Heirs and Graces (A Royal Spyness Mystery) Read online

  “Right-oh.”

  We started to walk, through the formal gardens, past the fountain, past the maze, down through the glen and up to the temple.

  “What’s this for then?” he asked. “Some sort of religion?”

  “No, just for decoration, like everything else,” I said. “I know. Another silly thing.” And we laughed. I was beginning to like him a lot.

  “What time is breakfast?” he asked. “I’m starving. And please don’t tell me it’s little squares of toast.”

  “No, there’s always a pretty good spread. What do you eat for breakfast at home?”

  “Staked necks,” he said.

  “What sort of necks?” I asked in surprise.

  “The ordinary sort. From chooks.”

  I shook my head. “I thought we spoke the same language, but obviously we don’t.”

  “You know. Chooks. Like we had for supper last night.” And he mimicked a chicken.

  “Chicken necks?” I made a face.

  He laughed. “No, eggs. You know, what they lay?”

  “Oh, you said steak and eggs.” I laughed too. “Well, there will be eggs, but we don’t eat steak for breakfast in England. Too expensive, even for dukes.”

  We walked back to the house. As we approached he looked up, studying the imposing edifice rising out of the mist. “They don’t really want me here, do they? That bloody Cedric hates my guts.”

  “I can’t disagree with you. But try hard to learn and fit in and they’ll come around.”

  As we came into the house I added, “Oh, and I’d take my hat off, if I were you. Hats are not worn inside houses like this, and it only upsets your grandmother.”

  He looked at me, grinned then removed his hat as we went into breakfast. We were the first ones there and the dishes in the tureens on the sideboard were still piping hot. We both ate heartily and Jack even tried items new to him, like kedgeree.

  “I must say, the food is not bad at all,” he said.

  “And you don’t have to go out to ride the boundary fences right after breakfast.”

  He leaned back in his chair, surveying the carved ceiling above us. “I’ve never minded hard work. I’m used to it. So what do people like you do all day?”

  “Good question,” I said. “Usually fight off boredom or do charitable works. But you’re a man. You can take an interest in the estate and the home farm. Maybe you can teach the estate workers a thing or two about raising sheep. And we can always go out riding.”

  He brightened up at this, until Edwina entered. “I hope you’re both ready for church,” she said.

  Oh, Lord. I’d forgotten it was Sunday. So we had to change into our best clothes and march down the footpath to the village church, where the family had their own pews at the front. Nicholas and Katherine, looking remarkably demure in their Sunday clothes, eyed Jack with interest as we crossed the grounds together.

  “So you’re the one who is going to inherit everything from Uncle Cedric one day,” Nick said. “You know, it’s jolly unfair. Our mother is also the child of a duke but she can’t inherit anything because she’s a woman. Don’t you think that is stupid and outmoded?”

  “I expect it is,” Jack said. “But life’s not fair, is it? They tell me you’ve got a sister who can’t walk. That’s not fair either. And my mum died when I was a little kid. That wasn’t fair. The way I see it, you just have to get on with it.”

  “You’re not going to like it here,” Katherine said. “You won’t know what to do and you’ll make a fool of yourself.”

  “It won’t be the first time,” Jack said. “You should have seen me try to shear a sheep. I ended up with a bloody great ram lying on top of me. Now, that was really making a fool of myself.”

  They watched him walk ahead with a mixture of hate and respect. I also realized that they had underestimated Jack Altringham.

  As we returned home, Jack asked to meet Sissy. Nick and Katherine reluctantly took him to the nursery, and he didn’t come down again until the luncheon gong sounded. Sunday lunch was a magnificent affair that even Jack couldn’t complain about, starting with mock turtle soup, then a huge joint of roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes, parsnips and Brussels sprouts followed by trifle. The adults retired to rest after this meal and the children went outside to play. I followed and found Jack showing them what looked like a large hunting knife. Thinking that it would be a step in the right direction if they got on well together, I wandered off on my own, in the other direction through the formal gardens—the rose garden was still just barren stumps at this time of year—then up through those wonderful meadows of daffodils until I found myself at the top of the North Downs, with a view on either side and sheep grazing on grassy slopes.

  I was making my way down again and had just reached a copse of beech trees when I heard a scream. I started to run. The descent seemed to take forever, and as I came out to the lawns in front of the house I could see a group of people gathered beneath one of the magnificent old copper beeches.

  “It’s all right. They are quite safe.” I heard Edwina’s powerful voice. “Do stop making such a fuss, Irene.”

  “But he was throwing a knife at Katherine,” she said. “He missed her by that much.”

  I joined the group. Jack was standing sheepishly off to one side with the twins nearby. I went over to them. “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “Jack was demonstrating how he could throw a knife,” Nick said. “It was brilliant, actually. So Kat said could he hit an apple on her head, like William Tell. And he told her to stand still and then he threw the knife into the tree right above her head. Pretty impressive, only Mummy was looking out of her window and absolutely had a fit.”

  “I might have done too,” I said. “It was rather silly, Jack. If you want to make a good impression, you don’t try and kill your relatives.”

  “They were perfectly safe. I didn’t even throw it that close to her.”

