Chapter 6
The next day, at the beginning of calling hours, Nash was at the door. The ladies and Edward were in the parlour, hoping Henry wouldn’t wander in and decide to stay.
Nash smiled. “Lady Balfour, Lady Penelope, Lord Balfour,” he said, waiting for the ladies to curtsy and take their seats. He bowed.
Edward motioned to Nash, “Your Grace, please sit and join us for tea.”
“That sounds wonderful. I’m afraid I need to get used to the shift in time due to the balls. They let out at three or four in the morning. Your teacakes look delicious to a man who got a late start and hasn’t eaten much today.”
Cecilia leaned forward, “Would you like something more substantial? I can have the kitchen make whatever you like.”
“Oh, no don’t bother but thank you. After another ball or two when I get home at four in the morning, I’ll have my breakfast habits once again aligned. I must say, I enjoyed the ball last night, did you?” he said to no one in particular.
Edward answered, “I am new to the ball. Both my sister and I will be on the ball circuit and whatever else the ton throws at us this season. If the rest of the balls are similar to last night’s, I may have to revise my opinion and say the process we go through to meet women isn’t so bad after all.”
“Oh, Edward.” Cecilia laughed and turned to Nash. “He’s been complaining for months about attending these events. And look at him now.”
Nash gave a broad, gorgeous smile that showed his beautiful teeth and twinkling eyes. “I have to agree with you, Lord Balfour. I was dreading the experience. That is until your uncle pointed out your beautiful sister.”
Edward smiled broadly, “That’s kind of you to say. Do you happen to know any single young ladies you could recommend to a gentleman?”
Penelope cleared her throat. “Would you two like us to leave so you may finish your conversation? It sounds as though you’re at the club, not in a parlour having tea with ladies,” she said with a smile.
“You are right, My Lady. White’s? Dinner? Tomorrow evening? That will give me time to think about any ladies I might be able to recommend,” Nash said.
“Seven o’clock?” Edward asked.
Nash smiled. “Perfect. Although, I have noticed you do seem to have a nice lady under your nose. Lady Dinah may be worth getting to know better.”
Edward snorted, “I thought you were going to say Kitty or Isabel. I would have wondered why you disliked me so much.”
Both men laughed, and Penelope cleared her throat again.
Nash looked at Edward, “I think we had better change the subject before I am kicked out.” He turned to Penelope, “Are you ladies planning to attend the Thompson ball later this week?”
Cecilia was quick to answer. “We are, Your Grace. It should be a lively event. But I hear that, in the past, Lady Thompson has invited more people than her ballroom holds. I hope that isn’t the case this year.”
Nash turned to Edward again, “If that is the case, shall we retreat to the card room after a few dances?”
Edward shook his head no. “Not if I want to stay alive.” He looked at his mother. “I mean my mother and my sister may have other plans for me.”
Nash laughed. “I think you and I are going to be great friends.
Edward bowed. “I believe you are right.”
“Right? Right about what? What have I been missing since you started tea without me?” Henry asked, coming in and taking a seat with no bow or greeting to anyone.
Cecilia spoke in a low, slow, steady voice. “Hello, Henry. You know we begin tea every day at one o’clock. You have a standing invitation but rarely join us. Do you know the Duke of Norfolk?”
“Oh, I know him,” Henry said in a loud, hostile voice. “He’s the one who accused me of killing his dog.”
Penelope gasped, and then put her hand to her mouth. Oh, that neighbour, she thought. She remembered the incident and looked over at Nash. He was putting down his teacup and his plate. He was going to leave.
Nash stood. “Lady Balfour, Lady Penelope, Lord Balfour,” he bowed, “I look forward to our next encounter. Thank you for a lovely visit.” He turned to Edward. They nodded to one another but didn’t say a word. Neither wanted to risk Henry showing up at White’s for dinner tomorrow evening.
The ladies curtsied, Edward bowed, but Henry stayed seated. Nash left.
What was he doing here?” Henry spat out.
“He was visiting the ladies,” Edward said in a low, flat voice.
“He has interest in you, Penelope? Even with your deformed face? I wonder if Father will permit you to be courted by him,” Henry said, trying to bait Penelope.
She rose and curtsied. “If you’ll excuse me, I find I have a headache and need to rest.”
When Penelope left the room, Edward turned to Henry, “That was a mean thing to say and uncalled for. I suggest you think before you speak, Henry. One day you will say the wrong thing to the wrong person, and you will regret it.”
Cecilia stood, curtsied, and excused herself. Tears filled her eyes as she clung to the railing while climbing the stairs. She hated herself for saying it, but she hoped Henry died in a ‘hunting accident.’ So many people hated him; it couldn’t be such a far-fetched hope.
Cecilia saw Edward leave the parlour and talk with their butler, Waters. He was probably going riding to blow off some steam. And with that, tea was over.
***
When Henry reported to his father about his conversation with Edward and Penelope during calling hours, Avery was furious.
