Czytaj książkę: «His Countess For A Week»

Chapter One

The short November day was coming to an end when the Apollonia entered Portsmouth Harbour, its sails turned pink by the setting sun. On the bustling deck one figure stood motionless, a gentleman wrapped in a heavy cloak. He wore no hat and his thick blond hair was ruffled by the breeze as he stared out across the water, his eyes narrowed against the evening sunlight. He did not look at the sturdy walls and menacing fortifications rearing up around them, but back out through the narrow harbour entrance towards the open sea.

The Captain approached him. ‘Beggin’ your pardon, sir, we’ll be docking shortly.’

‘What?’ He turned, his gaze and his mind taking a moment to focus on the Captain. ‘Ah, yes. You’ll be wanting me below decks, out of the way, I suppose.’

Reassured by the friendly tone, the Captain allowed himself a grin.

‘Aye, sir, if you will. There’s that many sacks and crates piled here...’

‘And you don’t want your men tripping over the passengers. Very well, Captain. I’ll go below, out of your way.’

‘I thank ’ee for it, sir. We’ll get you off as soon as we can, rest assured o’ that.’

With a smile and a nod, Randolph made his way back to the dark, airless cabin. It had been his home for the past six months; another few minutes could be easily borne. He threw himself down on the bunk and put his hands behind his head, listening to the shouts and thuds from the deck above him and wondering, not for the first time, if he had been wise to return to England.

He had been in Australia for six years and had made a good life for himself. He had maintained his health and had enjoyed running his own farm in Airds, on the land granted him following his pardon. However, when Chislett’s letter had arrived, it had not taken him long to convince himself it was his duty to return.

But now he wondered what awaited him. When he had left England, the country was recovering from the long and bruising campaign against Bonaparte. Randolph had taken little interest in English affairs since leaving the country, because he had never expected to return. He had not even expected to survive.

A gentle knock on the door roused him from his reverie.

‘Excuse me, my lord, I see your valise is not yet packed. If you will allow me...’

‘Oh, yes, Joseph. Come in.’

Randolph swung his feet to the ground and watched as his man collected up the few remaining items. He wrapped the folding bootjack in a cloth and pushed it into the already bulging bag, followed by the hairbrush and comb. When he picked up a penknife, Randolph held out his hand.

‘I’ll take that, Joseph. Thank you.’ He pushed the small knife into the pocket of his coat. ‘Are you sorry to have come back to England?’

‘It makes no odds to me either way, my lord. If you’d wanted to remain at Airds, I’d have been content to see out the rest of my life there.’

‘If this current venture turns out badly, we may yet return,’ said Randolph.

‘As you wish, my lord.’

‘Confound it, Joseph, must you always be so damned cool?’

The grey-haired servant gave one of his rare smiles. ‘Why, sir, I’d not have survived so long if I’d been anything else.’

‘True!’ Randolph laughed. He rose to his feet and put a hand on the older man’s shoulder. ‘What a sad trial I have been to you over the years, Joseph. I owe you a great deal. I should not have survived if it had not been for you. I wish you would let me—’

‘If you are going to offer me a pension for life, my lord, let me tell you now I don’t want it. Why, what should I do with myself, if I wasn’t looking after you?’

‘Aye, you’ve said that before, Joseph, but now we are back in the old country you might want to consider taking it a little easier. Settle down, perhaps. Find yourself a wife. I remember you and my sister’s maid were on good terms at one time.’

Something flickered in Miller’s eyes, but whether it was alarm, a fond memory or embarrassment, Randolph could not tell.

‘Let us get you settled first, my lord, and then we’ll see’ was all his man would say.

A voice could be heard in the passage, inviting all passengers to disembark. Joseph fastened the valise and picked it up.

‘Well, my lord, shall we go ashore?’

After so long at sea, it felt strange to Ran to have hard cobbles beneath his feet rather than wooden planking and constant movement, but he had little time to grow accustomed. The shadows were lengthening and he looked about him, his eyes coming to rest on a closed carriage with a soberly dressed figure standing by the door. Even after all these years Randolph recognised his family’s lawyer. He strode towards him, his hand held out.

‘Mr Chislett, good day to you.’

The man bowed low. ‘My lord.’

‘Come, man, take my hand,’ barked Randolph. ‘I’ve lived without ceremony for the past six years and I have no mind to begin yet, especially with such an old friend as yourself. And take note, I am travelling as plain Mr Randolph Kirkster for the moment.’

