I’d
count as odd. Not that last day I drove Her Grace, but days later. Two days,
maybe.” He scrunched his forehead as if trying to remember.
Everyone waited in suspended silence for
him to continue.
He glanced at Sarah again as if asking
permission, and she nodded again, urging him with her expression.
“It was early evening. It’d been pouring
down rain all day, but it had finally let up, and the moon was providing a bit
of light, so I’d gone out to exercise one of the mares. I saw a cart in the
driveway of the dower house as I passed it. I’ve seen carts there before, mind,
when something’s being delivered to Her Grace and such. But this cart didn’t
belong to anyone I knew, and it was drawn by asses, not horses. And the back
was piled high” – he gestured above his head to demonstrate – “but I couldn’t
tell what with. ’Twas all covered by oiled woolen blankets, water from the
earlier rain still dribbling off the pile down the sides.
“I rode on, not giving it much thought
beyond that. I had ridden behind the dower house when I heard it.”
“Heard what?” Theo breathed.
Johnston swallowed. “Well, sir… it was
shouting. Coming somewhere from the upper story – I couldn’t rightly tell which
window it came from. It sounded like the duchess was yelling at someone.”
“What was she saying?” Simon asked.
Johnston looked a little pink now. “I
couldn’t hear it all, Your Grace. But I thought I heard ‘fool’ and ‘bloody
idiot’ and ‘how dare he!’” Again, he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I
was… er… rather discomfited, sir, and I thought the duchess wouldn’t like me
eavesdropping. It wasn’t my place to listen to a private conversation like
that. So I turned the horse and rode away.”
“Did she sound like she was afraid?” Sam
asked.
“Why, no sir. She sounded very angry.
Angrier than I’d have ever thought a lady like that was capable of. It sounded
like she wanted someone’s blood. Honestly…” Blushing full-on now, the tips of
his ears scarlet, he said, “I thought she might be beating one of the
servants.”
Simon supposed that Johnston was new
enough to Ironwood Park that he could forgive him for thinking that. Any of the
older staff would never have considered such a thing.
“Did you hear anyone else?” Sam asked.
“Was anyone else speaking?”
“No, ’twas just Her Grace. Or,” he
amended, “I thought it was.” He frowned again. “It did sound like her, but her
voice was raised so high and angry, I can’t be completely sure of it.”
“Oh, it was Mama, all right,” Mark
mumbled. “I’d bet my dinner on it.”
Simon would, too. Their mother rarely lost
her temper, but when she did she lost it monstrously.
“Have you anything else you can tell us,
Johnston?” Simon asked him.
Johnston’s forehead lined with thought.
“Can’t say as I have, Your Grace.”
“All right. If you think of anything else,
you must come to me straightaway.”
“Yes, sir.”
He dismissed the coachman, and Sarah
walked him out. As soon as the door closed behind them, Mark asked, “What the
devil could have made Mama so angry?”
Sam blew out a breath. “Who knows? Nothing
that we found in the house gave us any clues.”
His brothers continued talking, but Simon
kept glancing at the door, wishing Sarah would return. He didn’t like the way
the coachman had looked at her. He didn’t like her being alone with him.
“What do you think, Trent?” Mark was
asking.
Simon dragged his attention from the door.
“About what?”
“Do you think we should all leave Ironwood
Park tomorrow?” Mark repeated.
Simon kept his gaze cool, and he leveled
it on his brother. “Yes. Since we haven’t unearthed any answers here, we’ll all
leave to our respective destinations tomorrow, as planned. Except you, Mark.”
Mark nodded. Over luncheon, they’d
discussed the need for someone to stay an extra week or two at Ironwood Park to
ensure no stone
count as odd. Not that last day I drove Her Grace, but days later. Two days,
maybe.” He scrunched his forehead as if trying to remember.
Everyone waited in suspended silence for
him to continue.
He glanced at Sarah again as if asking
permission, and she nodded again, urging him with her expression.
“It was early evening. It’d been pouring
down rain all day, but it had finally let up, and the moon was providing a bit
of light, so I’d gone out to exercise one of the mares. I saw a cart in the
driveway of the dower house as I passed it. I’ve seen carts there before, mind,
when something’s being delivered to Her Grace and such. But this cart didn’t
belong to anyone I knew, and it was drawn by asses, not horses. And the back
was piled high” – he gestured above his head to demonstrate – “but I couldn’t
tell what with. ’Twas all covered by oiled woolen blankets, water from the
earlier rain still dribbling off the pile down the sides.
“I rode on, not giving it much thought
beyond that. I had ridden behind the dower house when I heard it.”
“Heard what?” Theo breathed.
Johnston swallowed. “Well, sir… it was
shouting. Coming somewhere from the upper story – I couldn’t rightly tell which
window it came from. It sounded like the duchess was yelling at someone.”
“What was she saying?” Simon asked.
Johnston looked a little pink now. “I
couldn’t hear it all, Your Grace. But I thought I heard ‘fool’ and ‘bloody
idiot’ and ‘how dare he!’” Again, he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I
was… er… rather discomfited, sir, and I thought the duchess wouldn’t like me
eavesdropping. It wasn’t my place to listen to a private conversation like
that. So I turned the horse and rode away.”
“Did she sound like she was afraid?” Sam
asked.
“Why, no sir. She sounded very angry.
Angrier than I’d have ever thought a lady like that was capable of. It sounded
like she wanted someone’s blood. Honestly…” Blushing full-on now, the tips of
his ears scarlet, he said, “I thought she might be beating one of the
servants.”
Simon supposed that Johnston was new
enough to Ironwood Park that he could forgive him for thinking that. Any of the
older staff would never have considered such a thing.
“Did you hear anyone else?” Sam asked.
“Was anyone else speaking?”
“No, ’twas just Her Grace. Or,” he
amended, “I thought it was.” He frowned again. “It did sound like her, but her
voice was raised so high and angry, I can’t be completely sure of it.”
“Oh, it was Mama, all right,” Mark
mumbled. “I’d bet my dinner on it.”
Simon would, too. Their mother rarely lost
her temper, but when she did she lost it monstrously.
“Have you anything else you can tell us,
Johnston?” Simon asked him.
Johnston’s forehead lined with thought.
“Can’t say as I have, Your Grace.”
“All right. If you think of anything else,
you must come to me straightaway.”
“Yes, sir.”
He dismissed the coachman, and Sarah
walked him out. As soon as the door closed behind them, Mark asked, “What the
devil could have made Mama so angry?”
Sam blew out a breath. “Who knows? Nothing
that we found in the house gave us any clues.”
His brothers continued talking, but Simon
kept glancing at the door, wishing Sarah would return. He didn’t like the way
the coachman had looked at her. He didn’t like her being alone with him.
“What do you think, Trent?” Mark was
asking.
Simon dragged his attention from the door.
“About what?”
“Do you think we should all leave Ironwood
Park tomorrow?” Mark repeated.
Simon kept his gaze cool, and he leveled
it on his brother. “Yes. Since we haven’t unearthed any answers here, we’ll all
leave to our respective destinations tomorrow, as planned. Except you, Mark.”
Mark nodded. Over luncheon, they’d
discussed the need for someone to stay an extra week or two at Ironwood Park to
ensure no stone
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