Chapter Fifteen
Eleanor desperately wished she and Hugh were anywhere but this blasted ball. Someplace they could be alone and she could bare her soul.
Ned had escorted her back to the main room after supper and was currently describing his work with the tenants in excruciating detail. She hoped her “mms” and “ohs” and “I sees” were coming at the appropriate places. Hugh, who had taken supper with his family, was leaning against the wall to one side, a glass of wine in hand, staring at her and Ned. He was alone. Earlier, the Grey brothers had been absent from the ball for a while, and Eleanor wanted to believe they were mending their fences.
Eleanor had danced nearly every set. When at last she sat one out, the truth of her situation fell on her like a bag full of gold guineas. Hugh believed his own mother had deserted him, and as soon as he found out about Lili, he would find Eleanor guilty of a similar crime. And in a way, it was true. She wanted to weep when she thought about the necessity of surrendering Lili to the Abbots.
Whatever her guilty thoughts were at present, she had to survive the ball. Later tonight, she would tell Hugh the truth. Losing her patience at last, she interrupted Ned. “My pardon, Ned, but would you escort me to Sir Hugh?”
She’d embarrassed him. He stammered a reply and offered his arm. They headed toward Hugh, who watched her with blatant admiration the whole way. Ned excused himself and moved a short distance away from them.
“I knew if I stared at you long enough, you would come to me,” Hugh said, giving her a slow grin.
“I’m afraid I was rude to Ned. I interrupted him in mid-sentence.” Eleanor smiled wryly. “He’s certainly enthusiastic about his work.”
Hugh laughed. “That he is.”
Laying a hand on his arm, she said, “Hugh, I must see you about something. It can’t wait. Could we meet after the ball?” Glimpsing his smoldering eyes, she said, “No. Not for that.”
“Damn.” When she didn’t smile, he stopped teasing and grasped her hands. “I thought something was amiss. Tell me now, Eleanor.”
A voice seeking the attention of the gathering interrupted them. It was Mr. Beckwith, beginning the official part of the celebration. The reason for the ball. Hugh leaned toward her and whispered, “I’m sorry.”
She mustered a smile and nodded. Eleanor was relieved they’d been interrupted. She didn’t want to tell him until after the ball. Especially since the denizens of Haslemere were honoring him, acknowledging him as a respected member of the community.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve gathered here tonight to celebrate the knighthood of Sir Hugh Grey, an honor recently bestowed upon him by the Prince Regent.” There was a smattering of applause.
“Sir Hugh is one of the first recipients of the Knight Grand Cross from the Royal Guelphic Order, founded by the Prince of Wales himself. He was awarded this honor for acts of bravery during the Battle of Châteauguay, fought near Montreal in the year 1813.
“Risking his own life, Sir Hugh carried out a rescue mission, saving five members of the Fencibles who had been too gravely wounded to save themselves. Sir George Prevost, Governor General of Canada, put his name in for the knighthood. Very well deserved, Sir Hugh.”
Now the room burst into enthusiastic applause.
Eleanor sneaked a glance at Hugh. This must be torture for him. His modesty and reserve did not allow for bragging about his exploits in the service of his country. In fact, that day in Hyde Park, when she’d asked what he’d done in North America, he had never mentioned how he had earned the knighthood, and after she’d nearly been run down, she had forgotten to ask.
Her attention was diverted by a man who suddenly appeared at Ned’s side. Someone distinctly not dressed for a ball, but attired in a laborer’s clothing. Since Ned didn’t seem at all shocked, she assumed he knew the man. The stranger, from what Eleanor could observe, was agitated about something. In a moment, Ned and the other man headed their way.
Hugh spoke briefly with Ned and then turned to her. “A fire has broken out at Longmere,” he said, and began making his way to the front of the room before she had time to react. Mr. Beckwith was in mid-sentence when Hugh interrupted him. By now, the crowd had grown restive, speculating about what could be wrong. And then Hugh broke the suspense.
“Peter Allen, one of my tenants, has just brought the news that the Longmere stables are on fire.” The murmurs turned into a din in no time. Hugh was forced to shout. “Obviously, there is no time to lose. My thanks to all of you for this wonderful occasion. It meant a great deal to me.” He glanced about the room. “We could use all available hands for the bucket brigade.” And then Hugh strode out of the room, followed by Ned and Mr. Allen.
Adam, after speaking briefly to Cass, hurried after his brother. Most of the other men also rushed out. Poor Mr. Beckwith looked stricken. He was attempting to get everybody’s attention, but to no avail. Throwing his arms up in frustration, he finally conceded defeat.
The evening was ruined. But that was not what disturbed Eleanor. For one thing, she was horribly afraid for Hugh. Fire spread rapidly in a stable, and it could be out of control by now. What if he lost everything? The fire might easily spread to other outbuildings, the woods and orchards. And the house. Hugh’s cherished new home. But even that was not the most alarming part of this. No. The most horrifying aspect was the corrosive, clawing fear that Jacob Abbot was responsible for setting the fire, in a twisted attempt to bend her to his will.
“Eleanor?”
