At breakfast, there was no sign of Gerard. In the breakfast room, the family partook of coffee, warm rolls, and ham and eggs, while Father planned their early departure. They were to call again at Pendleton Manor before returning to London.

Harriett buttered a roll. She’d lain awake searching for a reason for Gerard to leave his bed in the middle of the night and the only one she could come up with she disliked. She finally slept but woke when she heard him returning close to dawn. As she dressed, she toyed with the idea of asking him straight out where he’d gone, but was afraid of his answer. Might he have a mistress living close to Foxworth, he was enamored with? Even a plainspoken person like Gerard, wouldn’t tell her. But an evasive answer wouldn’t fool her either. She nibbled her roll accepting she was being unfair; he was perfectly entitled to a life.

Leonora yawned. “I slept so well, this country air is most refreshing.”

Mama smiled. “You have roses in your cheeks. Would you like to live in the country, my love?”

Leonora’s eyes widened and she tapped her chin with a finger. “Only for the shortest time, for life here would be dull. How would you spend your days? There are no decent shops for miles around, and society could hardly be on an equal with London.”

Father seemed to enjoy the country, however. He wished to discuss Gerard’s plans with him and ride over the estate grounds before they left. Father rose and went in search of him. He returned with Gerard shortly after. Gerard shed his muddy boots at the door, slipped on another pair, and came to greet them. “I hope you all slept well.”

“We did indeed. Some coffee, Gerard?” Mama said. “You’ve missed breakfast.”

“Thank you. I always take my breakfast out into the fields, and shall do the same at luncheon.”

Harriett thought he looked preoccupied as he sipped his coffee.

“Are you plowing?” she asked.

“Yes, the north field.”

“Four-crop rotation?”

His eyebrows rose. “You know something of farming?”

“I read a little.”

“Six hundred acres of Foxworth is pasture land, much of the rest is cultivated.”

“Wheat, turnips, clover…?” Harriett couldn’t remember the fourth. Her interest in farming resulted from an interest in Gerard.

“And sainfoin.” He looked at her keenly.

“Sainfoin?”

“It’s a legume. Those fields that border the road with the rose pink flower. It’s excellent for the cattle. Doesn’t cause bloat.”

“Ugh! What an unpleasant conversation for the table,” Leonora protested.

Gerard laughed. “I do beg your pardon, Leonora.”

Harriett found his laugh strained. His blue eyes were bloodshot and no wonder, he’d had little sleep, if any at all. Unless he slept at the house of his mistress. She firmed her lips annoyed with where her thoughts led her. Judging by the steely set of his jaw, she was relieved she hadn’t mentioned seeing him last night.

Harriett went to her room, to supervise the packing of her clothes. When she came down again, her father had returned from his ride with Gerard. His face glowed with the exercise and he was full of praise for Gerard’s farming skills.

“I’ve had your carriage brought round,” Gerard said. “Your coachman and groom await your convenience.”

Standing on the coarse gravel of the semi-circular carriage drive, they said their goodbyes.

“We’d love you to come to London, Gerard.” Leonora gave him her hand. “Please. We’ll go to balls and card parties; it will be such fun.”

Gerard kissed the tips of her fingers. “In your graceful presence how could it be otherwise?”

Mama smiled. “Very prettily said.”

While Father assisted Mama and Leonora into the carriage, Gerard turned to Harriett. “You look tired,” she said. And troubled.

He bowed over her hand, but failed to kiss it, his eyes searching hers. “A country squire is always weary.

Goodbye, young Harry.”

“Goodbye, Gerard. I hope it’s not another five years before we meet again.” A lump formed in her throat and she swallowed hastily.

“As do I.” He assisted her up into the carriage, leaving a memory of his large warm hands at her waist.

The carriage traveled back along narrow country lanes where the red dog rose grew wild, a bright spot in the fields, but Harriet barely took note of it. Gerard had not been himself this morning. Whatever had happened last evening had disturbed him. She was frustrated not to know what it was, and found herself consumed with concern for him.

When they rounded the last broad sweep of driveway and Pendleton Manor appeared, a strange sight greeted them. The front doors stood open and several of the staff stood on the porch huddled in conversation. The butler patted one of the maids on the back who appeared to be in hysterics.

