Yorkshire (16 page)

Pritheroe turned his great head, his jowls following the movement shortly after. James met his stare blandly. “Then I should tell you that I see this as a sign from God that he means me to fight for this inheritance. Lord Hareton promised it to me, and it should be mine.”

I glanced at Lizzie and saw, by the tight line of her jaw, that she felt the same tension I did. More complications, more delay, more scandal.

“I think someone did this to deprive me of my rights in this case. I think there must be a more recent will than the one Fogg used, and this makes clear the intentions of the last two earls of Hareton.”

“Whatever their intentions,” James said, thoroughly agitated, “there are a few things you can’t change. The entail cannot now be signed away, and that stands apart from any private will. Whether you like it, or whether I like it, the estate comes to me. I signed nothing before they died, and if I’d known the true circumstances, I would never have done so.”

“It was God’s will,” Pritheroe repeated.

“I don’t think so,” James went on. “All the income from the estate comes to me, and the land, and the houses. Moreover, I don’t intend to give you a penny. Your daughter will receive what is due to her as the widow of Lord Hareton, and perhaps more, but you have no claims on the estate and you won’t get any.”

“My claim is a moral one.” There was no doubt in Pritheroe, only certainty that his cause was just. I restrained myself from asking him how often he had conversations with God. He would probably tell me.

James turned red, showing signs of his anger, and in a moment, he would say something he might come to regret. “There’s nothing moral about it.”

Richard interrupted my brother, his voice a cool chill in the heat of the room. “Nevertheless, the matter remains. If you wish to take Lord Hareton to court, that’s your concern, though it might bankrupt you, leaving little time for your other—activities.” The delicate pause before the last word showed what he thought about those activities. “You wouldn’t win, anyway. It might inconvenience him, but little else. Leave it alone.”

Pritheroe stared at Richard for a full minute in silence. “That may be. But if the last two earls were murdered for that inheritance—”

“That,” Richard said smoothly, before James could speak again, “would be another matter, but you still wouldn’t inherit. It would be seen as an action of mere spite on your part.”

“It would give me a platform,” Pritheroe pointed out. “All I want is the opportunity to preach and bring more people to God’s word.”

“You’ll find lawyers impervious to your charms, but you’re welcome to try. For my part, I intend to try to find the culprit and why he or she did it. When I have that information, a course of action may occur.” When Richard turned, the skirts of his blue cloth coat followed his action gently. “You may rest assured, that if I find the present Lord Hareton has done this thing, he won’t go unpunished.”

Lizzie and I gasped. How could he do that? All my doubts resurfaced. He’d never want a criminal’s sister, whatever he said privately, and I wouldn’t consider anyone who had brought that kind of misery to my family.

“I don’t think he did do it,” Richard said, glancing at James, who was still red faced, but had the sense to remain silent. “He believed the estate bankrupt, and he has a tidy property of his own back in Devonshire. Why should he want to exchange that for this? His wife is distressed rather than delighted.”

The reasoned tones brought Pritheroe around. I stared at his quivering jowls as he moved his chair, and nodded.

Richard continued, his reasoned tones adding soothing balm to what could have been an explosive situation. “This is the last thing most right thinking people would want. What’s the use of a title, when there’s nothing to back it up? There are viscomtes in France in charge of nothing but a farm. No one seeks them out, no one is interested in them.” He gave Pritheroe his full attention as if they were the only two people in the room. “No, let it be. If you leave this with me, I can promise to let you know what I find out. Not because you have any rights in the matter, but because you suffered as I did.”
Not until he fell off the coach he didn’t.
“And I will also promise to bring the perpetrators to justice. If we bring the authorities in now, this place will shut up as tight as a drum. There are enough resentments and petty infighting here to fill the House of Commons, and they’ll all join together to fight a different adversary, if strangers come in. We’ll never discover anything.”

A heavy silence fell and Pritheroe harumphed again. “You promise me, your word as a gentleman, you will tell me, whatever you find?”

