Hearts of Gold (20 page)

‘Not all of them,’ she argued. ‘In the goldfields they’d fry in the sun if they hung around in webs all day. Some live underground . . . in
lairs
. They run like the devil’s after them, too.’

‘Interesting,’ he said mildly. ‘You’ll have to tell me all about them.’

She remembered she was mad at him. ‘Oh, don’t pretend you’re interested in spiders. Why are you saying such horrible things? Why do you want to know about Collins?’

‘Flynn Collins killed my uncle,’ Magnus said.

The breath nearly left her body at such a staggering revelation. ‘And you think I might have had something to do with it, that I was in league with that . . . scum?’

‘It’s crossed my mind.’

Sarette shot to her feet, feeling the colour drain from her cheeks. ‘Consider yourself released from any commitment you thought you were under, you utter . . .
scurrilous worm
,’ she scorned, and headed for the door. Halfway there her knees began to buckle.

It was Magnus who caught her. She struggled weakly against the arm that bound her to his side for support. ‘Stop struggling else I’ll drop you,’ he said, and she drooped limply against him.

Magnus relinquished her when Gerald slid a chair under her and said, ‘Sit there until you recover, my dear. I do hope you’re satisfied, Magnus.’

‘That she had nothing to do with the murder . . . yes, but I didn’t expect her to become hysterical over such a simple question.’

‘Hysterical . . . simple question?’ She was hot and trembling with rage. ‘How dare you suggest I was in league with the killer of your uncle.’

‘But I didn’t. The suggestion came from you.’

‘Enough, Magnus. You know it was an interrogation. In a courtroom it would have been a questioning technique to trap a witness. You should have remembered that you’re at home and that Sarette is your guest and so am I. That was not worthy of you.’

Magnus spread his hands and looked suitably ashamed. ‘My manners obviously left a lot to be desired. My apologies to you both. My impatience got the better of me.’

Both men looked at her, obviously expecting her to forgive him.

When she glared at the man who was reluctantly responsible for her welfare, his dark eyes lightened in amusement and his skin crinkled at the corners, in exactly the same way that Mr John’s used to, Magnus reminded her so much of him that her heart ached. He took her hands in his, pulled her upright and kissed her knuckles. ‘Now you’ve roasted this low-bred scurrilous worm to a crisp, will you please forgive him?’

Magnus possessed a great deal of charm, though he wasn’t obvious like Gerald, and he was sparing with it. Against her will she softened towards him. ‘You’re forgiven. I imagine I jumped to the wrong conclusion.’

‘Not at all. Now, you’ll sit down and have some breakfast with us.’

Any appetite she’d had, had fled. ‘No, I’m really not all that hungry. I just wanted to say goodbye to Gerald and thank him before he left. I wish I had seen a little more of you yesterday, Gerald.’

Magnus gave a huff of laughter. ‘You wouldn’t have got any sense out of him.’

‘I’m afraid he’s right. His ancestor smuggled some really good brandy into his cellars, and I have the feeling I’m going to pay for it over the rest of the day.’

When the door closed behind her, Gerald gave Magnus a sharp look. ‘What was that little charade about?’

‘Sometimes when she looks at me I remind her of my uncle. She wants me to be him.’

‘Is that so bad?’

‘It is when she’s living under my roof. I can’t afford to become involved with her.’

‘Why ever not? She’s exquisite, a peach ripe for the plucking, and you’re unmarried.’

‘I’m well aware of her charms, and I’m just as aware of my single status. I enjoy being unencumbered. Enjoyed, I should say, I nearly proposed to Alice Carradine, just to have a mother for the child I was expecting to bring up. Nice trick, Gerald.’

‘I’ve not yet met Miss Carradine.’

‘You’ll like her when you do. She’s calm and level-headed. She’s the type of woman who wouldn’t give a man any trouble. The Carradines will be down here after Christmas, and I’ve invited the family for New Year. I intend to invite your family and make a party out of it. I thought Alice might stay on afterwards and be a good influence on Sarette.’

Gerald choked out a laugh. ‘You’re scared that you might fall in love with Sarette, aren’t you?’

‘Why should I be scared? I’m not the falling in love type. I’m too self-centred and enjoy my own company.’

‘You’re certainly not Sarette’s type, Magnus.’

‘And you are, I suppose?’

