“Not at all.”
“You remember that Lady Celia, Jude’s mother, and my mother are sisters, right? Daughters of an earl?”
Anne nodded.
“Celia made the best match of the three. Sir Herbert came from an honorable, ancient family of wealth. Whereas my mother married my father—a man of property but little money, and what remains is entailed upon my eldest brother.The three of them live in the ancestral property, which is gradually falling to ruins around them. I could not stand by and watch, doing nothing about it, but my suggestions to check the deterioration were not well received. In fact, my brother resented my interference, so I gave it up. At this rate, by the time he inherits, there will be little left but rubble. Lady Celia would probably help them, but they are too proud to ask for or accept assistance.
“You know that as a younger son, I have to make my own way in the world. Earn my own way too. So I chose the military and left. I do visit my parents from time to time, but Father has grown bitter about his lot and my mother resigned to hers. My brother and I don’t get on at all, and whenever I go home, he makes it clear the estate and the decisions are all his—or will be after Father passes on.
“It was Sir Herbert who paid for my commission. Sir Herbert and Lady Celia who were interested to hear how I progressed through the ranks, who were proud of me. The truth is, I enjoyed spending time with them, and Kat too. They have always been generous and good to me. And I am grateful.”
“I see. And Mr. Dalby’s mother?”
Jasper grimaced. “She made the worst marriage of them all, according to AuntC. Married a man who turned out to be unfaithful and a gambler in business as well as at cards. She died young, and her husband sailed off to visit a plantation he’d invested in sight unseen somewhere in the West Indies. He left Jude with Sir Herbert and Lady Celia, and as far as I know, has never been heard from since.”
“How awful.” Anne hesitated, uncertain how much Jasper knew of his cousin’s character. She settled on “Poor Mr. Dalby. Perhaps it is little wonder he is not ... all he might be.”
“I wouldn’t waste your pity on Jude, Anne. No one forcedhim to follow in his father’s footsteps. He’s done that all on his own.”
Apparently he knew his cousin quite well.
They walked on in silence for a few moments. Then, longing to change the subject, Anne asked, “Is it true there are still prison cells in Painswick Court?”
“Why, yes. For prisoners awaiting trial. Kat, Jude, and I used to sneak down there as children. We were not supposed to—cold, dirty place—but of course we did. Being forbidden made it all the more irresistible.”
Anne chuckled.
He paused and turned to her. “Would you like to see them? Lady Celia isn’t likely to box our ears, and Mrs. Pratt won’t mind if we trespass belowstairs.”
“I own I am curious.”
He swept his arm toward the house. “Then allow me to lead the way.”
As they went, Jasper explained, “Uncle Herbert told me the original entrance was blocked over during renovations. Yet we can still get there through a passage belowstairs.”
Going back inside, they walked through the butler’s pantry, then took the stairs down to the kitchen, which was partway below ground, with windows high on the walls.
Mrs. Pratt looked up as they passed the kitchen door.
“Don’t mind us, Mrs. P!” Jasper called. “Miss Loveday has never seen the cells, so I offered to show her.”
“Do be careful down there. Heaven knows what state it’s in. Here, take a candle.” She retrieved a candlestick with a glass shade, lit the candle, and carried it to them.
“Thank you,” he said. “If we’re not back in ten minutes, send in the cavaliers!” He winked at the older woman, who smiled indulgently in reply.
Passing the larder, they stepped to a heavy wooden door reinforced with wrought-iron straps. Jasper grasped an ironring handle and opened it. “Careful, the stairs are narrow and uneven.”
They gingerly made their way down the stone steps, the temperature dropping as they descended.
At the bottom, they reached a low-ceilinged subbasement that appeared to serve as coal cellar and storeroom. From there, Jasper opened a crude door that led into another chamber. This room was apparently of older date, with a higher beamed ceiling supported by cast-iron columns and swathed in cobwebs. A wooden wine rack stood against one wall, along with a barrel and a few discarded trunks covered in dust. Beyond them were two cells enclosed by iron bars and padlocked doors.
Jasper lifted the candle through the iron bars, and Anne saw a moldering wooden slat bed against the wall and rusty manacles. The only light besides Jasper’s candle was a faint light coming in from an iron grate high in the ceiling—perhaps in the floor of the room above.
“No racks or torture devices,” he said. “I hope you are not disappointed. Prisoners were only held here until trial. Punishment was meted out elsewhere.”
“I am relieved, actually. Makes my skin crawl as it is.”
Jasper slowly nodded, the flickering candle flame reflected eerily in his eyes. “Jude locked me in here once when we were boys. I called for help, but no one heard me. The vile things one imagines when trapped in a cell alone. Specters. Starvation. Skeletons of forgotten prisoners...”
