Saved By A Saint Page 6

  “Unless you murder me during the night, it will be there tomorrow morning,” Terence answered.

  Pausing for a moment, he added,

  “Quite frankly, I am delighted to have a bed that I don’t have to pay for. The same applies to the champagne.”

  He filled his glass again and, carrying it in his hand, followed the Marquis, who had already left the room.

  In the hall Johnson was waiting and the Marquis ordered him,

  “Pay the driver of the post chaise that Mr. Verley arrived in and tell his valet that he will be staying the night.”

  I’ve already done that, my Lord,” Johnson said. “The driver had to go back to London and didn’t want to wait.”

  “Then you realised that Mr. Verley would be staying the night,” the Marquis quizzed him.

  “Rooms have been arranged for him and his valet, my Lord,” Johnson replied, “and the luggage has already gone upstairs.”

  Terence Verley heard the end of this conversation.

  He drank the champagne he carried and handed his glass to Johnson.

  The Marquis without saying any more walked up the stairs.

  When they reached the landing, he saw a man whom he guessed to be Terence Verley’s valet standing at an open door.

  He turned to his cousin.

  “Goodnight, Terence,” he said, “I trust you sleep well. I shall endeavour to do the same.”

  “I am sure you will succeed,” Terence answered.

  There was an unpleasant sneer in his voice, but the Marquis walked on to the Master suite.

  It was at the end of the corridor and it was where the Master of Melverley had slept since the house had been built in Tudor times by the first Earl of Verley.

  When the Marquis reached it, he found as he expected that Yates was waiting for him.

  The valet closed the door and said, before the Marquis could speak,

  “Well, this be a nice kettle of fish, my Lord, and one we didn’t expect.”

  “Are you referring to Mr. Terence Verley, Yates?” the Marquis enquired.

  “Yes, and ’is valet, if you can call some Cockney straight out the gutter by that name!” Yates replied.

  The Marquis knew that Yates should not speak in such a way of a member of his family.

  But Yates had spoken his mind ever since they fought, particularly in Portugal, and made a perilous advance into France.

  He invariably had something new and original to say about everything that happened and he made the Marquis laugh in circumstances in which any other man would have felt like crying.

  Now, as the Marquis undressed, he knew that Yates was as good a judge of people as he was himself and he had never known him make a mistake.

  “I’ve ’eard about Mr. Terence,” Yates went on, “from the servants ’ere and they’ve not got a good word to say about ’im.”

  “You have heard about him?” the Marquis exclaimed in surprise.

  “Not only does ’e turn up ’ere uninvited, my Lord,” Yates went on, “but Mr. Johnson told me about ’im and ’is father. ’E remembers ’ow the old Marquis ’ad ’im painted out of the Family Tree.”

  The Marquis realised that this was another reason why he had never heard of his cousin Terence.

  At the same time, he was asking himself what he could do about him.

  He knew as clearly as if it had been said aloud that ten thousand pounds would be a mere drop in the ocean.

  If he paid up now, in less than a year Terence would be back asking for more.

  And it would mean a tremendous drain on his finances with all the expense of restoring the estate and the cottages

  The Marquis had been well aware before he inherited that he would be responsible for a large number of the Verley relatives.

  There were aunts, uncles, cousins and a maternal grandmother and all of them received a sum of money every year from the Head of the Family to enable them to live in comfort.

  Besides this, there were innumerable pensioners, both at Melverley and in London, where there was some property he now owned.

  This applied also to his houses in Leicestershire and in Newmarket.

  Having inherited while he had been abroad, he had instructed the family Solicitors, with regard to all these people, to carry on exactly as his father had done.

  He included the financing of the alms-houses, the schools and the Parish Churches

  It all came, he was well aware, to an enormous sum of money.

  But he had not yet since his arrival home had time to go into the whole business in detail and he was confident that the firm of Solicitors had carried out his instructions.

  He knew now that he must find out exactly what was available and he realised where he himself was concerned, that he must not overspend so that any of the recipients suffered.

  When he climbed into bed, he found it difficult to sleep.

  After coping with the mess Mr. Waters had made of everything, the last thing he needed was a disreputable and demanding cousin howling for money.

  He resented having to part with huge sums of money and he was quite sure that they would go the way the rest of Terence’s money had gone.

  It was only by using his willpower that he finally fell asleep.

  *

  As usual, the Marquis was called early.

  And when he went down to breakfast, it was to find that Christina already there.

  The breakfast room was a bright sunlit room that faced South.

  The sideboard was laden with silver entrée dishes, containing the excellent food that the Marquis remembered from his childhood.

  Christina smiled at him as he entered the room and he said,

  “Good morning, Christina. I hope you slept well.”

  “I am so happy to be here,” she sighed, “that for some time I could only sit thinking how beautiful my room was and how lucky you are to be looked after and protected by the ghosts of your family.”

  The Marquis laughed.

  “Do you really believe in ghosts?”

