Jack on the Box (17 page)

Mr. Rose, perceiving a sly wink from Jack, ventured to remark, “If it’s Lord Stourport you’ll be wanting, Jack here can tell you all about him. He’s been staying up at the manor these five weeks and more.” He smiled at the look of incredulity which came over Sudbury’s face.

“You?” emitted the valet in shocked tones. “You have been staying up at the manor?” He examined Jack’s clothing with repugnance.

“I have,” Jack confirmed, pretending not to notice the offensive note. “Not as a guest, o’ course, but in the house, mind you. I broke my leg when the mail come through more than a month ago. Sir Waldo, he’s been puttin’ me up. But I’m up and around now,” he added cheerfully. “Won’t be much longer before I’m back to work.”

As he had hoped, Sudbury quickly brought him back to the subject. “But you have seen Lord Stourport?” he inquired eagerly, “You must have heard me mention how great a friend he is. Why there is no one nearer to Lord Stourport than I!” This last assertion seemed to amuse him greatly for he ended by chuckling to himself.

“Well, now!” Jack said, in the heartiest tones. “Isn’t that a rare thing? Why you ought to come back up with me to the manor! I could drive you in Sir Waldo’s carriage.”

Sudbury started to speak, and then hesitated, one finger to his lips. “Thank you, my good man,” he said finally. “But I do not think that will serve. Sir Waldo is not expecting me, you see. I do not think that would be the proper way to go about it.” He seemed to be speaking this last almost to himself.

Jack shrugged. “As you like,” he said. “But I’m sure Lord Stourport would be happy to see you. He’s not been too well, they say. Stayed in his bed this morning.” He watched his companion closely for a reaction.

The news seemed to please Sudbury inordinately. “Not well, you say?” he said, smiling. “That is too bad. I hope he will not regret coming to see Sir Waldo. I advised him against it.”

“Oh?” Jack was scarcely able to control his interest. When that remark drew nothing, however, he raised his eyebrows significantly. “They do say,” he said in a low voice, “that he’s come to offer for Miss Cecily, Sir Waldo’s granddaughter. She’s his cousin, you know.”

Sudbury’s eyes contracted, and he stiffened. Then he looked disdainfully at Jack. “If you mean Miss Wolverton, young man, I am well acquainted with the matter,” he said sharply. But Jack could see he was not pleased. “I warned him against it,” the valet mumbled.

Jack pretended not to have heard this comment, which was clearly not intended for him. “Well, ‘tis of no moment to me, but you really ought to come up to the manor. His lordship’s not lookin’ too perky.”

Sudbury came back to attention with a start. “Has he hired a new valet?”

Jack could hardly restrain a smile. He shrugged. “Not that I knows of,” he said without interest. “I never had too many doings with valets and the like, to own the truth. Too high in the instep, if you ask me. Not a good fella like you.” He leered at Sudbury with an overly friendly smile. It was a temptation he could not resist.

Sudbury responded with a look of disgust and was about to leave the table, when Jack ventured one last word. “Happen his lordship don’t even know you’re here,” he said casually.

The former valet could not resist refuting the sly implication. “There, my good man, you are mistaken,” he asserted. “I have sent my card up to his lordship, and he has every intention of calling on me at his earliest convenience.”

Jack gaped in silent awe at the impression these words were intended to create, and Sudbury bowed condescendingly and wished him good day. If he had not been upon such serious business with the valet, then Jack would have had a good laugh. But he could not stay amused. Too many thoughts were crowding into his brain.

He strove to put them together. Sudbury had admitted to sending his card up to Alfred. That would have to have been the note at breakfast that morning, for Davies had said that Sudbury came in by yesterday’s mail. And the note had clearly upset Alfred. He had been even further distressed to learn that Jack intended to go down to the village that day. No doubt he feared a chance meeting of exactly the kind that had occurred. Knowing Sudbury as he did, he must certainly have known that he would puff their acquaintance to the limit. The two men were well matched in their conceit.

Jack had his own suspicions of the relationship that now existed between these two men, but he decided not to waste any more time thinking it through at the inn. Cecily should be told of Sudbury’s arrival as soon as possible, he reflected seriously. He had a notion that whatever was going on between the two men had more to do with her than with anyone else.

