A busy morning became a busy evening became a busy week.
The Humphrey siblings were sent for and arrived the next day. They brought with them an apology from Thomas; he had decided to remain near his family and the gaol in case he was able to discover anything further.
"Good of him," David said with a stiff nod, his arms moving to fold across his chest. "I must thank you both for coming. I know you have better things to be doing than-"
Bart clapped him firmly on the shoulder. "Think nothing of it. We are happy to assist."
David smiled slightly, letting the bigger man pass him into the house. He looked to Vincent then. The younger fellow just adjusted his spectacles, blinking at him. Both men were relieved when Phil appeared at their side, reaching for Vincent's hand.
"Come, Vin – we need your help."
Her brother let her pull him away.
David watched them go, only to find Matt grinning from the doorway. He gripped his brother's shoulder as they passed but waited for David to reach him before moving.
David wet his lips as Matt fell into step beside him and they followed the other two up to the study at a distance. "A peculiar man, your brother."
Matt barked out a laugh and raked his hair out of his eyes. "He is that, isn't he. I'm sure he'll speak to you when he finds something more comfortable to discuss."
"Do I make him uncomfortable?" David asked quickly, a frown carving into his forehead.
This time, Matt only shrugged. "The world makes my brother uncomfortable."
In spite of his perpetual discomfort, Vincent helped Phil finish going through the estate finances, and also began perusing some of the notes from the solicitor and the bank. David might have helped, but Simon and Bart kept him at their side, discussing the tenants, the crops they grew and the livestock they ran. He was ashamed not to know much about them, apart from what he'd read, and was easily encouraged to make trips to the occupants of his land every day. He met them, talked to them, learnt from them, and then returned to the main house to discuss it all with the Humphrey brothers.
"The main hardship they face is not having enough hands to bring in the harvests," he said one night, nursing a cup of spiced wine and looking over the map that was laid across his desk. "There is too much land and they lose so much produce to the changing seasons."
Simon ran a hand across his face, stifling a yawn. It was late and he was having difficulty focussing on the notes in front of him. "You could divvy the land up further, I suppose, or hire hands to help with the harvest. That was you could take a portion of the profit and feed it directly back into the estate. It would work so long as..."
He was too tired to realise that David had long since stopped listening, sitting bolt-upright in his chair with a small frown on his face. "Divide the land up? The tenants would not feel cheated?"
The other man blinked slowly. "I wouldn't think so, particularly if you consulted with them. They get a more manageable chunk of land and stop spending money on wasted crops, and the rent they pay you would decrease. You'd get happier tenants and more of them, increasing your return as well. No one should have a problem with that." He readjusted his position, his head tilting back to rest against the back of his seat. The chairs were still not comfortable, but if one was tired enough then anything would do.
David's gaze was fixed on the map, imaging where new borders could be drawn to give equal value to all tenants. The idea might work, he thought with equal parts excitement and guilt. It would work, but he should have thought of it. And sooner. His hand drifted to rub his chest, just below his breastbone where the hollow feeling was located. His memory had shown no signs of returning further; the last twelve or more months of his life were lost. He would never know why he abandoned the estate, why he fled his duty, and the guilt had carved a place in his chest.
There was a timid knock at the door, and he glanced up quickly to see a serving maid – Nancy – hovering in the doorway. She held a tray in one hand.
"Good evening, m'lord," she said softly, her gaze darting to Simon who was now snoring lightly, "Mrs Hackett said that if yous were still at it in the early hours, that I ought to bring yous this." She lifted the platter slightly.
Dinner had been many hours ago, and David nodded quickly. "That's very kind of you both." The maid stepped gingerly across the room, dodging piles of books and stacks of papers weighed down with books. "What is it?"
He needn't have asked, as the moment the tray was sat down it revealed a few small, yellow cakes that wafted a familiar scent.
"They is lemon and honey cakes, m'lord."
His lips twitched into a smile. "Indeed, they are."
Nancy shifted her weight to the other foot. "Is there anything else I can do for yous, m'lord?"
David shook his head. "No, thank you. Please turn in for the night, and tell any other staff that are still awake that I said they should retire as well. We can't all be exhausted on the morrow."
She bobbed a curtsy, her smile one of tired relief, and then made her way delicately out of the room. David called out to her when she was in the doorway.
"Nancy, may I ask..." he glanced down at the cakes and then back up at the young woman. "Do you know why cook made the cakes? Or why Mrs Hackett had them sent up?"
She shrugged slightly. "I don't rightly know, m'lord. Cook and Mrs Hackett and Lady Beth have been talking 'bout all sorts. I reckon this is one of the things they thought up for yous."
