Chapter 23
The big hunter snorted and pawed impatiently at the ground. The day was too cold to be standing still for any length of time, and the horse had decided its rider had spent long enough staring at the house before them. An impatient shake of the head made the bridle clink noisily, and was rewarded by a slight pressure from the rider’s knees urging the big animal forward.
A house known by a single name was not unusual. To the best of Rian’s knowledge, Oakhaven had never been known by anything else. The why was no mystery. The circle of oaks on the estate had been compelling enough to not only name the property, but also persuade an ancestor it was the perfect place for worship. But why someone would refer to this building before him as The Hall was beyond his understanding. Perhaps it was a secret jest between designer, builder, and owner, for someone was surely in a fine humor when they christened this particular edifice. The Hall was a woefully inadequate appellation when considering the size of the building.
Rian guessed there were the same number of rooms as at Oakhaven, plus half as many again. He allowed a small grin to lift his mouth, realizing that it was no wonder Catherine did not find her current surroundings at all intimidating. But, as magnificent as The Hall was, an air of sadness seemed to wrap itself about the building. Some structures could remain empty for years, decades even, and show no ill effects from the passing of time, while others seemed to require continuous habitation to prevent bricks and mortar from crumbling. It had nothing to do with the quality of materials used. Some houses were just that, houses, while others were homes. It made no difference the size of the structure; some buildings did not fare well when left empty. Catherine’s home was such a place.
When originally completed, it must have been a glorious sight to see. A magnificent house reflecting the pride of the family that enjoyed its comfort. Now it was sad to see neglect and decay eating away at the house and grounds, something that he suspected had begun while Catherine was still living here.
As Stuart Collins had predicted, with a name and a starting point, it had not been that difficult a matter to locate the seat of the Davenport family. Initially he had met with some resistance regarding his inquiries about the family. The local population in this part of the country were typically closemouthed when it came to outsiders, but then a rumor had been circulated that perhaps his interest might be in the purchase of The Hall, and so they’d opened up to him. As much as such taciturn people were willing to do. As for the rumor, Rian had no idea where it had originated, but he thought it prudent to neither confirm nor deny the speculation. And now here he was, an outsider on a borrowed horse, seeing with his own eyes the house where Catherine had been born, had grown up, and had been forced to leave.
Cutting across the hills and approaching the property from the rear, he had been astonished to see the focal point of what had once been beautifully landscaped grounds was an impressive fountain. Elaborate marble fish, almost as tall as himself, stood on their tails forming a circle. Their open mouths would have gushed forth sprays of water beneath which a smaller circle of frolicking water nymphs played. The center of the pool boasted a quartet of much larger fish in the reverse position. Tails in the air, they spewed water not from open mouths, but from the point where all four tails met. Sadly the weathered condition of the statuary, along with the vegetation and sour smelling brackish water, told Rian the fountain had not functioned for many years.
“I wager it was something to see, eh?” Rian murmured. The horse snorted and twitched his ears in agreement.
The late morning sun was pale and watery, but managed to reflect off the windows on the upper portion of the house. Rian’s gaze wandered and he found himself staring at the glass, trying to guess which window might open into Catherine’s room. Something told him she would have preferred the view the rear of the house afforded.
Spring had not yet been able to persuade winter to fully release its grip on this part of the country; hence the cold air and snow that still lay on the surrounding hills. The rugged wildness of the land appealed to him, and, knowing Catherine’s love of the outdoors, Rian could not imagine her willingly leaving all of this behind. The turn of fate responsible for the loss of her home had been a cruel one.
He nudged the horse forward, continuing his inspection until he rounded the building and came to the front of the house. A multi-columned façade acted as a graceful curtain to frame the main doors. Rian was admiring the intricately carved details when the clip-clop of hooves made him look over his shoulder. With a keen eye for horseflesh, he admired the big black stallion making its way toward him. He also approved of the ease with which the rider handled the animal. His touch was strong enough to let the animal know who was in charge, but subtle enough that he did not quell the horse’s spirit. Enjoying the graceful fluidity of movement presented by both beast and rider, Rian waited for them to reach him.
“Good morning,” the man called out, bringing his horse to a stop.