“My word as a man who keeps his word.”

Richard crossed the room and offered his hand to Pritheroe, who, after one look at him, grasped the slim hand in his own meaty paw, shaking it thoroughly. “Very well. But if I find you hiding anything, I’ll go straight to the magistrate.”

“Anything?” A note of amusement crept into Richard’s voice.

“About this matter,” Mr. Pritheroe finished as Richard smiled, briefly.

“Very well,” he said.

Richard bowed to Lizzie and me. “I’ll take my leave. I’ve given myself a lot to do.”

I didn’t meet his gaze, not trusting myself. We took his cue, and left the room. I wanted to consider what I could do to help my brother.

After breakfast, Martha asked me to help her. I joined her growing train of followers and, clad in the same kind of sacking apron as everyone else, enjoyed myself hugely helping to clean the Great Hall. The life-sized statues ranged around the first floor glared at us balefully as we scrubbed, dusted and polished. Even the oil paintings were thoroughly soaped, but they turned out to be unremarkable daubs when clean. Lord Hareton had concentrated on his classical acquisitions, it seemed. I had another reason to be glad Martha had decided on this thorough cleaning. Anything we discovered—any clue, would be easier if we discovered it in the natural process of cleaning. And if society knew about the condition of the Abbey as it is now—the scandal would be even more juicy. Who could resist the story of the mysterious death of two brothers, who had lived in the ruins of a once great house?

Early afternoon found us ascending the stairs to give the statues a much needed scrub. These were classical statues, and their unashamed nakedness made the younger maids giggle. Looking at a fine reproduction of the Apollo Belvedere, I wondered if naked men really looked like this. My cheeks burned at the thought, now I had a specific person in mind. However, when I examined at the female statues, I supposed not because none of them looked the least like me.

The work gave me a much needed outlet for my overstrained thoughts. Two things circled each other in my head; Richard and the murder of my cousins, and hard physical work gave me something else, something innocent to do.

Several people came to view our efforts that day. Gervase, Richard and Miss Cartwright came up and laughed at the sight of us all.

“Like so many ants around a queen,” his lordship commented, watching Martha direct operations. They toured the first floor, trying to identify the various statues. They did well. Though the figures were nude, most of them wore or held the item with which they were associated. Martha said they must write it down for her.

I was scrubbing Aphrodite’s feet, on my hands and knees in front of the goddess, appropriate and deeply embarrassing. I looked up at their approach, gratified to see a brief flash of shock in Richard’s eyes. He had not noticed who the nondescript cleaner was.

Pushing back a stray curl, I wished them good day. I must have been very grubby. A sneer rather than a smile spread over Miss Cartwright’s pretty round features. She moved her heavy skirts aside to avoid the puddle of dirty water which swam around the feet of the goddess.

“Good afternoon, Miss Golightly,” Richard said coldly, but when I looked up to meet his eyes, I saw the same warm message in them I’d seen earlier in the day.

“Good afternoon, my lord.” I nodded to Mr. Kerre and Miss Cartwright. “I apologise for my appearance. Martha needs all the help she can get, and to be truthful, ever since I saw this hall I’ve longed to sluice it down.”

“How does Lady Hareton feel about this upheaval?” Miss Cartwright asked maliciously. “We must be forbearing with her in her grief.”

“Martha spends some time with her every day. The widow said it was time the Abbey was restored and used properly, and she’s given this project her blessing.” Lady Hareton had been very glad to relinquish the keys of the Abbey into Martha’s hands, even though her father had demurred, loath to let any symbol of control go.

I must have protested too vehemently, for Miss Cartwright smiled coldly. “I must say, you have more strength than me, Miss Golightly. I’ve never scrubbed a thing in my life.”

“Yes, ma’am, you have all the appearance of it.” Her carping annoyed me, and I felt at a distinct disadvantage.

