do you imagine that I live only to be cosseted?”

“Oh, I’m sure you don’t.” A blush crept up her cheeks when he continued to focus his gaze directly at her. “It’s just that I have difficulty seeing the Wildes through your eyes, especially in its current condition, that’s all. I love every nook and cranny about the place but to an outsider, especially when it’s been closed up for so—”

“Miranda, please stop apologising.”

“Yes, you’re right. None of this is my fault and I have nothing to apologise for.”

She turned away from him, an unreadable expression gracing her features, and strode across the room. She pulled back one of the heavy curtains, stirring up a cloud of dust that made her sneeze. Gabe joined her at the grimy window, taking in the magnificent view across the grounds. He wondered if by using her name, she imagined he intended to take advantage of her now they were here virtually alone. He hadn’t intended to address her with such informality and regretted that one unguarded moment had created tension between them.

Carnal tension.

Damnation, she probably didn’t understand what had just happened, but he did. It was up to him to maintain the proprieties and quell his base feelings. The only way he could possibly do that was to remind himself repeatedly that she
was
just a child. A headstrong, intelligent, determined and wildly unrealistic one maybe, but a child nonetheless. She had set herself an ambitious task in reclaiming the Wildes and it was his duty as her self-appointed protector to give her all the help and guidance at his disposal.

With such noble intentions firmly in the forefront of his mind, Gabe deemed it safe to return his attention to the view. But not to her. He wasn’t
that
much in command of himself quite yet. He could see two horses in a frosty paddock, charging up and down, shadow-kicking one another as though sorely in need of exercise. Beyond them was a view of a cove with big waves crashing against the shingle shoreline.

“I thought the house wasn’t visible from the shore,” he remarked.

“Not from Looe. The cove you can see there is just the small one accessible from our grounds that I told you about earlier. We call it Hidden Cove.” She laughed. “Not very original, I know, but that’s what it’s always been known as. It’s a favourite spot of mine. I used to go there all the time as a child.”

“Exploring the caves.”

“Yes, it’s an extensive network.”

“Weren’t you afraid of the confined space and the dark?”

She straightened her spine. “Absolutely not.”

Gabe smiled at the ease with which he could affront her, reminding him of her youth and inexperience, but kept his gaze firmly fixed on the view. It was safer that way. “Not many establishments can boast their own private beach.”

“Well, two neighbouring properties have access as well, but they never used it and so I suppose you could say it was private, at least when I was a child. Oh! The grandfather clock has gone.” She pointed to an indentation in the rug where it had obviously once stood. “Perhaps Dalton has sent it for repair.”

Gabe rather doubted it but said nothing. The tour continued to the dining room, a small study that had been her father’s and a morning room. The entrance hall was large and the staircase wide and attractively proportioned. Upstairs there were five large bedchambers, all musty with disuse.

“And there you have it, my lord,” she said. “There are attics above for the servants, but apart from that you’ve seen the entire house.”

And there was something not quite right about it. Miranda tried to hide her distress when she noticed other items missing. Silver from the dining room, a valuable vase that had apparently always stood on the landing dresser, one or two pictures, a porcelain figurine that had belonged to her mother.

“I’m sure Mrs. Dalton must have put them away for safekeeping,” she said, as though trying to convince herself.

Gabe was sure of no such thing and his temper was in danger of erupting. Peacock must have stripped the place of anything of value without even consulting Miranda first.

“Let’s ask Mrs. Dalton about the missing items,” he said, steering her gently in the direction of the kitchen. Miranda needed to know the painful truth. So too did he. Only then could he decide what was best to be done about it.

“I didn’t want to tell Miss Miranda at once,” Mrs. Dalton replied in answer to Gabe’s query. “That wretched man just came and took everything he fancied. Said he was putting it in safekeeping, although it was quite safe here at the Wildes. Goodness only knows, nothing untoward had ever happened before he came along.”

“He robbed me,” Miranda said, shaking her head. “He can’t be allowed to get away with it.”

“Nor will he,” Gabe replied, patting her shoulder.

“But I mean to confront him—”

“Which is just what he wishes you to do.”

“Then he’ll get his wish.” She threw her arms up in evident anger. “He can’t do this to me. He has no right.”

“Unfortunately he can,” Gabe replied gently. “Your only course of redress is to Nesbitt, and I think we both know whose side he’ll take.”

“He’s probably a part of it.” Miranda stamped her foot. “It’s so unfair. Why are they doing this to me?”

“That’s a question we will soon find an answer to, but in the meantime there’s work to be done.” Miranda would be best advised to take out her frustration on the house she so loved and help put it to rights. Gabe removed his coat. Mrs. Dalton took it from him and hung it somewhere. “Shall we start in the drawing room? We need to uncover the furniture and sweep the floor at the very least.”

His suggestion that they do these chores together clearly diverted her.

“You are willing to sweep floors?” she asked, quirking a brow.

“Certainly. And the rugs need to be rolled up and carried outside so they can be beaten. Munford,” he yelled, “the rugs in the drawing room need to be removed.”

Miranda looked both surprised and a little taken aback but she made no comment about it.

Munford appeared in shirt sleeves, clearly not too full of himself to balk at what was asked of him. “Where do you want me to put the rugs, Mrs. Dalton?” he asked.

Miranda tied an apron over her plain brown gown and followed Gabe from the room. “Let’s make a start.”

“If Wright manages to find a couple of girls in the village, they can attend to the windows.”

“Yes. Clean windows always make a big difference to a room.”