Jack hastened back to the manor. He had to wait impatiently to speak to her, for Cecily had retreated to Sir Waldo’s room during his absence. But before too long he was able to join her for a small midday repast in the dining room.

Then, of course, Alfred was with them. In spite of his morning malady and his intention to stay abed all day, it seemed he could not resist satisfying his curiosity about whether Jack had run into his former valet. He posed Jack several innocuous questions in an endeavour to discover the information. But Jack’s innocent looks deceived him, and he retired to his bed that afternoon not a whit the wiser.

He did try once again to persuade Cecily to grant him a private audience, but she reminded him firmly that Jack’s walk must come first. That the doctor insisted upon it was her excuse. Alfred’s spirits were so under siege, however, that he gave up the struggle with no more than one hateful look at Jack before stumbling, with the assistance of a footman, up to bed.

Jack waited until they had reached the far end of the garden walk before he told Cecily his news. There, seated under the shade of a trellis of rose leaves he related his discovery of the morning.

“Sudbury!” Cecily cried, upon hearing his name. “Whatever could he mean by coming here in such a guise? Do you suppose his intention is to embarrass Alfred? Was he so offended when Alfred turned him off that he chose this manner of avenging himself?”

Jack regarded her intently as he spoke. “I suspect there is a good deal more to it than that, Cecily. Mr. Rose informed me that Sudbury has money—enough to demand all the comforts of a gentleman, even though his manner is somewhat less than convincing.”

“But where would he get . . .?” Cecily began. Then she stopped, as a thought struck her. She raised eager eyes to Jack and said, “From Alfred! Do you think he could have taken money from Alfred?”

Jack nodded, glad that she had quickly arrived at the same conclusion. “I am convinced of it. Sudbury told me he had sent his card up to the manor to notify your cousin of his being here. If that was the note Alfred received at breakfast this morning, we have plenty of evidence as to its effect upon him. He has scarcely been able to stand. I can only conclude that Sudbury pursued Alfred here to extort more money from him.”

“But that is blackmail!” Cecily cried.

Jack raised his brows expressively, but said nothing. He still wanted to see what interpretation she would put upon the evidence.

When he did not speak, Cecily frowned and added, “Then, that would mean Alfred has something very serious to hide.”

Jack bent closer to her and took her hands in his. “Cecily, I must tell you that when I talked to Sudbury, he twice indicated that he had warned Alfred not to come here. Oh, it was not expressed so clearly,” he added quickly, when he saw her alarm, “but he did not think I was attending properly. I made it appear that I was a trifle foxed.”

He was glad to see that his explanation had relieved her. Cecily pursed her lips to suppress a smile at his antics.

He continued, watching anxiously for her reaction. “Cecily, do you think as I do? Can you think of something Sudbury might know about, which Alfred would wish to remain concealed?”

She gazed at him solemnly. The answer was already on her lips. “The theft of my father’s will.”

Jack nodded grimly. Unconsciously, he began to caress the small hands he still held. “My thoughts precisely. If, as you say, Alfred did not go into your father’s study during his visit to your father’s deathbed, then he must have instructed Sudbury to go in and nick the will. In that case, Sudbury would know quite enough about the proceeding to cause Alfred much damage, were he to divulge it.”

It was Cecily’s turn to nod. Her cheeks were flushed with suppressed excitement. All at once Jack realized what he had been doing with her hands and, after clearing his throat of its sudden constriction, released them. They smiled at each other self-consciously. He would have liked nothing better than to take her into his arms at that moment, but he restrained himself with the thought that they must carry this talk to its conclusion.

Cecily’s next sentence was delivered in a voice which sounded robbed of breath. “But surely Sudbury could not reveal the existence of the will without endangering himself as well! Alfred ought to know that.”

Her words made Jack frown with renewed concentration. “That is so. And if Alfred has the will, what good would it do Sudbury to accuse him of anything? Alfred could simply claim that they were the vengeful ravings of a dismissed servant. Sudbury could not prove his assertions without severely endangering himself, as you say.”

They both were silent as they pondered this puzzle. Then Cecily said, in a sobered voice, “Well, at least I know now why Alfred offered for me.”

Jack looked at her questioningly.

