Coming Home (12 page)

‘Got something to hide?' he came back, quick as a wink.

‘No, not really.' She shrugged. ‘After living in lodgings for so long, I value my privacy.'

‘As you wish.'

He fiddled in one of the drawers in his desk and produced a bunch of keys. With his stubby fingers he flicked through them. ‘I think this is the one.'

Would he have handed it over so easily if he wanted to search her
room again? Was there a duplicate key? Perhaps now he had searched her room he was no longer interested, but that bunch of keys had possibilities.

Her mind seething with ideas, she accepted the key and left.

No doubt he thought he had won. He had avoided telling her about her wages. But it didn't matter any more because while they'd been talking, she had had an idea.

At the next meeting with the board of governors she would make enquiries about her wages. That would be the sensible solution. After all, the board members would not be interested in playing the silly games that Sholto Colebrook and Mr Pettigrew were so fond of.

C
OLLY STRETCHED OUT on his bed, his arms propped behind his head, and rubbed the scar on his chest. For at least the fifth time today, he wondered about Juliana. Lord, he missed her.

How was she faring with her relatives?

He had finally inveigled out of the marchioness the reason for her dislike of the Colebrook family.

‘Good gracious, Colly! I don't know what to tell you. But my heart sinks when I think of that lovely young woman in the clutches of that awful man.'

Alarm had zigzagged through Colly. ‘Please, your ladyship, in what way is he awful?'

‘Nothing has ever been proven against him, Jeanne,' the marquess had intervened. ‘Don't put ideas into Colly's head.'

Colly's head had snapped back and forth between the marchioness and marquess like a marionette on strings. His dinner had gone untouched as he tried to fathom why the marchioness mistrusted Juliana's uncle.

‘He – well, he's such a slimy character,' the marchioness said at last.

Colly couldn't help grinning. Her ladyship's bluntness was startling. He caught John's eye across the table. Marguerite giggled.

‘There's more to it than that,' the marquess said, with a pained glance at his outspoken wife. ‘He's renowned for never paying his bills. He's been dunned by every tradesman in the district. On top of that, on our open days he arrives exuding bonhomie as if we were bosom friends.' The marquess's aristocratic nose twitched. ‘The strange thing is that he is garbed respectably, yet his wife looks as though her garments come from the rag-bag.'

A fleeting image of Juliana's father flitted through Colly's mind. ‘Perhaps he is like his brother,' he opined.

John raised his eyebrows.

Colly explained. ‘From what Miss Colebrook let slip, her father was
the same. Very conscious of his own comfort but no interest at all in the well-being of others.'

‘Toad!' the marchioness exclaimed. ‘We have to get Juliana out of there.'

‘My dear.' The marquess sounded perturbed. ‘It is none of our business. '

‘So you would leave Juliana there, would you?' the lady demanded.

The marquess flinched.

‘Let her be, Father. Last time she interfered in another family you ended up with a very nice daughter-in-law,' John said, laughing. Marguerite blushed and dimpled at John.

Colly felt a sharp jab of jealousy at their blatant happiness, then felt ashamed. Lord, he was a paltry fellow to be envious of his best friend.

‘There is something specious about your reasoning, John,' the marquess mused.

John just grinned and shrugged.

Colly gazed down at his dinner and wondered what he could do to help Juliana. He loathed the helpless feeling that assailed him. If only he had the right to … He shifted his fork from his right hand to his left and back again. Then he glanced up and saw that all eyes were on him.

There was a short silence.

‘Ma'am, why don't we go and visit Juliana soon?' Marguerite suggested in the hiatus. ‘I know we said we'd call in a week or two, but why not visit tomorrow? That way we can see if everything goes well with her.'

‘Excellent idea.'

‘And what do you propose to do if all is not well?' the marquess enquired politely.

‘Bring her back here of course,' his loving wife responded. ‘What else is there to do?'

‘I – I'm not sure that's a good idea, ma'am,' Colly said.

‘Why not, Colly?'

‘If she burns her bridges at her uncle's, she has nowhere else to go, unless she can trace her mother's relatives in Brazil. She might feel it is better to stay with the Colebrooks, even if she is unhappy.' Colly knew he sounded unsure. Damn it, he didn't want her being unhappy and he certainly didn't want her to go to South America. He would never see her again. Her relatives would marry her off to some dapper, aristocratic Portuguese fellow and she would never return to England.

‘Hmm. I think the most sensible idea is the one Marguerite suggested,' the marquess said. ‘You could visit her and see how she is
faring. After all, she may be living in the lap of luxury and have no desire to change her circumstances.'

