‘We’re your family now too,’ Chastity interjected tearfully.
Christian quirked a mocking brow and gave a boyish grin. ‘Naturally, I’m not yet quite sure whether that’s a good thing.’
‘It’s not,’ retorted the Reverend emphatically.
Chastity gave a watery smile as the Earl had obviously intended. ‘What will you do?’ she asked.
‘For now, nothing. But I’ve survived solely on my wits for a good number of years and am not a complete numbskull.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m just grateful that Mercy will be safe and sound in Blackmore.’
‘Mayhap from murdering deuced sailors,’ the Reverend muttered, ‘but don’t be surprised if she comes back with more than a few bad habits.’
‘Those I can deal with,’ Christian smiled.
‘He says that now,’ snorted the clergyman.
The carriage began to slow down as they approached the gates to Cottesmore, effectively bringing the conversation to an end. As they approached the overgrown drive, Christian leaned forward to take Chastity’s hand. ‘Please don’t worry about me,’ he murmured. ‘I will deal with the matter. For now, I simply want to show you our home to be.’
Chastity stared at him for a second, then nodded. With a small sniff, she determinedly looked out of the window for signs of the house. ‘Did you ever visit the house before you unexpectedly inherited it?’ she asked at length.
‘You mean before it became a smouldering ruin,’ Christian answered drily. She glanced back at him sympathetically as he shook his head. ‘The poorest of poor relations,’ he explained. ‘The connection was through my mother’s side. Apparently, she was the old Earl’s cousin. I can’t even remember how many times removed.’
The drive bent to the right, and all of a sudden, the ivy-clad building came into view. From this angle, it looked to be undamaged, but as they came closer, the windows yawned black and empty, the ivy charred and curling around the edges.
Chastity stared without speaking as the carriage came to a halt. Clearly, the fire had started upstairs. She tried to envision what it must have been like to have been trapped with no way out. Silently, Christian helped her down.
‘This side is the worst,’ he explained. ‘It’s thought the fire started in the Earl’s bedchamber.’ Chastity allowed her eyes to follow the direction of his pointed finger. She took his arm and squeezed it in silent acknowledgement of the tragedy.
Slowly, they walked towards the front door, which was still intact. ‘Did anybody escape?’ she breathed.
‘Most of the servants,’ Christian answered. ‘The stairs up to their quarters in the attic ran along the back. Come, let me show you.’
They picked their way carefully round the side of the house. Slowly evidence of the fire became less and less until they turned the corner to the back. Chastity stopped and gasped. The view from the overgrown terrace was incredible. The New Forest in all its skeletal glory spread out in front of them, the promise of spring still a vague dream. On the exposed areas of moorland, she could see the wild ponies grazing, their coats still rough and thick from the winter. On the higher ground, patches of snow showed beneath the trees, glistening as the early afternoon sun caught them.
It was ethereal, almost otherworldly and quite, quite beautiful.
Face flushed in sudden excitement, Chastity gripped Christian’s arm and looked up at him, eyes shining. ‘It’s…’ she stopped and shook her head, unable to put the scene into words.’ The Earl grinned down at her. ‘This is why I wanted to bring you,’ he murmured, turning her to face the house. ‘From here, you can see what it was and what it can become again.’
The warm red brick poked through the ivy, here green and lush. The windows were mullioned and though thick with the detritus of abandonment, they gave the house a cosy, welcoming air. Pulling her arm, Christian led her to a small wooden door directly in between two windows. There were no fancy French doors opening onto the terrace, but the Earl told her where he proposed to put them. Unlocking the door, he finally led her inside.
The rooms on either side of the narrow hallway were dirty but undamaged. A few items of furniture lay covered in dust sheets. ‘The main stairs and front hallway were damaged beyond repair,’ he told her, leading the way to a small staircase that had obviously been used by the staff, ‘but we can reach the first floor this way.’
Chastity was quiet as she followed him up into the shadows. In truth, her mind was awhirl with possibilities. It had never dawned on her before that she would actually be mistress of her own house. She felt humbled and elated all at once.
Warning her to be careful, Christian stepped out from a small landing, into the main body of the house. Where the main staircase had once been was now a gaping hole, blackened and charred. ‘I thought to replace the stairway with oak,’ he explained, leading her along the galleried landing, taking care to stay well away from the absent balustrade.
‘I can see your reasoning,’ came an amused voice behind them. ‘But I’d go for cherry myself. Much more warmth in my opinion.’ Christian whirled round, instinctively pushing Chastity behind him.
The stranger looked to be dressed in the clothes of an extremely well-to do gentleman. His cravat was tied expertly in a waterfall, and his hair fell artfully over his forehead in a beautifully coiffured Brutus. His royal blue waistcoat fitted across his slightly paunchy form like it was made for him, which it probably was, and his breeches fitted like a proverbial glove.
But the stranger’s impeccable dress sense wasn’t what drew the Earl’s attention and elicited a small gasp from Chastity at his back.
It was the pistol pointing steadily at them in the gentleman’s right hand.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The Reverend and Percy remained with Lizzy as the other two alighted from the coach. ‘Let’s give ‘em a few minutes to look round alone,’ Augustus Shackleford commented in a rare show of thoughtfulness as he caught Percy’s enquiring look. Unfortunately, Freddy had no such consideration and quickly disappeared into the bushes on the trail of who knows what. ‘Something disgusting no doubt,’ was the Reverend’s sour observation.
Lizzy Fletcher remained pre-occupied and subdued, refusing to engage in conversation despite Percy’s gallant efforts. Clearly she was still upset over her failure to remember everything Charlie Fletcher had told her.
