A Christmas Charade (29 page)

“I know I can depend on you. Thank you, Sam.”

Clive looked at Elizabeth. “We can still tie the horses to the sleigh. Then you and I can ride in it.”

Before Elizabeth could reply, Grace tugged at her sleeve.

“I hope you like Uncle Clive. My mama says sleigh rides are very romantic. She went on one with my papa, and he proposed. And if Uncle Clive proposed to you, and you don’t like him, wouldn’t you be in a pickle!”

To her annoyance, Elizabeth felt the blood rush to her face. She could not help but notice Stenton’s amused look; it was directed straight at her. Still, she hoped it was his niece’s precociousness that had brought the gleam to his eye.

“Thank you for the warning, Grace. But I think, if your uncle has anything to say to me it will be more in the nature of a scold.”

“Why?” asked Adam.

Grace’s eyes were wide. “I didn’t think grown-ups need scolding. Have you been bad?”

“I know!” said Adam. “Mr. Ponsonby and Miss Whitlock were talking about smugglers and spies this morning. And Miss Whitlock said how brave you were to go down to the beach to talk to Uncle Clive. But I bet he didn’t like it one bit that you bothered him.”

Grace cut in. “I didn’t hear about smugglers! You’re making it up!”

“I’m not! You didn’t hear ’cause you were late for breakfast, and Mama came and told Mr. Ponsonby and Miss Whitlock not to let their tongues run on like fiddlesticks. She said we’re excited enough without hearing about Uncle Clive’s mad adventures.”

“You’re making it up!”

“Am not!”

A large hand clasped each of the children’s collars.

“If I hear another word,” Clive said sternly, “you may neither ride on the logs nor in the sleigh. You will walk.”

“Come along.” Grinning from one ear to the other, Sam Nutley prodded the twins toward the ash logs strapped with rope to the horses’ harness. “And mind you hold on and keep your feet well out to the sides.”

The children had no trouble obeying the first part of Sam’s order. They simply wrapped their arms around the front ends of the logs, which were notched to securely hold the ropes and hung about ten inches above the ground. They found it a little more difficult to accommodate their feet and, when Sam nodded to the grooms to set out, let them drag in the snow as the horses slowly plodded forward.

“Margaret will have my head for this,” said Clive, looking after his squealing niece and nephew.

“She may not learn of it.” Elizabeth had quite recovered her poise. “I doubt the children will last a mile. Before long, they’ll be quite happy to climb back into the sleigh.”

Clive reached for her mare’s bridle. “You’re right on one count, wrong on two.”

“How am I wrong?” She followed him to the sleigh and watched him tie the reins to the rear seat. “Are you suggesting they’ll stay on those logs all the way back to Stenton? Nonsense! We must be halfway to West Dean.”

“Wrong direction, Elizabeth. We’re closer to East Dean than West. Although, if Chamberlain hadn’t struck up a friendship with Beamish, we might have been obliged to go even beyond West Dean for the firs.”

“That is neither here nor there.” Accepting his hand, she climbed into the sleigh. “The fact remains, we are a good three or four miles from Stenton Castle. Grace and Adam will be tired of their bumpy ride before they have gone one-fourth of the way.”

He settled beside her. “That I do not deny. But you were wrong when you supposed Margaret may not learn of their ride. She only has to look at their boots.”

“They’ll be scratched. I admit I did not take that into account.”

He lightly flicked the reins, and the mare standing patiently between the shafts set off at a sedate walk. The powdery snow kicked up by her hooves glistened and sparkled. The small bells dangling from the armrests of the box seat jingled softly.

“You were also wrong when you supposed the children would happily climb back into the sleigh. There won’t be a sleigh. We, my dear Elizabeth, are taking a different route.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “You cannot do that! No, I’m sure you’re jesting. You wouldn’t make them walk!”

But the sleigh made a gradual turn, moving away from the logs and the coast.

Clive met her troubled look. “Elizabeth, I expect and, indeed, most of the time, accept without a word accusations of harshness toward Grace and Adam from my cherished sister-in-law. But I warn you, I shall not accept unjustified reproaches from you.”

Suddenly she laughed. “Oh, but you do invite accusations and reproach! The way you said there wouldn’t be a sleigh for them quite made me overlook that your groom has only to set them on the horses.”

