A Duke Too Far Page 16
Peter made an impatient gesture.
“The plague did take whole households,” Miss Deeping said.
He sighed. How many times had he told himself that his father might be right this time?
“Was there less money after her time?” asked Miss Ada.
“Many great families were ruined by the civil war,” said Peter.
“So there was?”
“I suppose so, but…” He gestured at the walls, the layers of muddled papers gathering dust. “This is a forlorn dream. My ancestors spent their fortune.” He was very conscious of their stares, but these young ladies didn’t understand the peril of hope. Each time one yearned and dared to believe—over and over again—the disappointment grew more crushing. It accumulated, like a further weight added to an inevitable burden. For his father, the process had apparently edged into a sort of madness.
Miss Ada walked along one wall, examining the bits and pieces. “When she was visiting me, Delia seemed so certain she’d discovered something new. She was terribly excited. She could think of nothing else.”
“Leaving her so distracted that she walked off a cliff path,” said Peter. His intemperate remark was met with gasps and silence.
The air in the room seemed even more stuffy suddenly. He felt as if the cluttered walls were closing in on him.
“She wasn’t mad,” Miss Ada said. “Delia had all her wits about her.”
“Far more than most people,” said Miss Finch.
“She had prodigious powers of concentration,” said Miss Moran. “I envied them.”
“This here took a mort of hard work,” added Tom, waving an arm at the exhibits.
Peter threw up his hands. If they wanted to believe in a lost treasure, he couldn’t stop them. But none of them would be actually pinning their future to a chimera. When they grew bored, they would go away, leaving him right where he was on his wreck of an estate. Only more lonely, he thought, with Miss Ada’s bright presence removed.
Miss Deeping sat down in one of the chairs and tugged at a desk drawer. “Locked,” she said. “Let’s see if one of the other keys fits this.”
Her peremptory tone almost made Peter wish for failure. But she turned out to be correct. One of the smaller keys opened the drawer. Inside they found a stack of notebooks, a stoppered bottle of ink and some quills, and a palm-sized wooden box.
“Records of their researches,” said Miss Deeping, leafing through one of the former. With a pointed glance, she handed the box to Peter. He tried the smallest key on the ring, which opened it. Within, on a bed of white silk, lay a ruby as broad as his thumb and half as long.
The gem sparkled in the candlelight. The young ladies bent over it with oohs and ahhs. “That’s pretty,” said Tom.
If the jewel was real, it was probably worth a good deal of money, Peter thought. Even so, the sum would be a drop in the bucket compared with what was needed to restore his patrimony. And he suspected it was the last dregs of the Rathbone fortune.
“Light the lamp and the other candles,” said Miss Deeping. She suited her action to her words. The rest of them set their candles beside hers. They made a pool of light on the desk. “We will make a thorough examination of this room and the notebooks. We could use a fire, assuming that chimney draws.”
“There are ashes in the grate,” said Miss Finch.
“I’ll fetch some wood,” said Tom, leaving the room.
The others bustled about to do Miss Deeping’s bidding.
Peter relocked the little box and put it in his coat pocket. He felt as if he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs in this closed room. Abandoning his guests to their explorations, he strode out.
Ada watched him go. Worried by the expression on his face, she followed him down the short hall and past the stair to Delia’s retreat. She caught up to him by the door to the modern wing, snuffing his candle and setting the holder on the table there. She could see that he was unhappy, though she didn’t understand why. Their discovery was thrilling. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t bear to watch,” he answered.
“Watch Charlotte and the others look over those papers? Because they’re intruding into your affairs?” Charlotte was quite unlikely to stop unless she was thrown out of Alberdene, Ada thought.
He shook his head, half turning away. “Do you know how many times I heard my father claim that this or that stratagem would restore our fortune?”
He waited for an answer, still not looking at her. “No,” said Ada quietly.
“I don’t either.” The duke turned back to her, his hazel eyes stormy. “I lost count. But I know it was many. From the time I was very small. And each one was a disaster. This person disappointed, that plan didn’t pan out. The vein of coal or lead turned out to be nothing. The canal investment was a cheat. More money was lost than he put in.” He let out a long breath. “So in the end he settled on a hidden treasure, it seems. Which does have the advantage of not relying on other people to make the business a success.”
Ada didn’t know what to say. She wanted to comfort him.
“One cannot keep believing!” he continued. “The strain is too great. The discouragement grows each time until it becomes too much. You have to give up. Unless you go mad.” He gestured toward the room they’d left.
“Delia wasn’t mad,” Ada said again. She was very sure of this. They’d had many intimate talks near the end of her friend’s life, and she’d seen no sign of derangement.
Compton sighed again. “No, she was young. She hadn’t experienced so many defeats. Papa kept most of them from her, you see, because her good opinion was so important to him.”
“As was yours,” Ada said. How could it have been otherwise?
The duke shrugged.
She so wanted to help him. “Delia wasn’t defeated. I know it. If we can just find out what that paper she left says.”