She glanced up into the worried eyes of her father. “Come along quickly. I’m taking you and your mother home, and then I’ll be off to Longmere.”
She did not trust herself to speak, but followed him mutely, wondering what she had wrought with her secrets and lies.
…
Very early the next morning
Hugh, Adam, and Ned Martin sprawled in Hugh’s bedchamber in the new house. By the grace of God, it had been spared. It smelled of smoke, but that was the least of his concerns. Everything smelled like smoke. He glanced at the other two men. Their clothes were covered in grime—that is, the parts that weren’t torn to shreds. Their faces were almost comically streaked with soot. Hugh had lowered himself to the edge of the bed and now rested his head in his hands. The other two men sat on the floor.
“You warned me, Ned,” Hugh said, dejection in his voice. “You advised me to hire a watchman, and I never got around to it.”
“But I did. I hired my cousin. By God, I’ll have his head if he shirked his duty last night.”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Hugh said. “You’ll question him, Ned, and inform me.”
After a cavernous yawn, Adam said, “What do we know?”
“Not much, I’m afraid, except that the fire was started deliberately. The remnants of the torch the bastard used were found. We were damned lucky to have gotten the animals out.”
“Nobody gave chase?”
“They considered it, but thought it was more important to bring the horses out. I would have done the same.” Hugh had pieced together what happened based on various things he’d been told since last night. The men—the footman, groom, and a few laborers—had been playing cards in the tack room. One of them thought he’d seen a shadow, but nothing raised an alarm until they had smelled the unmistakable odor of burning hay. By the time they’d investigated, the flames were licking at the loft. One of the men hastened to alert the tenants, who’d come running with buckets. Soon, dozens of men from all around Haslemere had arrived to help, including most of those who had been at the ball.
The stable was a complete loss. As were the cupboards, shelves, and moldings the carpenters had completed thus far, which had all been stored outside.
“Do you have any enemies, Hugh?” Adam asked. “Any disgruntled workmen who might bear a grudge for one reason or another?”
Hugh glanced at Ned. “Do we?”
Ned didn’t answer immediately, taking some time to gather his thoughts. “There is the one fellow, Abbot, who can be surly at times and doesn’t mix with the others. But he seems harmless enough.”
“Abbot.” Hugh rose and began pacing. “Good God, I forgot about him. He said something that upset Miss Broxton when she was visiting.”
“What?” Ned said. Hugh hadn’t mentioned the incident to him.
“Eleanor wouldn’t tell me, only that it was unfit for a lady’s ears. I wanted to sack him, but she asked me not to. She worried his family would suffer if he lost his employment.”
Adam had produced a flask of brandy, and after taking a swig, passed it to Hugh. “That doesn’t explain why he would be nursing a grudge against you.”
“When I noticed that Eleanor was upset, I ordered him back to work. But that was the end of it.”
“Do you want to question him?” Ned asked.
“Not yet, but let’s keep an eye on him. If he’s the perpetrator, he may decide to make more trouble. We might be able to catch him in the act.”
Adam slowly rose. “I’m dead on my feet,” he said. “Ned, can I give you a ride to Town? Since the Broxtons conveyed Cass and Deborah home, I have the carriage.”
“My thanks. I’ll return in the morning, Hugh.” It was the first time Ned had left off the honorific. Fighting the fire had been a bit like going through a battle together. Rank became insignificant.
“Like hell you will. It’s nearly morning now. Take the day off and get some rest. You’ll need it in the days ahead.”
When they were gone, Hugh stripped and crawled beneath the covers. How he wished Eleanor were there with him. He hadn’t had time to spare her a thought since he’d learned of the fire, but now he recalled her troubled countenance. She’d said she needed to see him. Damnation. He would find the time later today to pay her a visit.
Sir William had worked alongside the other men most of the night, taking a position in the bucket brigade. To Hugh’s relief, Broxton had even offered to stable the horses. One less thing to worry about.
He didn’t want to think about fire or destruction, or the close call with the house. So he pictured Eleanor. How elegant she’d looked at the ball, the way she’d felt in his arms. He wished he’d had that second dance with her.
…
The worst of Eleanor’s fears had been realized.
After staying the night at her family home, she breakfasted early, before anybody else was up, and walked to her cottage. As soon as she entered, a note resting on the floor caught her eye. Obviously, it had been pushed under the door. Momentarily nonplussed, Eleanor calmed as she bent to pick it up. She’d expected it, after all.
Unsure if her legs would support her, she sat down at the worktable to read the note. It was short and to the point: Things can get worse for our friend and for you. Fifty pounds would protect your secrets. Don’t be a fool about this. JA.
For the present, she would ignore it. Abbot wasn’t likely to take any further action immediately. The man must be desperate to have committed such a heinous crime. Arson was a hanging offense. At the very least, it could mean imprisonment or transportation. And now she held the proof in her hand that he’d also committed blackmail. Abbot was unpredictable, and she must remove Lili from his home. She couldn’t risk his striking out at Hugh again, or someone else close to her.