“Yes, I have noticed that you allow emotion to govern your sense.”

“Like last night? I wondered when you’d get around to that.”

“Don’t remind me lest I be tempted to administer the scold you mentioned to Grace.”

“I am quaking in my boots.”

He did not reply immediately but guided the horse off the uneven ground into a narrow lane curving to the left.

“I believe that quite often you are afraid, but you don’t allow fear to stop you from doing what you believe is right. I admire that, Elizabeth.”

“You do? No doubt, then, I quite misunderstood your feelings when I bumped into you on the cliff path and later, when you saw me in the midst of your smugglers.”

“You read my feelings correctly. But as you get to know me better, you’ll learn that I do not harp back on what is past, especially when everything turned out for the best.”

Her mind reeled with the phrase, “as you get to know me better,” but she rallied sufficiently to say, “Despite the outcome of the venture, most gentlemen would still have wished to wring my neck.”

A corner of his mouth curved down in a wry grin. “Believe me, when I recognized you, that was my most fervent desire. But, contrary to my fears, you did not get hurt. The spy was caught. And, I am now convinced, thanks to you, Duval is alive to identify the clerks at the Horse Guards and the Admiralty who leaked information.”

“Are you, perchance, praising me for disobeying you?”

“Not at all. I disapprove of your interference, but I was trained to accept assistance from the most unlikely quarters. Whereas an officer is schooled to follow a superior’s orders unquestioningly and to expect having
his
orders obeyed, an agent …”

He pulled on the reins, bringing the horse to a sudden stop atop a rise. Under the blanket of snow, the downs looked strangely flat and smooth, except to the far right, where the scattered cottages of West Dean clearly marked a dell.

“To the devil with government agents!” he said cheerfully. “I retired four years ago, and although I was pleased to accept this assignment, I find I have no desire for another. Spying and intrigue are for men younger than I. My interests now lie in a different direction, and that is why I brought you out here.”

“Pardon me if I seem excessively stupid today. But what do I have to do with your interests?”

“I don’t think I should answer that question while we still have an unresolved wager between us.”

She had not liked the gleam in his eye when Grace made her ingenuous observation about the possible results of a sleigh ride. She profoundly distrusted it now.

“Then I suggest you take me back to the castle. Your sister asked me to participate in the treasure hunt, and I wouldn’t like to disappoint her.”

He gave a crack of laughter. “If that isn’t Fanny all over! When she isn’t busy trying to foist some heiress or other on me, she’s trying to find a treasure—no doubt to present it to me as a Christmas gift.”

“I think it is very nice of her.” Elizabeth kept her eyes on the village of West Dean. “I take it,” she said diffidently, “that you could use a fortune?”

“Two or three fortunes. But pray don’t tell Fanny.” His voice held a hint of laughter. “She would only encourage me to commit bigamy.”

She turned to face him. “How can you treat the situation with such a deplorable lack of seriousness?”

“But I don’t. I merely refuse to accept Fanny’s notion of a cure for my impecunious state. My father’s first wife brought a large dowry into the marriage. It was used to redeem the mortgages on the Shropshire estate. And if she, indeed, owned jewels worth a king’s ransom, I doubt not they were sold before the first anniversary of their wedding day.”

“Miss Flora and Miss Amelia also believe that the first fourth duchess’s jewels are still in the castle.”

He shrugged. “Have your treasure hunt if you like. I shan’t spoil sport. But in the meantime, would you listen to my problem?”

“Of course.”

She’d do anything rather than speculate whether there was some special meaning behind his confidences. Why was he telling her about Lady Fanny’s attempts to provide him with an heiress? And that his father had married one?

“All this is my land.” His whip prescribed a full circle. “And at present, all of it is wasteland. I read what documents I could find in the muniment room and learned that in my grandfather’s day a salt mine provided employment for the men of East and West Dean, but it ran dry more than sixty years ago. Since then, the village families depended on positions at the castle itself.”

“But the castle was closed for forty years.”

“Exactly. And even if I could afford to keep it open all year round, there wouldn’t be work for everyone. The Seaford people are not too badly off. They have their fishing. East Dean had its share of fishermen, but several years ago a storm destroyed their boats. They do not have the means to buy a new fleet. And West Dean, situated inland, is even worse off.”

