Home Is the Sailor (14 page)

“Not at all,” Will said, still happily mellow with the afterglow. “I think this is the finest place on the entire estate.”

“It’s always been a favorite of mine,” Davy agreed. “Though I admit, never for the same reason. But…”

“What of that building? A gazebo, perhaps?”

“What gazebo? There’s nothing built out here.”

“There, beyond the shrubbery.” A dense hedge of tall evergreens—holly, Will thought—had screened it from view as they’d approach the oak, but from above he could see a roof of some kind, indistinct amid the lower branches of smaller trees. “If you were thinking of a shot from cover, what could better serve the purpose?”

“That’s new to me. Let’s go down and have a look.”

Once on the ground, Will had to deal with the enthusiastic welcome of the spaniel, who acted as though he’d been abandoned for weeks. When the dog finally settled down, Davy led the way around the holly bushes and trotted up to the top of the stairs. The structure was set high, no doubt with the same purpose as the crow’s nest up in the tree, and the cast iron framework blended with the grey-brown trunks and branches around it. “This would be a good place for a picnic in summer. Shady and cool, with a view of the water. I wonder if it was Mark’s idea.”

Will ascended to the platform with the dog still tagging at his heels. His assessment was military, not pastoral—if one wanted to set a sniper in ambush, the placement could hardly be better, save for the distance. It was high enough, just barely. “It’s a clear shot, but not an easy one. How good a marksman is your brother?”

Davy moved closer, sighting along the line of fire. “Good enough. Dangerously good. And he could wait comfortably, out of sight.” He motioned toward low benches set along the railing on three sides. “Easy to brace the rifle and take aim— Will, look here!”

At his feet was a small dark patch, black against the floorboards. “I think this might be—” He touched it experimentally, and his finger came away with a smudge that he sniffed. “Gunpowder.” Brushing his fingers together, he said, “Very fine-grained gunpowder.”

Will frowned at it. “So it appears someone loaded a gun here. But your brother was shot—what, a month ago? Would it lie undisturbed that long?”

“Not so long as that, Will. Less than three weeks. And this site is sheltered by the roof as well as this bench, and this powder was ground into the floor. I’d say someone spilled a bit, then stepped in it when he rose.” He tried to shoo Spark off the gazebo, but he and Will both had to leave it in order to get the animal to follow them.

Will began to have second thoughts about the assumption they were making. “This could mean someone lay in wait for your brother, but it’s by no means certain. What if someone else—”

“Who? And whatever for? Will, there’s nothing to hunt right now but rabbit and wood-pigeons. At this time of year there’s not much in the garden for rabbits to destroy, though I suppose some of the men might hunt for the pot. Even so, this is hardly the place anyone would ambush a rabbit.”

“Could you discover for certain whether anyone did go out?”

“I can ask Amelia, and the gamekeeper ought to know, but only consider—Mark died in a hunting accident at the very end of the hunting season. I think it will be spring before anyone can pick up a gun without thinking of that. I know this powder is not proof of anything, but you must admit it’s damned peculiar.”

“It is that. But as you say, the only thing it proves is that someone had powder here. It wouldn’t even necessarily mean there was a gun. Someone might have shaken a little loose powder out of his pocket when he sat down.”

“Out here? In the dead of winter? Why?”

“Why not?” Will caught himself, trying not to show his impatience at the circular argument. “Davy, only think a moment. If it’s been here since that day, why could it not have been your brother Mark, resting his feet? We know
he
was out here.”

“We also know that Mark never stopped to rest when he was hunting. He was always active, always on the move.” Davy’s hand flashed in an impatient gesture. “I’m sorry, Will, of course you don’t know that. But when he was out in the field, Mark’s motto was ‘If you need to sit down, you ought to go home.’”

