“You will not know until you open it.”
“Aye, true enough.” Even then, he hesitated for a long moment before tearing at the wafer and unfolding the paper. “Oh. Well. That’s… odd. Captain Edgerton wants to see me… that fella who’s looking into poor Mr Nicholson’s death. You read it, sir, for I’m sure I don’t know what it’s about.”
Bertram took the letter from him.
‘John, Mr Dewar is so kind as to write this for me else it would not make a word of sense for my hands shake too much to write. That man from the castle has been here wanting to talk to you about yourfamily connections, the one who is looking into the chaplain’s death. He knows a great deal and suspects a lot more and I could barely speak civilly to the man. Mr Dewar will not let me write down what I would like to do to that man. Captain Edgerton, that is his name, although what he is a captain of, I’m sure I don’t know. I sent him away with a flea in his ear, you may be sure. I hope you’re well and giving satisfaction and taking good care of Mr Bertram’s fine horse. Your loving grandpa, Joe Whyte.’
“Family connections?” Bertram said, puzzled, then remembered that Whyte was the illegitimate child of Joe Whyte’s daughter. “Oh… Nicholson?”
Whyte nodded. “Aye, he’s me da, seemingly, though not a bit of notice have I ever had from him. That’s why Grandda’s so upset about it. These things happen, but a man should take care of his children. So Grandda says.”
“And what doyousay?” Bertram said.
“That I never wanted nor needed him, sir. I grew up in the smithy with me cousins, learnt me letters at me mam’s knee, like them, learnt about horses from me grandda and me uncles, got meself a fine job at Westwick Heights, sir, and I don’t want to do nothing to muck that up. What good would a gentleman like Mr Nicholson ever have done me?”
Bertram smiled wryly. “He could have given you a proper education, like a gentleman.”
“Which would have fitted me for nothing at all,” Whyte said hotly. “Me ma’s a smith’s daughter, sir, and that’s me proper place in the world, working for a living and not swaggeringround like a lord, expecting the world to fall at me feet. No offence, sir.”
“None taken. But this is nothing to worry about. Captain Edgerton seems to be a very thorough man who wants to find out every little detail of Mr Nicholson’s life. He has heard of your connection and wants to talk to you about it, that is all.”
“He won’t arrest me nor nothing, will he?”
“No, no. You need only tell him what you have told me, Whyte. He is a reasonable man, and will not suspect you of anything. Besides, you were at Westwick on the night Nicholson was murdered, were you not?”
“Aye, and never knew nothing of it til late in the morning when Mr Halliwell’s boy came by with the meat for the kitchen and told us.”
“Then you may tell the captain that, and he will go away and leave you in peace.”
Whyte nodded, but he still looked troubled. “You’ll speak for me, sir, won’t you? Tell him I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Of course I will, but you will have to speak for yourself, too. Nothing will happen just yet, I am sure. I doubt the captain will come all the way out here. It is a two day journey, after all, and he must have more important matters to deal with. I will send word to him when we return to Westwick, so you may put it out of your head until then.”
***
Bea retired to bed that evening with very confused feelings. Lord Grayling’s attentions were very pleasing, boosting her spirits wonderfully. He had ridden by her side for the whole of the afternoon, apart from those times when he dashed off to display his superior skills on horseback. She could see Bertram looking daggers at him, for Bertram was the type of rider whocautiously crept through the gates even in the hunt, and was usually far behind with the old men and the few ladies who took to the field. She liked Bertram, of course, and he was a true friend to her, and she would always cherish the memory of that wonderful kiss, but there was no doubt that Lord Grayling was a great deal more dashing.
As if the ride had not been encouraging enough, for once he had not played cards with his own friends after dinner, but had drawn her aside to play backgammon with him. Bertram and his friends turned round to glare at them whenever there was a burst of laughter from their table, which happened often, for Lord Grayling was a most amusing man and he seemed to find Bea’s little jests funny, too. Really, they got along remarkably well.
Mama had thought so too, for she had smiled and nodded encouragingly whenever Bea caught her eye, and when they retired to bed, she followed Bea to her room to gloat over the baron.
“Upon reflection, Beatrice, I do not think you could do better than Lord Grayling,” she said, pacing back and forth in the tiny room, making Bea feel quite crowded. “Bertram is all very well, and a much better title, but when will he have it, that is the question? At least with Walter you would have been a viscountess while you waited for him to inherit, but with Bertram you could be Mrs Bertram Atherton for thirty years or more, and who wants to be Mrs anything? There are few other possibilities here. I cannot see the marquess coming up to scratch, and Lord Thomas Medhurst is only a younger son, with no money or estate of his own. You would be bringing everything to the marriage, and that is no good. Lord Brockscombe… he is possible, I suppose, but is he serious? It is very difficult to tell. So Lord Grayling will do very well, if he makes an offer. Only abaron, but that is better than nothing… a great deal better than nothing.”
Bea could not tell her mother that she had already found Lord Brockscombe and Lord Thomas wanting, nor that Bertram was not an option at all. But since Lord Grayling was now the only possibility, it was only proper to have her mother’s approval.
“So you do not mind if I encourage him a little?” she said cautiously.
“Encourage him all you like. You are very good at that, after all. Yes, it would be most agreeable to have you settled before the autumn sets in, and this time you should not stand for a long engagement. Get him to the altar as soon as may be. It will be for the best, you may be sure.”
Bea knew how to interpret that — even her stepmother was tiring of Bea’s endless dallying, and wanted her married off and out of the way. She wanted it herself, but she felt instinctively that Lord Grayling was not a man to be pushed into anything. Her simple strategy with Walter of asking if he were ever going to propose would not work with a man like Lord Grayling. Nor could she leave matters to develop in their own time. He was an accomplished flirt, and who knew how many women he had toyed with over the years, yet he was unmarried still.
It was a conundrum. If only she had not been persuaded by Bertram into this agreement. She would have worn down his resistance in the end, she was sure, and then she would have had a husband whose kisses warmed her in some inexplicable but quite delightful way.
But perhaps Lord Grayling’s kisses would warm her, too? And with that thought, she climbed into bed and, buoyed by optimism, fell asleep.
She woke fretfully in the dark. Even though she had left her bed curtains open, no light filtered through the shutteredwindows yet. Turning over, her eyes resolutely closed, she waited for sleep to return, but her mind was no longer amenable to the idea. Lord Grayling had been pushed aside and in his place, she saw Bertram’s smiling face, and felt his lips burning into hers. Not the proper kiss, which had quite understandably set her on fire, but that affectionate little peck — brisk and not romantic in the slightest, but she would have traded almost anything at that moment for another one… or two. Or as many as she could get. If only his friends could kiss so bewitchingly—
She sat bolt upright.Mr Fielding!As soon as she thought of Bertram’s friends, her mind’s eye summoned the image of them and there was Mr Fielding, laughing and joking with the others, smiling fondly at her… and then, unbearably, as she had seen him last, miserable and immobile in the garden. Her spurned suitor, whom she had made no effort to listen to with civility.‘Why would I want to marry you?’So she had said — such cruel words! And he had not joined them on the ride, he had not even appeared for dinner.
