The Revenge of Lord Eberlin (38 page)

“I’ve always wondered about Ashwood,” Mrs. Braintree said. “My father described a very grand estate.”

“It is,” Lily said, nodding. “We’ve been trying to reconstruct some of the business in the years your father was associated with it. In reviewing the books, we noted that the late earl paid Mr. Minglecroft various sums over a period of a few years. Unfortunately, the amounts were not labeled, and we wondered what they might have been for?”

Mrs. Braintree shrugged. “I cannot say,” she said. “Pappa traded silver and cotton.”

Lily sighed softly. “Yes. Mr. Gross told us as much.”

“Perhaps we might look at it another way,” Tobin said. “Did your father deal in anything other than cotton and silver?”

“Not that I would know.”

Lily glanced up at Tobin, her eyes full of disappointment.

“But he did perform particular tasks from time to time,” Mrs. Braintree added.

Lily’s eyes widened. “What tasks?”

“He’d go and pick up this or that, or deliver important things to important people. That sort of thing.”

“And he did that for Lord Ashwood?”

“Oh, that I do not know,” she said.

“Maybe it’s in the box, Mamma,” one of the boys said.

Mrs. Braintree looked at her son.

“The one that come from Southwark,” the boy reminded her.

“Oh, yes. Mr. Gross did send some things after Grandpappa passed. Go and fetch the box, William.”

Both boys raced out of the room. Mrs. Braintree smiled thinly. The three of them remained standing awkwardly, waiting. It seemed to Tobin that the children were gone the entire afternoon before they returned with a box that was neatly labeled Mingle-croft.

“Now, what did Mr. Gross think we would do with all of this!” Mrs. Braintree said. “Put it down, William,” she said to her son.

The boy set it on the floor in the middle of the room.

“May I?” Tobin asked.

“Suit yourself, my lord. You won’t find nothing but a lot of papers and whatnot.”

Tobin lifted the lid off the ledger. He and Lily peered down at the contents. It was only ledgers and papers, and bills of sales for things such as linens and silver. Tobin studied the pages, while Lily dug a little deeper.

While he was reading one of the bills of sale, Lily said, “Tobin.”

He looked up; she was holding a small portrait of a
golden-haired woman. Tobin shook his head—he had no idea who she was.

But then Lily pointed to the woman’s throat, and Tobin’s heart stumbled. The woman was wearing a large ruby necklace. So large that one could assume the jewel had once belonged to a king who had given it as a gift to a woman he’d admired.

“That’s Mrs. Tolly,” Mrs. Braintree said.

“Who is she?” Lily asked.

Mrs. Braintree colored and looked down at her sons. “One might say a friend . . . if you take my meaning.”

Lily blinked, but Tobin understood Mrs. Braintree’s meaning quite well.

“Does she still live?” Tobin asked.

“No. When she died, Pappa had to collect her things.”

“Oh, no,” Lily murmured and looked at the portrait, turning it over, then back to the painting once more.

“I believe her son still lives, however,” Mrs. Braintree added.

“That is welcome news,” Tobin said. “And the boy’s father?”

Mrs. Braintree drew herself up. “Don’t believe the boy had a father.” She glanced at her children, who were occupied with a top, or something that passed for one, that they’d found in the box.

“Do you suppose that if the boy had had a father, he might have been an earl?” Tobin asked carefully.

Mrs. Braintree’s color deepened. “Might have been. You may assume what you like, my lord. I mean to say only that Mrs. Tolly had a son.”

Lily gaped at Mrs. Braintree, then at Tobin. “He had a son,” she repeated softly. “A son.”

Which meant, Tobin assumed, that there was another, more legitimate claim to Ashwood. “Where is this son now?” Tobin asked.

“I’ve not the slightest idea, my lord,” Mrs. Braintree said. “If the answer is not in that box, I cannot help you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Braintree,” Lily said. She returned the portrait to the box.

“You may keep it if you like. I’ve no use for it.”

“Are you certain?” Lily asked, retrieving it.

“Of course. You may have the whole box if you like. It’s nothing but kindling to me.”

“You’ve been very helpful,” Tobin said, picking up the box. “We won’t take any more of your time.”

In the coach with the box, Lily held the portrait in her hands. “We must find her, you know.”

“We haven’t even a name, love,” Tobin said. “There is nothing in this box but old ledgers. It will take us days to sort through it all.”

“We have a name,” Lily said with a smile. “She was Lisette Elizabeth Tolly.” She grinned at him and turned the portrait over. At the bottom, her name had been written. “That’s the necklace, Tobin. I remember it clearly. This is exactly what we need to find her!”

“Yes, well . . . I think we have a few other things that demand more immediate attention,” he said, taking her hand.

She grinned and leaned across the carriage to kiss him. “I agree. I’ll have Mr. Fish begin to look while we take care of other things.”

“Then put that aside and come here,” Tobin said, and pulled her across the carriage to him.

I
t took only a week before gossip began to filter into Hadley Green that something untoward had happened in London between Lady Ashwood and Count Eberlin. The assumption among members of The Society was that it must have been unspeakably scandalous, for the vicar had been called to Ashwood to perform a wedding, at which only the count’s sister and niece had been in attendance. It was said that the Duke of Darlington himself had secured their dispensation to marry without posting the banns.

“Lord Eberlin has
wed
?” Miss Babcock wailed to her mother when she heard the news.

“Lady Ashwood has married
him
?” Mrs. Ogle sniffed to Mrs. Morton. “She could have brought a
real
title here. Hasn’t she a certain responsibility to us all? That seems rather selfish to me.”

