Lord Barry's Dream House (13 page)

They strolled along the edge of the room, Juliana pausing to exchange pleasantries with those who sought her attention. Obviously, word of the disaster had not reached these people. It soon would, and then what? People such as the Titchfields were inclined to view the loss of a workman as of no account. But others like Lord Plunket would be deeply concerned, for he was a good landowner, considerate of the men and women who worked on his property. Would he place the blame on Henry and Juliana? Ultimately, responsibility for safety rested on their shoulders.

Juliana found she did not wish to speculate anymore on that matter. As Uncle George had said, there was nothing she might do about it this evening.

“Do you care to view the newest plant Mother has placed in the conservatory?” she inquired, just loudly so the nearest person might hear what she said.

“Indeed, I would. Have you given thought to a conservatory for my home? It might be rather nice, come winter and the dreary landscape outside,” he said, speculation clear in his voice.

They left the room and continued to stroll—most casually—in the direction of the conservatory.

“Are you serious? Or merely making conversation?” Juliana demanded.

“Perhaps it would be a good idea?” he replied thoughtfully.

Juliana paused before the door to the conservatory and gave him a puzzled look. “That would mean a change of plans, and it would increase the cost. Are you certain you want that?” The man had complained of costs at every turn. Surely he would not wish to increase them.

“However,” he countered, “it would cost less to make the change now than to add it later on. I believe I fancy a bit of garden within the house.” He reached around her to open the door.

They entered the humid room, walking a few steps before Juliana turned to face her patron. “Well, I must know how it went.”

“I did just as we agreed. He took the bait as avidly as we hoped he might. In spite of George’s hint, he seemed surprised that we had twigged to the identity of the man we suspected responsible for the deeds. I was careful not to implicate Sir Phineas in the least. I even intimated that were there another accident, no matter how small, I would seek another architect. When he suggested himself as replacement, I did not say nay.”

“Would you?” Juliana had to know.

“Not now. Not when I have learned the truth of the matter. I confess I came close to making that change when I first arrived. But I felt it necessary to allow you to prove yourself.” He stood close to her, for the aisle through the conservatory was not wide and the ferns cascading behind him gave him little space to move.

“I am glad you did, and that I did—Henry, too,” she added. “He is an important part of my work, you know.”

“Just how important is he to you?” his lordship quietly demanded, taking a step forward.

“Henry has been here for a long time, helped my father, and now me. I’d not know how to go along without his help.” She wished she knew what was behind his urgent question.

He said nothing to give her a clue as to his thoughts on that matter. Rather, he placed his hands on her arms and drew her toward him, allowing her time to bolt if she would. But Juliana could not more flee than fly. Rather, her eyes drifted shut, closing out the world.

“Juliana,” he whispered, and then she again knew the touch of his lips on hers. Either he was improving, or the conservatory lent a special atmosphere. The kiss was utterly delightful, and she had not the least desire to bring this to a stop as she supposed she ought.

Of course, reality struck her eventually. At the first hint of resistance, he freed her mouth. But he did not step away from her. His coat brushed against her, and she was aware of a myriad of sensations, feeling that touch acutely, as though every nerve in her body was aflame.

“Juliana,” he said, his voice pleasantly husky.

“Yes,” she said, although she had not the least idea to what she might be agreeing.

He frowned and shook his head, at last stepping away from her. “This will never do. I cannot take advantage of your innocence, no matter how desirable you may be.”

She ignored the bit about her desirability, tucking it to the back of her mind for later examination. It occurred to Juliana at that very moment to recall that Lord Barry had declared that he wanted her to go to London with him. Did he have some underhanded, ulterior motive for her company?

“About London,” she began.

He moved a few steps away, then turned to face her, looking somewhat startled. He did not look devious, she admitted to herself. Or was she merely trying to convince herself of his freedom from guilt because she wanted it that way?

“What about London? I said I wished to go into the city to prowl through the warehouses, see fabrics and styles of furniture for myself. It is not that I do not trust you,” he said placatingly. “It is more a desire to place my own stamp on the interior. So much else is you.”

The grin he flashed at her was enough to melt away any suspicions she harbored. He could, she mused, be very charming when he wished.

“Of course, you will need a chaperon,” he added, looking pensive. “Do you have someone in mind? I doubt Lady Hamilton would care to traipse about London warehouses,” he concluded dryly.

“Heavens, no,” Juliana agreed. “What a shame Kitty would not do, for she would dearly love to visit London. She has never gone there,” Juliana concluded with a frown. “I expect I could call on Aunt
Tibbles
to accompany me.”

