VIscount Besieged (24 page)

‘
What
do you mean, miss? Crumbling, you said?’

‘
Did
I? No, I think you must be mistaken, ma’am. Old,
perhaps.’

Without allowing
her any further opportunity to open her mouth, Isadora turned for
the door. Encountering Hampole’s eye as she passed him, she had the
grace to blush a little, but with a little defiant toss of her head
she led the way out. In spite of the butler, she chattered all the
time as she showed them over the dining-room and the two parlours,
dismissing her own private domain with barely a glance.

‘
It
is always the same in these old houses, ma’am. You must prepare for
a good deal of polishing, for there is so much panelling to be
taken care of, and one must needs guard against an infestation of
that sort of beetle that destroys wood, although I am happy to say
there has been no sign of that.’

‘
How
do you know?’ asked Mrs Haltwhistle, pausing to stare at a patch of
panelling in the hall, as if she might see the beetle actually
eating away there.

Hampole’s face
was a study. Controlling a strong desire to giggle, Isadora made
haste to respond.

‘
Oh,
I am quite sure of it, ma’am, although I must admit that one does
not quite know until the wood falls away from the walls. But tap it
how you will—’ she laughed jovially ‘—none of our walls have yet
fallen down.’ She saw that Hampole’s expressionless eyes had veered
to her face again, and, passing close so that he might clearly see
the look that positively dared him to intervene, added, ‘You will
as readily see ghosts appearing through the panelling.’

The butler put
out a hand to steady himself against the wall, but he did not
speak.

‘
Ghosts?’

‘
Pshaw!’ came from Mr Haltwhistle, giving his first comment of
the morning. ‘Don’t ye allow this woman to alarm you, m’dear.
There’s as little chance of ghosts here as there is of this wood
beetle she speaks about.’

‘
I
should think not,’ Isadora said instantly, laughing. ‘Ghosts,
indeed! Though to be sure there
is
that dreadful creaking in
the basement whenever I am obliged to go down there to fetch up
supplies. My poor dear father will not go down at all, will you?’
Receiving nothing other than a blank stare in response to this from
the butler, who no longer hobbled down to the basement only because
his legs would not permit him, she went on, ‘But there. All old
houses creak a little, don’t they?’

‘
That
they do,’ Mr Haltwhistle said sternly, and he added with an
unseemly cackle, ‘And even were there ghosts, m’dear, they’d be
afear’d o’coming out with you on the premises, they
would.’

His wife gave
him a minatory glare, but said nothing until they had climbed the
stairs to the upper floor where Isadora led them into the big
drawing-room.

‘
Now,
this is nice,’ she cried on a satisfied note, marching into the
middle of it and looking about with interest. ‘I like a big
room.’

‘
And
you’ll likely have the furnishings to make it look good, too,’
suggested Isadora, fetching a sigh. ‘My mistress has never had the
means, you see, to do it up as she would like.’

‘
Well, I don’t have the furnishings, as it happens,’ said Mrs
Haltwhistle, looking out of the windows. ‘Look at this view, Matt.
But I can see as how a matching set would smarten the place up no
end. Yes, I could see myself entertaining on a grand scale in
here.’

Isadora was
dismayed. This would not do. She went up to Hampole, who had
chugged up the stairs some way behind and was now standing just
inside the door, looking more like a wax effigy than a butler.
Isadora signalled a frantic question with her eyes. His only
response was to cast a brief glance of despair to the heavens.
There was no help to be got from that quarter. She must think
fast.

‘
Yes,
indeed,’ she said, crossing the room to join the lady by the
windows. ‘A good view, isn’t it? If only my mistress could afford
the upkeep of such grounds. It takes an army of gardeners to keep
the lawns down, and you can see how overgrown they are with all
this sun and rain. Still, that won’t weigh with you, ma’am. You’ll
no doubt be able to restore the flower gardens to their former
glory, and improve the roses no end, I should think, if you mean to
make a large investment in it.’

