Never Land the First Fish

Chapter Fifteen: Part 2

Gills couldn't help smirking at the looks on Lord Piero's and Lord Stocke's faces as everyone filed in—Julia they expected, and they should have expected Gills, but Lord Rookscombe was an unknown quantity, as was Miss Kilbrierry, followed up by the butler, who confirmed tea would be sent directly. Several minutes of bowing and scraping later, all had been acknowledged by sundry, and by then, tea was served.

Lord Stocke began, "I am pleased to see you looking so well and sorry to bring the belated news of your husband's death."

"Thank you, Lord Stocke. I heard the news soon after we left England."

"Are you certain you would not prefer to meet privately?"

"I believe this is as private as Lord Joseph or Miss Kilbrierry will allow, so you may as well say your piece, my lord."

"True enough," Gills said.

"Quite," Emily added.

"Very well then."

Before Stocke could continue, Lord Piero spoke up. "Lady Julia, your cousin, the Duke of Wellbridge, requires your presence at the earliest opportunity." He looked around the room expectantly, as though to ensure everyone understood the consequence of his task. "I am not making a request, but a demand."

Lord Rookscombe's eyebrows shot up. "A duke. Well. That explains it, doesn't it?" What it explained, Julia would ponder later. Emily argued against Piero from the outset: "I do not see how you are in a position to make demands in my father's home, Sir, no matter whom you represent."

Lord Stocke placed a quelling hand on Piero's sleeve. "No one is making any demands. Yet. My lady—"

"Please stop calling me that. I am not Lady Julia here."

"You are Lady Julia everywhere, my lady," Piero said flatly. "And you are wanted for questioning in your husband's death." Piero's gaze wandered then to Emily and Rookscombe, clearly hoping he had disrupted her employment, and ready to do more if required. "You may persist in this ludicrous arrangement, pretending to be a maid, but not indefinitely. You will have to return to England soon or you will find it difficult to return at all."

Lord Rookscombe turned to Julia. "Is this true? Are you a fugitive from the law?"

She winced, but Stocke spoke for her. "Lady Julia is wanted for questioning; she is not under suspicion of murder, as far as the two of us know now." He motioned to indicate himself and Piero. "And her family is standing firmly behind her. That is the other thing I am charged to tell you, my lady."

"Please stop calling me that. Mrs. Marloughe, please."

"Mrs. Marloughe, then. I am tasked to provide you the quarterly income from your trust."

"My trust? What trust? The trust that was given over wholesale to Sally Grenford three months ago?" Julia's voice held a hard edge. Gills put out a hand to touch her arm, but she pulled away before he could get close.

"My lady—"

"Stop calling me that."

"Mrs. Marloughe," Stocke amended, "the new Duke and Duchess of Wellbridge have reinstated your trust, as it stood before your falling out with the dowager duchess. The duke, particularly, sent his apology for allowing you to be marooned with Lord Athol, and his hopes for your forgiveness."

"Toad Wellbridge sent his apologies? And Sally, too, I suppose?" Julia rolled her eyes. Sally Grenford, apologize?

"Her Grace is distressed that a woman in her family has been so ill-used."