When the Splendor Falls (22 page)

“I had to do it myself. I waited for hours and hours, but when you didn’t come back out of the stables, I thought you might have been murdered, or even far worse might have happened to you! And when Stephen saw me racing out of the house with the saber, he just shook his head and went back into the dining room. I am surprised, for I really thought he might have come too, but he has slowed down a bit, and I believe he is still upset about locking himself in the cellars. Of course, he probably saw Adam and thought he would handle everything. And now, if he hears that you’ve left a dead body in the stables, well, I just don’t know what will happen. Jolie will have to fetch the salts for him. He likes everything to be so tidy, even out in the stables. I heard him telling Sweet John so.”

Leigh sighed, and leaning against the butt of the musket, the barrel propped haphazardly on the ground, she said, “I did not kill the stranger. And”—she hesitated—“he did not steal Capitaine. He found him running loose along the lane and since Travers Hill was the nearest farm, came here to return him or discover the owner’s identity. When I was out riding this morning, Capitaine wandered off,” Leigh concluded, thinking her explanation had a definite ring of truth to it. And Blythe seemed to believe it because her expression changed from eager anticipation to crestfallen disappointment at the dull reasonableness of her sister’s reply.

“And you believed him?”

“He did bring Capitaine back,” Leigh had to admit, although only she knew the real reason for that show of kindness.

“Oh…well, but what about the shot? Why did you shoot at the stranger? Did you wing him?” Blythe asked, hopping from one foot to the other in her growing excitement, and swinging the blade of the saber like a pendulum in front of her.

“No,” Leigh said quietly, wishing she had and wondering if any minute Blythe was going to chop off her big toe. “I stumbled, and the musket fired by mistake. And Adam, he saw the stranger riding across the meadow and, recognizing him, followed him here. He was coming here anyway to ride home with Nathan and Althea,” Leigh explained. “And I think he came so early hoping he’d get some breakfast. He even told me just now to save him some apple fritters.”

Blythe stared at her sister, her mouth dropping open in surprise, but not because of what she had just told her. “You must have fallen into a whole stack of hay, and head first by the look of you. You’ve got straw stuck all through your hair. You’re never going to brush the tangles out. You look worse than a scarecrow. What’s his name?” she demanded, finally allowing Leigh to pull her along toward the house again, now that most of her questions had been answered.

“Dagger. Mr. Dagger,” Leigh replied, quickening her steps, for she was determined to reach her bedchamber and change her clothes before Adam brought the stranger up to the house to meet Leigh Alexandra Travers.

“
Dagger?
” Blythe repeated. “What kind of a name is that? What’s his first name?”

Leigh frowned, for she hadn’t thought his name had been that strange. “Sam, or Sonny, I think.”

“
Sonny?
” Blythe said with an unladylike guffaw. “He didn’t look like a Sonny to me. Sonny Dagger,” she said with a giggle.

Leigh eyed her sister with increasing annoyance. “He thinks my name is Rose,” she admitted, a slight sigh escaping her.

“
Rose?
” Blythe was completely bemused, and amused, for this had turned out to be the most exciting morning of her young life. “What does he think your last name is? Garden?” she said, unable now to contain her laughter. Stumbling on the step as they entered the house, she reached out automatically to save herself from falling, the saber slicing upward and sticking into the doorjamb. Struggling, she managed to pull it free, but the blade came loose too quickly, its high arc catching Leigh’s skirt and neatly ripping it in two in front.

Leigh stared down in dismay at the ragged tear in the faded blue material.

“It was old, Leigh,” Blythe said timidly. “Why does he think your name is Rose?” she asked, hoping to change the subject.

“Because of the way I am dressed,” Leigh said, hurrying along the foyer. “He thinks I work for the Travers family,” she explained, pulling the bench across the pine planks with a loud scraping noise that left little doubt of the scratches that now marred the glossy, waxed surface of the floor. Replacing their grandfather’s fowling piece, Leigh jumped down, helping Blythe pull the bench back across the floor and along the wall so she could replace their great-grandfather’s saber, taken from that vanquished British dragoon nearly a century before.

“Didn’t Adam say who you were?” Blythe demanded, ever curious.

“Adam? Not likely. He saw a splendid chance to enjoy a laugh at his friend’s expense. Which happened to suit my purpose quite nicely.”

“They’re friends?” Blythe breathed, but then Adam always had been a bit strange. “Why didn’t you say anything?” Blythe wanted to know as they began to climb the stairs, neither of them seeing Stephen standing in the opened doorway of the dining room, his widening gaze traveling around the foyer, first from the two figures, and one very disheveled, climbing the stairs, then to the musket, the smell of gunpowder drifting down to him from its long barrel, and finally to the saber, which was hanging at a precariously dangerous angle above the doorway, and an unsuspecting head should someone have entered.