“What on earth…?” Father muttered as a servant rushed to put down the step and open the carriage door, his face pale with shock.

O’Hara hastily descended the steps to greet them. “It’s Mr. Everard. He’s ... passed away,” the butler said in a low voice.

“Oh good heavens.” Mama put her hands to her cheeks. “I thought him quite well yesterday. Poor Harrison, was it the apoplexy?”

O’Hara’s thin eyebrows rose. “He’s been murdered, Lady Edgerton. Sometime during the night. No one heard a thing. His manservant found him in his bed this morning.”

Mama gave a shriek. “Murdered? Is no one safe in their own bed?” She groped about in her reticule. “Call the Bow Street Runners!”

“Now my dear, the Runners patrol London’s environs. They will not come here.”

“Where are my smelling salts?”

Leonora broke into loud sobs. “I’m not going inside.”

“Nonsense, girl. We must.” Father whipped off his hat and rubbed the back of his neck. “Harriett? You’re the sensible one; take your mother and sister to the morning room, it’s snugger there, and arrange for a hot drink to be brought to them. Better yet, have a tot of brandy added.”

“I knew there’d be trouble when they put on that prize fight outside the town,” the butler said. “It brings cutthroats and ruffians to the area. Then there was that Luddite riot not far from here last week.”

Father put his arms behind his back and frowned in thought. “The local magistrate must be advised. Have you sent for the Parish constable?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Harriett shepherded her shuddering sister and mother into the morning room, her thoughts on Gerard. Had he come to Pendleton Manor last night? The thought drove a chill down her spine. Confused, she wondered if she should tell her father what she’d seen. She decided against it, aware that her loyalty may well be misplaced. She must speak to Gerard first. It would not be long before he made an appearance, for a servant had been dispatched to fetch him. Another had gone to the village for the magistrate and the doctor.

“Oh, this is too much,” Leonora, sobbed.

Revived by the hot drink laced with brandy, Mama patted her. “Hush Leonora, we shall return to London as soon as we can.”    

“I can’t miss Almack’s. I have a voucher!”   

“A man has died,” Father said quietly as he entered the room. “Your conduct is unseemly.”

Leonora hiccupped and bowed her head. Harriett felt unusually sympathetic toward her sister. At eighteen dances were of vital importance. She’d felt that way in her first Season, at least at the beginning of it. “Couldn’t Aunt Georgina come and fetch Leonora, Mama? It might be better if she did return to London.”

Mama sat up. “Why didn’t I think of that? Georgina lives but twenty miles away.”

“Oh Mama, could I?” Leonora dabbed her eyes.

“I’ll send a message with the groom,” her father said. “No sense in you being caught up in this.”

Leonora clapped her hands and smiled, just as the door opened and Gerard entered.

Harriett studied him carefully as he crossed the room. He looked pale, his brows drawn together in a frown.

“A bad business this,” her father said. “The magistrate is on his way from Temple Ewell, and the doctor, although all that can be done is to lay him out.” He put his hand on Gerard’s shoulder and lowered his voice. Harriett, the closest to them, just caught his words. “He’s in his bedchamber. An accurate knife blow, by the look of it, straight through the heart. Do you know of any enemies he might have had?”

“I don’t,” Garrard said. “He was good to his staff and didn’t get about much.”

Harriett thought he looked sorrowful, but not particularly surprised.

“We’ll have to wait and see what the magistrate makes of it,” her father said.

“I’ll go now and see Harrison.” Gerard strode from the room.

♥♥♥

Gerard stared down at Harrison, with a slow, head shake. His uncle lay where Gerard had placed him, still in his bloodstained nightshirt. He clenched and unclenched his hands. There would be an inquest. The truth could not emerge. He hurried to the elaborate piece of furniture with a myriad of drawers in the corner. Harrison’s words tugged at his heart and his hands shook as he located the catch. “If anything happens to me, Gerard, take this to London.” The hidden drawer swung open, and he snatched up the papers, his bitter fury firing him into action. “Your death will be avenged, Harrison.” Gerard turned swiftly and left the room.