Rian tipped his head, but the sudden eruption of nickering as the horses greeted each other prevented him from speaking. “It would appear they know each other,” he said once the equine salutation had subsided.
“Most likely they are commiserating with each other at having to be out in the cold,” the stranger said with a good-natured laugh. “If I might be so bold as to ask, are you interested in the house or just lost?”
“A little of both I think,” Rian answered.
The man’s presence came as no surprise to Rian. He had been expecting company ever since he’d first stepped onto Davenport land. Having declined the offer of an escort for his trip this morning, he had the distinct impression that word had been delivered to someone in authority the moment he set out. Now it would seem authority had answered.
The man had a pleasant, nonthreatening voice. One that bore no trace of any local accent, which told Rian he had also benefited from an above average education. And of course the horse was proof of its owner’s wealth. But up close Rian was surprised to find his companion was younger than he had first thought. Not long out of his teens he guessed, which put him closer to Catherine’s age than his own.
“Well, in either case allow me to introduce myself.” The stranger removed his hat, revealing a shock of bright red hair. “Edward Barclay at your service.”
Rian gave him a speculative look. Edward? Catherine’s instructor in profanity? Surely not.
“So, are you at all interested in the house?” A slight smile played about the corners of Edward Barclay’s mouth as he gestured to the brick edifice now standing behind them.
“I confess I am,” Rian answered, not in the least offended by the inquisitive nature of the question. News of a stranger had already traveled quickly throughout the village and surrounding countryside and his companion was simply being neighborly while appeasing his own curiosity. Still, Rian did not want to reveal any connection to Catherine until he knew a little more about youthful looking Mr. Barclay. He introduced himself before saying, “I hear in the village it might be available for purchase.”
Interest sparked in Edward’s eyes, and Rian was suddenly grateful for his own accent. It would tell the educated Mr. Barclay that he was not from this part of the country, and was, therefore, ignorant of any relevant details about The Hall’s former occupants. Any questions he might have would be regarded as nothing more than idle curiosity.
“Yes indeed, it might be,” Edward Barclay answered in response to his question.
“How is it that such a grand house now stands empty?” Rian asked. “Do you know the history or the family?”
“Lord yes, I grew up on the neighboring estate.” Rian felt his heart quicken as Edward pointed in the general direction of the tree line beyond the magnificent building. “Perhaps you would do me the honor of joining me for lunch? I could answer any questions you might have in far more comfortable surroundings.”
* * * *
An excellent lunch complemented by a good wine dispelled any lingering doubts Rian may have had regarding the region’s hospitality. Refilling his glass, Edward settled comfortably in the companion chair to the one Rian now occupied before a blazing fire in the salon. Several dogs, a mix of varying breeds and sizes, also wandered in and joined them, each settling quietly on the floor in its own appointed place.
“So what can I tell you about The Hall?” Edward asked.
“Has it been empty long?”
“Not long, no,” Edward said with a small shake of his head. “Less than a year actually.”
Rian grunted. “Then I must presume willful neglect is the reason for its condition.”
“Sadly, that is a truth I cannot deny. The Hall seems to have been in a constant state of disrepair ever since I was a boy.”
Rian smiled to himself. If it was Edward Barclay’s wish to discourage him from making a purchase, he was starting off on the right foot. He had the feeling, however, that the young man was as truthful in all his dealings. “What happened to the family? I understand they share their name with the town. It would be a shame to have one exist without the other.”
“That would have happened anyway,” Edward explained, “with no son to continue the lineage.”
“So, no children then?”
“No, there is a daughter.”
“Ah, I suppose she has since married and moved away as daughters do.” Rian could feel his heart begin to beat a little faster in his chest.
“I cannot speak with any certainty regarding a marriage, but it is my understanding she no longer resides within the county.”
“Do you know where she went?”
Edward Barclay reached down to scratch the ear of a particularly elderly hound that lay at his feet. If Rian had to guess he would say, from the affection being shown, that man and dog had grown up together.
“Forgive me, Mr. Connor, but I don’t think you’re being completely honest with me regarding your interest.” Edward leaned forward, his expression mildly curious. “Tell me what it is you really want to know, and I will see if I can assist you.”
The open countenance made Rian take a chance. He spoke candidly. “You are very astute, and I apologize for any perceived subterfuge on my part. In truth, I am looking for any information related to Catherine Davenport.”