“Oh, was it?” The last thing they needed was a quarrel with one another over something so insignificant. “I didn’t mean—”

“No, no, my fault,” Davy said quickly. “And of course anything is possible. Knowing Mark, it’s unlikely, but I shan’t argue the point. If you can’t believe me, you can’t; that’s an end to it. We can only be sure that someone was here with gunpowder. If you insist, I shall even admit that there is no proof he had a weapon with him.”

“No, that would be foolish. It is fair to assume the presence of a gun, but the identity of its owner is all conjecture.”
 

“And no way to prove or disprove my suspicion, I know. No proof of anything.” He seemed about to continue along that line, then said abruptly, “We had better get back to the house and change out of these damp clothes.”

“I agree. We have learned all we can for the present. Am I fit for polite company?” Will asked, turning around so Davy could see if there were still leaves clinging to his back.

“No more than usual, though I detect a hint of satisfaction in your manner. Nothing that suggests improper activity, Will. And I?”

Will checked him over with loving care. Buttons done up properly, a few smudges on the back of the jacket...and a faint lessening of the tension that had been riding his shoulders since they’d arrived, though he was obviously disappointed that their expedition had not been more successful. “You’ll do.”

* * * * *

They managed to detach Spark when they were leaving their boots and heavy coats in the back entryway, near the kitchen. The dog’s sudden attachment to Will proved a frail reed in comparison to the allure of a ham bone the cook had saved for him. “Fickle beast,” David said.

“I take no offense. He’s a friendly creature, but I’ve never hunted with a gun dog, so I can’t give him any amusement. Is he allowed in the house? I’ve not seen any pets about.”

“Oh, you’ll see them, from time to time. Genie has a canary, and Mama has an old pug who spends most of its time sleeping by the fire. You walked right by him when we went to visit her—he’s three-quarters deaf and almost never stirs. There were more animals about when I was younger; Mark would have a dog or two at his heels all day, indoors or out. I’m sure the poor animal is grieving now—you saw him down at the pool.”

“So he’s drowning his sorrows with a juicy bone instead of a pint of ale?”

David shrugged. “Why not? Come, let’s go upstairs. We need to change into more presentable clothing.” Will was a little way behind him as he started up the stairway, but he had only gone a few steps when he realized that there was an argument underway in what he thought of as the “gentleman’s wing.”

Amelia’s voice was low but clear. “No, I will
not!
And if you think Father will allow you to simply walk in and begin rearranging our lives to suit your fancy, you had better think again!”

David stopped short, moving closer to the railing, and motioned to Will to get out of sight.

“You may as well accept this, Amelia.” Ronald’s voice. Of course, who else? “Once Father is gone—”

“Which, God willing, will not be for many years yet!”

“You will do as I bid you,” he continued, ignoring her words. “Dixon would be a better husband than you deserve, and I would find the alliance very useful. It’s not as though you’ve snared any prizes on your own—you may as well do your duty to the family.”

She produced an unladylike snort. “Duty? What do you know of
duty,
Ronald? You never saw this family as anything but a purse to support your amusements!”
 

“It’s a great deal more to me now, is it not? I’ll be head of the family, and you and your dear Jane had better –”

“And you can leave Jane out of this, too. She didn’t escape one monster just to tie herself to another—”

The sound of a slap and a cry from his sister broke David from his stillness. He gained the top of the stair in two leaps and erupted into the hall in time to see Amelia return the slap with considerable interest—that cry had been more of anger than pain.

He caught Ronald’s arm and swung him around, dodging the blow his brother flung at him. “What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.

“Putting on airs,” Amelia said breathlessly, her fists clenched. “He seems to think Father is already in his grave, and he’s been promoted not only to Earl, but Archbishop of Canterbury!”

David moved between them. “You’ve spent too long in foreign parts,” he said. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten that an Englishwoman’s consent is required for a legal marriage.”

“She’ll do as she’s told!”

“By you?” she flared. “I very much doubt it!”

“By God, you need a keeper, not a husband!”