‘As you wish, sir.’ Chislett briefly shook hands, then waved towards the carriage. ‘I have only the one vehicle. We may need to hire another, if you have a deal of baggage.’

‘A couple of trunks and a few bags,’ said Randolph. ‘I think we shall manage.’

Within minutes the luggage was strapped to the coach and he and Joseph were settling themselves inside, together with Mr Chislett.

‘I have booked rooms for you at the Admiral,’ said the lawyer. ‘I am staying there myself and I hope it will suit. I thought that we might meet after breakfast tomorrow to discuss your situation.’

‘Why wait until the morning?’ said Randolph. ‘The sooner this business is concluded the better.’ He looked out of the window as the carriage began to slow. ‘Are we here already? Capital. Let us go in. Arrange dinner for the three of us in a private parlour, if you please, Mr Chislett. In, say, an hour. Joseph, I will leave you to organise our bags while I go and order hot water sent up to our rooms.’

With that he jumped out of the carriage and strode into the inn, leaving the lawyer staring in surprise after him.

Joseph Miller chuckled. ‘His Lordship’s not one to stand back and let others do all the work. Nor will he walk if he can run. Come along, Mr Chislett, let us get on with it!’

Ran sat back in his chair and gave a loud sigh of satisfaction.

‘After months of ship’s rations, I enjoyed that meal!’

He was sitting at the table in the private parlour of the Admiral with Joseph and Mr Chislett. The dishes had been cleared away and a decanter of the landlord’s finest brandy now stood on the table beside a jug of small beer.

Miller filled two glasses with brandy and pushed one towards the lawyer.

‘You’ll be wanting to get down to business,’ he remarked, picking up the second glass and preparing to leave.

Ran waved him back to his seat. ‘No need to go, Joseph. Heaven knows I have no secrets from you.’ He poured himself a tankard of small beer and turned to the lawyer. ‘Now, Mr Chislett, if you are ready, let us proceed with the business. Perhaps you might start by explaining to me again, and not in the legal jargon you used in your letter, just how it comes about that a disgraced baron, who was transported from this country in chains, is suddenly become the Earl of Westray? The connection was never even mentioned in my family.’

Mr Chislett picked up his glass and warmed it between his hands for a moment.

‘It is a simple story, my lord, but a tragic one,’ he began. ‘The Seventh Earl had two healthy sons and three younger brothers. As a mere cousin, your grandfather never considered the title would come down through his line. The youngest brother died without issue, the second had a son who was killed at Waterloo, and still no one saw it as a cause for concern. Then the Earl’s two sons were taken—one by fever, the other in a hunting accident—and the remaining brother discovered he had left it too late to marry and have a child. Thus, when the Earl died eighteen months ago, his brother succeeded to the title, but lived to enjoy it for only a few months. The Earldom therefore falls to the next male relative. That is you, my lord. You are now the Ninth Earl.’

‘And if I do not want it?’

‘As I advised you in my letter, the Earldom of Westray is an ancient title and includes several properties. There are any number of tenants, staff and their families all dependent upon the successful running of the estates. If you do not wish to claim the title, then we would do our best to administer the estates from London, as we have done since the Eighth Earl died nine months ago. The title would be dormant and pass on to your son in due course. If you die without issue, the title becomes extinct.’ The lawyer’s thin mouth turned down a little, expressing his disapproval of such a thought. He continued, his voice devoid of emotion, ‘Of course, my lord, you might choose to leave the administration to your stewards and enjoy the...er...fruits of your new station. That, of course, is up to you.’

‘You mean live like a lord while someone else does all the work? No. I thank you. If I decide to take this on, I would do my utmost to improve the estates, not milk ’em dry!’

Randolph sipped his beer. He had made a good life for himself in Australia. He had revelled in the outdoor life, running his farm, building it up into a thriving business. Also, the climate suited him and he was healthier than he had ever been, so much so that he had positively enjoyed the long sea voyage. It had been very different from the first one, when only Joseph Miller’s devotion had kept him alive.

‘Lord knows I don’t want the title,’ he said slowly, ‘but it is mine now and I cannot ignore it. As a boy I evaded all my responsibilities, leaving my sister to bear the consequences. I am deeply ashamed of the hell she went through for me. I will not shirk my duty a second time.’

The merry crackling of the fire filled the awkward silence. At last Joseph Miller spoke.

‘So, Lord Westray, we stay in England?’