‘
How
large?’ asked Mr Haltwhistle suspiciously.

‘
Well, I’m no expert, but I dare say it may cost as much as the
keeping of indoor servants. But there. A pity the house itself
could never match the splendour of the gardens.’

Mrs Haltwhistle
turned on her. ‘And why not? It seems to me a very good house,
miss.’

‘
Oh,
it is,’ said Isadora, with an excess of sincerity. ‘An excellent
house. Only…’

‘
Only?’ prompted the lady, bending a frown upon her.

Isadora sighed.
‘Ma’am, I beg you will not ask me. I should be failing in my duty
to my mistress, ma’am, if I should tell about the rot in the
rafters, and—’

She broke off
artistically, throwing a hand to her mouth and looking with
horror-filled eyes over the top of it.

‘
Rot?’ said Mr Haltwhistle in an ominous voice.

‘
Forget I said it,’ Isadora pleaded quickly.

‘
Forget it?’ reiterated Mr Haltwhistle. ‘Not I!’

‘
You’ve done it now,’ sighed Mrs Haltwhistle in a disappointed
voice, forgetting her pretensions. ‘He won’t buy it. Not if the
house was ever so beautiful—and that it ain’t.’

‘
Oh,
sir,’ mourned Isadora, turning to the man. ‘It really is not such a
serious problem as you might think. The rot is only very little
advanced as yet, and—’

‘
That’s enough. I thought when you came in with your wood
beetle and ghosts, miss, you was trying to put us off the place. I
don’t hold with ghosts, and wood beetle you can treat if you catch
it early. But if there’s one thing I won’t risk it’s rot. Once let
rot in and the place is done for.’

With which, much
to Isadora’s relief, he made for the drawing-room door, followed by
his reluctant spouse, who was trying to persuade him to check for
the presence of rot before he made up his mind. Isadora, exchanging
at the door a triumphant glance with Hampole, followed them out and
down the stairs. In the hall, she made a last attempt—in her
character of housekeeper—to avert disaster.

‘
Would you not like to see more of the house, sir? I know so
little of these matters, and I am sure if there is rot Mr Thornbury
would know of it and would have warned you.’

‘
Thornbury? Don’t talk to me of that fellow,’ said Mr
Haltwhistle. ‘I’ll have a word or two to say to him. He has no
business trying to sell a pig in a poke to a man of my experience,
and so I shall tell him.’

‘
That
he will, be sure,’ put in his wife.

‘
Rot,
is it?’ muttered her spouse, bearing out this
pronouncement.

‘
Speaks his mind, does Matt. Why, who’s this?’

Isadora saw that
the woman’s attention was caught by someone at the front door, and
realised, to her horror, that the viscount was standing just within
it, the handle of the open door still within his hand.

Great heavens,
what in the world was he doing back? And why must he come now? But
this was no time to question or think. She must act.

‘
My
lord!’ she said, moving forward swiftly to mask the astonished look
on Roborough’s face. ‘We did not expect you so soon. You must be
famished. I shall have Cook prepare something for you on the
instant.’

Without giving
him an opportunity to reply, she went quickly back towards the
visitors, saying in a lowered tone, ‘Mrs Haltwhistle, this is Lord
Roborough—the owner of the property, you must know. His lordship
has taken us a little by surprise. We will not keep you, for I know
he does not wish to be involved in these negotiations.’

‘
Oh,
aye,’ said Mr Haltwhistle, giving an embarrassed cough and
glancing briefly across at the viscount who had moved into the
hall. ‘No need to tell him until we’re gone, eh?’

‘
But
won’t we meet—?’ began Mrs Haltwhistle in a disappointed
way.

‘
No,
no,’ Isadora insisted in a lively and quite genuine apprehension.
‘Not to be thought of. His lordship will be so disappointed that
you do not wish to buy the place. Indeed, he may make every effort
to change your minds.’