Head to one side, Gerald met the challenge in his friend’s eyes. ‘I wager I could succeed where you would fail. I have a year’s start on you, thus Sarette knows me really well and feels safe with me. I’ve already become her hero by saving her life. But you, my friend have raised her ire considerably, and on at least two occasions in as many days to my knowledge.’

‘She has the makings of a shrew.’

‘She’s defensive because you challenge her all the time. Try being nice to her and see how she responds. You could have her eating out of your hand in no time.’

‘Don’t you mean, biting it?’ Magnus thought for a moment, then he grinned. ‘It wouldn’t be the first time we’d competed for the favour of the same woman, would it?’

‘Or bet on the outcome.’

‘I admit the odds are against me at the moment, but never mind. So I’ll take you up on the wager, my friend. Just remember that Sarette is my ward and I’ll not allow you to ruin her. So let’s make this more interesting. The winner will actually be the loser, because he’ll have to lose his freedom to gain a wife and fortune. Before she’s bedded, it’s marriage or nothing, and we play it straight down the line.’

Sucking in a breath Gerald considered it for a moment, then held out his hand and grinned. ‘Sarette’s pretty, she’s pert, and she’ll have a fortune at her disposal. The fortune alone would compensate for the loss of my freedom. Would you be able to bring yourself to part with the cash?’

‘Of course I’d part with it . . . should the occasion warrant. It is hers, after all. And as she kindly pointed out, I didn’t earn it.’

‘You asked for that. In all honesty, Sarette has everything a man could desire. She’s beautiful, intelligent, and . . . passionate by nature. What more could a man want in a wife?’

‘Nothing.’ Magnus smiled and shook Gerald’s hand, knowing the agreement would be honoured in the way it always had. ‘Winner takes all, then, Gerald. May the best man win.’

‘You asked me to arrange a suitable marriage for your little friend. That will be Gerald, and I know you’ll approve,’ Magnus said to his uncle’s portrait a little later in the evening. Nobody was more suitable than Gerald, and it was obvious that Sarette liked him. Personally, he’d do nothing to encourage her affection, and would allow nature to take its course. ‘Now, let me discover what you got up to in your absence.’

He’d already removed the metal straps from the trunk now he fitted the key in the lock. It turned with a satisfying clunk. Opening the lid he lifted a note from the top and read it. Apart from his journals everything in his uncle’s travelling trunk was to be given to Sarette. There were several books, all well thumbed and a little worse for wear, plus his writing desk. His journals were layered in the middle, leather bound and bulging with drawings, pressed flowers and leaf samples. He placed them reverently on the desk. It would take several evenings to read them properly. There was a lined tray for guns . . . empty except for a dead cockroach. Magnus remembered the newspaper cutting stating that his uncle’s guns had been sold to pay for his burial. When he lifted the tray to gaze at what lay beneath, his eyes widened.

‘Oh . . . my God,’ he whispered. ‘Look at that.’

Sarette saw very little of Magnus. He breakfasted early and went off to his office, arriving home before it was dark. After dinner he disappeared into the library. Sometimes he slept in Dorchester, and she learned from the staff that he retained a room in a boarding house, in case he needed it. Sarette didn’t know whether to be sad or sorry that she didn’t see so much of him. She had Boots for company, and he was growing fat.

One day the following week, the staff began to remove items from Miss Margaret’s room and the adjoining one, which had belonged to the late Annie Kern.

‘We’re to pack everything up and take it to the attic,’ Ada said. ‘The master said you’re to move in here. It’s very convenient, the rooms are connected by a proper bathroom.’

A team of men arrived and soon the rooms were completely refurbished with a pretty ivory wallpaper dotted in flowers, and new furniture and fittings.

Sarette’s things were moved into Margaret Kern’s room the next day. ‘On the master’s orders,’ Ada said, and that was that.

He came up to inspect it, Mr John’s little writing desk in his arms. ‘My uncle wanted you to have this. There’s a little note in the inkwell for you.’

She chuckled. ‘I imagine it will say, “Ladies don’t spit in inkwells.”’

‘Something like that.’ He smiled and placed it on the desk. ‘He’d had the name plate changed.’

It said: ‘To Sarette Maitland from John Kern’. She would think of him every time she wrote in her journal. Gently, she ran a fingertip over their names etched in the silver. ‘That was kind of him, but I don’t need to be reminded of him. He’s in my heart.’

‘I know. My uncle also wants you to have his books.’ He turned her round. ‘You’re not going to cry are you?’