Ran met his eyes, read the same affection and faith in them that had helped him through the darkest days. He smiled and raised his glass.

‘We stay in England.’

With the decision made, the atmosphere in the little room lightened. The canny lawyer was not given to displays of emotion, but Ran could almost feel the older man’s relief.

‘Very well, my lord. Firstly, I must give you the Westray ring.’ He pulled a small velvet pouch from his pocket and handed it over, watching as Randolph took out the ring and tried it first on one finger, then another. ‘If it does not fit, my lord, we can have it made larger.’

‘No, no, it fits snugly on my little finger,’ said Ran, holding up his hand. The gold signet ring felt heavy, but he would get used to that, as he would accustom himself to being Earl and all that entailed.

The lawyer looked relieved and permitted himself a little smile.

‘I am glad. Now.’ He fetched a thick wallet from the sideboard and carried it to the table. ‘I have one or two documents here that require your attention.’

When Randolph walked into the private parlour the following morning, he was surprised to see the lawyer already there and finishing his breakfast.

‘Good God, man, do you never sleep? It was well after midnight when we went to bed!’

‘I find a few hours is sufficient for me,’ replied Chislett. He nodded to Joseph, who was following his master into the room, then turned back to Ran. ‘If you have no further questions or instructions, I plan to set out for London as soon as I have broken my fast.’

‘I am sure I shall have a hundred more questions,’ retorted Ran cheerfully. ‘However, for the moment I am content with all we have arranged.’

‘Then I shall be on my way.’ Chislett drained his coffee cup and got to his feet. ‘Do not hesitate to write to me, my lord, if anything else comes to mind, and I shall look forward to seeing you in town in the spring. Good day to you, Lord Westray. Mr Miller.’

The lawyer went out and Ran walked to the window to watch his departure. Only when the carriage had drawn away did he turn back to survey the breakfast table.

‘By heaven, I have an appetite this morning, Joseph. I want more than bread rolls and coffee! Will you go and see if the landlord can provide us with eggs and perhaps some ham?’

‘Aye, willingly.’ Miller grinned at him. ‘Do you wish me to tell him who you are, puff off your consequence?’

‘No, damn you! I am not dressed for the part yet and want to enjoy my anonymity for a little longer.’ He hesitated. ‘You realise, old friend, our lives are going to be very different from now on. There are estates to be managed, staff and tenants to be considered.’

‘Aye, sir, but it’s nothing we can’t handle. Now, you sit down while I go and chase up this rascally landlord!’

Chapter Two

Randolph spent the day going over the paperwork Chislett had left him, putting it away only when it was time to change for dinner. He went off to dine with Lord and Lady Gilmorton at the King’s Arms, the hostelry that was enjoying their patronage.

Apart from the lawyer, whom he had sworn to secrecy, Ran had told only his sister, Deborah, and her husband that he was bound for England, and he was not surprised to receive a message that they planned to meet him at Portsmouth. He was delighted they should come so far, but slightly apprehensive, too, and he could not help putting a hand up to his neckcloth before he entered the inn.

As the tap boy showed him into the private parlour, Ran looked over the man’s shoulder to catch his first glimpse of his sister in six years. His heart swelled. He would have known her anywhere, neat as a pin in her Pomona-green gown and her brown hair swept up.

‘Deborah.’

She barely waited for the servant to close the door before she flew across the room, her green eyes over-bright with tears.

‘Oh, Ran, Ran. Is it really you?’

He caught her to him, laughing. ‘Well, I hope you wouldn’t throw yourself like this at a stranger!’ Keeping his arms tightly about her, he nodded to his brother-in-law. ‘How are you, Gilmorton?’

The Viscount came forward to meet him, a smile lightening his rather serious countenance, made all the more sombre by the scar running down his left cheek.

‘Very well, Randolph, thank you. If you put my wife down, I will shake hands with you!’

The tension melted away. Between laughter and tears he was dragged to the settle close to the fire while Deborah bombarded him with questions.

‘My love, give the poor fellow a chance to catch his breath,’ murmured Gil. He added, with a glint of humour, ‘She has been in alt ever since you wrote to say you were coming home.’

‘Then I pity you,’ replied Ran, dodging a playful blow from his sister.

‘Your letters were always so cheerful,’ she said now, clinging still to his hand and her eyes searching his face. ‘And you are well, now. Really well?’

He squeezed her hand, knowing what was behind the question.

‘Yes, truly. I avoid laudanum, never drink spirits and partake sparingly of wine. I have never felt better.’

