A Golden Lie Page 4

  Then she found what she was seeking.

  The Viscount Narr.

  He she knew was the Earl’s nephew, who would inherit the title and she saw at a glance that his house was in Berkeley Square in London.

  At that moment Hitchin came into the room.

  “Did you find anything, Miss Devona?” he asked.

  “Yes, I have. I have found the address of Viscount Narr, who will inherit his uncle’s title – and this.”

  She held up the guinea.

  “Well, that’s a bit of luck,” Hitchin said. “I wonder what his Lordship were keepin’ it for?”

  “There are a few pennies as well, so we will not go hungry.”

  “Not with that guinea there, we won’t, miss.”

  Hitchin came nearer the table and she thought that he was going to ask her to give it to him.

  Her fingers tightened over the coin as she said,

  “Wait a minute! What we have to do is to send a Post chaise to the Viscount Narr in London.”

  “A Post chaise, miss, that’ll cost a great deal.”

  “I am quite certain he will be only too willing to pay for it, but we will have to tip the man when we have persuaded him to undertake the journey in the Post chaise without paying for it in advance.”

  “They wouldn’t want all that money,” Hitchin said, “and we can do with it, Miss Devona, as you well knows.”

  “Yes, I do, but we must do what is right and proper where his Lordship is concerned.”

  She paused before she added,

  “Besides, if we send for the undertakers now, we will not be able to pay them and they will cost more than just a guinea.”

  Hitchin nodded as if he knew this to be true.

  She put the guinea back in the drawer and closed it.

  “Now what I want you to do, Hitchin,” she said, “is to drive to the Posting inn on the main road. I know there is one because I went there once with Papa.”

  Hitchin did not speak and she went on,

  “Order a Post chaise to come here immediately to pick up the letter that I will write to the Viscount. Then the sooner he can come here and bury his Lordship the more comfortable it will be for us all.”

  Hitchin saw the sense of this.

  He walked back towards the door and then stopped.

  “Supposin’ he says he won’t go without money?”

  “We can give him the guinea,” Devona said. “But I think you will find he will trust the new Earl of Narbrooke to be different from the last one.”

  “That wouldn’t be difficult,” Hitchin snorted as he went out of the study.

  Devona then drew a piece of writing paper onto the blotter and, using the Earl’s pen and the gold inkstand, she wrote the address on the top of the paper.

  It did not surprise her that the Earl had been too mean to purchase any printed writing paper.

  Actually he wrote so few letters as he received so few and it would definitely have been an extravagance.

  She hesitated before she wrote anything more and then finally, in her neat handwriting that had always been commended by Mr. Alton, she wrote,

  “The tenth Earl of Narbrooke died here last night. Please come immediately to arrange his burial.”

  She did not sign her name, although she wondered if she should do so and then she thought that it would only make the Viscount curious as to who she was and why she was here.

  ‘I will be able to explain it to him when he comes,’ she decided.

  She then sealed the letter using the sealing wax that stood on the writing desk and the Earl’s signet ring which lay beside it.

  She had never seen him wear his ring, but she had noticed it on the writing desk, although it was seldom used.

  Then she opened the drawer once again, took out the guinea and also the pennies.

  She put the guinea on top of the letter she had just written to the Viscount and then carrying the pennies in her hand she went into the kitchen.

  Mrs. Hitchin was sitting down at the table.

  “Has your husband told you what has happened?” Devona said as she came in.

  “Indeed he has,” Mrs. Hitchin replied. “And now what’s goin’ to happen to us, I’m askin?”

  “I am sure that the new Earl, when he arrives, will want you to stay on,” Devona told her reassuringly.

  “I wouldn’t be too sure of that, miss. Mr. Hitchin and me be gettin’ old. His Lordship kept us, ’cos, as you knows, he wouldn’t have got anyone as cheap as we be.”

  “If you feel you have done enough work in your life, which indeed you have,” Devona said, “I am sure that the new Earl will pay you a pension and perhaps give you a cottage in the village, although it would need restoring.”

  Mrs. Hitchin did not reply. She just wiped her eyes with a cloth and Devona knew that she was really upset.

  “Let me make you a cup of tea,” she suggested. “Or would you rather have coffee?”

  “There be none left. I were countin’ on the Master goin’ to the town today. At least we would have enough money to buy ourselves a cup of coffee!”

  “Well, you can do that right away,” Devona said, “if we had someone to send.”

  She put the pennies down on the table.

  “I found these in his Lordship’s writing desk,” she said. “At least it will buy us something.”

  “Them won’t last long. You mark my words, Miss Devona. If the new Earl be like the old Earl, Mr. Hitchin and me’ll be out on our ears.”

  “I am sure he will not do that,” Devona said, “and don’t let’s be depressed until we have to be.”

  She thought, as she was speaking, that her position was very much the same as the Hitchins.

  She had nowhere to go and no money.

  The only difference was that she would be alone and they at least were together.

