Memories, page 19
He followed her down the corridor, praying they would not bump into a member of the family, or, God forbid, one of the servants, and then ushered her into Dearne’s room. They found him putting the finishing touches to his cravat.
“Maxie,” Araminta cried and threw herself into his arms. “Dearest, we feared the worst.”
“Don’t be so dramatic, Minty. It was just a knock on the head.”
“We thought you might die, Maximilian. It was a dreadful time for us. Poor Will was beside himself.”
“Poor Will?” Dearne shook his head. “Since when have you two been on first name terms might I ask?”
“Since you were laid out on the floor as if dead, and he held you in his arms and cared for you,” Araminta said with some asperity.
Dearne shook his head. “Enough of this. I’m going to speak to Holbrook.”
“Darling, have a care…” Araminta began.
“I’m done with being careful, Araminta. I want to know what in God’s name is going on.”
“Well, let me come with you,” she said. “I will go and dress and we will tackle him together.”
Dearne regarded her for a moment, and Will found he was holding his breath. “Very well,” he said. “Go and dress quickly.”
Araminta sighed and headed for the door. She paused before opening it and turned with a frown. “You will wait for me, won’t you?”
“Of course.”
Araminta disappeared leaving Will alone with Dearne.
“I’d be happy to accompany you,” Will said, undoing the belt on the robe and picking up his discarded clothes. They were a little rumpled, but they would do. He pulled on his waistcoat and set about hunting for his shoes and stockings.
The click of the door made him jump and look up. “Dearne? Dearne?” he said, uselessly to the empty room.
* * * *
Dearne strode down the corridor feeling only vaguely guilty at leaving Will and Araminta behind. He ran his hand through his hair and ignored the thumping pain in his temples and the appalling weakness which seemed to pervade his entire body. Will Marsden, or Allardyce, or whatever the hell he was called, had a serious right hook. He wondered if he had studied the science in London before he retreated to the countryside. He somehow doubted it. Probably all those years of having to fend for himself. There were so many things in his head, so many unanswered questions, it was making him agitated. First things first, he needed to know if his brother was behind the sale of his property and the attempt on his life. The only way to do that was to ask him outright. His heart was racing uncomfortably as he approached the study. The thought he might be behind it was galling in the extreme.
He knocked on the door and waited.
“Come.”
Dearne tugged at his collar, straightened his waistcoat, and went in.
Holbrook was seated behind his desk which appeared to be piled with ledgers. He was wearing a pair of wire rimmed spectacles perched on the end of his nose and leafing through a sheaf of papers.
“I didn’t know you wore spectacles,” he said.
Holbrook huffed, took them off, and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Worn out my eyes with this damned lot,” he said, and pointed at the ledgers.
“I thought you had a man of business for all that.”
“I do, but it would be a pretty poor show if I didn’t have at least a grasp of what was going on, wouldn’t it?” he said. “Have a seat.”
Dearne sat down and regarded his older brother. He looked tired, but he never quite lost that air of breeding and authority about him.
“Did you sell Denton?” Might as well get to the point.
“Beg pardon?” Holbrook said with a frown. “Denton?”
“Yes. Denton. It has been sold. Did you do it?”
“It can’t have been sold. It belongs to you.”
“Well, everyone thought I was dead for a while, so it is not inconceivable someone decided to capitalise on that fact.” Dearne’s heart was pounding hard.
“Dear God…you mean…” Holbrook looked genuinely shocked. “I have the deeds here. You gave them to me for safekeeping after grandmamma passed.” He got up and went to the safe in the corner of the room. Dearne gripped the chair arms as Holbrook went through the piles of documents which sat there.
“They are gone,” Holbrook said as he emerged looking bemused. His usually immaculate hair flopped over his brow and he pushed it back with a hand which shook slightly. “I can’t believe they are gone. We have only just received notification from the military of your demise. The solicitor had just begun work on winding up your estate. I don’t think he had even got around to looking at Denton. He hasn’t yet asked me for papers.” Holbrook paced a little and then sat back down in his chair behind the desk. “Are you sure it has been sold?”
“Positive. I was there recently. The staff have been turned off and it is boarded up waiting for the new owner.”
“Who is?”
“I have no idea.”
Holbrook tapped his chin with a forefinger for a moment.
“Hmm.”
“What does that mean?”
Holbrook gave him a long level look. “Well, it seems there are really only two people who might have had the opportunity to sell Denton. Either it was me or Araminta.” Holbrook tilted his head to one side. “Who do you suspect?”
Anger shimmered through Dearne as he looked at his brother. He clenched his teeth for a moment and then drew a long breath.
“Well, given Minty dragged me out of the gutter after someone tried to kill me, and took me to Denton to keep me safe only to find it had been sold, I’d lay odds it wasn’t her.”
The silence between them was thick. Heavy with the implications of his words. Holbrook was still as he regarded him.
“When was this?”
“Just before the remembrance service.”
“What are you doing with Allardyce?”
“Will was the groundsman at Denton. He was the only one left.”
Holbrook nodded slowly.
“I want it back.”