The marchioness snorted.

‘No, Jeanne, I agree. I do not think it is likely. But we must be sure. Then … well, I do not know what we can do. Perhaps she could stay here until she finds work as a companion to an invalid, or something of that nature.'

‘That would be ideal,' Colly struck in eagerly.

‘Then we shall visit her tomorrow,' Lady Trewbridge decided.

S
HOLTO COLEBROOK BOLTED from his study and erupted into the foyer. Surely that wasn't…? It was.

‘I am very sorry to keep you waiting, your ladyship, madam.' He bobbed in the ladies' direction, feeling like an apple in a bobbing barrel.

‘Strange welcome,' the marchioness said brightly, ‘but a very enlightening one.'

Colebrook wondered what the old bat was talking about.

‘We have come to call upon your niece, Juliana.'

Sholto Colebrook felt his mouth droop in consternation. Damn. ‘What a shame! Juliana is from home at present. She has employment in Hungerford, your ladyship.'

Why on earth was the marchioness looking like that?

‘
Really
? The young woman has only been with you a few days and already she has been put to work?'

He flinched. He might need the old dragon's goodwill if one of his schemes went awry, but on no account did he want the Trewbridges nosing around his affairs.

‘No, no, my lady. You mistake the matter. When Juliana wrote to us she said she would seek work rather than be a charge on us. So before she arrived I found her—'

‘
You
found her work? What sort of work?' The words snapped through the air, and he could feel them descending like arrows on his skin. The lady had a nasty tongue.

‘At the infirmary, my lady.'

‘Infirmary?'

The younger woman explained. ‘At the workhouse, I imagine. Is that so?' she asked Sholto.

He did not get a chance to answer.

‘The
workhouse
?' The marchioness sounded as though the workhouse was one step from Tyburn Tree.

Sholto struggled to placate her. ‘It is good employment, your ladyship.
The workhouse and infirmary are government-owned with an approved board of governors,' he hastened to assure her. ‘It is guaranteed employment.'

‘You, I trust, are not a member of this board?'

‘Oh, good gracious no, my lady. That would not be ethical.' He tried to sound as virtuous as possible, but the marchioness pinned him with a look akin to a man of science regarding an unusual species of insect.

‘It is to be hoped the income is generous. Heaven knows the poor girl will earn every penny of it. No doubt she is exposed to every rampant disease and to some of the most scrofulous people on this earth.'

‘No, no. She deals only with the women and babes, your ladyship.' Sholto Colebrook was becoming anxious. Many doors would shut in his face if he displeased the Marchioness of Trewbridge. Not that he had ever heard she used her influence unfairly, but for some reason she had a bee in her bonnet about his niece.

He cursed the day he had replied to Juliana's letter. She was more trouble than she was worth, and at the moment she could be worth a great deal to him. ‘Ah … her day off is Sunday, my lady. Perhaps—'

‘Oh, she gets a day off, does she? In that case I shall send my carriage to collect Miss Colebrook next Sunday morning at ten o'clock. Is that clear?'

Colebrook gritted his teeth. The damned woman talked to him as if were a half-wit. Then, without a farewell, the marchioness trotted out the door, trailed by the younger woman who had a noticeable limp. Not much to look at either. That must be the new Lady Brechin. He watched a solicitous groom assist them into their carriage emblazoned with the Trewbridge coat of arms. Before he could collect himself the carriage took off and bowled briskly around the curve in the driveway. Blast it! He'd had the most valuable woman in the county here and he hadn't offered her any refreshment. If he had done that, they might have sat down and discussed many more useful things than his difficult niece. Well, he would make damned sure Juliana carried no tales to the Trewbridge household.

S
EATED ASTRIDE HIS horse on the hill above Trewbridge, Colly watched the smaller of the two Trewbridge carriages approach the gates. He glanced at the sky. Just past noon. Why was the marchioness returning so soon?

His heart clutched in his chest. Had they not found Juliana? What had happened?

He could not go back to the house yet to find out. He must check on the two tied cottages nearest the road. The marquess had decided that Colly's first task would be the assessment of all the buildings on the estate, since that work had been delayed while a new steward was appointed.

From habit he rubbed the scar on his thigh. No doubt he would learn in due course what had happened at the Colebrook house. He could tell himself it was no business of his, that all he felt was a certain responsibility, but God, he missed her so much – that imperfect little half-smile and those chocolate eyes. ‘Anyway, Hetherington,' he told himself. ‘She's not for you. Get on with your work.' With the familiar feeling of having put himself in his place, he rode down the slope towards the cottages. He scrambled through his inspection of the head shepherd's cottage, hoping to get back to the main house as soon as possible.

