The Secret of Bell Cottage

Chapter Fourteen - Gideon

Gideon stood, leaning lightly on his cane, in the darkened gallery, staring up at the portrait of his father. The house was quiet. Everyone else was in their beds, fast asleep. After the long day he'd had he should also have been slumbering. But he just couldn't convince himself to go to bed so, here he was standing in the long gallery, sunk in the past.

His father's likeness was awash in the faint starlight seeping in through the tall windows at the end of the room. The painting had been produced when his father was a young man. The deep colours were difficult to discern in the darkness but Gideon could remember how crisp and bright they were. The rich burgundy of the velvet drape. The royal blue of his father's vestments. The soft powdered white of the wig covering pure black hair. Hair the exact same shade as his own.

The sixth Viscount stood before a curtained alcove Gideon recognized as the north wall of the study. He was dressed in his finest but the cut of his garments was severe. No frills or fancies. That was his father. He'd never been interested in wasting his time, energy or money on useless ornamentation. He was also severe in his attitudes. Gideon couldn't remember ever hearing the man laugh. He never wasted time on frivolity. Even in the act of posing for this portrait, his father's expression remained virtually impassive.

It made his recent actions all the more incomprehensible. What could possibly have been going through the man's mind that he had acted so strangely out of character? Gideon had never known his father to make decisions without thoroughly investigating every detail. The man lived his life to a regimented schedule, never wavering. Was it any wonder the two of them had never been able to coexist with any peaceful accord?

How could he have changed so completely in the time Gideon was away? Bad enough to let the Hall fall into disrepair, but to just ignore his tenants. Gideon shook his head in confusion. It made no sense. It was his father who had taught him the importance of looking after the people on his estate.
Even here, amoung the portraits of their illustrious ancestors, he saw his father's desperation. There were paintings missing. Just shadows left in the places they had hung for generations. Even his own portrait was no longer hanging in its place amoung the rest. It made no sense. Why this desperate need for ready cash? He couldn't understand it.

Gideon had spent several hours with Coombs, in his office going over the books. He had listened as the little steward read out the entries, calculating expenses in his head as they went along. From the first, the numbers didn't seem to work out right. Something was off but he couldn't pinpoint exactly what the problem was. He would just have to wait until Deacon arrived. If there were discrepancies, Deacon would find them.

A soft creaking sound startled Gideon from his thoughts. He turned his head in time to see a panel in the wall to his left open up. A flickering light brightened the corridor for a moment before it was doused. After a short pause, a small figure stepped through the opening and pulled the panel closed. It wasn't until she stepped away from the wall towards him that he recognized her.

"Mary?"

The girl had been looking down at her feet. The moment he spoke, her gaze leaped to his face and she froze in place.

"You're not going to run away again, are you?" Gideon smiled at her, hoping to put the child at ease.

She hesitated but then she heaved a great sigh and shook her head.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?"

Gideon watched her bite her bottom lip as her gaze slid to the door she'd just come through. He waited patiently until her eyes returned to his face and she nodded.

"Have you lost your voice, then?" Gideon smiled at her, hoping to draw her out with humour.

"No."

"Well, that's a relief." He chuckled softly. "What were you doing, using the servants staircase?"

Her gaze dropped to the floor as she shrugged and began tugging at her braid self-conciously.

"Did you sneak down to the kitchen for a snack?" He persisted.

"Not really."

"Don't worry. I won't tell Carver you were in her kitchen."

At the mention of the old cook, her head came up and she stared at him oddly. He couldn't decifer the thoughts running over her tiny features and was surprised when she pointed to the cane he leaned on.

"Where did you get that?" She asked suddenly.

"This?" He lifted the cane, shifting most of his weight to his good leg. "Ester found it for me."

"No." The girl shook her head as she approached him and pointed again. "That ring."

Gideon transferred the cane to his right hand as he lifted his left to examine to signet ring he wore. He remembered how fascinated she had been by the trinket before. Apparently, she had not forgotten about it.

"My father gave it to me." He remembered that day quite well.

His father had insisted ten year old Gideon should accompany him on his rounds of the tenants and other Chesterton holdings on the estate. An unusual occurrence. Up to that point, Father had paid little attention to him. Unless he got into big trouble, he rarely ever saw his father. But that day, things changed. After they returned from that first ride together, his father had taken him into the study and shown him the ring he always wore.

"This is our family crest, Lad. My father gave this to me when I was about your age. It has always been a source of pride and dignity." Then Father had opened his desk drawer and lifted out an exact replica and presented him with it. "I expect you to uphold these values above all else."

It was the only time Gideon could recall his father speaking so solemnly to him. After that, any time Father rode out to tend to estate business, Gideon rode along. Right up until he was sent off to Oxford. Their relationship may never have been close but his father had taken steps to ensure they spent time together. Gideon had learned most of what he knew of managing the estate on those outings with his father. They were his fondest memories of the elder Viscount.

Mary turned to look up at the late Viscount's portrait. She studied the painting for a long moment and Gideon waited, anticipating the direction of her thoughts. She was a very astute, observant child. He tried to study her face while she pondered but it was too dark to see. He did recognise some of the features she'd inherited from her mother. That cute little turned-up nose, the rounded chin. Even her hair colour was Maggie's. He didn't know why he hadn't realized it sooner. She certainly had his father's blue eyes, but he could see nothing which would mark her as his own get.

"It's the same as Papa's," she pointed out, turning back to face him with a serious mien.

It took him a moment to realize she meant the singet ring. He swallowed the sudden lump that formed in his throat, dreading the inevitable path of this discussion.

"Yes," Gideon nodded slowly, conceding to her conclusion. "He was my father."

"So, are you our brother?"

Gideon hesitated. He wanted desperately to tell her the truth, but he couldn't. His father had acknowledged this child as his own, publicly legitimizing her birth. He was the only father she had ever known. How could Gideon now claim her as his child and turn her into a bastard in the eyes of the public? How could he be so selfish as to turn her whole world upside-down? He just couldn't bring himself to do it. Not when there was a simpler, more acceptable explanation. He was forced to hold back a pained gasp at the sudden sharp pain in his chest as he again nodded.

"Yes."