  “Of course I do,” Christina answered, “and you must remember the White Lady, who is the ghost of the Countess Sylvia. She is only seen if there is danger. Then the Black Knight appears to drive it away.”

  “Now I am remembering,” the Marquis exclaimed. “Dickie told me that story when I was a little boy and I used to peep over the bannisters hoping to see the Black Knight.”

  He helped himself from the dishes on the sideboard before he added,

  “I was not so interested in those days in the White Lady, but now, if she is very lovely, I shall be looking out for her.”

  “To tell you there is danger, my Lord?” Christina asked.

  “Not exactly danger,” the Marquis replied, “but a difficult problem.”

  He wondered if he should tell Christina about Terence, but then decided that it would be a mistake.

  He therefore said, to change the subject,

  “Where do you suggest we should go this morning, on our errand of mercy?”

  “To the farms!” Christina responded at once. “I was so afraid that you would want to put it off with your cousin here.”

  “I have no intention of doing that,” the Marquis said, “and as he has not appeared for breakfast, I suspect that he will emulate the bucks in London, who, because they drink so deeply the previous night, seldom appear until it is time for luncheon.”

  “Then we can go to the farms alone!” Christina said eagerly.

  “I have absolutely no intention of taking my cousin with us,” the Marquis remarked sharply.

  She knew from the way he spoke that Terence Verley had upset him, but she was too tactful, however, to ask him any questions.

  She only talked about the farmers, telling the Marquis who they were and how the only help they received came from their own families.

  “Even the small children had to help bring in the harvest,” she said, “because Mr. Waters refused to allow them to employ any more people. Their w
ives were wonderful! I think they would be very thrilled if you told them so.”

  “Of course I will,” the Marquis smiled.

  Finishing his breakfast, he rose from the table.

  “I have ordered two horses,” he said. “I see that you were sensible enough to put on a riding habit.”

  “I knew it would be quicker to ride across country, than to drive, my Lord, but I would, of course, have changed if you had insisted on going in style.”

  The Marquis smiled at her.

  “I have every intention of riding,” he said, “and I hope the horse that is ready for you will come up to your expectations.”

  Christina laughed.

  “I am overjoyed to have anything on four legs!” she answered.

  She put on the jacket of her habit, which she had left on a chair in the hall.

  Her hat was there too, which, despite being old, the Marquis thought very becoming.

  He lifted Christina onto the saddle of a spirited bay while he himself mounted a black stallion. He had ordered both horses to be brought down from London several weeks ago.

  They rode off.

  Because Christina knew the way better than he did, she led him through the paddock and onto some flat rough land and the Marquis thought angrily that it should have been cultivated during the war.

  But it was a lovely day. The sun was shining which meant that it would be hot later on.

  Now there was a cool wind and, without speaking, they galloped their horses in order to take the friskiness out of them.

  The Marquis noted, as he had expected, that Christina rode extremely well.

  When she looked at him, she could see that he seemed part of his horse and was a fine equestrian of whom her father would have readily approved.

  They spent a long time at the first farm while the farmer aired his grievances.

  Christina became aware that the Marquis was a sympathetic listener and she knew that that was exactly what the farmer required after having all his troubles and difficulties brushed aside by Mr. Waters.

  They sat in the farmhouse with its beamed ceiling and the farmer’s wife brought them glasses of homemade cider.

  Only when the farmer had finished relating the story of his problems did the Marquis tell him what he could do about them.

  The happiness on the faces of both the farmer and his wife seemed to light up the whole room.

  “Do you mean that, my Lord? Do you really mean it?”

  “I mean it,” the Marquis affirmed. “You can buy in new stock, repair the buildings and replace your worn out implements. The sooner the better, if we are to get things done before the winter.”

  “I can do it, my Lord, now I’ve your permission,” the farmer grinned.

  It was then that Christina was aware there were tears running down his wife’s cheeks.

  “I don’t believe it!” she kept saying. “I don’t believe it, after all we’ve bin through these long years, seein’ our stock die and unable to replace ’em. This just can’t be true!”

  “It is true,” Christina told her comfortingly, “and I promise you that everything will be different now that his Lordship has come home.”

  They left the farmhouse aware that the two people in it were looking years younger and so happy that their faces were transformed.

  The same thing happened at the next farm and the next.

  When finally they turned for home, Christina knew that they were extremely late for luncheon.

  “I tell you what we will do,” the Marquis said. “As I don’t feel like facing my cousin Terence at the moment and there is still more of the estate to see, we will go to The Fox and Duck, and eat whatever they have to offer.”

  Christina laughed.

  “You still remember that old inn?”

  “I remember them having a meet there the first time I was allowed to go out hunting,” the Marquis said. “I had a long ride, was in at the kill and was blooded by the Master. How could I, after that, ever forget The Fox and Duck!”

  Christina laughed.

  “The man who kept it then is still there, but he is very old. I know that he will be really thrilled to see you.”

  That was an understatement.

  In fact the innkeeper could hardly believe his eyes when the Marquis walked in.