  “And what’s more . . .” Irene was still shrieking. “He was teaching them to sharpen sticks and spear fish in the koi pond. He’s dangerous, Mother. You know how impressionable the children are. For God’s sake, send him away before he does anyone real harm.”

  “Irene, do calm down. I remember your brother Johnnie doing rather the same sort of thing when you were young.”

  “Yes, and look what happened to him—fathered a child with a nobody in the back of beyond, and then got himself killed by being too damned heroic.”

  “He acted honorably in both instances, which is more than can be said for your husband.”

  “That’s a cruel blow, Mama. I’m not staying here any longer. I want the children away from this place right now. We’re going up to London. Nicholas, Katherine, come with me.”

  And she stalked off into the house.

  Tea had been brought out to the lawn, because the afternoon was a fine one, but it seemed that nobody had much of an appetite—and not just because of the size of the luncheon. Irene did not put in an appearance, nor did Cedric and his Starlings. The princess complained that it was too cold to be outside, so it was just Edwina, the naughty countess Virginia, Jack and me, and we made a halfhearted attempt to enjoy scones, cream and strawberry jam.

  “I can’t imagine what you were thinking, John,” Edwina said to Jack. “Throwing a knife at your cousin.”

  “I missed, didn’t I? And I’ve done that stunt a million times.”

  “But, my dear boy, what if she had moved at the last second or you had stumbled? All sorts of things could have gone wrong. Now, please understand that this is a civilized household. We do not go in for violence here.”

  “I thought we were about to go out hunting foxes,” Jack said. “And I’ve seen all kinds of weapons and animal heads on the walls.”

  “That is quite different. Those things are acceptable violence. The Engli
sh nobility has always hunted and served in honorable battles.”

  “Georgie said I should try to get along with my cousins, so that’s what I was trying to do.” Jack shrugged.

  “In the future, John, please ask me or even Georgiana if a particular pursuit is acceptable before undertaking it,” Edwina said.

  “I do wish you’d stop calling me John,” Jack said. “That’s never been my name, and I keep thinking you expect me to be my father and not me.”

  Edwina drew herself up in her seat and took a deep breath before answering. Maybe she realized that what he was saying was true. She wanted him to be her John, returned from the grave. “It’s just that John is a more suitable name for a viscount,” she said. “And one has never heard of a duke called Jack. And I expect you to call me Grandmama.”

  “Right-oh,” he said.

  I felt for her at that moment. She was going through the same exasperation I often felt in my attempts to educate Queenie. I was glad when tea was cleared away and we walked back into the house. I decided to find something to read in the library. As I passed Cedric’s study, I heard raised voices and suddenly a door opened and Irene stormed out, her face bright red.

  “That man is impossible,” she said to nobody in particular as she disappeared down the hallway in front of me. “A nasty, spiteful miser. He’ll get his just deserts someday.”

  I found a book and retreated to my room, where I read peacefully until it was time to dress for dinner. There was a full complement of guests at the dinner table, but talk was at a minimum until Cedric said, “I understand there was a bit of a ruckus this afternoon. Something about young Jack throwing knives at people?”

  “John was merely demonstrating his prowess with a knife,” Edwina said before anyone else could answer, “and I must say it was most impressive.”

  “Most impressive?” Irene demanded. “He missed my daughter’s head by inches.”

  “Too bad,” Cedric muttered loudly enough for the Starlings to grin.

  “Anyway, the incident will not be repeated,” Edwina said. “I have told John that his knife will be kept in the tack room and not brought out without my permission in future. Since there are no brigands in the neighborhood and our food comes to us on a plate, he will actually have no need of it here. So you may stop fretting, Irene. The matter is forgotten.”

  We went back to our soup until Irene blurted out, “Mama, I have to tell you that Cedric has refused to let me take the children to stay at the London house. He is not using it. He always stays at his club. It’s just sitting there, and it is the height of spite and selfishness not to allow my family to use it.”

  Edwina looked up from her oyster bisque. “It is his house now, Irene. He may use it or not use it as he chooses and there is nothing you or I can do about it.”

  “Of course you may always stay there overnight if you go up to town to a show or to visit friends, Mama,” Cedric said. “But that is very different from Irene wanting to set up home there with her brood. Where does she intend to find servants to run it properly? She has no money to pay them, and I certainly don’t want her to take any of our servants. Nor do I want to pay for servants for Irene. It’s not my fault that she made a bad decision in her choice of a husband. I warned her that foreigners are always trouble and can’t be trusted.”

  “I object to that remark, young man,” Princess Charlotte said. “Prince Orlovski and I were extremely happy and well-suited.”

  “Until he was murdered by peasants and you barely escaped with your life,” Cedric said. “And Aunt Virginia’s husbands all died under mysterious circumstances. Doesn’t that prove that foreigners cannot be trusted?”

  I thought it proved that someone should have questioned Countess Virginia more thoroughly, but Irene waved this aside and went on. “This is all beside the point, Cedric. All I am asking is to stay at the house at Eaton Square with my children—the house I grew up in and where I have many happy memories. This does not seem unreasonable to me. I have already asked you to help send your nephew and niece to decent boarding schools and you have refused. So my only alternative is to move them to London, where at least they can go to good day schools. It is not healthy for them to be stuck out here with only a tutor and no friends their own age.”