Not only had Nash come to see Penelope, but he had also left, so Henry wasn’t part of their conversation. Avery admitted concern.
Nash and Penelope became reacquainted last night from the meeting years ago that lasted at most two hours.
They had danced twice and dined together. Then, Nash was at calling hours today.
Edward and Penelope hadn’t answered directly when Henry asked specifically about the relationship. If there were no chance of a budding relationship, someone would have said no, but that didn’t happen.
Avery paced. “Those two must stay apart. It is a threat to my title for them to be a couple.
“You must be where they are. Calling hours and balls. The entire time. Don’t let a minute go by without them knowing their relationship has no future.”
Henry nodded. “He’s the biggest catch on the dance floor, and yet he looks at Penelope as though there’s nothing wrong with her. You’d think he’d go dance with the ladies trying to get him to look at them.”
“That’s your job, son. Make it happen.”
***
I was too hasty, Nash thought. It wasn’t fair to Penelope that Nash up and ran out of the house. But that’s what Henry did to him.
The moment he saw Henry, his blood started rushing through his body, hot and prickly. He could live to be a thousand, and that visceral reaction would never leave him.
The memory of Henry and what he did to Penelope and Rusty was still fresh. Penelope was permanently scarred because of him, and it wasn’t an accident. The dog was fourteen years old; he had him since he was a boy.
***
Nash had been at his estate alone far too long. After his father died, his solicitor recommended he go there and familiarize himself with the books. Make sure the steward was capable. His father had run the place well, and Nash knew what his commitment to running the place would be.
No one was in London in the dead of summer. The streets stank from the sewage thrown out windows. Sewage that ran down the street in a river. The coal made visibility almost naught. Nash always wanted to put his handkerchief over his nose and mouth to protect himself. He would go to the dock for a fresh breeze but for the rotting fish. No one was in London in the dead of summer.
He wrote to his three university friends, Harriman, Darrell, and Wilson. He thought a poker weekend with horseback riding and sleeping late sounded like fun.
They all arrived within hours of each other late Thursday. After drinks, dinner, and gossip, they went into the library where a square table had been moved.
“How do you like it here?” Wilson asked.
Nash shrugged. “It’s all right. I’ve lived here for a long time, but now that I’m a Duke, everyone treats me differently. The ladies in the tavern. Everyone. Get this; I have a neighbour who thought I’d invite him to the game because he’s the son of a Duke.
“It’s crazy.”
Harriman nodded. “Happened to me too. It will take a little while.”
The men played into the night with some heavy drinking, heavy betting, but no heavy winner. They woke to bright sunshine and made their way to the dining room to get rid of their hangovers by eating too much.
Darrell looked at his friends, “I’m still not convinced this is the cure.”
Harriman lifted his head from the business of eating. “Shut up, Darrell. You have been saying that since university. Don’t eat if you don’t want to. Just shut up.”
Darrell mumbled, “Hangover grump.”
The pathetic group took several hours to get in the saddle and head off towards the falls.
Nash shook his head. “What? You can’t even ride now?”
“My brain is jiggling in my head every time the horse moves,” Wilson said.
“Come on, Wilson. The water will do you good. It’s not far.”
Harriman asked, “Is it on your estate?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” Harriman continued, “we can swim nude.”
Nash laughed. “That was the plan all along.”
When they got to the falls, Nash’s dog Rusty was the first to jump in. The men could barely hear each other from the noise of the water, but after disrobing, they followed Nash under the falls to the flat ledge with a pool in front of it. They dove into the pool and surfaced, screaming because of the cold, but then Nash and Rusty jumped in again so they all followed.
Wilson jumped up and down with the chill as he dressed, “Well, my hangover is gone. My brains won’t fall out of my head on the way back to the estate.”
Harriman said, “I have a feeling we’re going to be back here tomorrow.”
Nash laughed. “Maybe a little earlier in the day?”
“Maybe,” Darrell said.
The four of them made it back to the house in time for tea. Perfect timing. They were ravenous. Twice, Nash pulled the bell for more food. The second time, the parlour maid asked if they were interested in a meal. They all scoffed, and Nash rolled his eyes.
They all rested and were woken for their evening meal. After feasting, they went into the library. Darrell started calling it ‘the scene of the crime’ as their night started all over again.
Late into the night, Nash’s three friends climbed the stairs as if it were a very difficult thing to do. Nash went outside to get Rusty.
He called the dog several times. Usually, Rusty would come right away, but this time there wasn’t a sound. Nash worried he was hurt.
He got a coat, took a sconce from the wall, holding it high. He checked the stables, the barn and a paddock holding cows.
Nash had long ago sobered up, his worry heightened. He thought he would find Rusty dead of a heart attack; the dog was so old. He couldn’t leave him out here.
He started down the paths in the woods, zigzagging the ones closest to the house, knowing Rusty didn’t stray far into the deeper areas. Then Nash saw Rusty and dropped the sconce. It was a damp evening so the fire didn’t spread, but Nash wouldn’t have noticed if it did.