“Would it not be difficult for an older woman?”

Juliana smiled. “Wait until you meet my Aunt
Tibbles
.”

The door opened, and Uncle George entered, looking from one to the other with a questioning face. Juliana was devoutly thankful that he had waited until now. She had no desire to be forced into marriage with Lord Barry over a mere kiss. Although, she considered, it could scarcely be described as “mere.”

“Well, I decided you had time and enough to discuss everything.”

Juliana prayed that she did not blush. “We did,” she agreed.

“I spoke casually with Sir Phineas once I found him,” Edmund said, retelling his conversation with resignation. Truth to tell, he’d rather have gone back to kissing Juliana. “He is now aware that you have a good idea as to who has perpetrated all those past foul deeds. All that needs doing now is to wait for him to make his next move.”

“Fine. I think your mother wishes to speak with you, Juliana. I shall see you later, or in the morning.”

“Good night, Uncle—Lord Barry,” Juliana said, suddenly glad to be leaving this place that had become far too dangerous for her. She whisked around the door and along the hall, pausing at the door to the drawing room until she espied her mother not far away.

It was clear that people had begun to leave. A ball of this sort, being in the country, tended to end much earlier than one in London. No one had been invited to remain overnight—although had the weather turned suddenly bad, they would have—so all must needs travel through the dark to reach their homes. Outriders and well-lit coaches were the order of the evening.

“Yes, Mother?” Juliana queried as she joined her parent.

“You have spent little time dancing. I thought you would wish that,” her mother began.

“Once I learned of the terrible accident that happened at the construction site, I lost heart of amusements,” Juliana countered, hoping she might avoid a scold by that means.

“Accident? I had not heard.” Lady Hamilton looked dubious and obviously wanted an explanation.

Juliana promptly gave her a slightly edited version of what had occurred as well as their intentions.

“Best head for bed, in that case. But Juliana, I am not pleased with regard to your gown. It was most improper of you not to consult me first.” That the gown had outshone Barbara’s was most likely an additional thorn.

“Yes, Mother.” Juliana was grateful to scrape by with no more than that admonition. It could have been worse.

Come morning the plan appeared to have been set in motion. Uncle George and Henry Scott had taken off quite early for the building site, prepared to stand watch.

Juliana did as her uncle had suggested. She called upon the family of the man who’d been killed to offer her condolences and whatever help might be needed. They lived closer than most of the new men, a short drive to the south.

It was most difficult for her, for the wife was a good, kind woman with two little children in tow. She had not expected much and seemed embarrassingly grateful for what Juliana offered.

When Juliana drove back toward her home, she encountered Peregrine coming from the direction of the Gothic manor house that Sir Phineas designed and constructed. She drew the gig to a halt and gave him a questioning look. “Are you going my way?”

“I thought to see how Kitty does after all the excitement of the ball. My father does not want my help today. It seems he has something he wished to do.” He studied Juliana with care to see how she accepted his company.

“Ride along beside me and we can chat.” She felt horridly awkward; his father was her enemy, yet she knew nothing but admiration for Peregrine.

They chatted lightly about a great number of things while slowly proceeding toward Beechwood Hall.

“Kitty tells me you plan to go up to London with Lord Barry sometime soon.” There was a question in Peregrine’s voice and eyes.

“Indeed, he does not wish to delegate the selection of his furnishings to a mere woman.”

“I thought you had designed a number of pieces to go with the decor of the house?” Peregrine sounded endearingly indignant upon her behalf.

“Well, as to that, I imagine we can locate something similar without too much effort. Those warehouses are known for containing just about anything one might wish.”

They entered the avenue and shortly drew to a halt before the house. Juliana handed the reins to the young groom who came running up to the gig. Peregrine absently handed over his horse to another groom who had followed.

Peregrine paused on the steps, looking hesitant, then resolved. He said, “I have no right, other than as a good friend, to beg a favor of you, but I would that you buy some things for Kitty when you are in Town. She needs shawls, and dresses, and a new pelisse, and a goodly number of things like bonnets and gloves. Is it really true that your mother does not intend to give her a Season?”

“Kitty and I shall share the same fate, it seems. We shall have to find husbands on our own, without benefit of the marriage mart,” Juliana said in a joking manner.

This remark put Peregrine into serious reflection, and he ushered Juliana into the house while quite obviously deep in thought.

