Page 27 of An Inconvenient Vow

The fellow looked up. “It is, milady,” he answered gruffly.

“Your wife has put in a word for you. You may stay on if you wish for a trial period in our service.”

Lancer shot a startled look at Penny before he gave a nod of acquiescence. “Right willingly, milady.”

Jeffree moved forward at this point from where he was stood wearing a sardonic frown. “So much for your having none of them,” he uttered scathingly. “You do realize you have now retained half of Hendry’s staff!”

“If the outside appearance of my house is anything to go by, then the inside will need a good deal of work,” Sabina observed. “There is no point in cutting off my nose to spite my face.” Jeffree snorted. She held her arms out imperiously. “Can you please lift me down from this outlandishly tall horse?”

Jeffree’s eyes flickered, and for one moment she thought he would churlishly refuse her. Then he strode forward and held up his hands. Sabina inched forward, took a deep breath, and plunged over the edge. He caught her firmly about the waist and swung her down to the floor, where he released her at once. There was no reason for her to feel so unaccountably flustered. Sabina straightened her wimple and smoothed her rumpled skirts.

“You must own the largest horse in Karadok,” she commented. Again, enough time lapsed for her to think he would snub her before his response came.

“Radax’s size is not unusual for a charger.”

“Oh.” She dropped her hands. “Well, shall we go inside?” she ventured.

He gave a brief nod, looking, she noticed, far from enthusiastic. Sabina squared her shoulders and strode into her old home. Mayhap it was all her imagination, but she felt sure the house was welcoming her back within its walls. True, her heart quailed moments later when she saw how unkempt and shabby everything was looking within, but she did not lose the sensation of coming home at last.

They proceeded from the entranceway straight into the Great Hall where the rushes strewn on the floor were covered in grime and grease and dried mud. Heaven only knew when clean rushes had last been put down. Seeing the way Jeffree’s nose wrinkled, she knew she was not the only one to notice their evil smell.

Not only that, but many of the features of the room she was familiar with seemed to be missing. Only the great soot-blackened fireplace remained, and a large scarred dining table scattered with crumbs and leftovers. Where were the large wooden dressers with their display of silver candlesticks and gleaming tankards?

Where were the oiled weapons which Miles had displayed proudly from every wall? The truth dawned on her slowly as Jeffree inspected the filthy wall-hangings with an expression of distaste. Alfred Hendry had sold everything that was not nailed down. Jeffree poked his finger through a hole in the tapestry and Sabina’s eyes widened as she noticed the strange patina of holes which riddled the wall-hangings.

Frowning, she turned about to face the tapestry behind her. At one time it had been a beautiful piece, depicting a sea battle on a storm-tossed ocean. Now, like the others, it was dirty and damaged. She examined the slashes and tears. They appeared to be deliberately inflicted rather than moth-eaten or other some natural phenomena.

“What on earth happened here?” she asked, turning back to the servants who had followed in their wake. Penny glanced down at her feet, shamefaced. “I can hardly say milady, as I was scarce allowed free roam of the house. Master Alfred did not permit me to leave the kitchen most days.”

She turned to look back over her shoulder. “Lancer,” she said, addressing her husband who was bringing up the rear. “My lady asks what happened to the tapestries.”

“’E shot ‘em,” Lancer growled in response. “For sport.”

“Shot them?” Sabina repeated incredulously,

“With a bow and arrow.”

“Alfred Hendry did?” Sabina asked, startled. She found it hard to imagine Alfred with a bow in his hand. He just was not the sporting kind.

“Nay, not Master Alfred, but Master Miles.” Sabina pressed her lips together. Miles had wrought this damage on his home. Miles? Clearly, Lancer took her pointed silence as a statement of disbelief, for he added reluctantly, “He were drunk of course, when he done it, milady. He were drunk as a lord most nights I knew ‘im.” The manservant shrugged.

Sabina sighed and turned about to survey the ruins of the Great Hall. Miles had always overindulged, but he had not been drunk every night in the twelve months they had been married. He must have really gone to wrack and ruin in the last year of his life.

Catching sight of movement beneath the table, Sabina halted in her progress and stared at the two shaggy dogs lying under the scuffed dining table which was still littered with what she could only suppose was the previous night’s meal. As they were lazily gnawing on bones, the dogs seemed in no hurry to make her acquaintance and ignored the newcomers.

“I do not recognize these hounds,” she commented. “Do they belong to Alfred Hendry? I am surprised he did not take them with him.”

“They wasn’t his to take,” Lancer responded quickly. “They’m mine, milady.”

“I see. What happened to my late husband’s dogs?”

“Master Alfred sold ‘em,” Lancer said bitterly. “Good dogs they was too. They’m sorely missed about the place.”

Sabina nodded. Miles had been vastly proud of his hounds. “Alfred had no right to sell them,” she said lifting her chin. “Those animals belonged to me. What of Miles’s horses?”

Lancer hesitated. “Sold also, milady,” he said with obvious regret.

“The chestnut that was my husband’s favorite? With the white star at her brow?”