The situation with Lord Huntingly had receded to the back of her mind over the past few days, but now it returned with glaring clarity. Silently, she berated herself for not thinking to ask Williams before: the Ebcott and Huntingly estates neighboured one another, and he was the longest-standing member of staff, after all.
‘You mean all that went on with old man Huntingly and Pellham?’
Josephine glanced up. ‘Yes, if you don’t mind?’ she replied, trying not to sound too hopeful.
‘No, I don’t mind.’ He stooped to pick a blade of grass and begin chewing on it. ‘Though it was summat of a shady business, truth be told. Pellham’s father was as thick as coves with old man Huntingly, as he was his estate manager. He was a nice enough fellow– rough and ready but knew his business too– so when he died, old man Huntingly adopted his son… not officially, but took an interest and the like,’ William continued, frowning in concentration. ‘Young Pellham was quite the sportsman, as it turned out, much like Huntingly’s own son, and so of course the pair quickly became inseparable… like brothers some might say…’
Josephine listened with bated breath as the elderly man recounted Huntingly’s story, filling in gaps with his memories.
‘So what happened?’ she prompted as his voice trailed off.
He bent down to pick up a small pail of water and shuffle towards the chicken coop. ‘Old man Huntingly died in a hunting accident with only Pellham there, and afterwards, when the will was read, the young lord discovered Pellham was to inherit part of the estate.’
‘Oh,’ Josephine commented cautiously, though her mind was cartwheeling at the revelation. ‘So, the duel was prompted by jealousy?’
It was logical, and yet she could tell Williams wasn’t quite done yet.
‘Perhaps.’ Williams frowned again. ‘Though I wouldn’t have thought that would bother young Huntingly– he wasn’t exactly the rich landowner type– he was a bit of a hothead, happiest with his dogs and horses. His father had made no secret of the fact he was fond of Pellham too, and the young lord seemed to love Pellham like a brother…’
‘So, why then?’ Josephine prompted. Recalling the half-dressed young lord with his hound, she could readily believe he’d never been an easy gentleman about town.
‘I’m not entirely sure, miss.’ Williams scratched his head. ‘But there are those who say the accident itself was unusual. Old Huntingly was, as his name suggests, a fine sportsman, and the coroner ruled he fell from a bolting horse… It’s only hearsay, mind, and folks do like to gossip, but I believe his son may have issued the challenge because of his grief following his father’s death.’
There was a silence as Josephine watched the elderly gardener fill up the wooden chicken troughs, the joyful springtime chorus at odds with the strange story he’d just related. She shivered. ‘So young Lord Huntingly challenged his best friend to a dawn duel, because he was suspicious of the circumstances surrounding his father’s death…’ she pondered. ‘That’s really sad.’
‘Aye, miss, it was sad for them both, and I think it would have pained old Huntingly to see it too. They both seemed nice young gentlemen in their own way, truth be told. Then, of course, the duel wasn’t without its own cloud…’
Josephine frowned, trying to recall what Captain Damerel said the night Phoebe went into labour.
‘Huntingly’s weapon backfired, and they were Pellham’s Flintlock pistols… That’s evidence enough for me. If a man can’t be honourable in a duel, no soldier will defend him in battle…’
‘There was a problem with the pistols,’ Josephine paraphrased carefully.
‘Yes, that’s it,’ the elderly gardener nodded. ‘I’m not fond of fighting in any form, mind, think there’s plenty of better ways to settle a fall out without offering yourself up as target practice… Anyway, the pistol backfired, and young Huntingly suffered badly, an’ no mistake.’
Josephine imagined the scene as the pistol backfired and shuddered: little wonder the newspaper report had called it a ‘bloody affair’.
‘They stopped the duel, of course, but far from reconciling their differences, it only made things worse. Last I heard, they both went off to France, and now the young lord is home again, not that he’s recalled any staff to service other than Henry, or seen anyone much at all. The Lord knows what state the manor is in now, for it were completely closed when the young lord went abroad, and it were such a pretty house in its day too.’ He sighed before seeming to recall Josephine’s presence. ‘Not that you need worry your head about all that, Miss Josephine, for I’m sure it’s naught to do with you, eh?’ He stooped to pick up his pail. ‘And now the viscountess is over the worst I’m sure we can all rest a little easier too… especially you, miss. ’Tis a lot for a young’un like yourself to take on,’ he added kindly, letting himself out of the coop. ‘Hopefully, a little fresh air and sunshine will work its magic on us all now, as will a few of old Jemima’s eggs, which I sent up this morning. I’ve also a posy of May-bells in the potting shed, if you’re happy to take them to the viscountess? I thought they might cheer her bedchamber.’
Josephine wasn’t sure if the elderly gardener knew of Pellham’s subsequent death in Italy and was sparing her, or wasn’t aware himself, but she’d heard enough either way. ‘I’d be delighted, Williams.’ She smiled warmly.
ChapterSeven
Knightswood Manor; Wrath and Honour
One week later
‘You did what?’ Thomas exploded.
Josephine flinched, wishing for the umpteenth time that she had the same ready courage for herself as she’d had for Matilda on the day she visited Huntingly. But it had entirely deserted her, and now Williams’s fresh knowledge of the duel compounded the whole situation.
She glanced out of the coach window and tried to draw strength from the haze of wild flowers blooming into life despite the long, cold winter.
‘I’m sorry,’ she replied quietly, ‘but it made little sense for Matilda to marry so soon when I have three seasons behind me?—’
‘So, you thought you’d arrange things to suit yourself?’ Thomas interrupted scathingly. ‘Tell me, how did you muster such confidence, when I have it on the best authority that you barely muttered a word to any gentleman throughout three whole seasons?’
Josephine reddened and clenched her fingers, as Harriet pursed her lips at her eldest charge.