Before the situation grew worse, Mr. Kerre intervened. His brother watched us, an amused light in his eyes. “It’s most admirable of Miss Golightly.” To my surprise, he stripped off his coat, “You seem to be having a great deal more amusement than me. I didn’t think to offer my services before, for you must know I hate to be idle. I’m sure my brother would offer as well, were he able.”

Richard laughed. “I thought you knew me, Gervase. The woman who persuades me to scrub would be a remarkable woman indeed.”

He didn’t look at me, but at Miss Cartwright, who had the grace to blush, the first time I had seen her superiority dented or even the least abashed since she had arrived at the Abbey. “I would never ask such a thing of you. There are, after all, servants for that kind of thing.”

Mr. Kerre had by this time rolled up his sleeves, picked up a cloth and wetted it. He rubbed vigorously at Aphrodite’s arm. “Your servant, ma’am.” He bowed deeply, much too deeply, to Miss Cartwright.

This time the lady blushed. “I beg your pardon, sir. I meant no offence.”

“And I took none, I assure you,” said Mr. Kerre. “I would like to help here. I’m used to a more active life, I never know what to do with myself in these long afternoons at country houses and this will answer splendidly. I hope it will give Lady Martha some small assistance.”

“Very well. I’ll restore Julia to her duenna, and then I’m sure I’ll find some trifling occupation.” Richard smiled, bowing, and left. Julia picked her way carefully around the pools of dirty water, which accumulated on the floor around all the statues. I watched them go with mixed emotions.

I turned back to Mr. Kerre “How many statues do you think there are?” He glanced at me and smiled briefly. The smile echoed his brother’s, but without that pull I felt so strongly when Richard smiled at me. “We counted twenty-two.”

“I didn’t know there were so many. How did they ever keep track of them all in Roman times?”

“I believe you selected the ones you had most sympathy with,” Mr. Kerre replied, smiling. “And then gave obeisance to the greatest ones when required.”

“They were shockingly depraved, weren’t they?” I attended to Aphrodite’s ample breasts. It might be better if I did that part of her.

“Shockingly. The explosion of fine art that attended such depravity is even more shocking, in a different way.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I don’t understand.”

He took a deep breath, and by his rapt expression I could see this was something dear to his heart. “Well, as you know, most well-born Englishmen end up at one time or another in Rome. And, sadly, circumstances meant I saw it alone. However, when I stepped into the Pantheon, I was so taken aback by the sheer beauty of it I forgot my troubles. It was the only thing that consoled me at that time. I spent months exploring the classical beauties of Italy. Rome in particular, of course, but there are miracles everywhere in Italy, if one looks for them.”

How hard it must have been for him to give up the woman he loved, especially if they had felt for each other what his brother and I felt. I began to understand why a man would court ostracism from his family and his world for one person and I grew afraid.

I tried to push my fears to the back of my mind, to think of something else instead. “My brother Ian would love to meet you, sir. He’s long dreamed of going to Rome himself. He’s at Oxford at present—” I broke off as a thought dawned on me. “Now he can.” I sat back on my haunches. I remembered all the books Ian had read during his many childhood illnesses, how much he longed to see more of the world, and I was glad this change in our fortunes should bring one person at least nothing but good. Ian had grown out of most of his sicknesses, although he still had a tendency to breathlessness, so there was absolutely no reason now why he should not undertake a full Grand Tour if he wished it. I smiled. “He’ll be so pleased.”

“If you let me know when he plans to go. I can give him several introductions.” Mr. Kerre applied the cloth to Aphrodite with great vigour.

“That is most kind, but I don’t imagine it will be for some time yet.”

We finished Aphrodite in companionable silence and turned to the smaller statue of Cupid, which appropriately stood by her. Mr. Kerre stayed with us until the time came to dress for dinner, and by then we had made a difference to the Great Hall.

We stood back and examined it from all angles. The black and white tiled floor gleamed. Columns supporting the roof were made of a green stone that hadn’t been apparent under the layers of grime. Resplendent white marble statues stood between them, counterpointing the green with white.