“Juliana,” he said when Dalston had informed them that Kitty was to be found in the morning room, “you must know I have high regard for your younger sister. What do you think my chances are with her?”

“Quite good,” Juliana replied simply and directly. “She has considered you in the light of a hero for some time, you know.”

“But your mother,” he inserted before Juliana could add another word.

“She will not mind in the least, I suspect. It will allow her to concentrate on Barbara, you see.” Juliana gave him a rueful grimace that revealed a great deal.

“I think I see all too clearly,” Peregrine said with a wry smile.

When they joined Kitty in the morning room, Peregrine was greeted with shy enthusiasm and a warm smile, leaving little doubt in his mind that he was, indeed, well received.

They chatted over a generous tea until the time came for Peregrine to depart. Country ways might be a trifle more lenient because of distances involved, but even then, there was a limit on calling times.

He had risen to leave when Dalston hurried into the room, an anxious expression on his face. “There is a messenger here for you, Mr. Forsythe. He says ’tis urgent.”

Peregrine glanced at the girls, then strode from the room to the entry, where he was greeted by his father’s clerk of the works.

“What is it, man?” he demanded of the fellow, who truly looked as white as a sheet.

“Your father
...
” the chap began. “Something happened when he went to inspect the oriel window on the north side of the house.” The man tightened his mouth a moment, then continued, “He had climbed up on the scaffolding to check the trim boards. As near as we can tell, the nails were not long enough, so did not hold well. He lost his balance and fell, the scaffolding caving in under him.”

“He is alive?”

“I’m
sorry to say he was killed outright.” His blunt declaration left the entry in stark silence.

Kitty had followed, and at these words she crumpled to the floor.

Chapter
Twelve

“Kitty
!” Juliana cried, kneeling at her sister’s side.

“
What’s happened?” Lord Barry said as he ran down to reach the two girls at the bottom of the stairs. He gave Peregrine a curious glance, but he stood silent, quite as though he’d been struck all of a heap by the news.

Juliana looked up, her expression stunned. “That man came—” she gestured to the clerk of works—“to inform Peregrine that his father has been killed, and Kitty fainted.” Belatedly, Juliana turned her gaze to Peregrine and added, “I am so sorry. How tragic for you. How could it happen?”

Peregrine justifiably looked quite overwhelmed. “I just came from there. He was going to check an oriel window, for there was something amiss about the way the trim boards had been applied.”

“Nails too short, unless we miss our guess,” the clerk of works inserted quietly.

A grim expression crossed Peregrine’s face at once. “I told him he ought to have used longer nails. There’s not a ha’penny’s difference in cost. He’d not listen to me.” He exchanged a searching look with the clerk, then turned back to Juliana.

Kitty stirred and sat up, ignoring the smelling salts that a maid had rushed up with for her. “Peregrine? Is it true? You poor man!” She brushed aside Juliana’s murmured words and offer of help, to scramble somewhat shakily to her feet. “Is there anything I might do?”

“Thank you, no.” He gazed down at her with a tender expression. “You are most kind, but I will have to take care of matters myself—the lawyer, parson, all that needs doing.”

“I have a smattering of law,” Edmund said modestly, not revealing that he had once studied the subject with an eye to opening an office—before he inherited. He had found his knowledge quite useful in preventing others from swindling him. “Perhaps an extra hand, as it were?”

Peregrine studied him a moment, then nodded. “I believe you could help. Sorting through papers will be a time
consuming process.”

“Henry and I are acquainted with the building end of things. Should you wish help with closing loose ends, you have but to ask and we will be there,” Juliana offered.

“You are all too kind. I appreciate it.” Peregrine turned and walked from the house as though in a daze, followed by his father’s clerk of works and Edmund.

“Send word if we are needed,” Juliana whispered to Edmund before he went from the house. “I feel so dreadful, for we have many times wished his father to perdition, and now he is there. No matter how I dislike him, I’d not wished this.”

“I will do what I can to assist Forsythe. ’Tis a difficult task. I well remember what I found in similar circumstances after my uncle died.” Edmund left the house then, marching down the steps to find his horse, which had been ordered earlier for a morning ride, now awaited him along with Forsythe’s bay.

Kitty and Juliana followed them out and stood on the portico, watching as the men mounted their horses, preparing to return to the Gothic manor house that Peregrine would have to complete on his own now.

“We shall see you
later...
Sir Peregrine,” Kitty called out shyly to the new baronet.

He shot her an anguished look, touched the brim of his hat, then dashed off down the lane.