‘A bit distracted-like today, are you, sir?' Mrs Battersby enquired.

He saw the gleam in her eye. How much did the Battersbys know about what went on in the big house? Everything, probably. Battersbys had served Trewbridge for three generations.

He mumbled something indistinguishable.

Mrs Battersby smiled kindly, giving him the impression she was humouring the village idiot, and pressed him to try some of her homemade plum brandy.

‘Next time,' Colly extemporized, and fled. He was sure he heard her laughing as he unhitched his horse and headed for the tied cottage nearest Trewbridge itself.

He'd been told that the second tied cottage was unoccupied. To his surprise he found signs that someone was living there. Although kindling was laid in the grate, no fires had been lit, which, to an experienced campaigner from the Peninsula, meant someone did not want to be seen. Dust lay undisturbed in the two rooms upstairs, but there were large muddy footprints going back and forth across the main room. A blanket lay folded in one corner.

Colly went outside and quartered the ground. It looked as though a man wearing heavy boots had walked back and forth several times. The footprints always led in the same direction – behind the main house. He would check to see if this cottage could be seen from the big house. He doubted it. The contour of the ground rose between the two buildings and besides, the wall of the Lady's Garden both sheltered the cottage and hid it from view.

Pondering, he rode back to Trewbridge. He didn't know if it was the normal thing for Trewbridge to shelter vagrants. Perhaps the family was aware that travellers occasionally used their empty buildings. Perhaps. An anxious disquiet nagged at him.

Normally he rubbed his own horse down. He enjoyed the equine whickers and quiet busyness of the stables. But today he could not spare the time to linger so he left his horse to be tended by an under-groom and strode to the study where he knew he'd find John and the marquess.

He found the marchioness and Lady Brechin as well. A family conclave was taking place. He backed out, but John called, ‘Colly, come in. We need your help.'

‘Yes?'

‘Mama is thinking of kidnapping Miss Colebrook.'

Startled, Colly stuttered, ‘
K-kidnapping
her?'

Marguerite laughed. ‘More or less. She was not home when we called.' Then she sobered. ‘It is not good, Colly. Already they have set her to work. At the workhouse.'

‘The
workhouse
?' He did not understand.

‘The infirmary connected to the workhouse,' the marquess explained.

‘Ah.' For one awful moment he had envisaged Juliana imprisoned forever with all the broken, penniless wretches who had nobody to intercede on their behalf, nobody to aid them. ‘But how could she have started work so soon?'

‘Her loving uncle had already organized it for her,' the marchioness said drily. ‘Sholto Colebrook's reputation for eking the very last groat
out of a situation is legend. That is why I was concerned. He has surpassed himself this time. I doubt whether Juliana rested for even one day before plunging into work.'

Colly's lips tightened. ‘I warned her. I cautioned her to be careful of relatives she hadn't met for years. But she wouldn't listen because—'

‘Because she was alone in the world,' the marchioness broke in. ‘Don't judge her harshly, Colly.'

Colly swallowed hard. The rock in his throat threatened to choke him. The marchioness was quite right, and he hadn't meant a word he'd said. He was just so damned
worried
. His hands curled into fists. He needed to punch something – or someone.

‘Anyway,' Marguerite said, ‘we decided to send the carriage for her on Sunday which is her day off.'

Colly breathed deeply to force himself to relax. On Sunday they would get to the truth of the matter. If Juliana was in trouble, the Trewbridges would offer her a temporary home. Knowing Juliana, she'd be searching for work before the sun had set on her first day at Trewbridge. In his mind's eye he saw Juliana tenderly tucking a rug around a little old lady. She was a wonderful nurse. He should know. And how he remembered those hands – those soothing, firm, callused hands. He might not be able to marry her, but he'd damned well make sure her future was secure.

Then he caught himself up. There were other problems at hand. ‘Could I discuss the tied cottages with you?' He didn't want to alarm the ladies, so although he spoke to the marquess, he looked hard at John.

‘Of course. Let's spread the estate map over these tables,' John said. He smiled at Marguerite. ‘I shall see you at dinner, my love.'

Marguerite cast him a curious glance, but said nothing.

‘For heaven's sake! Tied cottages. We are discussing Juliana here. Much more important than tied cottages,' the marchioness objected. Her husband grinned and set his hands on her shoulders. Then he walked her to the door.