“Don’t!” He turned his back, reaching for the door latch.
Tom came through the entry with an armload of firewood. They stepped back to let him pass. The lad carried it onward with a grin.
Ada tugged at the duke’s sleeve. He allowed her to pull him into an empty, dusty chamber opposite Delia’s tower stair.
“I beg your pardon,” he said. “I didn’t mean to shout at you. I shouldn’t speak this way. I never have to anyone. I loved my father.”
Ada moved her hand to his shoulder.
For a moment, they stood perfectly still. Then she moved around to face him. His dark eyes were bright with unshed tears.
“He tried so very hard,” Compton said. “And yet he could never make any of his ideas succeed. I see now that it broke him. I hadn’t realized.”
Ada didn’t know how to answer that. She’d never met the elder Rathbone. “Delia missed him terribly,” she replied, and immediately wished the words unsaid.
“I know. They were…comrades. At least he didn’t have to endure her death. It would have destroyed him.”
He labored under such a burden of melancholy. Ada moved her hand to his cheek.
Compton gazed down into her eyes. “What do you do, to make me talk this way? Why do I simply trust you?”
Ada thought she knew, because she felt the same herself, but she couldn’t quite say it just yet. Nonetheless, her spirits soared at the tenderness in his gaze. “With this new discovery—”
“There has been no discovery,” he interrupted, his voice gone hard. He stepped away, and Ada let her hand drop. “I’m sorry, Miss Ada. I don’t mean to be sharp with you, but that is the truth of the matter.”
He couldn’t see it now. She’d have to show him. But at last she had a way to change everything, to make the future she wished for. She’d recover his fortune, with the help of her friends. And then she and the duke—Peter—would say all the other things that hovered in the air between them.
She started to answer, but he went on before she could.
“How could I ask any woman to come here? To be mistress of a ruin?”
“Restoring it to its former glory could be wonderful. A task for the ages.”
He grimaced. “Oh yes, I’ve had that dream. Castles, so to speak, in the air. When I was a boy.”
Ada could see him as an ardent youth. She wanted to reach out to him again, but he stood stiff and distant.
“And then I woke to the reality.”
“I do see how hard that has been. I… We want to help.”
His face twisted. “No, don’t say any more. Please. I can’t bear to think of your hopes slowly subsiding into defeat. You mustn’t endure that.”
“But if we find the lost treasure, everything will be changed.”
“Don’t you understand? I have no luck.” His face set in harsh lines. “Or nothing but bad luck, I should say. I have a surfeit of that.”
“Even if that was true, perhaps your luck turned when you met me. I’ll be your good luck.” She smiled up at him.
“You would be any man’s great good fortune.” But his eyes were bleak. He turned and left the room. Ada heard the door to the modern wing open and close. She stood in the dilapidated chamber alone. Squaring her shoulders, she headed back to her friends and the most important task of her life so far.
Nine
“And there was a whacking great jewel in the little box,” Tom told the earl later that day, finishing his report of the morning’s activities.
“Fascinating.” Arthur had pushed aside the letters he’d been writing to hear the tale. “I’m sorry I missed that unveiling.”
Tom nodded. “Those young ladies are right smart. I didn’t know their sort would pitch in like that. But they work together like they done it before.”
“Along with Compton.”
Tom shook his head. “He didn’t seem best pleased. Said the papers and all were a load of…nonsense. Thought his dad had gone mad.”
Arthur frowned. “I must go and see this mysterious room,” he said, standing.
“Shouldn’t be anyone there now. Miss Grandison just sent for the young ladies. For their daily lessons. Miss Deeping had some choice words to say about that.” Tom’s eyes twinkled at the memory.
“Why not tell Miss Grandison about their new project?” Arthur asked.
“They didn’t seem to want her to find out.”
“Thinking she wouldn’t approve?”
“Seemed so,” answered Tom.
The earl thought about that, then shrugged. “Let us go and look. Unless…perhaps the room is locked up again.”
“His Grace went off with the key. Didn’t see him come back.” Tom turned to lead the way.
As they descended the stair, they heard feminine voices in the hall behind them. Arthur walked faster, not wanting his visit to the secret room interrupted.
Sarah, Charlotte, and Harriet didn’t see them. They walked on along the corridor. “I don’t see why we are obliged to obey Ada’s aunt,” Charlotte was saying as they reached the steps.
“She is our chaperone,” replied Harriet.
“And arbiter in matters of propriety. That doesn’t mean we must let ourselves be enslaved.”
“Oh, Charlotte.”
“I want to talk to you about Ada,” said Sarah in a low voice. She checked the stairwell to make certain they were alone. “You know how different she’s been since she…found Delia.”
“Yes, yes,” said Charlotte. “Which of us wouldn’t be?”
“But it has been such a long time now. And you know her mother is worried about how Ada broods.”
“It was strange to have Mrs. Grandison ask for our help,” said Harriet.
They exchanged uneasy glances. In their lives up to now, parents had been figures who gave, not required, aid.