She explained, “He wants to assure himself that, even if the existence of the will is somehow revealed, he shall still have control of the estate. If the property were found to be mine after all, as my husband he would become its rightful owner. It would be unlikely I would do anything to send my own husband to prison.”

Jack felt a spurt of anger rise inside him at these words, but he had to agree with her assessment. “The fellow’s even more of a snake than I thought,” he said shortly. He stood and began to pace up and down to relieve some of his tension. His leg was by now feeling much stronger. “I wish there were some way of finding exactly what hold Sudbury has over Alfred. Then we might see a way of extracting the truth from your cousin.”

Cecily watched him walk back and forth in front of her. She was smiling a little self-consciously, as if still disturbed by the touch of his hand. “Do you think,” she ventured, “that Alfred’s reason has been damaged by his sense of guilt? He is almost prostrate. Could he not be suffering from an overwrought conscience? Sudbury could have been preying upon it for some time now.”

Jack shook his head, unconvinced. “Not your cousin Alfred,” he said dryly. “I see no Lady Macbeth in him. His pursuit of you does not suggest to me the workings of contrition.”

“No,” she agreed with a sigh. “Then I do not see that we have advanced much in our knowledge.”

Jack resumed his seat beside her and faced her, saying earnestly, “Do not give up hope yet, Cecily. I am certain that Sudbury intends to meet Alfred—perhaps this very night. We may discover some knowledge of your father’s will before many days have passed. I  can almost promise it.”

Cecily gazed at him speechlessly for a moment. Then she covered her face with her hands. “Oh, Jack!” she said, with a great sigh of relief. “Do you know what you have done? Can you even imagine? It is not so much the possibility that I may recover my property, although it would be wonderful to return to my home, and I should be glad of the money. It is the knowledge, the actual certainty, that my father did indeed mean to provide for me.” She looked up at him, glowing with happiness, though her eyes were filled with tears. “And to think that if you had not gone into the village this morning, we might never have known this.”

Now Jack was ready to take her into his arms. Her eyes invited him. His heart beat strongly with the desire to cover her pretty lips with kisses. He took her by the shoulders, and she raised her face shyly to meet him. But suddenly, something she had just said arrested him. His brows came together, and his hands dropped to his sides.

If all went as he expected, Cecily would have her fortune restored to her. Could he let it be said that she had kissed a coachman on the Royal Mail? Was he not still known in the village as Jack, the coachman? Jack would not allow a hint of scandal to touch the woman he loved.

He became aware that Cecily was watching him with a hurt and puzzled expression. He stood and walked a few paces away from her to regain his composure.

“It makes me very happy to know that I have restored some measure of peace to you,” he said in a constricted voice.

Cecily had risen also and taken a step towards him. “Jack, is anything amiss?”

Jack shook his head as if doing so would rid him of his feelings, and then turned to face her, smiling.

“No, of course not,” he said. “How could there be? I was just thinking that there is every chance you will be a great heiress again soon.”

She stared at him, still wondering, until comprehension dawned. “Yes, I shall be,” she admitted. “And all because of you.”

Jack shook his head again in denial. “That is of no consequence.”

“It is to me,” she said, in a quiet voice. When he did not speak, she added, “And it will make no difference that I can see except that I shall be more secure. I have no intention of changing.”

Jack smiled sadly at her. “I am certain you will not, not in essentials, at least. But you will soon be caught up in a different world. You will not isolate yourself here in the country. Society will not let you.”

Now having a clear understanding of Jack’s distress, Cecily felt confident that she could dispel his concerns. She smiled warmly and spoke evenly so as to reassure him. “We shall see about that. If I choose to stay here visiting my grandfather until—” she blushed and lowered her eyes “—until it suits me to leave, who is to say I may not?”

He could not mistake her meaning. She was telling him of her intention to wait for him. But he could not let her make such a sacrifice. Sir Geoffrey might decide to keep him in his present state for years. He might decide that Jack was not worthy of his regard. In that case, only his father’s death would restore Jack to his position. Could he ask Cecily to wait for that? Should her name be coupled with someone who had been a common labourer for years? Her stature would surely suffer. And Jack knew that she had suffered so much from one scandal that she must not be exposed to another.