“Poor Sir Peregrine,” Kitty said to Juliana as they returned to the house.

“I’d not remembered he gained the title until you reminded me.” Juliana, concerned for her younger sister, guided her along to the morning room, requesting a pot of tea and biscuits from Dalston along the way.

Once they were settled in the window seat looking out in the direction the men rode, Kitty leaned against the wall and stared out over the pastures. “Do you think that will make him any more acceptable to Mama?”

Immediately grasping the direction of her sister’s thoughts, Juliana considered their mother for a bit, then replied, “You would be Lady Forsythe instead of merely Mrs. Forsythe. I think that could well make the difference. And since he stands to inherit everything, she’d have no worry that you both would land back here underfoot and needful of a roof over your heads.”

“He’d never do that, no matter what!” Kitty fiercely declared.

Juliana placed a comforting hand over Kitty’s slim ones and sighed. “I trust Peregrine will offer for you.”

“I believe there has always been something between us. He has forever been kind and understanding with me. His father presented an obstacle, you see, not to mention that temporary infatuation with Lady Rosamund. He saw her true colors at the ball. Was that only last night? It seems an age ago.”

“Indeed, it does,” Juliana agreed.

“I suppose you feel guilty, for so often we have wished Sir Phineas to his doom. Now he is dead, it is most frightening,” Kitty murmured.

“Well, I do not believe you can wish someone ill and have it happen, just like that. Evil tends to find out those who commit evil,” Juliana declared.

“And who is evil this morning?” Lady Hamilton said as she sailed into the morning room at an unusually early hour. “Gracious, such goings-on down here. I heard voices and doors slamming. Well?”

She seated herself just as Dalston returned with the tea tray. Juliana was grateful to see he had added two cups in the event her sister and mother joined them.

“Word came—just as Peregrine was about to take his leave after coming to see how Kitty fared this morning—that Sir Phineas had been killed.” Juliana ignored her mother’s horrified gasp to continue. “He fell while examining a window at the building site. He died instantly, so we were told.”

“I spoke with Sir Phineas only last night,” she cried in confounded disbelief. “Poor Peregrine, he will find his life turned upside down,” Lady Hamilton said properly with a doleful shake of her head.

“He is now
Sir
Peregrine, Mama,” Kitty reminded.

Her mother gave her an arrested look, then faced the tea table, a most considering expression on her face.

“Kitty fainted when she heard the news, so I ordered tea for her,” Juliana said, pouring the restorative tea for her sister first before offering a cup to her mother.

“Fainted! But you never do,” Lady Hamilton exclaimed.

“Never do what?” Barbara said crossly as she entered the morning room, her curls smooth perfection and her muslin uncrumpled. “You certainly make enough noise down here. I thought an army had marched into the hall.” She gave Kitty a derisive look, wrinkling her nose at what she saw. “Really, dear little sister, you might try to do better. You look as though you slept in that dress. And you must do something about being so pale; you look like a ghost. I suggest a faint touch of rouge—the merest hint will have you looking more the thing.”

“Sir Phineas is dead.” Kitty said baldly.

“Oh.” Barbara gave them a blank look, then carefully said, “That is a pity. Poor Peregrine will be all alone in that great big house. Mama, Peregrine is a baronet now, is he not?” There was no missing the calculating gleam in her eyes.

“Wouldn’t do for you, missy,” her mother reminded Barbara.

“But he would for me,” Kitty said quietly.

“Oh?” Lady Hamilton took a sip of tea, studying her youngest child over the rim of the cup.

“That would certainly dispose of her neatly, Mama,” Barbara said earnestly. “You’d not have to worry about her in London.”

“Barbara!” Juliana said, shocked at her sister’s callousness.

“Never mind, Juliana. Barbara means well.” Kitty reached out to touch Juliana’s hand, warning her to be silent.

Juliana knew that however generous Kitty might be, Barbara thought first of herself. It would suit her to a tee to have her mother’s time and money for her alone. Barbara had never cared to share anything, not even a maid.

“Well,” Lady Hamilton said at the conclusion of her cup of tea, “Sir Peregrine will be in mourning for six months. Time enough for you two to reach an understanding.”

“Yes, Mama,” Kitty replied. But there was a rebellious aspect in her pretty gray eyes, and her hands clenched briefly in her lap. Juliana suspected that her youngest sister yearned to be free of her mother and home. In the past it had been understood that the eldest girl would marry first. It was doubtful Mama would let that stand in the way of Barbara. Perhaps Mama intended Juliana to serve as a companion in her declining years?