“I suppose that’s part of growing up,” said Harriet with a wry expression.
“About Ada,” said Sarah, bringing them back to her point. “She’s too excited about this idea of a treasure. Which may or may not exist, you know. We have only piles of paper so far. But when I said that in our bedchamber just now she practically bit my nose off.”
“She’s excited about solving such an important puzzle,” said Charlotte. “So am I.”
“Is she?” asked Sarah.
“What do you mean?” said Harriet.
“I don’t think it’s the solving. I think she’s more interested in what it would mean for the duke. She seemed almost feverish about that.”
The three of them looked at each other.
“Because she likes him,” said Harriet slowly.
“Or more than likes,” said Sarah.
“And if he had money,” Charlotte added.
“His situation would be altered,” finished Sarah.
“Radically,” said Harriet.
“But…” Charlotte began, and stopped.
“How likely is it that we will find a fortune?” asked Harriet. “Really.”
“We might,” replied Charlotte.
They looked at each other. “We’ve never taken on a puzzle this large or this…portentous before,” said Harriet.
Even Charlotte looked daunted.
Sarah held up a hand. “We must look out for Ada,” she said, with the air of one reverting to the crux of the matter. “Our friend.”
“Of course,” said Charlotte.
“But what does that mean?” asked Harriet. “Might it be best to leave here?”
“Without even trying to discover the truth?” objected Charlotte.
“But if we don’t? Or if the truth is not what we would wish it to be? This isn’t a game. We are talking of Ada’s future happiness.”
“You’ve changed since you became an heiress, Harriet,” said Charlotte.
“I have not!”
There was the sound of high-pitched barking from the corridor behind them. “Ada’s coming,” said Sarah. She lowered her voice further. “We must watch over her. Help her.”
“But what exactly does that entail?” murmured Harriet.
“Find the treasure and let her like Compton as much as she wants,” said Charlotte.
“Delia was smarter than we are, and she didn’t find it,” replied Harriet.
“She was not smarter!” said Charlotte.
Sarah and Harriet exchanged a long look.
“And does Compton like Ada?” said Sarah.
“Are you there?” called Ada from upstairs.
This brought their whispered conversation to a halt.
Ada descended with her dog on a lead. “Ella did not want to wear her leash. She ran me round and round the room. What does Aunt have us doing today, do you know?”
The other three indicated ignorance.
“We can only know it will be unbearably tedious,” replied Charlotte as they walked down the steps together.
* * *
Peter strode down the hill away from the oldest part of Alberdene, the Norman tower receding above him. The wind tore leaves from the trees and whirled them about his head, scraps of orange and yellow, a mockery of gaiety. He settled his hat more firmly on his head. In a few days it would be October, and all too soon winter would descend on the Marches, with its short days and damp cold. As chilling as the future he saw before him. He took a flask from his greatcoat pocket and drank one small, frugal swallow of brandy.
He almost never drank. But he also never kissed young ladies in the dim recesses of his home. And was kissed by them. The lo
vely, exuberant Ada had certainly kissed him as well, dropping into his life like a glorious apparition. The memory sent desire flooding through him again. He wanted her desperately. He wanted to learn all about her and tell her his innermost thoughts and…and rescue her from mortal peril like a knight of old. A bark of laughter at his own folly escaped him. Unfortunately, in this story, he was the peril, the path to a life of privation and probably estrangement and acrimony in the end. He was more dragon that knight. A painful paradox. And yet he still yearned for her.
Was this falling in love? He’d read about falling in love, but he’d never experienced this heady sensation. He felt like a goblet filled to the brim with fizzing champagne.
Champagne that was strictly forbidden to him. Peter considered another swig of brandy, and resisted.
The image of Ada continued to taunt him, out of his reach, a treat he could never have. How many of those had there been in his twenty-four years? He’d lost count long ago.
Of course her parents would never allow a marriage. No one would expect them to. He wouldn’t. Every time he let himself think of it, he immediately saw a young wife brought into the scraping and scrimping that was his existence. The picture was painful and humiliating. To tell her she couldn’t have something she wanted or needed because there simply was no money. To deny the same to any children who might come. Peter cringed as he walked. Unbearable. It was one thing to stint oneself. Another entirely to deprive your family.
He jumped a stream and started up the other side of the valley below the tower, moving faster as if he could leave these thoughts behind. Exertion felt good. He grew warmer as his breath quickened.
He suspected that Miss Ada was falling in love with him, too. With what she’d done and said, he didn’t think he was being arrogant to believe so. And the idea filled him with joy. He couldn’t help it. His spirit wanted to soar. He leapt from one lump of stone to another and up over a fallen log. Taking hold of a sapling, he swung around an overhanging crag and rushed up the last, steepest part of the incline. He was panting when he reached the ridge across from the tower and gazed up at it. The old Normans had chosen the highest point hereabouts, so that their defenses couldn’t be overlooked. Alberdene’s oldest bit dominated the landscape.