‘Henry, would you have Ian prepare two horses please? I am going to visit our farm.’
‘Two horses, my lady?’
‘Yes, Henry, if you would accompany me, I should be rather grateful of the company.’
And a witness.
Even if she didn’t say the latter, she was quite certain Henry heard it, though he made no comment, and simply went off to do as he was bid, while she finished her breakfast, and prepared herself.
No amount of preparation, however, could’ve sufficed, or so Hypatia discovered as soon as they traversed the small wood behind Gadmin Hall’s gardens, and emerged onto the outer limits of the land constituting the pig farm—the previous earl’s final project; his last hope to save the earldom fromcompleteruin.
It was her nose which first alerted her to her lack of preparation, and though she couldn’t claim to be particularly squeamish—or at least not half as much as most people she knew—she found herself having to raise her arm to cover her nose before her breakfast found itself somewhere other thanher stomach. When she’d managed to recompose herself just enough, she shot a glance over her shoulder at Henry, who seemed intently occupied by his horse’s mane, shame written in every part of his countenance.
Oh dear.
And as she found the further they advanced,oh deardidn’t even begin to encapsulate the magnitude of the despicable sights and goings-on; she found not even the worst expletives in her repertoire—of which there were shockingly many—could even begin to encapsulate it.
Thecorps de fermewas, if at all possible, in worse shape than the house had been—roofs holeyer than not, pieces of white Caen stone missing, and those still in place, hardly so. Doors with more patchwork than a quilt hung from rusty hinges, and boarded-up windows. That wasn’t even to mention the lack of tending to the patches of land between the wood and U-shaped farm buildings, nor the muddy disgrace of the courtyard—though surely there must be stonesomewherebeneath it—the state of the pieces of equipment and tools lying about, nor the complete lack of well,anyone. Of anything, save for a putrid stench, and the sounds, by Jove, thesounds. Wretched, sad, mournful, and gut-wrenching.
In a trice, Hypatia had dismounted, and was stomping towards the nearest of the buildings, slipping and sliding in mud—or so she preferred to believe. With difficulty, but pure rage fuelling her, she tugged and pulled at the door until finally it gave, opening onto a horror she by now expected, yet still wasn’t prepared for.
The bastard.
Dozens of pigs had been packed into the long building that had once been something other than a giant, disgusting sty; trapped and shoved together without care nor reason, to rot intheir own filth. It was beyond inhuman; it was something which didn’t have a name.
Hypatia wanted to cry, and retch, and strike the beast who had done this to the poor creatures, and—
‘My lady,’ Henry said gently from the doorway, looking as green as she felt, though she suspected he knew some of what had happened here, and they would have a talk later. For now, however, she followed his gaze, moving so she could see what he attempted to show her.
The beast himself.
‘Mr Warren, I presume,’ she said loudly, clearly, though every bit of her was clenched and ready to flay him alive as she stomped across the courtyard.
He hadn’t been expecting her, that much was certain from the widened eyes as he dismounted, though to his credit, the debonair, much too slickly handsome for his own good idiot quickly hid it, smiling brightly as he hailed her.
No bow? How very, very, disappointing, Mr Warren.
‘My Lady Gadmin, what a pleasant surprise! I must offer my apologies—’
‘There is no penitence of any kind which could ever suffice as regards your sins, Mr Warren,’ she said, shaking her head, as they met in the midst of the courtyard, coming toe-to-toe. He was taller than her, bigger than her, and she could tell he still thought his cleverness and good looks might win her over—insincere regret flashing in crystal blue eyes—but she felt mightier than Boudica just then. ‘If you believe in a God, I suggest you begin your prayers this very instant, and spend the rest of your days on this earth repenting, but even then, Mr Warren,even then, I doubt redemption will ever be yours.’
‘My lady, I must ask you to calm yourself, I understand such business as can be seen on a farm can be rather shocking and distressing to persons of refinement, however—’
‘Do not evenattemptto patronise me, Mr Warren,’ she warned him, somehow managing to not raise her voice, and yell, and scream—which would surely lose her this battle, and indeed this war.Calm myself, indeed.‘The only words I will hear from you areyes, my lady, I shall be gone, my things cleared out within the hour, and the ledgers from the past year in your hands by that time as well.’
‘You cannot, the earl, your husband—’
‘I am the Countess of Gadmin, and you are a despicable wretch who has been thieving, swindling, and torturing innocent animals for the sake of laziness, profit, and greed, and you will be gone. It is your only chance at escape, which you do not deserve, but which I grant you now for the sake of peace. Either way, be certain, proof of your misdeeds will be handed to the magistrate without delay, and some day,some day, Mr Warren, your years of fraud, and theft, and whatever else I am bound to uncover—for you are not evenhalfas clever at covering your tracks as you believe yourself to be, I’ve seen illiterate butlers more adept at concocting accounts than you—every single thing you have ever done wrong in your damned life, will catch up with you. And you had better hope, or pray, or beg the Devil for all I care that it will merely be gaol waiting for you. Be grateful now that I am not my husband, though if ever I was tempted to strike a man until he could move no longer, it would be today, and if you test me, I am quite certain I could find the will, and the strength.’
Breathing hard, she raised a brow, meeting the ice-cold, dagger-filled gaze of Mr Warren, who she was very sure, wanted to throttle her, or strike her, or perhaps feed her to the pigs, and so they were alike in that.
But perhaps he saw the wisdom, the boon which she offered—though it hurt her to offer it—for finally he relented, sucking through his teeth, and nodding viciously as he stepped back.
‘Yes, my lady,’ he bowed mockingly.
‘Henry shall accompany you to fetch the ledgers, and you shall advise him, if he doesn’t already know, the names of those you’ve employed to do your horrid bidding. They too, are dismissed.’
‘You’ll regret this,’ Warren threatened, whispering, still backing away, a smile that spoke of retribution on his face.