“The man was arrogant and treated me very rudely. His behavior was not at all gentlemanly. He needs to be taught a humiliating lesson, so I want to show him exactly who I am when he comes to the house expecting to be thanked and to collect a reward for returning my property,” Leigh said, raising her chin with Travers pride. “For once Adam has given me a chance to have the last laugh. And I will have my little revenge against this stranger,” Leigh vowed, disclaiming any feelings she might have momentarily felt for him.

“Oh, Leigh! He will be so surprised when he discovers his mis—” Blythe squealed, nearly missing her step on the stairs in her excitement, then choking back her next words as she and Leigh were about to step on the landing, only to find Althea standing there staring down at them in disapproving silence.

“Whatever have you two been doing? We have had enough excitement this morning without Mama seeing you looking little better than a kitchen maid, Leigh. What have you done to that gown? And your hair?” Althea asked with gentle reproof. And Leigh wondered why Althea could always make her feel so repentant, for she never raised her voice, yet her reprimands were far more chastising than their father’s.

“I was out riding.”

“So I understand. But it would appear that you, like your brother, tried to jump the fence near the mill. You haven’t hurt yourself, have you, dear?”

“No, and I didn’t try to jump the fence, and I didn’t fall off my horse. I’ve never fallen off my horse,” she added indignantly. “And I was just going to change. Adam is here, and there is a stranger with him.”

“Adam? ’Tis quite early yet, how very impolite of him,” Althea said of her brother-in-law. “He was not supposed to ride over until noon. I suppose they will wish to be seated for breakfast,” Althea mused, eyeing her sisters up and down with a critical shake of her blond head, the chignon, smoothly netted in chenille, resting elegantly at the nape of her slender neck. The lacy collar of her fitted bodice jacket was properly pressed, with a shell cameo nestled amongst the delicate folds and tucks. She was dressed in cream and cinnamon-striped taffeta, with a matching lace trim at the wrists and ribbon niching decorating the full skirt. The fragrance of violets, her favorite scent, drifted around her as she moved gracefully with a rustling whisper of lacy petticoats. Standing by the railing, Althea Louise Braedon was the ideal of young womanhood.

“Stephen, Adam Braedon and another guest have arrived. They will, no doubt, expect breakfast,” she called softly down to him, a slightly apologetic expression disturbing the usual serenity of her classical features.

“Yes, Miss Althea, I saw Mister Adam riding into the stables earlier, just before Miss Blythe come runnin’ down the stairs like a herd of wild an’ woolly buffalo. Figured Mister Adam might want somethin’ to eat after all the excitement,” Stephen called up to Althea, not explaining further about the excitement he referred to, but his gaze met the two younger Travers daughters’ round-eyed gazes with meaningful hesitation. “Figured there might be folks already arrivin’ at Travers Hill, so I’ve been keepin’ the dishes warm. Got plenty to last. An’ Mister Stuart an’ Mister Nathan just might want something else when they return from the mill. Soon enough we’re goin’ to have carriages pullin’ up to the house every few minutes. Yes, ma’am, we’re goin’ to be busy,” he said, apparently not inconvenienced and pleased to be back doing what he knew best—the smooth running of the Travers household. “I’ve got to set this ol’ sword straight first, though. Don’t want a guest to Travers Hill to lose his head if it should fall,” he said. “Leastways, not any more than some usually do,” he said with a chuckle, for there were some who didn’t know how to hold their liquor. “Oh, an’ Miss Julia an’ Miss Noelle are around the side of the house in the rose arbor. Sent them out there with their sewin’, figured it’d keep them out of trouble, especially that Miss Julia. She’s not her best so early in the mornin’,” he remembered to tell Althea, knowing she would be missing her little one now that she was feeling better and was up and about again. “An’ you come on down an’ eat somethin’, Miss Althea. You need to keep up your strength now you’ve got two mouths to feed,” he told her with a wise nodding of his graying head.

Althea looked momentarily startled, her cheeks glowing with a rosy blush of embarrassment as she wondered how he knew already that she was with child. She hadn’t even told Nathan yet. Then she sighed with resignation, for there were no secrets at Travers Hill, and certainly not from Stephen and Jolie. “Thank you, Stephen. I do not know how Travers Hill could survive without you,” Althea said truthfully, her brown eyes full of warmth as she stared down at the aging black man who was as much a member of the Travers family as any beloved aunt or uncle.