David couldn't help but smile. Of course, it was Beth. He dismissed Nancy with a smile, and settled back to enjoy his cakes as he began to carve up the Namby estate for new tenants.
Cakes was not the only thing Beth had been doing with her time. She and Mrs Hackett had almost daily conversations about the running of the house. In all honesty, the housekeeper ran a tight ship. The staff were well-trained and dutiful – and also had no complaints when Beth pulled a few aside to discuss things – there were just too few of them for a house that size. As she followed the woman, listening to her suggestions and criticisms of the state of Namby house, Beth found herself pulled into tasks that wouldn't normally be expected of her. She helped make a bed, rekindle a dying fire, and even tossed dough in the kitchen until she dropped one and the cook sent her scurrying. She was not unhappy with this development, as it served two purposes. The first was that it endeared her somewhat to the staff, and they were more willing to talk to her about the running of the house. The second was that it kept her far out of the way of Miss Holt.
Every morning, Lady Richards asked her son whether 'they' were leaving that day, and every morning David told her that 'the Humphreys' were still helping him. Then the lady would turn to Mister and Miss Holt and promptly invite them to stay another night. It would have been comedic if it wasn't so downright irritating.
As busy as she was, however, Beth had connived to spend only mealtimes with both women, at which times she would sit in silence, her gaze fixed on the food, and do her best to ignore their snide comments. Their behaviour was wearing thin, but each time she thought she should just return home, she saw David in her head standing between her and his mother and insisting that she was important. That she had purpose here.
She could not abandon him when he had such faith in her.
She could, however, abandon the house. And that was what she had done for the day.
Outside, Beth wandered down the lane that bordered the Namby estate, the wind swirling in her skirts and through her hair. She strapped her bonnet down as tightly as she could, but the wind caught at it trying to raise her by the head as if it were a parasol. She gave up after a moment, untying it with a laugh.
Quick footsteps in the lane behind her had Beth throwing a glance over her shoulder. Matt was practically skipping, though he calmed as he fell into step beside her.
"Avoiding the real work at the house?" she teased, bumping her shoulder against his.
He grinned. "Just copying you, sister-mine."
She chose to ignore that. The weather was too perfect to be arguing; the sun was poking out from beside delicate clouds, casting warm light across her face, and flowers danced in the wind.
They walked in silence for a few minutes longer, until Matt had his fill. "So, where are we headed?"
Beth cast him a glance, smiling at his inability to enjoy the quiet. Then she decided to put him out of his misery. "Mister Anderson, the stablemaster, said that his brother-in-law lives just over there," she pointed to their right, where a small cottage could just be seen nestled against the lane. "He used to work the land – quite well, by Mister Anderson's telling – but was injured a few years ago. I'm hoping to talk to him about being the new steward."
Matt's gaze stayed locked on the cottage. "Will an injured steward be much use?"
His sister took a small breath, trying to convince herself that his words shouldn't sting. It was a harmless question – a curious one, even – and was not designed to imply that she didn't know what she was doing. It wasn't Matt's fault that her soul didn't hear it that way.
"Mister Anderson says that Mister Green can still walk and ride, his back just doesn't hold up to heavy lifting or bending. A good steward might be expected to fix a fence here or there, but I think that talent pales in comparison to knowledge of the land and its people."
"I dunno, Beth," Matt said with a shrug.
She huffed. "Oh for pity's sake, Matt. I'm not gonna offer the man a job! I'm just going to see if he's interested and then David and Simon and Bart can interview him."
He held up his hands in surrender. They walked in silence to the cottage.
Before Beth could rap her knuckles against the door, it opened to reveal a plump woman drying her hands on her apron. She looked weary, but her gaze took them in quickly and she bopped a curtsy.
"Are you Mrs Green?" Beth asked, smiling at the woman's nodded reply. "How lovely to meet you. We are guests of the Earl of Namby, and we were hoping to talk to your husband. I was speaking with your brother, and he suggested that Mister Green might be just the man Lord Richards needs for the estate."
The woman was one of few words. "He oughtta be 'round back in the shed."
And the door was shut in their faces.
"You've got a way with people," Matt muttered under his breath. He was not quiet enough, and Beth threw out a hand to hit his arm.
They reached the shed quickly, finding a man with a broom standing outside with one hand shielding the sun from his eyes. He was perhaps in his forties, still quite slim, with a weathered face that spoke of much time spent outdoors.
"Mister Green," Beth said, introducing herself and Matt and again repeating her reason for visiting him. He stood there listening, awkwardly shifting the broom in his grip, but did seem interested in the role. Beth smiled sweetly, nodding at the broom. "May I?"
He held it out to her, frowning in confusion, and she took it gently, before shoving it in Matt's direction. "Make yourself useful, brother-mine."