‘I shall see you soon,' he murmured, tickling her cheek with his finger. And then he shut the door.

‘What is it, Colly?' The marquess sounded intrigued.

Colly told them what he'd discovered and his lordship frowned. ‘That's very close to the house. Do you think someone is spying on us? For what purpose?'

‘The footprints lead from the cottage around to the door at the back of the kitchens. I checked.'

‘I see.' The marquess nodded to John. ‘John, would you and Colly
question the kitchen and gardening staff about any strangers seen around here? I cannot go snooping around or it'll raise all sorts of speculation.'

And after Colly and John had heard the full story of the stranger from the kitchen gardener, they knew their problem was not about a prospective thief or vagabond passing through.

On the previous day an under-gardener had been startled by the sudden appearance of a stranger in the herb garden directly outside the kitchen door. The stranger must have studied the household for some time, because it was the time of day when only a few staff were on duty. At first the man said he was looking for work. However he must have seen the scepticism on the young gardener's face, for who would question an under-gardener about a job? So he changed tack and asked after Miss Colebrook. At that point the head gardener had come along and escorted the man from the premises. As the head gardener had said, ‘Everyone knows that employment at Trewbridge is by word of mouth. He should have applied to Mr Hetherington. As for asking after Miss Colebrook …' Here, the head gardener had shaken his head, ‘Too smoky by half.'

Colly's stomach clenched. Trewbridge was not the target of the interloper. Juliana was. ‘I think I have been very remiss,' he said.

The marquess raised his eyebrows and signalled John to take a glass of claret to Colly, brooding in a corner of the study.

‘How so?' he asked.

‘Well, when we were in Portsmouth, Miss Colebrook mentioned something about a man who seemed to be following us. I'm afraid I dismissed it as female imagination. Er …'

Both the marquess and John Trewbridge nodded. They understood.

‘Now I'm not so sure. What if this vagrant and that stranger are one and the same person?'

John tossed back his own glass of claret and got to his feet. ‘We'll investigate further,' he said.

Colly and John walked around the cottage to see if they could find any more clues. It hadn't rained for several days and the visitor's footprints between the cottage and the kitchen gardens were easy to see. He had made no attempt to erase the muddy marks.

‘Not an army man,' Colly commented.

‘No, nor a Runner,' John added. ‘So that leaves—'

‘Someone up to no good,' Colly finished.

‘Well?' the marquess enquired as soon as they returned to the study.

John shook his head. ‘The person seems to have moved on, but … I don't know. He left his blanket at the cottage. He may intend to return.
Surely he must have expected the cottage to be inspected at regular intervals?'

‘Perhaps he isn't from the country,' suggested Colly. ‘He mightn't be aware that an empty cottage is not necessarily an abandoned one. But it's frightening that he mentioned Miss Colebrook. Juliana must be warned. Perhaps he asked other people about her. Could we question the villagers, my lord?'

Colly seethed with overwhelming frustration. He could not interview anyone without the family's authority, and his instincts told him there was no time to lose.

‘Rest easy, Colly. We'll make urgent enquiries both within the household and around the farms. John, would you ride into the village? The villagers don't know Colly yet, and they might not answer his questions. After that …'

The marquess and John walked away, heads together, planning their course of action.

Within hours they had their answer. Two days previously a friendly stranger had accosted one of the grooms as he took a shortcut across the fields. The traveller had asked if the young lady was still at Trewbridge. On hearing that she had gone he'd become agitated, so the groom explained that she'd only gone to visit her uncle. Relieved, the stranger had thanked him and walked away in the direction of Melksham.

‘Did I do something wrong?' Jack asked the head groom anxiously.

The head groom was wise enough to treat the incident casually. ‘Not at all, lad. Thank you for your help. However, next time a stranger asks about anything at Trewbridge, it would be best to direct them to me.'

One thing the gardener and groom agreed upon was that the stranger was not from Dorset or Wiltshire. His tanned face and sing-song tones hinted that he might once have been a Cornishman, yet his clothes, though threadbare, suggested London.

Colly kicked himself for not being more observant. When Juliana had fancied they were being followed, he should have taken more notice. But he hadn't. Fool that he was, he had failed her – he who prided himself on his powers of observation that had kept him alive during his years on the Peninsula. His famous powers of observation weren't doing Juliana much good. Even now she might be—He drew a deep breath and said, as if it were a mantra, ‘Sunday.'

‘The day after tomorrow,' John said helpfully.

Colly prayed that Juliana would be all right until then.