business here."
"What business is that, if you don't mind me asking?"
"I came to collect a debt, and since the man seems to be lacking the wherewithall to pay, I might stay here a while as an added incentive for him to find it. In fact, the way it looks, I might have to take up temporary residence here."
The sheriff leaned his head back and laughed. "You'd probably do better taking something else in lieu of coin."
A lopsided grin twisted Christopher's lips. "My aspirations exactly, but I fear the man is stubbornly opposed to giving me what I want."
"Well, if you're seriously planning on taking up residence here, I should warn you there's no place but the inn for you to stay."
"Ben mentioned a manor house that was burned a few years back. He said the lord of the house was killed and that he knows of no kin who've come to claim the lands."
The man rubbed a hand nervously through his thick black hair. "I went out there myself soon after I arrived here, and though I've heard the rumor of a man being caught in the flames, I found no trace of a body. As for the manor, most of it still exists. Only the newer wing burned, as it was the only part built of wood. The stone of the old hall withstood the flames. Since the fire, the house has remained empty... unless, as some of the locals say, two ghosts roam the place, the old lord with a claymore spitting his breastbone, and the other one horribly burned and maimed." He frowned and shook his head slightly, as if confused. "Yet the tenants go about their labors as if they fully expect one of the Saxtons to return, and when Lord Talbot inquired about the lands, he was informed that the family has yet to relinquish title to it and that the taxes are still being paid."
"Who collects the rents?"
Allan stared at him thoughtfully for a moment. "Where did you say you came from?"
"What does that have to do with my question?" Christopher softened the query with a smile.
"I was just curious," Allan replied pleasantly.
"I'm from Boston, here to seek ports of trade for my ships." He arched a brow at the sheriff expectantly.
Allan shrugged and complied. "For the present I believe Lord Talbot collects the rents. He does it more or less as a favor for the family until something else is done about the ownership of the lands."
"Then he's not the one who pays the taxes?"
"Not when he desires to have the land. Why, 'twould be foolish of him to do so."
"Then perhaps this Lord Saxton isn't dead," Christopher responded. He rose to his feet and donned his long coat.
"I've been sheriff here for three years, and I've not seen any evidence that he's alive," Allan commented. He glanced around as a large carriage passed in front of the window, and quickly got to his feet. "That's Lord Talbot's coach now. He knows more about Saxton Hall than anyone around here. Come, I'll introduce you to him." Allan flashed him a smile. "If you're lucky, he'll have his daughter, Claudia, with him."
Settling his hat on his head, Christopher followed the man through the doorway and crossed the cobbled lane. A large, ornate carriage had halted a short distance from the inn, and the coachmen climbed down to hastily place a small stool before the door, which bore a lavish coat of arms. The decorative elements formed the larger part of the arms, and the shield itself was smallish and confused, thus making the three bars sinister it contained less obvious. The richness of the conveyance might have challenged those of royalty, and when Lord Talbot stepped out, his appearance proved to be just as overwhelming, for he was dressed in the brocades, laces, and silks of a bygone era. He was a man of middling years, yet well preserved. He faced the door and offered up his hand as a slim, dark-haired woman came into view. Her attire was more subdued, and from a distance she bore a striking resemblance to Erienne Fleming, yet on closer inspection Christopher discovered that she fell far short of the other's beauty. Her dark eyes
"What business is that, if you don't mind me asking?"
"I came to collect a debt, and since the man seems to be lacking the wherewithall to pay, I might stay here a while as an added incentive for him to find it. In fact, the way it looks, I might have to take up temporary residence here."
The sheriff leaned his head back and laughed. "You'd probably do better taking something else in lieu of coin."
A lopsided grin twisted Christopher's lips. "My aspirations exactly, but I fear the man is stubbornly opposed to giving me what I want."
"Well, if you're seriously planning on taking up residence here, I should warn you there's no place but the inn for you to stay."
"Ben mentioned a manor house that was burned a few years back. He said the lord of the house was killed and that he knows of no kin who've come to claim the lands."
The man rubbed a hand nervously through his thick black hair. "I went out there myself soon after I arrived here, and though I've heard the rumor of a man being caught in the flames, I found no trace of a body. As for the manor, most of it still exists. Only the newer wing burned, as it was the only part built of wood. The stone of the old hall withstood the flames. Since the fire, the house has remained empty... unless, as some of the locals say, two ghosts roam the place, the old lord with a claymore spitting his breastbone, and the other one horribly burned and maimed." He frowned and shook his head slightly, as if confused. "Yet the tenants go about their labors as if they fully expect one of the Saxtons to return, and when Lord Talbot inquired about the lands, he was informed that the family has yet to relinquish title to it and that the taxes are still being paid."
"Who collects the rents?"
Allan stared at him thoughtfully for a moment. "Where did you say you came from?"
"What does that have to do with my question?" Christopher softened the query with a smile.
"I was just curious," Allan replied pleasantly.
"I'm from Boston, here to seek ports of trade for my ships." He arched a brow at the sheriff expectantly.
Allan shrugged and complied. "For the present I believe Lord Talbot collects the rents. He does it more or less as a favor for the family until something else is done about the ownership of the lands."
"Then he's not the one who pays the taxes?"
"Not when he desires to have the land. Why, 'twould be foolish of him to do so."
"Then perhaps this Lord Saxton isn't dead," Christopher responded. He rose to his feet and donned his long coat.
"I've been sheriff here for three years, and I've not seen any evidence that he's alive," Allan commented. He glanced around as a large carriage passed in front of the window, and quickly got to his feet. "That's Lord Talbot's coach now. He knows more about Saxton Hall than anyone around here. Come, I'll introduce you to him." Allan flashed him a smile. "If you're lucky, he'll have his daughter, Claudia, with him."
Settling his hat on his head, Christopher followed the man through the doorway and crossed the cobbled lane. A large, ornate carriage had halted a short distance from the inn, and the coachmen climbed down to hastily place a small stool before the door, which bore a lavish coat of arms. The decorative elements formed the larger part of the arms, and the shield itself was smallish and confused, thus making the three bars sinister it contained less obvious. The richness of the conveyance might have challenged those of royalty, and when Lord Talbot stepped out, his appearance proved to be just as overwhelming, for he was dressed in the brocades, laces, and silks of a bygone era. He was a man of middling years, yet well preserved. He faced the door and offered up his hand as a slim, dark-haired woman came into view. Her attire was more subdued, and from a distance she bore a striking resemblance to Erienne Fleming, yet on closer inspection Christopher discovered that she fell far short of the other's beauty. Her dark eyes
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