Dangerous Knight by Elizabeth Johns
Chapter Two
Jack had not returned to England in three years and he would not have come now save for Wellington’s orders. There was certainly nothing left for him at home.
When he and Everleigh had delivered their commander’s dispatches to the War Office, he had been handed a packet of letters in exchange. He had not bothered to read them all. As the first one requested his presence at his earliest convenience and the offices of the signatory were less than a mile from the War Office, he headed in that direction. Jack checked the direction on the letter and confirmed he was at the correct address, although he could have found it without any help. The plain stone building with the scutcheon bearing the legend Wilson and Schuster, Esquires could not have been more in keeping with his expectations.
He was admitted by a neat but plain-looking secretary with plain brown hair, a plain brown suit and spectacles sliding off the end of a hooked nose.
“Captain Owens to see Mr. Wilson.”
“Yes, of course. Come right this way, sir, if you will.”
He was shown into an office which also proclaimed the profession. Dark paneled walls frowned upon a large, matching desk with leather chairs that faced a large, balding man behind it.
He stood up when Jack entered. “Captain Owens. May I offer my condolences on the loss of your grandmother? However, I am pleased you have returned safely to our shores.”
“Thank you,” Jack replied, shocked by the news.
What else was there to say? The old witch had finally died. Strangely, he did not feel relieved. Just like in school when the other boys had looked forward to holidays, he had never wanted to return home to the mean, cold person who was supposed to care about him.
“Please be seated and we will proceed.”
Jack had difficulty paying attention to the pages and pages of legal hyperbole. He simply wanted the matter over with so he could sell the property and get on with choosing his next commission and rejoining Wellington in Paris.
“This is where it becomes interesting,” Mr. Wilson said, the change in intonation snapping Jack from has wayward thoughts.
“‘The property is not to be sold in less than five years from the date of my death,’ she writes.”
“What?” Jack asked rudely, his incredulousness getting the better of his manners. The knowledge that he was to inherit the dilapidated property had already been a millstone around his neck—and now he could not be rid of it? This was beyond anything.
“Unless…” The solicitor cleared his throat. “There is one peculiar condition, sir.”
Jack waited for the axe to fall, because it could be nothing good at all.
“There is a certain lady, whom you could marry.”
“Marry,” he parroted, reflecting that of course, such a clause would be just like his grandmother.
“Yes, her ward, who, incidentally, is now your ward.” The man looked down at the paper through the spectacles on the end of his nose. “A Miss Catherine Rafferty, who is a relation from your grandmother’s side of the family.”
“I beg your pardon! That cannot be legal! I have never heard of such a person!”
“I assure you, it very much is. She was your grandmother’s niece’s daughter.” The solicitor sat back in his chair and folded his hands over his ample girth. His expression was a mixture of amusement and sympathy.
“My fifth cousin twice removed?” he muttered sarcastically. Jack shot up out of his chair and began to pace about the small room. “But I must return to my duties. How am I to care for a property that has no income!”
“I would not say no income,” Mr. Wilson corrected.
“The place was in a ruinous state when last I saw it. Do you mean to tell me a miracle has occurred in the past three years?”
“I suppose you could call it a miracle. Miss Rafferty has been acting as steward and housekeeper and, from my understanding, has improved the property considerably. It is even turning a profit again, which has not been the case since your grandfather was alive.”
Jack could not control the groan that came from his person. The thought of making a trip to Yorkshire, not only to meet his ward but also deal with estate business, was not in his plans for this short visit to England.
“Here are the reports. Miss Rafferty has left them in surprisingly good order. If you would like my firm to continue overseeing estate affairs, we would be pleased to. Wilson and Schuster has taken care of the Owens family for decades.”
Jack did not bother responding. If the firm had taken such good care, then why had the estate been neglected in the first place? And how had his grandmother acquired a ward of whom he had never heard a word? These were exactly the manipulations the old witch had thrived on, and now she thought to torture him from the grave.
“Wait. Did you say she left the reports in good order? Does that mean she is no longer overseeing the estate?”
“That is correct, sir. As it happens, she was here herself, not even a fortnight past, hoping to secure her funds and become independent. She was none too pleased, I believe, to discover she had another guardian.”
“The feeling is quite, quite mutual,” Jack murmured. “Is she aware of the stipulation my grandmother placed upon me to marry her?”
The solicitor reddened. “I did not feel it was my place to inform her of that fact before you knew of it yourself, sir. After all, it is not a stipulation upon her, but you.”
“I see. And if I choose to release her from my guardianship?”
“That is your choice, of course, but it will require you to maintain the property for the next five years.”
“Where is this ward of mine now?”
“I sent her to the townhouse, since the lease had expired. I assumed you would not wish her out upon the town with no chaperone.”
“She is at the townhouse, you say? With no chaperone?”
“Indeed.” The man seemed pleased with his good judgement. Jack could not even remember where the townhouse was. He vaguely remembered going there as a child.
Taking up the folders full of reports, he nodded to the portly solicitor and left the office.