“Thus, they depend totally on smuggling.”

“Which makes them an easy prey to men like Duval.”

“Intolerable! Smugglers must be free spirits. Proud to defy our government. But incorruptible when approached by a foreign agent.”

He bit down a smile. The Home Office would not agree with at least a part of Miss Gore-Langton’s philosophy.

“So what do I do about Stenton, Elizabeth? Somehow, the estate must provide for the villages.”

A heavy frown scored her brow. “Have you tried sheep? They do well in East Sussex and Kent. I don’t see why they shouldn’t do as well here.”

“By George! That’s it. Not two months ago, I talked with an acquaintance who has property near Lewes. He swears the downs are excellent for sheep farming.”

“Good. That’ll provide for a few shepherds, and extra hands will be needed at shearing time. The women might do some spinning and weaving. But what about the rest of the men?”

“Devil a bit, Elizabeth!
I
don’t know. That’s why I asked you.”

“I know nothing about estate management.”

He picked up the reins again and turned the horse toward the castle. “But you grew up on the coast. I was hoping you’d know how I can help the people here. Stenton must be made to pay for itself and to provide for the villagers.”

“Let me think about it.”

But for quite a while, as the sleigh glided southward through the pristine whiteness, her mind refused to grapple with the problem. Instead, it dwelled on isolated incidents, such as his reference to the wager, his saying he admired her for doing what she believed was the right thing to do; and, once again, it lingered on the phrase, “as you get to know me better.”

Finally, when Stenton Castle came into view in the distance, she told herself to stop being foolish. Picking on a few words and imbuing them with a special meaning was worse than foolish. It was madness.

She became aware of his gaze on her.

“Rather impressive, isn’t it, this aspect of the castle?” he said. “The stronghold of the Rowlands. In all its history, it was never taken by marauders from across the Channel. I could not help but feel rather proud when I first set eyes on it.”

She gazed at the solid outer wall, the snow-crowned towers, the Great North Gate wide open to welcome a visitor to Stenton.

“Visitors,” she murmured. “Families pay fortunes for the lease of a house in Brighton and Worthing. I’ll wager a pony they’d pay even more for a wing of Stenton Castle.”

He stared at her.

“You’d need more staff, of course. Not only maids and footmen but a slate of gardeners to grow fruit and vegetables.” She faltered under that fixed stare. “A home farm. Pleasure boats. It would mean work for the men and women from the villages.”

“Great Scot!” He was visibly shaken. “Visitors?
Paying
visitors?”

“Forget it. ’Twas just a foolish notion I suddenly took into my head.”

“Not a bit! It’s a marvelous notion.”

He urged the horse into a brisk trot, then turned his head to look at her. And the laughter in his eyes, the sudden, mischievous quirk of his mouth made her heart turn over.

“Just wait till I tell Decimus.
Paying
visitors. He’ll have an apoplexy. But I’ll be dashed if I won’t do it.”

The hearths in the Great Hall were cleaned out, the ash logs ready and waiting to be lit. The Christmas tree was set up and decorated with white satin bows, with tiny carved toys and shining silver bells, and the candles were fastened to the tips of the widespread branches.

Dinner was put forward an hour so that the children might join in the meal. It was a lively affair. Grace and Adam were in high spirits, and the addition of Gabrielle de Tournier and Sylvester Throckmorton to the party proved a surprising success.

With Duval’s departure, Gabrielle’s mood had softened, and although at first she had been reluctant to accept Clive’s hospitality, she had raised no further objections when Throckmorton wistfully pointed out that he could recover from his exertions on the beach so much more comfortably at the castle than in the Crown and Anchor. She was obviously fond of the elderly gentleman, the way Fanny and Juliette were fond of Decimus, and Lord Nicholas Mackay had soon discarded the notion that Gabrielle was Throckmorton’s mistress.

She was about Juliette’s age, her hair the color of ravens’ wings, and her dark brown eyes sparkled with laughter when she joked with Grace and Adam or teased Sylvester about the loss of his best beaver hat the previous night, a loss the stout gentleman did not take lightly. She was vivacious without putting herself forward. Even Lady Harry, who regarded every unattached young lady around Clive with cold displeasure, thawed under Gabrielle’s charm.