‘
Well, he won’t do that,’ came from the determined Mr
Haltwhistle, who ushered his wife out before him. ‘Come along,
m’dear. We won’t disturb his lordship. I don’t know about you, but
I’d be mighty disconcerted to have to tell him as I don’t like his
house.’

This view of the
matter seemed to affect his wife powerfully, for she abandoned any
idea of getting the introduction she craved and allowed herself to
be pulled towards the waiting chaise, to which the servants had
fortunately already returned. The footman jumped down at once and
opened the door for the Haltwhistles to enter.

Isadora waved
them off with a sigh of relief, and turned back to the house to
find that the viscount had come out of it again and was watching
her, wearing—to her secret dismay—his enigmatic face. He had
removed his hat and gloves and was standing with folded arms,
looking her over calmly. She had quite forgotten the circumstances
of their last meeting, this fresh disastrous arrival throwing them
quite out of her mind—which now froze on her. What was she to
say?

Then, as his
gaze travelled slowly over her person and came to rest on her face,
she recalled her disguise. In spite of all, she was obliged to
muffle a giggle, turning it unconvincingly into a cough.

Fortunately,
Hampole chose this moment to come out of the house too. His
short-sighted gaze peered from Roborough to his young mistress, and
thence to the chaise which was just rumbling off down the
drive.

The viscount’s
glance left Isadora and went, in frowning question, to the butler.
Isadora instantly intervened.

‘
Pray
don’t blame Hampole. I made him support me. It was all my own
doing.’

Roborough’s eyes
came back to her. ‘I am well aware of that.’ He looked at the
butler again. ‘I was merely going to ask you, Hampole, if you would
be good enough to arrange for me to join the company at
luncheon.’

‘
You
may join Miss Dora, my lord,’ Hampole said very correctly. ‘The
rest of the family are at Witheridge.’

Then he bowed,
and, with a glance at Isadora that might have been of
commiseration, he went back into the house.

The viscount
strolled forward. ‘Do you wish to go and remove that perfectly
ridiculous costume immediately, or shall we walk a
little?’

‘
Oh
no,’ Isadora said instantly. ‘If you mean to scold me, by all means
let us get it over with directly.’

She turned
towards the lawns and began to walk, steadfastly regarding the
grass beneath her feet. For his presence had awakened all sorts of
odd reactions in her. She was dreading what he might say—evidenced
by the leaping of her heart in her breast—and yet she was conscious
of a sense of satisfaction at his being here again.

That could only
be because she was glad to have him find her out in her fight
against what he would do. But it did not account for the chills
that ran up and down her spine, or the fluttering in her stomach,
both of which had attacked her almost instantly once her initial
horror had died away. She supposed that must be due to fear of his
reaction. Why she should be so afraid of anything he might say she
had no idea in the world. Great heavens, she could match him angry
word for angry word if she chose! It did not make sense.

She was not left
wondering about such matters for long, for Roborough spoke once
they were out of earshot of the house.

‘
This
is far enough, I think,’ he said, halting in the middle of the wide
lawns and turning to confront her.

Only now did
Isadora notice that he had relaxed the strictness of his costume,
for under the black coat his waistcoat was grey and he had reverted
to white linen at neck and wrists. It lightened his look so much
that her tension eased a trifle.

Not that she
anticipated that they would shout at one another, as they had at
their last meeting…

It all came back
to her in a flash. The unkind words that had been hurled back and
forth across the library. Abruptly, she wondered how she could have
said such things to him. Forgetting the evidence, the fact that he
had himself admitted to the debt, she saw only the warm
friendliness of his strong features. For—why she could not
imagine—there was no burgeoning anger in his face. He looked bland,
yes, but his features were relaxed and there was even a trace of
the old warmth in the back of his eyes.

‘
Perhaps, Isadora,’ he said in the mild tone he was wont to use
with her, ‘you will be kind enough to explain the meaning of that
exhibition I have just witnessed.’

‘
You
must know very well what it means,’ she told him,
goaded.