David turned slightly, extending a hand toward each of them, and was pleased to see Ronald take a step back.

But that did not put an end to the argument. “I’ve Father’s promise that I need not marry unless I choose to, and that if I do, I shall marry
whom
I choose,” Amelia said, her voice low and razor-sharp. “And I can tell you, Ronald, I’d marry that butcher Bonaparte before I’d lower myself to any creature vile enough to win your approval.”

“Perhaps you’d best talk to our father about that,” Ronald said. “He was closeted with Beauchamp half the afternoon—no doubt he has your future assigned to my loving care.”

“Really?” David caught his sister’s eye; she gave him a grim smile and a slight shake of the head. He had done it, then. “How much would you care to risk on that, brother?”

Ronald’s eyes narrowed. “The old man’s nearly seventy. It’s only a matter of time. I cannot be cut out of the succession.”

“Grandfather was eighty-five when he died,” Amelia reminded him. “And if he hadn’t tried to take that last fence, he might be with us still.”

David decided to send his brother off on a false trail. “I don’t think Father has been pleased with your career, Ronald. My money’s on Mr. Beauchamp as trustee. At any rate, why this sudden solicitude toward Amelia? She seems to have no fear of the spinster state. Do you crave more nieces and nephews?” He felt a movement behind him, and Ronald’s scowl told him that Will was at his back.

“I know she’s got no chance of finding a husband without help,” Ronald said. “Dixon’s a good man and he’s willing to saddle himself—”

“He’s a lecherous swine, and you know it,” Amelia said, and added to the others, “Ronald once brought him to visit at the town house. Captain Dixon not only proved to be a dolt, his manners were foul. He mistook Cousin Jane for a governess and tried to take liberties—particularly stupid with Father in the next room, which meant that before Dixon knew what struck him, he was standing out on the street, where he waited for half an hour while his valet packed his belongings.”

David could easily imagine his father’s comments, too. “Not an auspicious introduction,” he said.

“Precisely what he deserved. That creature is not welcome in this house.”

Drawing himself up, Ronald declared, “Another thing that is going to change when I’m master here.”

“He does not sound like the sort of man I’d choose to call brother,” David said. “What is it, Ronald? Do you owe this Dixon money and mean to pay him off with your sister’s dowry?”

Ronald’s head snapped around. “
Damn
you!”

Got it in one,
David congratulated himself. “Too near the mark?”

Amelia laughed, not happily. “I had not thought of myself as a bargaining chip, Davy, but I think you hit the gold.”

“Suit yourself, sister.” Ronald snarled. “You should be happy leading apes in Hell.” He pushed past them and flung off down the staircase. A moment later, they heard a door slam.

“Off to the stables, to take out his ill-temper on his horse.” David realized his sister was shaking and put an arm around her, but a glance at her face made him aware that she was not frightened, but furious.

“It seems His Lordship Presumptive has all our lives planned out for us.” Amelia said. “So kind of him! I am to marry his bosom-bow, and he himself means to marry Jane.”

“Whatever for?” Will asked, clearly at sea. “She cannot be in favor—”

“She most certainly is not. I suspect he’s got his eye on the money she would bring to the marriage. And no doubt he wishes to prove that he can do as he likes—but he cannot, not in this case. Jane despises him.”

“Where are all the other ladies now?” David asked.

“Anne is with Mother, and I believe Jane is helping Genie with her piano practice. Why do you ask?”

“Only in the hope that none of them overheard all this.” He moved farther into the east corridor, away from the wing that held their parent’s chambers. “Are you certain Father has named me guardian for you girls?”

“Yes. He spoke to me just before Mr. Beauchamp arrived, and asked me once more if I was very sure I could rely on your judgment. I said just what I had before, and he replied that I had better be completely certain, because by the end of the day I would have my wish. And he said—Davy, he means to leave
all
unentailed property to the rest of us, divided, he said, according to need.”