  “There’s a school in the village,” Cedric said. “They can always go there.”

  “A village school?” Irene’s voice rose dangerously. “Are you mad? You want them mixing with ordinary village children?”

  “Since we’re led to believe the future Duke of Eynsford’s mother was a barmaid or something equally lowly, it might be a good idea to prepare them for what this title may become in the future.”

  Jack rose to his feet. “My mother was not a barmaid,” he said in a voice that was icy cold. “She was a decent woman who earned an honest living to support me.”

  “Doing what, may one ask?” Cedric said, his voice laden with sarcasm.

  “If you must know, she was a schoolteacher in an outback school. You’ve talked down to me from the moment I walked in, but you’ll not insult my mother. If you weren’t such a sorry, flabby excuse for a man, I’d invite you to step outside right now to settle this.”

  “Really,” the dowager duchess said strongly. “Well, really.”

  “Really what?” Jack asked.

  “Really,” she said again. “This is not acceptable conversation for the dinner table. And, Irene, you were wrong to introduce this subject in the first place. Eaton Square is your brother’s house. You are fortunate that he gives you a home at the family seat and a tutor for your children. We are all fortunate that he allows us to continue to live here. Let us never forget that. Now, we will go on with the meal like civilized individuals. Is that clear?”

  And she went back to her smoked salmon.

  Chapter 12

  KINGSDOWNE

  The morning of the hunt dawned red. I suppose I should have taken that as an omen. As Queenie helped me to dress, I found that I was anticipating the day with equal mixture of excitement and dread. I have always adored hunting. One feels sorry for the poor fox, I suppose, although the fox is so rarely caught and killed. But hunting is in one’s blood. Setting out on a crisp morning, the horse’s breath coming out like dragon’s smoke, the sound of the hooves echoing through a silent village, and then the moment when the hounds pick up the scent and off they go, tails in the air and baying—from then on it’s pure adrenaline with fields and copses flying by, ditches and walls to be leaped. Normally I would need no excuse to join a hunt, but today I would be responsible for Jack. And hunts are absolutely laden with protocol.

  I had long ago given up hoping that my morning tea might arrive when I wanted it, but I reached across and tugged hopefully on the bell pull. Almost immediately there was a tap on my door. I began to feel more charitable about Queenie as I called, “Come in.”

  Instead of Queenie, a shy maid I hadn’t seen before came in with my tray.

  “Your tea, my lady,” she said and put it on the bedside table.

  “Thank you. What happened to my maid?”

  “I don’t know, my lady. I haven’t seen her yet this morning, so Mrs. Broad said I should bring your tea as you’ll want to get going for the hunt.”

  “Most kind,” I said, knowing full well that Queenie had overslept once again.

  “Do you want me to stay and help you dress, my lady?” she asked.

  “I think I can manage,” I said. She curtsied and left.

  I washed and got into my riding attire. I had my breeches and boots with me, but not a hunting jacket or hunting whip. These had been lent to me by Irene, who declared herself too frail and upset to think about hunting, and not having a horse of her own anyway. As I went downstairs, I saw a man standing in the hallway, smartly turned out in hunting attire. For a second my heart leaped that Darcy had come for the hunt after all.

 
; “Good morning,” I said. “Fine day for a hunt, isn’t it?”

  “Good day, Georgie.” He turned around and I was shocked to see it was Jack. He grinned. “I look like a right ponce, don’t I?” he said. “That Frederick said this is what I had to wear. The blokes at home would laugh themselves silly if they saw me like this.”

  “You look perfect,” I said. “Just right.”

  “I thought people wore red jackets for hunting, but Frederick said that black was correct.”

  “It is,” I said. “Pink jackets are an honor bestowed by the master.”

  “Pink?” He laughed. “You wouldn’t catch me wearing pink.”

  “It’s really red. Only it’s called pink.”

  “This really is a bloody silly country,” he said.

  “You said you were called Blue because of your red hair,” I pointed out. “So Australia must be just as silly.”

  “You got me there.” He laughed. We went into the dining room and grabbed an early breakfast. The dowager duchess joined us just as we were finishing, looking terrifying in full hunting gear. “I couldn’t turn down the chance to hunt once more,” she said. “But I had to promise I would not take the jumps.”

  We went out to find three magnificent horses waiting for us. Jack looked at his and laughed. “What kind of saddle do you call that little thing? It doesn’t look big enough for my bum, let alone yours.”

  “Well, really!” Edwina exclaimed. “That is a perfectly normal riding saddle, although when I was a gell a lady always rode sidesaddle.”

  “Do you mind if I take it off and ride bareback?” he asked.

  “I most certainly do mind.” Edwina allowed the groom to help her into her saddle, the poor man straining and red-faced as he hoisted that considerable weight. “You must learn the rules, John. You must learn to uphold the family honor at all times.”

  Jack swung himself easily into the saddle and I followed suit.

  “We join the hunt down in the village,” Edwina said. “It will give you a chance to get the feel of the horse.”