  Having shaken him warmly by the hand, the Marquis told him what was required and the whole inn was in a turmoil.

  Christina suggested that they should eat outside.

  The big wooden table at which the elders of the village drank their ale in the evening was covered with a cloth and the innkeeper’s wife and their pretty young granddaughter waited on them.

  There was no more than bread and cheese, which was all most people expected at The Fox and Duck at luncheon time.

  But because Christina and the Marquis were both so hungry, everything they were offered seemed delicious.

  They did not spend too much time over luncheon, but went on to yet another farm.

  This was on the outskirts of the estate, which the Marquis could remember from his hunting days as a boy.

  It was after five o’clock when they finally returned to The Hall and, as they rode up the drive, the Marquis asked,

  “Are you very tired, Christina? I feel I have behaved somewhat brutally in taking you so far.”

  “I am not tired, my Lord, but I suspect that I shall be stiff,” she answered. “It’s a long time since I have ridden such a fine horse. In fact, after your father died, I was soon reduced to the animals in the stable that were left. Then because Papa disapproved so much of Mr. Waters, there was only poor old Ben.”

  “I am sure that Mrs. Dartford can give you something for your stiffness,” the Marquis said. “She used to have remedies for everything and I cannot believe that she has not improved on them in the ensuing years.”

  “She has certainly kept the herb garden going,” Christina remarked, “and I think she would be very thrilled if you would go and admire it.”

  “You should have told me about it before,” the Marquis said. “How can I know these things if you don’t tell me about them?”

  “I-I am doing – my best, my Lord,” Christina replied humbly.

  “I am only teasing you,” the Marquis laughed. “You are proving invaluable to me, and I am very, very grateful.”

  He spoke with a sincerity in his voice that made Christina blush.

  Then she told herself that he would have been just as grateful to her father or, for that matter to anyone else, if she had not been there.

  As they walked into the hall, Terence Verley came out from the study.

  “So you are back!” he remarked. “I wondered what had happened to you.”

  “We had to visit the farms today,” the Marquis told him. “It took so long that we could not get back here for luncheon.”

  “That’s a pity, because you missed a good meal,” Terence smirked.

  There was a slight thickness in his voice that made the Marquis aware that he had not only eaten well but also imbibed a great deal of wine.

  Christina was already halfway up the stairs.

  “I am going to change and also see Miss Dickson,” she said to the Marquis as if he had asked the question.

  “Give her my love and tell her that I will come and see her later,” the Marquis said.

  “She will enjoy that,” Christina replied.

  She found Miss Dickson, as she expected, in the boudoir that led off her bedroom, where she had her feet resting comfortably on a sofa, a rug over her legs and was reading a book.

  Christina apologised that they had not been back for luncheon and she replied,

  “Don’t worry, dear child, I listened to Mr. Verley being extremely rude about his relatives. If it gave him any pleasure to get it off his chest, then it was better that I should endure it rather than his Lordship!”

  “I did not like him when I met him last night,” Christina said, “and I have a feeling, that he is imposing on the Marqu
is.”

  “You can be sure of that,” Miss Dickson agreed. “In fact Mr. Verley has come here in order to extract money from him and he means to stay until he gets it.”

  Christina sighed.

  “I thought it must be something like that and his Lordship needs all the money he has for the farmers and the estate , besides what has to be done in the villages.”

  “I know, dear,” Miss Dickson said, “and if you ask me I think Mr. Verley is a pain in the neck. But I don’t see how we are to be rid of him.”

  Christina laughed.

  “I love you for saying ‘we’, Miss Dickson. That is something we indeed ought to do.”

  “I cannot think how,” Miss Dickson said. “At the same time that kind young man should not be bothered when he has so many other problems to solve.”

  “Have you ever heard of his cousin Terence before?” Christina enquired.

  “I have indeed!” Miss Dickson confirmed. “I remember the old Marquis being furiously angry whenever his father’s name was mentioned and the servants have told me how his name was erased from the Family Tree.”

  Christina, when she went down to dinner, thought that there was every reason for the Marquis to be annoyed at his cousin’s unexpected appearance.

  Terence had obviously been drinking a great deal during the day.

  He was not drunk, but somewhat aggressive and he completely monopolised the conversation at dinner.

  He talked about London, his friends there, and the gambling that took place in the Clubs he belonged to.

  He then droned on about the huge bets that were placed on the mills, as the boxing matches were known, which took place outside the City.

  And it was quite obvious that he had lost a lot of money, both on the fights and on the Racecourses, besides, Christina suspected, betting heavily at cards.

  When dinner was over, Miss Dickson said that she wished to retire for the night and the Marquis escorted her to the bottom of the stairs.

  “You must forgive me for going to bed so early,” she murmured.

  “I think you are very wise,” the Marquis said, “and, as I have so much to do, that is what I intend to do myself.”

  “I am sure Christina will do the same,” Miss Dickson said. “She has had a long day, although she tells me that it was a very enjoyable one.”

  “She is helping me enormously,” the Marquis replied. “I am very grateful to you both.”