Eleanor considered whether she should speak to her father. She badly needed advice. Unfortunately, that meant telling him that Hugh was Lili’s father. Reluctantly, she concluded there was no good alternative, since Hugh would be occupied with cleaning up after the fire. That could take a few days. In the chaos, she doubted he even remembered she’d asked to see him after the ball.
To her shame, she had brought calamity down on Hugh’s head. She was so grateful they’d been able to save his home. But according to her father, almost everything else was lost. She wanted to weep and pound her fists into something, but she couldn’t lose control. She must figure out what to do.
A line from one of her favorite poems came to her: Oh what a tangled web we weave/When first we practice to deceive. By keeping Lili a secret, she’d woven a web of deceit, ensnaring both herself and Hugh. And now she must find a way out. She would. She had no choice. Her father would help her.
Eleanor rose and began to set out the items they’d need for today’s sewing. The act of readying things soothed her. After a while, Bobby scratched at the door, and she paused to let him in. Stooping, she picked him up and cuddled him against her chest. He was her true friend, and she needed one right now.
…
Hugh had intended to sleep late, but he jolted awake after a few hours and was too restless to drift off again. He dressed in work clothes and ventured outside to view the damage in the clear light of day. Of course, Ned was already there. He’d brought coffee, pastries, and bacon, bless him. It was a fine thing to have a steward whose family owned the local tavern.
“I recall telling you to take the day off,” Hugh said, eyeing Ned sardonically.
“You tell me a lot of things, Sir Hugh.”
Hugh laughed, but only briefly. He gulped black coffee as he gazed around the ruins of his stables. “Do you think there’s anything salvageable?”
“Doesn’t appear to be, but I suppose we should sort through the mess to make sure. We have to get rid of it, anyway.”
“Tell the men I’ll pay for new work clothes and whatever else they’ve lost. Shall we get started?”
Using shovels, they worked for a long time, plunging through wet ashes and shards of wood and glass. They dumped most of it into carts to be hauled away. It was a filthy and unproductive effort, yielding little. Now and then, one of them would find an object that miraculously had survived the blaze. A piece of tack. A boot. A hammer. Small bits, such as buttons and buckles. Finally, Hugh called a halt.
Motioning to Ned, he said, “Let’s eat the victuals you brought.” Earlier, he’d filled a jug with water from the well. After pouring some over his hands to get the soot and ash off, he drank his fill and passed it to Ned. They tucked into the apple puffs and bacon and drank the rest of the coffee.
“What’s next?” Ned asked when they’d finished eating.
Hugh wiped his mouth on his sleeve, then laughed at himself for doing it. “Have you checked with your cousin yet? Was he on duty last night?”
“He was, but he neither saw nor heard anything. He left his post once, for a trip to the privy, and that may have provided just the opportunity the perpetrator needed.”
“Unfortunately, setting a fire doesn’t require a lot of time. Let’s set up a rotation for the men, myself included, beginning tonight. Shifts will start as soon as the workmen have left for the day.”
“Do you reckon this Abbot fellow could have set the fire?”
Hugh shrugged. “No idea, at this point. What would he gain by it? And if he were caught, he’d lose everything.”
“No disrespect meant, sir, but might Abbot have a connection with Miss Broxton?”
Without pausing to think, Hugh said, “No.” Quite firmly. Then, “I don’t know. I asked her, since she’d advocated for him pretty strongly. She denied it, and I don’t think she’d lie to me.” He must find the time to see her today. She’d said she wanted to tell him something—could it somehow relate to Abbot?
Ned was trying to stifle a grin, but didn’t quite succeed. “You care for the lady, don’t you?”
Hugh cracked his own grin. “I do. Very much.”
“I know her only in passing, of course. People think a lot of her. Her father’s a force to be reckoned with,” Ned said, quirking his mouth. “But you’re likely in good standing with him because of your brother.”
“Since the knighthood, I’ve risen in his estimation,” Hugh said wryly. “Eleanor and I are…close, but she’s a private person. I suspect she’s keeping something from me. Something significant.”
“We all have our secrets, Hugh. A part we hold back from others.”
“Yes, you’re probably right. But for Eleanor, it’s almost like a burden. One she would like to share, but can’t, for some reason.” Hugh was tempted to ask his friend what he knew about Eleanor during the time Hugh had been in Canada, but then thought better of it. He didn’t want Ned thinking Eleanor had done something wrong.
“Do you love the lady, sir?”
Hugh was surprised by the question, but found he didn’t mind Ned asking it. The man was his closest confidante right now. “I believe I do.” He laughed. “Rather desperately, actually.”
“Then you should tell her so. And no matter what her secret is, her burden, it doesn’t matter and shouldn’t change your feelings.”
Hugh felt as though someone had thrown a bucket of cold water on him. “How did you become so wise in matters of love, my friend?”
Ned’s face turned crimson. “I have my regrets.”
They resumed their work, and the other men joined them eventually. While he was shoveling enormous amounts of ash and rubble, Hugh thought over Ned’s advice. It made perfect sense and might represent the only way to win Eleanor’s heart. And he couldn’t imagine any secret she might be harboring that could possibly change how he felt about her.