He began walking away from the building and for some time he neither knew where to, nor cared. He was more stunned by this news then any gunfire or cannon shot he had faced in battle. How could his grandmother have a ward he had never heard of? And how could she shackle him with five more years of a neglected estate? His career was only beginning to flourish and now he would be encumbered with mounds and mounds of debt merely to keep the estate out of ruin. He could not credit that a young ward—and a female at that—had managed to turn that pile of manure into anything remotely profitable.
There was nothing to be done but go there and see what could be salvaged and economized upon whilst he was away. Perhaps he could put the ward into school somewhere, for he could not exactly take her with him. Clearly, she was not a close relation or his grandmother would not have tried to foist her on to him and machinate a marriage between them. Why would he wish to marry when he could not even afford to maintain an estate?
The last place he wanted to go was Yorkshire; even thinking of it left a bitter taste in his mouth.
For the love of all that was holy, he was a well-respected spy! He was not about to give up a life of intelligence to become a farmer!
He would, however, need some time to sort through his affairs, which meant he would not be able to return to Paris soon. To be honest, he reflected, he liked his position on Wellington’s staff, but he would have to beg for mercy for the nonce. Surely, he could set things in order within a month at the most? He would head to Yorkshire as soon as the victory celebrations concluded.
His friends would not believe the vitriol flowing through his veins at the moment! Jack was famous for his dry humor and wit, and ability to make light of the darkest situation.
Apparently, he was to get to his just desserts, because the world was clamping down on him like a vice with poisonous teeth. There was no humor to be found in any part of this situation. What kind of sick human being would saddle a ward with a guardian such as him? It was a worse nightmare than the Gothic novels could conjure.
He tried to imagine some situation where he might want to marry his ward, besides it being very ill form. If anyone was young enough to be a ward, it meant they were a spotty-faced brat and a poor relation.
“The devil!” he shouted as fat raindrops began to fall and he realized he had wandered far from his destination. “Welcome home!” he added with maniacal laughter. Besides a ward, he could not believe Winterbourne would be anything but vermin-infested with holes in the roof—one directly over his moldy bed of lumpy straw—and his ward actually a ghost that haunted the hall at night. He cackled. What of his tenants? Were they all starving and plague-ridden? Perhaps that was going a bit far, but it made Jack feel better to imagine the worst.
He shook his head and turned his attention toward finding this townhouse he had forgotten about.
*
Kate was havinga marvelous time. Mr. Wilson had found her a maid who was near to her own age, and they were getting along quite well.
Kate had been in Town for over a week, and she and Simpson had been almost everywhere from Kew Gardens to the Tower, as if racing against the time when a chaperone would be found to suppress her freedom. She had little intention of remaining once Mr. Wilson had heard from her guardian and her funds had been released to her in full.
Today she intended to visit one of her friends from school. Lady Maria Lloyd was not a terribly pretty girl, but she was always kind and shared Kate’s sense of humor.
“Do you think the blue dress, miss?” Simpson asked, holding up a lovely medium shade of sprigged muslin that matched Kate’s eyes perfectly. She had spent wantonly on a few dresses this week, thinking she might have need of them wherever she decided to make her home.
“The blue is perfect.”
Simpson seemed to have a gift for dressing hair as well. Kate’s hair was on the red side of auburn and was thick and heavy. Mrs. Owens had always insisted she hide it under a cap and she could not help but feel somewhat conspicuous with it uncovered and dressed so beautifully.
“Simpson, you work miracles, but I am not attending a ball, only luncheon!” Kate teased.
“Oh, no, miss. This is just right for the daytime. If you were going to a ball, I would wind ribbons or jewels or flowers into it!”
“Your talents will be wasted on me, I am afraid. I have no plans to be a grand Society lady.”
“It’s no matter, miss. Your hair is a treat to dress, it is.”
“Who did you work for before coming here? You are not so old as to have had a great many positions.”
“No, miss. I was being trained for a duke’s daughter, but the duchess did not think I was good enough.”
“Her loss is my gain,” Kate said, smiling at the young, waif-like girl and her good fortune.
“Good riddance, I say. Begging your pardon, miss. My tongue runs on with me sometimes. You are very easy in your manner,” Simpson said as she placed a straw bonnet with matching ribbon atop Kate’s curls.
Soon Simpson and Kate were in a hired hack on their way to Mottram Place. It was not a great distance, but the house was even grander than the Owens’ townhouse. It was a mansion rather more like Winterbourne, but in the middle of Town. Lady Maria must be well to pass, indeed. She had never treated Kate in a condescending manner, but seeing the white stone house with its large circular drive and large stone wall, surrounding what must be an extensive garden, was a little overawing.
She paid the driver and climbed down from the carriage. A butler opened the door before she knocked and ushered her inside, Simpson following dutifully behind her.
“Lady Maria is in the drawing room, miss. I will show your maid to the servant’s quarters where she may await your pleasure,” he declared in a stately tone.
As they approached the drawing room, a footman opened a large door and showed her inside.
“Miss Rafferty,” he announced then Maria requested tea.