For as long as she could remember Stephen had quietly guided the family through one uproar after another, his calm voice sounding above the commotion long enough to bring order to any situation—and if that didn’t succeed, then he always knew where Jolie could be found. Althea exchanged an understanding smile with him, then turning away, she took each of her young sisters by one of their arms, her grip surprisingly strong for one so slender, and escorted them down the hall toward their bedchamber.

“Two mouths to feed!” Blythe said, her thick-lashed hazel eyes full of wonder as she stared at her eldest sister. “Are you really—”

“Yes.”

“Oh, Althea, ’tis wonderful news,” Leigh said, her dark blue eyes glowing with love and admiration for her beautiful, and very proper, sister.

Althea hid her smile as she glanced between her two wide-eyed sisters. They were both still so young, but one day soon…

“I would, however, appreciate it if you would say naught of this until I have spoken to Nathan. And that means both of you. Nathan does not know, and I would like to tell him of our being so blessed myself. And,” Althea added softly, “perhaps this time I will give him a son to bear the Braedon name.” Althea spoke wistfully, for she felt she had not done her duty by her husband or his family. Quite naturally they adored Noelle, and she was the apple of her father’s eye, but she was, after all, a female, and one day she would marry and take another’s name. Nathan, as the eldest son, had a right to have his son inherit Royal Bay. It was a time-honored tradition from the Old Country, the eldest son inheriting the titles and the estate, the smooth transference of ownership preserving the family’s land and possessions for generations to come. From firstborn son to firstborn son, it was a trust given and accepted by each, and she knew that his parents were disappointed that she had not been able to fill their home with grandchildren, especially a grandson who would understand his responsibility as Nathan always had.

“Our lips are sealed!” Blythe promised, holding her finger pressed against her lips. Meeting Leigh’s glance, she returned her nod vigorously, her long dark hair flying around her shoulders.

“Thank you, my sweethearts,” Althea said. “Now—”

“Althea? Is that you?” a querulous-sounding voice called from their mother’s bedchamber.

“Yes, Mama,” Althea replied, stopping by the doorway and leaning inside just enough to see around the partially opened door, but never relaxing her grip on either one of her sisters’ arms even as they stilled like frightened mice just beyond the door and just out of sight of their mother’s view.

“I thought I heard voices and the stomping of feet seems never-ending and is beginning to sound like drumbeats in my aching temples. I do believe I feel a migraine coming on. Where has Jolie gotten to? I thought I heard Blythe’s laughter, dear. Is that whom you were talking to? And where is Leigh Alexandra? I must have a talk with that child. I did not have the opportunity yesterday eve. We have so many important details to discuss, and so little time if she is to be wed by spring. And I fear I must have been dreaming, but did I hear a gunshot? Is there anything amiss?”

“No, ma’am, I’m sure you must be mistaken, for who could possibly have fired a gun around Travers Hill?” Althea responded, genuinely surprised by the question, for she had heard nothing. “All the menfolk are away. Although Adam Braedon and a friend have arrived. I’ve asked Stephen to lay a place for them at table.”

“Thank you, dear, quite thoughtful of you,
at least
,” their mother’s voice commented, her last words tinged with censure, for apparently she was well aware of the earliness of the hour for callers. “I can always count on you to do what is proper. I truly do not know where Effie went wrong with that boy of hers. Quite different from Nathan. Ah, well, ’tis high time I was up. I did manage to doze off briefly. I really cannot abide napping during the day when there is still so much work to be done. I wake up more tired than before, worrying about idle hands. And I do hope the maids have finished with the laundry. ’Twill be the ruin of this family’s good name if we’ve no clean pressed sheets for the guest rooms. Your Aunt Maribel Lu would never let me hear the end of it, indeed, I seldom hear anything but criticism about the way I manage this house and family. Thinks she still lives here and runs this household, and I know she thinks I haven’t done a proper job as mistress of Travers Hill,” Beatrice Amelia sniffed, touching her trembling lips with a handkerchief that had magically appeared in her hand from some secret place on her person. “As soon as she arrives, you mark my words, she will be hotfootin’ over to Royal Bay to gossip with Effie about how I prepare our dishes too much in the French manner. Bossy, interfering woman. I do not know how I have put up with her since I married into this family. There is no pleasing her or telling her anything different than what she already believes to be true. I declare, I’m surprised J. Kirkfield hasn’t gone stark raving mad having to live with her these many years. Your father, and he’s her own flesh and blood, said it was a godsend when she up and married that scrawny little man and took herself off to Richmond like a battleship under full sail, cannon fire roaring right and left… No, that’s not quite right, is it, dear? The sides of a ship are called something quite different, although I’m sure I don’t know why. ’Twould be far simpler if they just said right and left. But men do so complicate matters.”