“I’m sure you do. If it were in my gift to give it, it would be yours. But it isn’t. Nor did I sell it to anyone.” Holbrook stood and jerked his waistcoat down to straighten it. “Now, if you would excuse me?”
“That’s it? You are dismissing me?” Dearne stood up and moved so he was leaning over the desk. “I will have it back,” he said and then straightened, and turned on his heel.
* * * *
Dearne strode along the corridor, his head spinning with Holbrook’s cool denial. He had to admit it rang true, but he couldn’t be certain if that was simply because he didn’t want to believe his brother had been prepared to kill him for a house. He pressed his fingers to his temples in an attempt at dispelling the ache which was gathering, but it didn’t work. As he made his way back to his bedchamber the pain was so intense he wondered if he was going to pass out again. He paused and had to steady himself by putting a hand on the wall. He stood for a moment, waiting for the pain to subside, when he heard Will’s footsteps hurrying towards him.
“Give me your arm,” he said.
Dearne was in too much pain to do much but agree and hold out one arm. Will slid one shoulder beneath his armpit and held him up so he could walk to his chamber. Once inside, he dragged him to the bed and laid him down.
“Is it your head?”
“Yes.” His voice seemed to come from somewhere else.
“Lie still.”
Frankly, he had little option but to do as he was told. He lay completely still as any movement sent spikes of pain through his skull. It felt as though a band were tightening and the tighter it got, the harder it was to see straight and peculiar light seemed to dance across the edge of his vision.
Will went to draw the curtains, then came back and laid a cloth with cool water over his forehead making Dearne sigh. He dragged it down over his eyes.
“Better?” Will whispered.
“Yes.”
Will laid on the bed beside him and took hold of his hand. It was oddly reassuring. Such a small gesture of care, but it made Dearne’s throat tighten.
“He denied it.”
“Do you believe him?” He heard the rustle of the pillow as Will turned his head towards him.
“I want to.”
“But?”
“The only other person who might have an interest in the house was Araminta. I left it to her in my will.”
Will squeezed his hand but said nothing.
“It can’t be her, can it?” Dearne whispered. “I couldn’t bear it if it was her.”
He felt Will shake his head on the pillow beside him. “I don’t think it can be. If she inherited the house, why sell it? Why not just move in, and why go to all that trouble to get you to Denton out of harm’s way? It was a real shock to Rose when she discovered the house had been sold.”
“That leaves Holbrook then. Give me an hour to let this headache subside and then I will decide what to do.”
“Very well.” Will touched the back of Dearne’s hand. “Do you want me to stay?”
Dearne hesitated. “No. No point you sitting there watching me sleep.” He kept his eyes closed.
Dearne listened to the sound of the door closing and the lock turning and, sinking into the pillow, allowed the pain to wash over him. When had his life turned into a damned farce? He wished he had asked Will to stay. It felt as though he needed Will to anchor him to the present because the past was nothing but a damned blur and now he seemed in danger of losing even that. He would have staked his life on the fact despite Will’s protestations, he really did have feelings for him, trusted him, but even that was in doubt now. The fact Will could even for a moment believe he would steal from him was…Dearne swallowed. Oh, his apology had been handsome and heartfelt, but Dearne couldn’t help the crushing sadness he felt.
He closed his eyes and adjusted the lavender smelling cloth over his eyes. Araminta had given him lavender smelling things as a boy. It had always been comforting. Dearne wondered if he would now forever associate the smell of lavender with loss.
Christ, he was getting maudlin.
Chapter 22
By the time they assembled in the drawing room for drinks before dinner, Dearne was feeling faintly human. He had slept, given himself a stern talking to, and had awoken feeling refreshed. His head had subsided to a dull throb, and he felt a growing sense of anticipation. For the first time since he had awoken at Denton in Will’s cottage, he felt purposeful rather than struggling to keep up. If parts of his memory were gone, so be it. What mattered now were two things. Firstly, making sure Will Marsden, or Allardyce, or whatever the hell he chose to call himself, did not run anywhere he wouldn’t be able to find him, and secondly to get his inheritance and Will’s savings back so they could decide on a future.
He glanced over at Will who was frowning more than usual and seemed to be deep in conversation with Araminta. He looked good in his borrowed evening clothes, with his dark curls shining in the candlelight, and Dearne was trying not to think too much about how that tall, hard body looked without the evening clothes when Augustus wandered in looking tense.
“Evening,” Dearne said moving to stand beside him. “Anything the matter?”
Augustus looked surprised at his direct challenge. “Nothing to worry about,” he muttered, taking a deep drink of his wine.
“Money or women?”
Augustus frowned. “Has my mother been talking to you?”
“No, I just remember what it was like to be your age.”
“You’re hardly ancient.”
“When I was twenty someone of my advanced years seemed ancient.”
Augustus smiled at him and shook his head.
“So which is it? Money or women?” Dearne persisted with a smile.
Augustus rolled his eyes. “Both.”
“Both what, darling?”
Dearne turned to greet his sister in law. “Eleanor, how are you?” Dearne asked with small incline of his head.
His sister in law’s answering smile was tense. “Very well. Thank you for enquiring.” She made no reciprocal gesture, instead she turned to her son with a brittle smile. “Well?”