It was likely that only Juliana noticed the defiant flush of most becoming pink that suffused Kitty’s cheeks, or the mutinous glow that lit her eyes. She had met Peregrine’s gaze while in the entry way and something had been exchanged between them. Juliana had looked away, unable to intrude. But she felt certain that come the end of those six months, Kitty would have her Peregrine and feel him well worth waiting for. Juliana wished she had as joyous a prospect ahead of her. A companion lived a pretty dull life.

“Ah, Mother,” Juliana ventured, after recalling that she must bring the matter to her mother’s attention, “Lord Barry has requested that I accompany him to the London warehouses to guide him in a search for furniture and the like for his house. He is so kind as to offer to pay not only for my way but for my chaperon as well. I suggested I might call upon Aunt
Tibbles
.”

“London?
You
go to London?” She glanced at Barbara, then back to where Juliana perched next to Kitty. “Aunt
Tibbles
,” she murmured with a hint of dread in her voice. “I suppose so. Goodness knows
I
would be worn to flinders in a moment were I to go with you. Warehouses!”

“Did our London house come all furnished, then?” Barbara asked, her nose wrinkling at the thought of anything not to do with her own pleasure.

“Mostly,” her mother admitted. “Your father selected all the bits and pieces to complement what was there. It was far preferable to consulting with those dreadful shop people.”

“How fortunate you did not have to lift a finger.” Barbara sipped her tea while studying the toe of her new slipper.

Juliana turned to Kitty, and both compressed their lips to keep from giggling. How wonderful that Mama and Barbara had each other—they were a perfect pair.

After a check of the clock, Juliana gathered her skirts and rose from the window seat. “It is time past when I should go over to the building site. Henry will think me a slugabed.”

“Juliana, such words,” her mother rebuked absently.

“I apologize, of course,” Juliana replied as she slipped from the room, followed closely by Kitty.

“It is good that Mama does not mind that you go with his lordship to London. What would you have done had she objected?” Kitty whispered while they went up the central stairs.

“Sought Uncle George’s help. Oh,” she cried, exchanging a concerned glance with Kitty, “he does not know about Sir Phineas as yet, nor does Henry. I must hurry.” Not explaining why it was so necessary, Juliana dashed up the remaining steps and along to her room. She hurriedly donned a pelisse and bonnet, and pulled on her gloves before heading out the back to the stables.

Fortunately, the gig had been brought out, her groom anticipating she would prefer it this morning. It took little time to have it ready for travel.

Juliana paced about the area, wondering how her uncle and Henry would react to the news.

She held the mare to a spanking trot all the way over to the building site. Once there, she tossed the reins to the boy who came running to greet her, then hurried to the house.

“Uncle George! Henry!” she called, looking about her as she almost ran through the house.

All was quite still. The oak flooring was expected today or tomorrow, and soon the rooms would be ready for furnishings. She marched on along the hall until she found a window that looked out on the rear view from the house. In a few minutes she espied her uncle and Henry some distance away near the Chinese dairy. Workmen had planted shrubs and begun to dress the lawn in a picturesque way. She hurriedly left the main house, and within minutes she marched up the slope to meet them.

“My, you look all flustered,” her uncle teased.

“I have news for you both,” she said, catching her breath after her rush.

“What could be so momentous?” Henry said, exchanging a cautious look with George.

“Sir Phineas fell early this morning while examining the trim around an oriel window. The scaffolding crumpled inward on him, and he was killed instantly.”

The men stopped in their tracks, staring at Juliana quite as though she had spoken in a foreign language.

“Dead? Phineas dead?” Uncle George said wonderingly.

“Not mean to be disrespectful, but it will make things easier around here with him gone,” Henry said.

“True, however callous that sounds. We will all sleep better now we do not have to worry about his next trick. But I had not wished him dead,” Juliana declared.

“Wonder what will happen now?” George said.

“Never mind about that; I believe the dray with the delivery of oak planking is coming along the drive.” Henry led the way and soon the men had left Juliana far behind.

Rather than follow, she walked along the path to the Chinese dairy to inspect the columns that flanked the entryway. They were close to the Doric style with a simple curve at the top, but with ornate Oriental diagonal supports from the pillars to the ceiling of the portico. The walls were also plain, with simple panels set into them. Only the roof had the characteristic slope with tu
rn
ed-up tips and Oriental symbols on the flat peak. Inside, the little garden building, which really had little to do with a dairy other than being idealized, held Oriental-style benches and low tables.