‘Mr John never quite knew what to do when I cried.’ Nevertheless, there was a tear trembling on her lashes.

‘Not many men do know.’ He changed the subject. ‘Do you like your new room?’

‘The wallpaper has got all my favourite colours. The lilac beneath the window will be fragrant when it’s in bloom, and the large bay window lets a lot of light in. Yes, I like it. It’s a lovely room.’

‘I thought you’d rather sleep this side of the house. It’s warmer, and although it hasn’t got a view of the sea, it’s also sheltered from the wind that comes off it.’

‘That was thoughtful of you.’

He picked up the photograph of herself with John. ‘There was one of these in his journal. You look very young . . . and small and thin.’

‘The photograph was taken not long after your uncle took me in. The man who took it had a camel, and it smelled awful.’

Magnus smiled at that. ‘He looks happy, more contented than before he left.’

‘Taking responsibility for me stopped him from grieving so much for his daughter.’ She hesitated, then confided. ‘In a private letter to me, he said that on the day we met he was going to free his horse then walk off into the bush to die.’

‘Tell me about it.’

Her voice thickened. ‘My father had died a few days before. I’d had nothing to eat or drink all day, and had nowhere to go. I was lying on the bare earth willing myself to die, my throat so parched I could hardly croak. It was nearly dark and he stumbled over me. At the time he told me he’d been looking for me to offer me a job as his housekeeper.’

‘My uncle was always a convincing liar.’

‘Yes, he warned me of that. Now I know that I saved his life by being in his path. I do know that he saved mine. I think we could sense each other’s sadness, and that was a special bond between us. He said . . . he said the stars were pretty. And they were. Silly isn’t it? We were both hurting, and he noticed the beauty of the stars.’

When she gulped and her tears spilled over and sped down her cheeks he awkwardly patted her hand. ‘I’ll go and get your books while you compose yourself.’

Here was a man who guarded his emotions carefully, she thought as he walked away. She wished he was softer.

Boots came out of his basket and gave a little yelp. She picked him up and cuddled him close. ‘You’ve got a fat stomach.’

‘He needs to go outside,’ Verna said, bustling in. ‘You have to train dogs right from the beginning otherwise they think it’s all right to squat on the carpets and ruin them. And the males cock their legs up on the furniture. That dog might look cuddly and helpless, now, but he’s going to be a big dog, and he needs showing who’s the boss right from the beginning, so he’ll have respect for you.’

‘How do you know he’s going to be big?’

‘By the size of his feet.’

She gazed at the soft pads of his feet. They did appear too large in proportion to the rest of him. ‘I’ll take him down to the garden every hour then, until he gets used to it.’

She passed Magnus on the stair. He was coming up with an armful of books. He raised an eyebrow when he saw the dog. ‘That’s not going to grow into a lapdog. I’d prefer it to be kept in the kitchen, especially at night.’

‘Boots will get lonely and he’ll yelp.’

‘If nobody gives him any attention he’ll get used to it,’ he said.

Magnus hadn’t been able to sleep, and clad in his robe was nursing a brandy in the library. He’d reached the last journal, and his concentration was being ruined by the constant yelping of the dog. The last entry in the journal could wait until tomorrow, he thought. He went through to the kitchen and turned up the gas light.

‘What’s all this noise?’ he said sternly.

Boots gave a series of yips and galloped towards him, his legs splaying out. Rolling on to his back with his tail between his legs he writhed back and forth, displaying his belly. When Magnus patted it the dog stood and pressed, quivering against his legs. ‘You know that you’re keeping everyone awake, don’t you?’

The dog whined.

He sighed. ‘Sarette was right. You are lonely. I’ll have to do something about it. In the meantime, you can come and sleep in my room. But don’t tell anyone.’

His valet had gone to bed long since. The dog settled against his back like a furnace. And it snored, scratched, farted and jerked in its sleep. The damned creature needed a companion all right, but it was not going to be him.

At breakfast the next morning he was tired and incommunicative. Sarette’s broad smile of welcome faded at the sight of him. She ate her breakfast in silence, then made an excuse. He left for his office feeling as though he was a leper.

It was market day in Dorchester. In court he disputed the last will and testament made by a wealthy man. He was representing the man’s two sisters – women who had looked after him all their lives, and who were now left destitute and without accommodation. The will had been fraudulently altered by a male cousin. Magnus was able to prove it and won the case for them.