Her eyes misted. ‘Then you were telling the truth in your letters, when you said transportation saved your life.’

‘Aye. I believe it did.’

He had told them nothing of the arduous months he’d spent aboard the transport ship to Sydney Cove. All the prisoners suffered from the harsh conditions, the sickness and deprivation, but he had also had to endure the unbearable craving for laudanum. There had been periods of delirium, even longer stretches of dark despair. He knew he was lucky to be alive and how much he owed to his valet. It had been Joseph’s diligent care that had saved him. His valet had given up his freedom to accompany him and it was a debt Ran could never repay.

‘Is Miller still with you?’ asked Gil, as if reading his thoughts.

‘Aye. I suggested he might remain and run the farm for me, but he preferred to come back. Mayhap he thought I would be as ill on this journey as the first time, but apart from a few days of seasickness at the start, the voyage was uneventful. Even enjoyable.’

‘So Joseph Miller has returned with you,’ murmured Deborah, her eyes twinkling with mischief. ‘My maid, Elsie, will be pleased to hear that.’

‘Do not tell me she has been pining for him all these years!’ exclaimed Ran, alarmed.

Deborah laughed. ‘No, no, of course not. But they were very friendly, at one time, and I did wonder—’

‘My wife is an inveterate matchmaker,’ the Viscount interrupted her, shaking his head. ‘Let it be, Deb. Give your brother and his man time to settle into their new life!’

Dinner was brought in and they moved to the dining table, where the talk continued, Ran describing his life in Airds, where he had been granted land following his pardon. He made light of the hardships leading up to that time, knowing that as an educated man he had received far better treatment than many of his fellow prisoners.

‘And what are your plans now?’ asked Deb.

‘He is going to transform himself into an earl,’ put in Gil. ‘Why else did he send us his measurements and ask that we have some fashionable clothes made up?’

Ran laughed. ‘That was Joseph’s idea. He knows I own nothing suitable.’

‘No, I regret I must agree,’ drawled his brother-in-law, casting an eye over him. ‘In that coat you would at best pass for a gentleman farmer. Thankfully, we have fulfilled your commission and you may carry away the trunk with you when you leave us tonight. Next time we meet I hope I shall not be ashamed to own you as my brother.’

‘Mighty good of you!’ retorted Ran, grinning.

‘But where will you go?’ asked Deb. ‘Why not come back with us to Gilmorton? Little James and Randolph would like to meet their uncle, I am sure, and you might remain with us for the winter.’

‘Aye, but do not come merely for your nephews’ sake,’ added her husband. ‘We’d be delighted to have you stay. For as long as you wish.’

‘Thank you, but that must wait, I am afraid. I have estates of my own that I need to visit first.’

‘Ah, yes. You are a wealthy man now, Ran.’ Gil sat back, cradling his glass between his hands. ‘A fortune and a title—you have become something of a catch!’

‘Gil!’ Deb gasped, half-laughing, half-outraged. ‘And you said I was a matchmaker!’

The Viscount raised his brows at her.

‘What have I said that is not true? The society pages may be agog with the fact that the new Lord Westray is a pardoned felon, but let me tell you, Ran, it does not diminish your attraction with scheming mothers one jot!’

‘We do not know...’ Deborah glanced shyly at her brother. ‘Perhaps there is a lady, back in Australia.’

Ran shook his head. ‘There was little opportunity to meet ladies in Sydney Cove, or Airds. Besides, I was too busy making a life for myself. Now, I suppose, I must consider the idea of marriage.’

‘By heaven, Ran, you are taking your duties seriously indeed!’ exclaimed the Viscount.

‘There is the succession to be considered.’ He shrugged. ‘It should not be difficult. There must be any number of eligible ladies who would suit. I am not that particular. I only need someone who will make me a comfortable wife.’

Gil snorted. ‘There is nothing comfortable about falling in love, my friend. It can be joyous, but it is also painful.’ He grinned at his wife. ‘Believe me, it is anything but comfortable.’

‘Then I shall not fall in love,’ said Ran simply. ‘I am too old for that nonsense.’

‘At eight-and-twenty?’ Deborah gave a little trill of laughter. ‘You are perfectly poised to make a great fool of yourself over a woman!’

