His face, wrinkled and weathered, did not reveal much, but his eyes, sparkling slits showing a sharp mind, gave them continued scrutiny and showed some impatience.
“I am wondering if, when you worked there, anything ever happened to give you cause to think that the last baron’s son did not die,” Davina asked, getting to the heart of it right away.
Rutherford turned to pet the horse’s nose. “I never thought about it one way or another. But something happened that said someone else thought that.” He turned back and peered at Davina. “Man came one summer. I heard he was in the area, doing odd jobs and such. Nothing to think about. Only one day he came to the house. I was at the stables, and this man just walks past, as if he knew what he was about. Wasn’t a gentleman from the looks of him, but—there was something to him that said leave him alone. Had this determined look in his eyes and walked like he spoiled for a fight.”
“Where did he go?”
“Into the garden, through the back portal. I didn’t think much of it after that, except later, he comes back the same way, carrying a big box. He was a thief, and a bold one at that. He was much bigger than me, but I said he had to put it down. If he did, I wouldn’t say nothing, and he could leave peacefully.”
“He didn’t put it down, did he?” Eric said.
Rutherford shook his head. “He turned to me and saidI’ve more right to it than anyone in there. A birthright.He just kept walking. I went to the house and told the steward, but nothing was done that I know of. No search for him. No magistrates came. And that was that, for the most part.”
“When was this?” Eric asked.
“Oh, long ago. Well before the war with Napoleon. I had, let me see, maybe thirty-five years. I wasn’t even head groom yet.”
“I don’t suppose you know what was in the box?” Davina asked.
“Nothing too heavy, from the way he carried it. He didn’t labor under it much, so it wasn’t the family gold and silver. It wasn’t too big. Not a trunk. Just a good-size wooden box.”
Davina looked disappointed. “Thank you, Mr. Rutherford. For your time and your help.” She came back to Eric. “I think I will return to the inn now and warm myself.”
He let her go, then went over to admire the stallion. “You are one of them, aren’t you?”
“One of what?”
“It is said there are some Scots who have a special way with horses. Whisperers. I thought that was folklore.”
“I’ve a knack with them. Always have.”
“If you ever want to return to Teyhill, you are welcome. There should be more horses there soon.”
“I’ve settled here now. It suits me. Lots of different horses every day. It’s more interesting. Also, I’ve a woman friend who would mourn my leaving.”
“It is also said the whisperers have a way with women.”
Rutherford grinned. “Is it, now?” He took the horse’s reins. “I doubt the blood who came in on this horse would sell him, but if he would, you should take him. That young pup doesn’t know how to handle him. Uses the crop too much.” He began to walk the horse to the stable entrance.
“You said that after you told the steward of the theft, that was it for the most part. What was the lesser part?”
He paused his walk and thought a bit before replying. “No telling it was connected at all, of course. It was years later. Twenty or so. But your father came to visit the property—he was duke then—and he had me called in and asked about that theft. The man, the box. A little late to start caring about it, seemed to me, but I told him all of it that I remembered. Then, after he goes, maybe two weeks later, the steward tells me I am being sent out to pasture. A nice pension, though. Good money, secured by a trust. Well, I was not even past my prime and even by normal ways it was too early. It had been decided, however, and here I am.”
“Do you think it was connected? That you were sent away because of what you knew?”
“Wouldn’t make much sense, would it? Those who owned the house were the victims, not the thieves. No reason to send me away.” He turned and took the horse into the stable.
* * *
“It was my grandfather,” Davina said as they rode back to Teyhill. She had the reins now and, at his command, they traveled more slowly. “So was the man the minister saw, the one who looked like me. I thought it was my father, of course, but my father would never have been here as early as Mr. Rutherford says this man was.”
Eric murmured agreement while she worked out what little they could surmise from Mr. Rutherford’s memories. Most of his own thoughts were on that pension.
“And my grandfather would leave home at times. Once for a good, long while. It was assumed he would not be back. This is where he came. It seems on one of those visits, he entered the house and found what he needed.”
Eric did some mental calculations. The theft took place as best he could guess in the eighties.
“Brentworth, I think he took the Bible. That was what was in the box. Some families keep their Bibles in one.”