Goodness!Kate had hardly expected this formality for an afternoon visit. Maria was already in the drawing room with another lady, presumably her mother. At Kate’s entrance, Maria walked toward her with her arms outstretched.
“Kate! I am so glad you have finally come to visit. It has been an age!” Taking Kate’s hands, Maria pulled her forward to kiss each cheek.
Kate could not help but smile with pleasure. “It has been three years,” she replied—not that she was counting.
“Come and meet my mother,” Maria said, leading her across the room. “Kate, this is my mother, Lady Mottram. Mama, this is my dearest friend from school, Kate Rafferty.”
Kate remembered her manners and curtsied. The older lady smiled kindly and held out a hand. Kate accepted it and the lady give it a light squeeze. “You are very welcome, Kate. We have heard so much about you, but please sit down and tell us what you have been doing these past three years.”
Kate was hesitant to tell anyone her true situation, but she took a seat.
“I am certain it would be far more entertaining to hear of Lady Maria’s adventures,” Kate said she excepted a dainty porcelain cup of rich Darjeeling.
The countess waved her hand dismissively. “Maria has been flirting with every eligible bachelor to cross her path, yet dawdling and not settling on anyone.”
“Mama,” Maria scolded. “You know that is not true.” Maria looked at Kate. “If you had seen the gentleman who offered for me, you would not wonder. As soon as someone I can admire offers, I will be more than happy to accept.”
The countess made a noise in her throat. “Your father may not be patient for as long as that might take.”
“Enough of me!” Maria said hastily in a falsely gay tone. “Your letters came from Yorkshire, but you said very little about what you were doing there. I fully expected you to join me for the Season after school was over!”
“It turned out that my guardian had other ideas. She was an invalid and quite particular in the end.”
“She has passed away?”
“Indeed. I came to London to see her solicitor as soon as mourning was over, only to be informed I have another guardian!”
Maria and her mother both exclaimed at the same time,
“You poor dear!”
“I beg your pardon!”
Kate could only shake her head. “Apparently he is serving in the army and the solicitor has thus far been unable to reach him.”
“The post is very difficult. The army moves about a great deal and letters must be delivered to so many people. We have received letters from Gabriel posted six months prior!” the countess remarked.
Kate worried her bottom lip, then caught herself and stopped. That did make sense. Perhaps she should not be so hasty to judge Captain Owens.
“I have just received word that Gabriel is to be coming home for some victory celebration. Perhaps he might know your guardian and can take a letter back to him.”
“That would be much appreciated, thank you,” Kate answered, while she wondered why her own guardian would not be returning, if the war was over.
“You must attend the celebrations with us!” Maria exclaimed, as though the idea had just come to her.
“Oh, I could not!”
“Why ever not?” Maria looked to her mother for guidance. “Why ever not, Mama?”
“I had no thought of having a Season,” Kate explained, “and especially not now, since I will not come into my inheritance as soon as I had thought. Besides, I have no chaperone or benefactor to speak of.”
“Well, that is easily remedied,” the countess said kindly. “Maria’s cousin was married last Season and she would enjoy having a friend to bear her company.”
Kate could see where Maria had inherited her kindness. There was not a malicious bone in either of the ladies’ bodies.
“You are too kind, but I cannot impose in such a manner, especially when my circumstances are unknown to me.”
The countess waved her hand dismissively. “That is of little importance. I can ask his lordship to look into your situation for you. You are clearly gently bred, and any friend of Maria’s is very welcome. If you find you are uncomfortable, then you can at least have enjoyed a visit together!”
Maria clapped her hands. “It will be such fun to be together again!”
“There is also the matter of my wardrobe…” Kate tried to add an element of reason.
“You look very smart today,” the countess remarked approvingly.
“I did purchase a few gowns. My old guardian believed I should dress as a servant in mourning.”
“We will see what can be done. Certainly, Maria has more gowns than she needs and my maid is a wonder with a needle. We can remake a few to cover your needs through the remainder of the Season without any hardship at all.”
“There you are! You can have no objection. We used to share gowns at school, so you know we are of a size,” Maria argued.
That much was true. “I feel like Cinderella with a fairy godmother!”
The countess laughed. “You will not be required to scrub floors and wait on us, to be sure. I am not one to speak ill of the dead, but I think your guardian is better off where she is!”
Kate could only agree. She had relished her newfound freedom in the past week, but could she step into Society? She could hardly represent herself as an equal to Lady Maria or claim any wealth or dowry without her guardian’s approval. What a pickle this was!
“I will agree to attend some events with you, but not everything, not unless His Lordship is able to ascertain the circumstances of my inheritance. It could be anywhere from 100 pounds to 10,000 pounds. I have no idea and therefore do not wish to misrepresent myself.”
“That is very obliging of you, my dear. However, with your looks, if you do not mind me saying so, I think many gentlemen will be willing to overlook that fact. Besides, it will keep fortune hunters at bay and that is a very good thing.”
Kate could only smile and hope she was not treading into deep water with no notion of how to swim. If only her guardian would return!