Woolfe stood regarding his two unwelcome visitors, trying unsuccessfully to mask his malicious antipathy toward them. Max had not met the young earl of Yorkleigh before but he had heard of him by reputation. Despite the younger nobleman’s penchant for fast living, Max was aware the earl was known for his honesty and work ethic, both qualities unknown to the degenerating Lord Woolfe. He considered anyone who worked honestly must be too slow mentally to do otherwise and must thus be beneath his notice. Of course, the earl was acting as agent for the king and must therefore be shown a certain level of respect. With this in mind, Max thought hospitality would be in order.
"Might I offer you gentlemen a light repast before you continue on your way?" His attempt at cordiality fell flat but Philip remained polite nonetheless.
"Thank you, Woolfe, we could use a drink, we have been on the road for a while. We have actually stopped by to speak with some of the servants. As you probably have heard, His Royal Highness, King George, has ordered that we speak to all the servants who may have been familiar with the marchioness or her parents," explained the earl calmly.
At mention of the king, Woolfe's face paled even more than its usual pasty state, but he managed to hold his ground. "None of the servants here know anything, unfortunately. I have already taken the liberty of speaking with them myself."
"Well that was most kind of you," replied Philip, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But we would still like to speak with the housekeeper and butler when they have a moment. And while we are waiting for the refreshments you so kindly offered us, perhaps we could ask you a few questions."
Stymied, Max finally sat down realizing he could not rid himself of the tenacious earl as easily as he had hoped. Philip and James also sat before beginning to probe.
"How do you know the marchioness?"
"I do not know the young woman very well at all. I am an old friend of her guardian, the new Viscount of Ridley. I had just met the ungrateful little cretin when she ran away," declared Woolfe, realizing he had an opportunity to redirect the search.
"Why would you call her ladyship an ungrateful cretin? Had you performed some service for her for which she failed to show appreciation?" questioned Philip vastly surprised by this attack on the otherwise well-spoken-of young noblewoman.
"She had a dreadful attitude and gave my dear friend such a hard time." Realizing he could not go too far in this vein he made another effort at reasonableness. "Of course, in her defence, she had just recently lost her parents and was perhaps misbehaving because of her grief; however I have never seen the like of the tantrums she would throw when Edwin would not buy her all the things she demanded of him."
"That is quite interesting, Woolfe," replied Philip. "And surprising, too. All we have heard of the young woman is how well liked she is and what a wonderful family the Marquis of Edenvale had."
"Well, of course the servants would speak well of her. They aren't stupid. When she gets back she could sack the lot of them if they were speaking ill of her in her absence." Philip required all his self-control to remain seated and calm in reaction to Woolfe’s smooth answer. Obviously their prodding was not to the man’s liking but there wasn’t much he could do about it.
James, though, had had enough. He and Philip had spent the better part of the last month researching the missing young lady and James felt that he knew her better than this pompous viper-like lord. He stood up and declared, "You shut your trap! Lady Emmaline is not an ungrateful chit. Everyone from the butler down to the lowliest scullery servant has nothing but good to say of her. The pastor in every parish sponsored by the marchioness, as well as anyone we can find who ever knew the young woman sings her praises. Except you. What are you hiding, my lord? If any foul deed has been happened upon her at your hand, we will hunt you down and make sure you get exactly what you deserve, a very swift justice for your deeds.”
Philip wanted to applaud his usually even-tempered secretary’s heated outburst but managed just barely to maintain his calm veneer as he and James walked from the room after that. Woolfe blustered but they paid him no heed. There was nothing more to be said to the foul man.
“Where are you going?” Max demanded as Philip headed away from the front door. “You cannot just wander around this property!”
“Why not? You do,” was Philip’s snide reply.
Philip and James strode off in search of the housekeeper. They had a brief, equally fruitless conversation with her. The only new information they were able to glean from the frazzled woman was that Lord Woolfe had been in residence for three days and had terrorized the household. There was nothing Philip could do about that, so they had to leave the matter alone.
After leaving Westland Manor they stopped by the manse and spoke with the local cleric. He too knew very little to add to what scant information they already had, aside from saying that the marquis’ wife had been Baroness Westland before their marriage and there might be a distant cousin on her side of the family who resided in London. Philip rolled his eyes in frustration that the one new possibility was back where they started.
Exasperated and tired, the two men set off in the direction of Rosemount and the countess of Yorkleigh’s house party.
“How angry do you think my mother and Miss Spencer are going to be with me for being days late? They had wanted me there in advance of everyone, and now we are probably going to be the last to arrive. And I am the whole reason they are throwing the wretched party.”
James didn’t bother commenting and Philip was left to stew on the topic. Before they had begun this search, asking his mother to arrange a house party so he could consider his selection for his future spouse had seemed like a good idea. Now he just wanted to forget the whole thing and return to Yorkleigh and sleep for a week. But it was too late to call it off. Despondent and angry, Philip’s grip tightened on the reins and the horses grew skittish. With an oath and a steadier hand he got them under control and they set off at a brisk pace hoping to make it to Rosemount before nightfall.
Chapter Ten
While the earl was busy investigating and traveling around in his fruitless search, the countess and Emily spent an enjoyable but busy few weeks tending to various responsibilities, overseeing the growth of Emily’s wardrobe, and planning for the forthcoming house party. They amused themselves devising various plots to show Philip the foolishness of his pursuit of Lady Maude, and more or less had a grand time, each congratulating themselves on the wisdom of joining forces.
Their ideas ranged from innocent to silly:
“We could let the chickens loose and enlist her help to collect them,” was one of Emily’s suggestions. Lady Clara dismissed it, though, saying, “One such as she wouldn’t want to do something so mundane.” Emily thought it actually sounded like good fun so she was a little disgruntled.
“We could make sure the village children have just eaten chocolate when they meet her,” Emily had suggested. “I can’t imagine a fashionable lady facing that without qualms.” Lady Clara liked this idea better but thought the children might bear the brunt of the woman’s wrath if they were to actually get her dirty.
“I cannot fathom what his lordship is thinking if your evaluation of his chosen fiancé is accurate, my lady,” Emily had finally concluded. Lady Clara had no answer other than a disconsolate sigh.
Emily had not even met the other young woman, but from the countess’ description of her and for her own personal reasons which she refused to fully acknowledge, she was more than happy to scheme with Lady Clara about breaking the couple up. The time flew by and before they knew it, it was the day they were expecting their guests to begin arriving. Rosemount had been polished and shined, trimmed and buffed, and the air was abuzz with excitement. Rosemount hadn’t been the site for entertainment in quite some time and all the inhabitants from lowly scrub-boy to the gentry in the surrounding neighbourhood were thrilled at the prospects that lay before them.
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The first guests to arrive were the Waddell ladies. They were a pleasant trio of women: the widowed baroness and her two daughters, Jane and Ann. Lady Waddell was a pleasantly plump woman with a rosy face that looked as though it would rather smile than frown. She was prepared to enjoy herself fully and her young daughters took after her quite similarly. While Jane and Ann were slightly taller and far slimmer than their mother, the family resemblance was unmistakable and one only had to look at the mother to know how the daughters would age. Jane had darker curls than her younger sister, while Ann had the look of one who had not quite grown out of her pigtails and short dresses yet. On the whole the three ladies seemed like they would be enjoyable company and Lady Clara was pleased to see her friends.