Augustus looked hunted. “Sport,” he blurted. “We were talking about sport. Do I like fencing or boxing? I like both.”
“When I get back to London you must come to Gentleman Jackson’s with me,” Dearne said, clapping him on the arm.
“Is that sensible?” Eleanor said. “Having recently recovered from a head injury inviting a range of men to actually hit you on the head seems…unwise?”
Dearne laughed. “Indeed. Perhaps I will watch Gussy get knocked about instead.”
Augustus laughed and for once didn’t balk at being called Gussy. “I’d be happy to take some advice from you if I could.”
“It would be a pleasure.”
Eleanor patted Augustus gently on the cheek and went to speak with her husband.
Dearne glanced at his nephew who was scowling.
“Can I be of assistance?” he asked, watching him carefully.
Augustus flushed. “Uncle Max…”
It had been a long time since Augustus had called him Uncle Max. “Do you want to talk now or after dinner?”
“After dinner.”
Dearne winked at him. “Your chamber?”
Augustus nodded. “I would appreciate it. I’m…it’s getting out of control.”
Dearne patted him on the arm. “Chin up, if you keep on looking like that, your mother will be over again.”
Augustus shuddered, and schooled his features into an expression of polite boredom.
“That’s better, old chap. So, what do you intend doing with yourself now you have left university?”
The conversation turned to safe topics, and when they were called to dine, Dearne walked in with Miss Rose on his arm.
“Miss Rose, how are you this evening?” he asked, wondering how it came to be Will had been invited to call both his sister and the companion by their first names.
“Very well, Captain Dearne. I should be the one asking how you are after your last incident.” She glanced up at him with an imp of mischief in her eye.
“Indeed. I have the devil of a headache, but apart from that, I feel I might survive.”
“Very glad to hear it. You gave us a fright,” she said, smiling blandly.
“I think I scared Will,” he said.
Miss Rose looked up at him. “Mr. Marsden was very worried about you.”
Dearne held her gaze. “So much so you are all on first name terms now?”
Miss Rose tilted her chin at him. “Yes.”
Dearne took a deep breath as they went to take their places. Eleanor was fussing about odd numbers at the table, but frankly she seemed to be the only one who gave a damn. Dearne found himself seated between Augustus and Miss Rose and opposite Will and Araminta.
“You look much recovered, Maximilian,” Holbrook said.
“Thank you, I am,” Dearne said putting down his soup spoon. “I shall be heading to York tomorrow. I have business to attend to and I have troubled you for long enough.”
“Oh, so soon?” Araminta said with a sigh. “I suppose that means we will be losing Mr. Marsden’s company, too?”
Will looked up and made an apologetic face. “I am afraid so.”
“Or Mr. Allardyce, depending on which way one looks at things,” Eleanor said and took a tiny sip of soup from her spoon. Her dark hair shone in the candlelight along with the ropes of pearls around her neck.
Holbrook grunted, and Will applied himself to the soup. There was silence for a few moments but for the gentle clink of spoons against china.
“Are you quite recovered enough to travel, Maximilian?” Eleanor said.
“Quite, thank you.”
“You are only just returned from the Continent, after all.”
“Indeed. Does anyone have any good recommendations for the theatre? It has been an age since I was in civilised society. I feel the urge to rectify this dreadful lapse forthwith.”
The change of topic was accepted with grace, and the conversation flowed around the theatre productions the family had been to in recent months. Dearne let it wash over him as he watched Will eat. His movements were economical and focused, as were his contributions to any conversation.
* * * *
Will picked at his lemon syllabub. It was tart enough to make him want to grimace and shudder. He hated tart things. The conversation washed over him as he immersed himself in his own thoughts. He and Dearne were in a pickle, of that there was no doubt. He had lost all his money, and Dearne had lost his property. He wasn’t sure what other funds Dearne had, but he’d wager it wasn’t a lot. Will was conscious once he left Holbrook House he didn’t have a feather to fly with. He had a few pounds in his pocket, enough to eat and find lodgings for a few days, but beyond that, nothing. No job, no home; nothing. The prospect of travelling to York filled him with dread. Now he had been found, it was odds on that Kendall would tell his father and there would be hell to pay if he came looking for him. But on the other hand, he didn’t feel he could leave Dearne to find out what happened to his inheritance alone.
“Not to your liking?” Araminta asked, nodding at his pudding.
Will smiled at her. “Not much of a pudding man,” he said, putting his spoon down before he squashed it any more.
“It is a little tart,” Araminta said with a laugh and laid down her own spoon. She dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. “So, are you leaving first thing?” she said.
“I don’t know until I speak with your brother.”
Araminta nodded. “I hope you will keep in touch?”
“Of course,” he said, and meant it. He had never met anyone he liked quite as much as Lady Araminta. Miss Rose, too, but he definitely had a soft spot for Araminta. The fact they had the same secret helped to cement their friendship, but she was the first person he had ever formed any real sense of attachment to and he found he was reluctant to let go of it. What he really wanted to do was to stay with Dearne, and with Araminta and Rose. He smiled weakly at Araminta. So much for wishing.