“Cat!” Edward’s brows rose toward his hairline. “Forgive me,” he apologized, “it is a private, childhood name.” His manner changed, the pleasant openness becoming more guarded as his eyes narrowed. “What is your interest in Cat—Miss Davenport?”
It occurred to Rian he might have made a mistake in revealing his true interest, but there was no turning back now. “If we are speaking about the same young woman, then she is presently a guest in my brother’s home—”
“If she is the same young woman?” Edward interrupted, looking puzzled. “Why would you question her identity, and why has she not told you of her family herself?”
Rian spread his hands, palms upward, and shrugged. “She is not able to.”
“Why? What has happened?”
Both Edward’s tone and body language had become openly hostile, and Rian heard the threat implied in his question. He wasn’t sure if he should be amused or offended at the enmity being directed toward him. In response to the change in their master’s tone, a couple of the younger dogs growled softly.
“Calm yourself, young man,” Rian directed, “I have done nothing to Miss Davenport, and I assure you our paths crossed quite by chance.” He waited until he was certain both Edward and the dogs were going to allow him to explain. “Miss Davenport has been the victim of an unfortunate accident which resulted in some memory loss. I was hoping to aid in her recovery by providing some details of her past.”
It wasn’t the whole truth, but it wasn’t an outright lie either. There were some things that were not his place to tell Edward Barclay. No matter how far back his friendship with ‘Cat’ might stretch.
“Is she well?” Genuine concern now swept the hostile attitude aside, making Rian wonder just how deep the childhood friendship went.
“Yes, physically she is well, and Liam and Felicity are taking great care of her. My brother and his wife,” Rian added, anticipating Edward’s question. He sipped his wine. It really was an excellent vintage. “So what are you willing to share with me about Catherine?”
“That depends on what she has already told you.”
“Well, apart from her name, she hasn’t been able to tell us very much of anything,” Rian admitted before a mischievous grin lit up his face. “But she has confessed to being taught some rather vulgar phrases by someone named Edward.”
The young lord’s face colored, almost matching his hair perfectly. “Oh lord, she remembered that?” The statement-question was delivered with a blend of horror and pride.
“Well, she couldn’t recall when the lesson had taken place, only that it had, along with the first name of her instructor.”
“And what exactly did she say?” Edward asked slyly.
Rian repeated the salty phrase word for word. There was a moment of total silence and then, unable to help themselves, both men burst into uproarious laughter. The dogs that had been growling only moments before now gave startled whines at being disturbed by such raucous noise.
“I’m so s-s-sorry!” Edward said, shaking his head with enough vigor it looked like his head was on fire. “But I can just picture her saying that, and no doubt looking very serious too!”
“Unfortunately at the time she had her back to me so I cannot vouch for her expression, but it did not seem an appropriate moment to tell her that what she was proposing was anatomically impossible.”
“It’s not really her fault you know,” Edward explained, now he had managed to get himself under some semblance of control. “I misheard one of our stewards cussing, and it wasn’t until my own father heard me say that exact thing that he took me to one side and told me how I had totally mucked up the wording. Of course I got my ears boxed soundly when Papa realized I had shared this with Cat.” He chuckled at the memory. “I told myself I’d correct her whenever I heard her say it again, but she never did,” he finished quietly. Rubbing his chin, he smiled at Rian and continued. “I wish my father were here because he could tell you so much more than I can. Especially about Cat’s own papa, his younger days when he and my father were friends. Unfortunately that’s no longer possible.”
Rian had offered his condolences on first entering the house after seeing the wreath on the door, and the covered mirrors, but he had not asked whom the family was in mourning for. “Anything you can tell me will be helpful,” he offered encouragingly. “I will leave with more knowledge than I arrived with.”
“As long as you understand that most of what I am going to relate is knowledge of a secondhand nature. Either my parents told me, or else I overheard servants gossiping.” He gave a wry smile. “I have discovered that sometimes my cook and groom know more about what is going on inside my own house than I do.”
“A similar fact was recently brought to my own attention,” Rian shared.
Edward gave him a rueful grin. “The downfall of the Davenports has become common knowledge in these parts I’m sorry to say.”