Miranda was very quiet as they worked to slowly restore order to the drawing room. She folded dust sheets, plumped up cushions and was clearly upset when she noticed more spaces where objects had once sat. It was fortunate for Peacock that he didn’t happen to be in the vicinity. Watching his vivacious companion try to pretend everything was as it should be in her precious home tore at Gabe’s heartstrings, bringing out his protective instincts in spades. The people who’d robbed her of so many possessions with sentimental as well as monetary value would pay for their deeds before he left the area, or his name wasn’t Forster.

They worked for over an hour, gradually bringing the room to life but seldom speaking. She needed time to come to terms with this latest example of Peacock’s greed. The desire to console her was compelling. He wanted to tell her that at least the memories she carried in her heart could never be taken from her, but didn’t trust himself to leave it at that. Instead he vowed to track down the most precious items Peacock had stolen and find a way to restore them to her.

A commotion heralded Wright’s return. He had two girls in tow, along with two more members of
The
Celandine’s crew. “The sweep’s on his way, m’lord.”

“Good. Now then, let’s set everyone to work.”

A short time later the girls had taken over from Gabe and Miranda, their instructions clear. Gabe spent some time with Wright, discussing what needed to be done most urgently on the exterior. Roof repairs had his men scurrying for ladders and hammers.

“First, though,” Gabe said to Wright, “I want those gates fixed so they can be kept closed.”

“Why?” Miranda asked. “Surely there are more pressing matters to attend to.”

“Your guardians will arrive sooner rather than later. The driveway is short and if we don’t happen to see them, they might take us by surprise.”

“If they have to stop and open the gates,” Wright added, “we’ll have early notice of their arrival.”

“Exactly. That will be more efficient than setting a man to permanently watch for them.”

“It doesn’t matter if they do surprise us,” Miranda replied, her eyes fiercely determined. “I want them to come. I have a few choice words to say to them when they get here.”

Gabe took her arm. “Leave it to me.”

“No, sir, you assume too much.” She inverted her chin. “This is my problem and I shall decide what’s best said.”

“No, sweetheart, you don’t understand what’s—”

“I know you think me bird-witted, Lord Gabriel, but even I can appreciate that I’ve been robbed by two unscrupulous men. I shall give them the opportunity to return my property but if they don’t do so, I won’t hesitate to report them to the local magistrate.”

Gabe shook his head, surprised at the depth of her naiveté. No one would listen to a young girl when Peacock and Nesbitt had every legal right on their side. This situation called for subtlety not confrontation but, seeing how genuinely upset and determined she was, he decided not to say as much. At least for now.

“Everything’s under control here and we’re just in the way,” he said instead. “Will you give me a tour of the grounds?”

“Perhaps I should—”

“You need a break.” He tightened his hold on her arm and steered her from the room. “The girls can manage.”

“Yes, but I should see to bed linens. The bedchambers need to be opened up.”

“Mrs. Dalton is arranging that.”

“Yes.” She blew air through her lips. “So she is.”

“Are you worried about what you’ll find outside?”

“No, I have complete faith in Dalton. I suspect the stables will be in a better state of repair than the house.” Miranda removed her apron and grabbed her cloak. “Come along then, let’s see if I’m right about that.”

*

Bill was frozen to the marrow and in a dire frame of mind, ready to pick a fight with anyone who crossed his path.

“Damned skinflint,” he muttered as he steered the team round yet another rut in the road. “And there was me thinking a jaunt to the West Country would be a bit of a lark.”

“Should have known better,” Luke complained.

“He’s got you and me driving his damned carriage like we’re jarveys, not skilled workers. If that ain’t enough, it’s taking bleeding forever to get there because he’s too tight to spring for the best horses.”

Luke rubbed his hands together and spat at his boots. “Seems like we’ve been on the road for weeks. Don’t think I’ll ever feel warm again.”

Bill nodded towards the relatively warm interior of the carriage which contained both Peacocks and Nesbitt. “They’ll expect us to run about and wait on them hand and foot when we stop for the night. It ain’t as if we’re trained footmen, nor nothin’.”

“And we’re none the wiser about what they’re planning to do when we get to Cornwall.”

“Oh, I dunno. I’ve heard a word or two while I’ve been serving them,” Bill said, sniffing. “It’s like I don’t have ears, or don’t exist, because they speak quite freely in front of me.”

“They trust you, that’s why.”

Bill grimaced. “Stupid buggers!”

“What did you hear then?”

“They’re meeting some cove when we get to Looe. Seems awful important because they’re all worked up about being on time.”

“You’d think he’d hire better horses then.”

Bill rolled his eyes. “Obviously not
that
important.”

“Wonder what that’s all about?”

“I dare say they’ll want one of us to drive them to the meeting and you can wager your last farthing I’ll find out. I’ve had enough of being kept in the dark like I was a bastard mushroom.”

“They seem cut up ‘cos we ain’t seen anything of that ship of Forster’s.”

“They must have outrun the squall and already arrived. Typical damned gentry. Everything always goes their way. Peacock’s been complaining about not seeing them but seems to think it’ll work out all right for him one way or the other.” Bill removed one hand from the ribbons and rubbed his chin. “Wish I knew how.”

“We’ll be there the day after tomorrow so we’ll soon know.”

“Yeah, and that stingy bastard Peacock will get his comeuppance, you just wait and see if I’m not right.”

“What do you intend to do then, Bill?”

Bill flashed an evil grin. “Play both sides against the middle and make sure we come out on top, that’s what.”