  She then thought that the best thing she could do to cheer Mrs. Hitchin up was to wait until Hitchin returned, and then give him the pennies and hopefully he would be able to buy something for their luncheon.

  As she had nothing further to say to Mrs. Hitchin, she left the kitchen and walked back into the hall.

  She was still wondering just what she should do if it was impossible to persuade the driver of the Post chaise to go to London.

  She thought that if she had been sensible she should have put the letter on the Mail coach, while Hitchin was out, so that he would not have to come back to collect it.

  She knew, however, that the local Mail coach was somewhat erratic and there was every chance that a letter sent in that fashion would not arrive in London for days.

  ‘I must be in touch with the Viscount immediately,’ she said to herself.

  At the same time she thought it must be impossible.

  Because she was so worried she stayed in the hall standing at the open door, gazing out at the lake.

  It was a very attractive view, for on the other side of the lake were the tall oak trees that lined the drive and also the Park where she was told that there used to be a large number of deer.

  These, however, had all been eaten and had never been replaced.

  There were some wild ducks swimming on the lake and if the Earl had been alive, he would undoubtedly have gone down to shoot them.

  Devona had learned to shoot with her father when they had lived in Essex. He had found a small shotgun for her and she had followed him when he went out shooting and became quite skilful.

  However, she hated killing the rabbits which she loved and the ducks were so pretty.

  ‘I suppose if we are desperate that is what I shall have to do,’ she reflected.

  Hitchin had already said that he was far too blind to shoot. All he could do was to put down traps which were not always successful.

  It seemed to her as if time was passing very slowly.

  It could not have taken Hitchin that long with Bill’s help to put one of the horses between the shafts and the Posting inn was less than two miles away.
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  ‘If only Papa was here,’ Devona thought, ‘he would arrange everything so quickly and efficiently.’

  Then she started wondering what would happen to her when the Viscount took over the house.

  She could not believe that he would turn her out immediately he arrived at The Hall, although, unless she could convince him she would be useful in some way, he would obviously expect her to leave.

  ‘Where shall I go? What shall I do?’ she asked herself.

  She felt a panic rising inside her and then she told herself that perhaps if the Viscount was not rich he would be grateful for any help she could give him in the house.

  Big houses usually employed a seamstress to mend sheets and linen and Devona was certain she could do that. But then a seamstress would only be necessary if the Viscount was rich and intended having a large staff.

  It all kept turning and turning round and round in her brain.

  At the same time she kept glancing towards the drive hoping to see the Post chaise or Hitchin returning.

  It must have been nearly an hour later when at last she saw two horses coming between the oaks and knew that it was the Post chaise.

  She felt a wave of relief sweep over her and, as the horses crossed the bridge and then came to a standstill just below the front door, she felt like embracing the driver.

  He was a young man whom she guessed would race the horses.

  As he then jumped out of the Post chaise, Hitchin crossed the bridge and came up behind him.

  Devona was so pleased to see them that she ran down the steps.

  “It is very kind of you to come,” she said to the young man, “to take this very important letter to London.”

  “I’ll get it there all right, miss,” the man replied, “but him,” and he jerked his thumb towards Hitchin, who was just getting out of the driving seat, “said as you’d give me a guinea for me trouble.”

  “That is true and I will fetch it and the letter you have to carry to Berkeley Square.”

  She ran into the house and into the study.

  The letter to the Viscount and the guinea were lying on the table where she had left them and she picked them up and thought how precious they were.

  The sun shining on the guinea gave the impression that it was a jewel.

  She hurried back to the front door and saw that Bill was taking the horse away while Hitchin was still talking to the driver of the Post chaise.

  Devona walked up to them.

  “Here is the letter,” she said, “and be very careful not to lose it. And here is the guinea for all your trouble. We are very grateful to you.”

  The man’s eyes glinted when he saw the guinea and he slipped it quickly into his pocket.

  “I’m ’opin’,” he smiled, “’is Lordship’ll give me another to keep it company.”

  “And if he does,” Hitchin pointed out, “you owe me a drink at The Rose and Crown.”

  “You shall ’ave that,” the man said. “But only if ’is Lordship comes up to scratch.”

  The two men laughed and then the driver climbed back into the Post chaise, turned his horses and started off.

  Devona drew a deep breath of relief and turned to Hitchin,

  “That was very clever of you. Did he take much persuading?”

  “It were the proprietor who needed that,” replied Hitchin. “He knew how his Lordship would never spend a farthing if he could help it. And he were afraid he’d never get the money for it.”

  “But you persuaded him and I only wish I could give you a drink to show you how grateful I am!”

  She realised as she was talking that Bill had been taking the horse away and he had almost reached the end of the house and was turning towards the stable yard when she shouted out,

  “Bill! Bill!”

  He stopped and Devona turned to Hitchin,

  “Mrs. Hitchin has nothing for us to drink. No tea, no coffee. But the pennies we found in his Lordship’s desk are lying on the kitchen table.”