Tears filled his eyes. He kneeled next to his dog. “Rusty, what happened to you? Who did this to you?”
Nash had to wipe his tears on the side of his coat. His hands shook each time he tried to touch his dead dog. He retracted his hand unable to do it.
Nash looked at the body of his dog in front of him while Rusty’s head was about six feet away. He couldn’t move. Who would do such an awful thing? What human was capable of such a thing?
He walked back to the stables, crying, looking for a shovel, banging into every tool in there.
An old wrinkled faced man came out of the shadows. “How can I help you, Your Grace?”
Nash turned. His face was red, blotchy, his eyes swollen from tears. “Hello, Cobb. I just found Rusty dead, and I’m looking for a shovel.”
He started crying again when he said, ‘Rusty dead.’
Cobb shuffled from foot to foot. “I’m sorry to hear it. We loved that dog of yours. I’ll be right back.”
Cobb returned with two stable boys rubbing the sleep from their eyes. As soon as they saw Nash’s eyes and his face, they stopped rubbing and nodded together, “Your Grace.”
Cobb handed them all a shovel, and Nash led the way to Rusty. When he saw Rusty, Cobb sucked in his breath and stopped walking. One of the boys behind him bumped into Cobb from his sudden stop. They all moved slowly forward, and no one said a word. Where they saw Nash break ground, they came and helped. When the hole was large enough and deep enough, Cobb stepped toward Rusty.
“No,” Nash said sharply. “I’ll do it.”
Cobb nodded and stayed back. Nash began to cry again as he picked up Rusty’s body and placed it in the ground. They were all silent as he took Rusty’s head, placed it next to his body, and picked up his shovel.
Ten minutes later, they all walked silently to the stables. Nash handed his shovel to Cobb and nodded his thanks. He went to his bedchamber and cried one last time.
By the time Nash came down to eat, the other three were there and had been told. Nash’s eyes were swollen and half shut. His nose was red.
Harriman started, “Nash, I’m so sorry about your dog. He was great.”
Darrell was next, “Everyone loved that dog.”
And Wilson went last. “Do you know who did this? We’ll go hunt him down with you. Just say the word.”
By this time, Nash was sitting with a cup of coffee in front of him. Wilson said, “You think it’s the neighbour guy, don’t you?”
Nash nodded.
Harriman looked at Darrell and Wilson. “Then we’ll get our horses and pay him a visit.”
Nash nodded. “Here’s how you can help. I’m going over there, and I am going to confront that little worm. You can ride with me and sit on your horses outside. If they see you, it might scare them a bit. He’s not going to admit he did it, but I want him to know I know.”
Darrell looked around the room. “We can do that.”
Harriman and Wilson nodded.
Nash got no satisfaction out of his visit to the Stanton estate. Both Avery and that little weasel Henry were there and talked to him about what happened. Avery wanted to know what evidence Nash had to back up his accusation, and Henry taunted him, asking if he interviewed his own staff before running to them.
In the end, the only satisfaction he got from the meeting was that they knew he knew. He and his friends went back to Nash’s estate, and they asked him if he wanted them to leave so he could be alone. However, being alone was the last thing he wanted.
The card game lasted into the night, but they woke in the morning with no hangover. It was a pain free ride around the estate and to the waterfall. After a swim, they ate lunch at the tavern, and Nash was teased about how small his town was.
They all agreed to get together in three months at Harriman’s estate and three months later at Wilson’s estate. Then, after another three months, Darrell’s estate. Once all four estates were visited, they’d find who had the biggest town.
Another night of cards, and Nash’s three friends left after the midday meal.
***
Cecilia stayed in her bedchamber for the rest of the afternoon. She sat in one of her navy brocade chairs, chairs made in India with specifications direct from Avery of the brocade pattern and colours to be used. The chair was close enough to the fireplace to warm her, but it didn’t. She had a cold, empty feeling inside.
Henry was going to ruin it. Just for his personal amusement. He would tell Avery about Nash’s interest in Penelope, and he would demand Avery cut it off.
Sometimes, Cecilia felt so helpless. Her brother was good to her, and he did the right thing by her. Hadn’t he danced with Penelope just last evening, drawing much-needed attention to his niece? Yes, he was well-intentioned, and Cecilia, Penelope, and Edward gratefully benefitted.
But Henry? He was a nightmare come to life. It was all too easy. Nash saw Penelope, knew her from long ago, introduced himself, then they clicked. You would only have to see them on the dance floor or while they sat and talked to see the interest they had in each other.
With every instinct in her body, Cecilia knew Henry would ruin the best thing that would ever happen to Penelope. Then Penelope would be broken hearted and probably settle for anyone willing to overlook her face. What gentleman would want to go into a marriage with a woman whose face carried a prominent scar? Even Edward clicked with Nash. He wouldn’t have to worry every day of his sister’s well-being if she were with Nash. Cecilia shook her head and mumbled, “The poor woman who marries Henry.”