Lily and Tobin were blissfully unconcerned about
the gossip. They were quite happy to settle in to their new lives as husband and wife and the journey of rediscovering the children they had once been. They did, however, finally venture into the village a fortnight after their hasty marriage to sign the parish marriage register. When they entered the small common hall where Tobin’s father had been tried and where fifteen years later Tobin had been given one hundred of Ashwood’s acres, he felt the tightening of his chest. He tried desperately to push it down, and coughed. Lily did not say a word but wrapped her fingers tightly around his, as if to say,
“Hold on to me.”
It was comforting to Tobin in a way nothing else was, and while the spell did not disappear entirely, it was much less severe than it had been in the past.

Everything seemed better than before with Lily.

Mr. Fish was perhaps the most perplexed by their marriage. “I thought he was our foe,” he said, clearly confused.

“He was. But not really.” Lily laughed; it was impossible to explain. “And there is more,” she said. She showed him and Linford the portrait of Mrs. Tolly and pointed to the necklace.

“There’s the countess’s necklace,” Linford said, squinting at the painting. “Is that the countess, then? Don’t recall that she looked quite like that.”

Lily explained to Mr. Fish and Linford that there was likely another, more legitimate heir to Ashwood.

“Impossible,” Mr. Fish said.

“Quite possible, actually. We must find him, of course.”

Mr. Fish gaped at her. “Madam, I advise you leave well enough alone. Do you understand what it would mean if another heir were to be found?”

“I do.” She smiled serenely. “It means that I would no longer be the countess. I will be simply Mrs. Scott. Or Lady Eberlin.” She paused and frowned thoughtfully. “At least I think I will be Lady Eberlin. I am not entirely certain how one assumes a purchased title.” She laughed and shrugged. “Nevertheless, we shall keep Ashwood in the best of shape until we find the true heir. You will find him, won’t you, Mr. Fish? And the jewels! We must find the jewels as well, if he has a hope of turning Ashwood about.”

Mr. Fish sighed. He thought back to the two ladies he had served and wondered if a man would make his job easier in any way. It would certainly make it less interesting. “I will endeavor to do my best.”

In the meantime, Tobin decided to give up his trade in arms, believing it was not the best of occupations when one had a family. He began working out the terms for passing his trade to MacKenzie and Bolge.

Lily and Tobin made their home at Tiber Park. It seemed only right, seeing as how she likely had no claim to Ashwood. And since Tiber Park was so large, Lily found a way to bridge the chasm between her and Charity: she appealed to Charity’s far superior house
management skills. Charity was resistant at first, but after a few days of seeing maids running here and there without planned purpose, she sighed and looked at her sister-in-law. “Did they teach you nothing in Ireland?”

“They taught me to ride,” Lily cheerfully boasted.

Charity rolled her eyes and put out her hand for the household account books that Lily was perusing. “Let’s have a look,” she said.

It was a fragile peace, but one that would be strengthened over time.

Lily’s life seemed perfect to her. She was as happy as she’d ever been in her life. Only one thing seemed missing, and that was Lucy. She expressed that to Tobin in passing.

Late one Sunday afternoon, when Charity and Catherine had gone to London, Lily and Tobin lay naked in their bed, watching the fire in the hearth.

“Are you happy?” Tobin asked and kissed her shoulder.

Surprised, Lily paused. “Happy?” She thought of all she’d lost: her title. Her estate. Her good name and reputation. But she looked at all she’d gained: a husband whom she loved more with each passing day and who loved her. A sister, reluctant as Charity was to be one. A sense of belonging. Lily and Tobin would form their own society, filled with laughter and, hopefully, lots of children. An army of them if Lily had her way.

“Yes. I am happy,” Lily said and kissed his chest. “Happier than I thought was possible.”

He smiled at her and kissed her hand. “I have a surprise for you.”

She laughed. “You have given me more jewelry than I can possibly wear.”

“It’s not jewelry. And it requires you ride.”

“But . . . it’s almost dark,” Lily said, looking out the window.

“Are you afraid? I’ll keep you safe. Come, then.” He playfully pushed her toward the edge of the bed.

Lily reached for her dressing gown. “What sort of surprise must one ride to?”

“You will see.”

A half hour later, the pair rode down to the river road and turned up toward the idle Tiber Park mill. The winter sun was just beginning to slide down the horizon in shades of orange and pink. It was strange, Lily thought, how their destinies had been forever linked on a cold and rainy summer night fifteen years ago, and had come full circle to this, a crisp, cool winter evening with stars beginning to twinkle over their heads.

Tobin guided his horse to the mill road and Lily followed. As they neared the mill, she could see light in the windows.

“The mill is operating?” she asked. “But I thought . . .” She was distracted by the sight of an enormous red bow on the mill’s wheel. “What is that?” she exclaimed.

“My surprise for you.” He jumped down from his horse and came around to lift her down. “You were
so determined to have your mill at Ashwood that I thought I would give you one of your own here, as well.”

Lily looked at the mill. Candles were blazing in the windows. “Tobin . . . I don’t want a mill. I don’t
need
a mill.”

He smiled enigmatically. “You will want this one.” He took her hand and led her forward. As they neared the door, it opened and light spilled out.

Mr. Hollis stepped out. “There you are, my lord, all at the ready.”

“Thank you. You may go home to your family now.”

Mr. Hollis touched the brim of his hat and nodded at Lily before walking on.

“I cannot imagine what you are about,” Lily said, but Tobin only smiled. He held the door open for her.

Lily stepped inside and looked around. She had to remind herself to breathe. The mill had been turned into a playhouse. There were structures to climb and a pair of swings that hung in the middle of the space. There were tables built into the walls at a height for children. There were easels and balls and rocking horses.

“It is for our children,” Tobin said. “Granted, we haven’t any as yet, but I believe Sister Rosens might also find it a pleasurable destination for her orphans.”

Lily whirled around and gaped at him. “Tobin Scott!”