  “I’ll go and spend them,” Hitchin volunteered.

  He did not sound enthusiastic about it and Devona said,

  “Thank you, thank you so much for what you have done. You have been marvellous.”

  To her surprise Hitchin walked on without replying and she went and told Bill to wait for him.

  Bill was full of gloom over his Lordship’s death.

  “I be wonderin’, miss, what’ll ’appen to me now. They’re sure to say I’m too old.”

  “I am sure the new Earl will give you a pension and if possible a cottage,” Devona tried to reassure him.

  She thought as she spoke that it was a mistake to raise his hopes, but equally she knew that it was what any decent man would do.

  The only question that hovered over her was if the new Earl would be any better than the old one.

  When she saw Hitchin coming back, she knew that he had collected the pennies from his wife.

  Instead of going to the front door to meet him, she walked away towards the stables, as she thought that the only thing that would cheer her up at the moment would be to talk to the horses.

  There was one of them which she rode and which was a little younger and faster than the others.

  However, when she looked at it as if with the eyes of the new Earl she knew that the horse was nearly finished and should be put out to grass.

  She patted him gently and felt as if she was trying to persuade him that there would be a better future for him too than there was at present.

  One matter which was really serious was that they were practically out of food for the horses. That would normally have been replaced today when the Earl came back from the town.

  She went back into the house and thought perhaps that she had been too hasty in thinking that what she had found in the writing desk was all the money there was in it.

  There were other papers and perhaps amongst them there might be a note of some denomination, so she sat down and opened the drawer where she had left the key.

  Quite methodically she started going through the large pile of papers where she had found the address book.

  There was nothing but bills going back for years and they must have all been paid and she wondered why the Earl bothered to keep them.

  She finished the left side of the desk and started on the right.

  At the very back of the third drawer there was a large piece of parchment.

  She wondered what it was and then drawing it out, she opened it.

  Her first glance told her that it was a will.

  It had obviously been prepared by Solicitors as the writing was in classic style.

  It started off,

  “I, John Edward Alexander, the tenth Earl of Narbrooke, being in good health and of sound mind, make this my last Will and Testament.”

  Having read so far, Devona glanced at the date on top of the parchment and saw it was 1810, eleven years ago and it came to her that she had been seven at the time.

  She thought it most amusing that there was such a discrepancy between her age and that of the Earl.

  As she looked at the writing and saw that it had come to an end, but beneath it there was a sentence which was difficult to read, but it had been written by the Earl.

  “I wish all the money I possess which is in the Bank of Mervyn Scrimpson and Sons and every penny that is found after my death here in Narbrooke Hall to be buried with me.”

  The Earl had then signed his name with a flourish and beneath it was written the names of two people that Devona had never heard of.

  She read what the Earl had written again thinking in some way that it must be a joke.

  Then she thought it was the most extraordinary and actually the most disgraceful thing she had ever heard.

  So he did have money in the Bank, but wanted it to be buried with him rather than be left to those who were dependent upon him.

  It seemed to her appalling that any man who had been brought up as a gentleman could be as miserl
y and as mean as the Earl had proved himself to be.

  Now, to complete it, the money he did have which would be no use to him, he wanted buried in the ground with his bones while those who depended on him suffered.

  She thought perhaps that, as he was such a miser, he might have quite a large amount of money in the Bank.

  She could understand now why he had gone once a month to draw out whatever he wanted in cash, which was very little, rather than writing a cheque as anyone sensible would have done.

  ‘He is not only despicable,’ Devona reflected, ‘but he is cruel and wicked and the poor Hitchins are now left without a penny piece to feed them in the future. The same applies to Bill and goodness knows how many others in the village have died without any pension at all.’

  Then she recalled that it was the Earl’s meanness that had killed first her father and then her mother.

  They would have been alive today, both of them, if he had not insisted on buying a horse that was unrideable and then refusing to keep her mother warm when she had pneumonia.

  “I hate him! I hate him!” Devona exclaimed aloud as she sat staring at the will.

  Then an idea came to her.

  At first she put the thought from her mind and then she told herself that it was the only sensible thing to do.

  She was quite certain that the Earl would not have made another will as that would have been expensive.

  He had done this all those years ago and he would have felt endless satisfaction in knowing that his precious money would be buried beneath the ground where no one could take it from him.

  The parchment was thick and she realised that she could not tear it to pieces.

  But she was determined to destroy it.

  She was sure that by Law if a man of the Earl’s standing died without leaving a will, everything would be given either to his heir or perhaps divided amongst any of the family who had a claim on it.

  Unless, as she had thought already, the Viscount was as unpleasant as his uncle, he would certainly provide for the Hitchins and –

  She paused for a little before finishing the sentence in her mind,

  –and herself!

  Rolling up the parchment she left the study to walk into the kitchen.

  Mrs. Hitchin was not there and she thought perhaps as she was upset she had gone to lie down on her bed.