Ran was unoffended. ‘Perhaps, but I doubt I shall have much time for that sort of thing for a while, at least. I have told Chislett he may now write to the steward at the Earl’s—that is, at my principal seat, Westray Priors in Oxfordshire, telling him I am in England and that I intend to travel there in a few weeks. However, from the papers Chislett left with me yesterday, I realise there is a small property in Devon, Beaumount Hall. It is near Tavistock, I understand. It seems a pity not to see it, since I am so close.’

‘Close!’ Gil frowned. ‘Why, that must be all of a hundred and fifty miles from here and I wager the roads will be shocking.’

‘But I am not going by road,’ Ran replied. ‘I have my sea legs now, you know.’ He grinned. ‘Joseph and I have booked a passage with a local vessel sailing to Plymouth on the morning tide!’

The weather proved fair for Randolph and Joseph’s journey to Plymouth, where they hired a coach to take them to Beaumount Hall. Ran looked about him with interest.

‘I had forgotten how it is here in autumn,’ he murmured, ‘the blaze of colour before the trees lose their leaves in winter. And it is greener, too.’

A contentment settled over him. A feeling that he had come home.

As the Viscount had predicted, away from the towns the roads were not good and they were relieved when, after an hour’s bumpy travel, the carriage turned to pass between open gates and into a small park.

‘The drive appears to be in good order for a property that has been vacant for at least a year,’ remarked Ran. ‘Let us hope the house is similarly up together. Chislett said there were a handful of staff in residence. Now, what did he say was the name of the butler? Meavy. And his wife is housekeeper.’

‘I still think we should have sent word we were coming,’ muttered Joseph.

‘Devil a bit,’ replied the new Earl cheerfully.

‘You will look no-how if they can’t accommodate us and we have to find lodgings in Tavistock!’

‘Oh, I doubt it will come to that. We have slept under the stars before now.’

‘Aye, but that was on the other side of the world!’

Ran merely laughed at his companion’s retort and leaned forward, eager for a glimpse of Beaumount Hall. He was not disappointed. It had been a fine day and the sun was setting in a blaze of golden light as the carriage swung around a bend and the house came into view.

It was an impressive building over three floors. There was more than a hint of the baroque in the redbrick exterior with its creamy pilasters reaching to the roof line on the corners of the house. More pilasters flanked the door, which was topped by a stone hood, richly carved like a shell. Randolph grinned at his companion.

‘You may be easy, Joseph! The roof looks sound, so at the very worst we may sleep on the floor here tonight.’ The carriage stopped at the shallow steps and Ran jammed his hat on his head. ‘Come along, then. Let us see how Meavy reacts to our arrival.’

However, when they were admitted to the house the butler looked surprised to see the new Earl, but not as shocked as Randolph had expected. Joseph had the letter of introduction from Chislett ready to wave before any suspicious custodians, but the butler scarcely glanced at it.

‘Welcome, my lord,’ he said, bowing. ‘It is unfortunate we had no notice of your coming today.’

‘There was no time,’ replied Ran, handing over his hat and coat. ‘If there is anything to eat in the house, then bring it to the drawing room, if you please.’

‘Very good, my lord. And what will you drink?’

‘I doubt you have any coffee.’

‘Lord love you, of course we have coffee, my lord. And tea.’

‘A pot of coffee, then.’ He glanced at Joseph. ‘You will come with me.’

His valet maintained his silence only until Meavy had shown them into the drawing room and closed the door.

‘They will think it a pretty rum do, my lord, you taking refreshment with a servant.’

‘They will grow accustomed to it! And you are not a servant. You are my aide-de-camp. I have promoted you!’ He threw himself down into a chair beside the marble fireplace, where cheerful flames blazed. ‘Later I shall demand to know what the devil they are doing keeping fires burning here when there is no one in residence, but for now I am damned glad of it.’

‘Aye,’ said Joseph, sitting down. ‘Seems a strange set-up to me, however. Servants in livery and fires burning when they did not know the master was coming.’

‘Mayhap they light a fire occasionally to drive off the damp—’ Ran broke off as the door opened and Meavy came in with a tray of glasses and a decanter. He was followed by a plump woman in a white apron and with a snowy lace cap over her grey curls. She introduced herself as Mrs Meavy, the housekeeper.

‘The coffee will be ready in a trice, my lord, but I thought, in the meantime, you might like to take a glass of wine.’ She put a tray of cakes and biscuits down on a side table and turned back to the Earl. ‘Well, my lord, this is a to-do,’ she said cheerfully. ‘If I’d known you was coming, I’d have prepared a dinner for you, but with Her Ladyship being out for the day, all I have ready is an egg-and-bacon pie—’