Matt was not completely sure if he'd ever held a broom before. And Beth's smirk said as much. Rising to the challenge, he skirted the man and disappeared into the dim barn, trying to figure out whether his hands should face the same way or different ways. He at least knew that the straw end brushed the ground.
Didn't it?
Beth and Mister Green spoke in the background, discussing the time Mister Green had spent on the land and how much he knew about the Namby estate. It was quite a bit, to Beth's happy surprise, as his father and the previous steward had been friends and Mister Green had spent a fair bit of his youth running errands for the man.
Matt only half listened, finally having found a rhythm sweeping. He was collecting a small pile of dust and dirt around his feet that he wasn't sure what to do with.
He turned back to his sister, not too proud to ask Mister Green for instruction, only to hear the tail end of their discussion about David.
"What?" He was suddenly beside them. "What did you say?"
Mister Green was looking at the younger man in concern, his eyes flicking to Beth as if checking if she were about to intervene. She was equally taken aback by her brother's urgent tone.
"I said that we expected m'lord to return when his father passed but he didn't. 'Til now o'course."
Matt's grip on the broom tightened until his knuckles paled, and his gaze never wavered from the other man's. "And how long before that did he leave?"
Mister Green scratched his chin. "I can't rightly say, m'lord. Must've been at least 12 month afore that, though."
Beth watched with wide eyes as her brother threw the broom in the air and whooped. The stick hit the roof and came down perhaps more hurriedly than he had expected, but he had already danced out of the way. He grabbed Beth by the hands and spun her in a circle, all the while laughing like a madman.
"Oh, Beth," he puffed as he brought them to a standstill, "If I was not already your favourite brother I will be now!"
His sister was alarmed. She reached to lay her hand across his forehead, but he brushed her aside. "Are you well Matt? What has gotten into you?"
His mouth opened, but he seemed to think better of whatever he'd been about to share. "No, no, I want to make sure I'm right first. Come, let's return to the house." She didn't move. "Quickly, quickly now!" he slapped a hand on the other man's shoulder. "You too Mister Green!"
Now whistling, he strode out of the room.
Beth was already apologising to their new acquaintance. "I don't know what's come over my brother, but if you aren't opposed to joining us at the main house we might be able to discuss your stewardship with Lord Richards?"
It was impossible to think too badly of Matt when Beth was as polite and lovely as she was, and Mister Green agreed to travel with them up to the Namby estate. The walk, beautiful earlier, was trying now. Every hundred metres Matt would beg them to move faster, striding forward at pace and then prostrating himself over a fence post to loudly lament their speed. Beth gave up apologising; her brother was an adult and could make bad impressions on whomsoever he wished. If he lost David this excellent potential steward, however, well...
The house was quieter than it had been in days, a situation ruined as Matt crossed the doorstep and began caterwauling. He startled the butler and a few passing maids as he called for David and his brothers, taking the steps two at a time.
"I'll meet you in the sitting room," he called over his shoulder to Beth.
She plastered the best smile she could manage to her face and invited Mister Green to follow her. As they waited for Matt to reappear and explain himself, Beth perched on an armchair and made polite inquiries about Mister Green's children. She was just hearing about Timothy, a precocious thirteen-year-old, when the door rattled.
She turned in surprise to watch the entire household file in. First came the dowager looking more than a little miffed, a pulsing at her temple showcasing her fury, and then Mister and Miss Holt. Clarissa looked bored, but her father was jovial as always. Then came the remaining Humphrey siblings, all with varying looks of confusion, exasperation, and amusement on their faces. With the exception of Matt. He was practically bouncing.
Unsurprisingly, it was the dowager who spoke first. "What is the meaning of this? I do not take kindly to being ordered about in my own home!"
Matt ignored her. "I think I have made a very pleasing discovery," he announced, turning to the room as a showman turns to an audience. "And if I have, then I will be your very favourite brother-in-law, David." Beth blushed crimson, Clarissa sneered, and Lady Richards made a noise that would have been described as a growl if it wasn't issued by a member of the peerage.
Matt was unaffected, throwing out a hand to point to Mister Holt. "Sir, you said that David was not present for the signing of the marriage contract, that his father told you he was away on business?"
The man nodded vigorously. "Yes, that's right! I thought it was-"
Matt did not have the patience to let him finish his sentence. "And you only met David once, two years prior to the contract?"
"Yes, I-"
"When did you and the previous Lord Richards first raise the idea of a union between your children?"
It was very much in Mister Holt's favour that he did not seem the least bit put out by continually being interrupted. He was just smiling happily and answering the questions as they were fired at him.
"Well, it couldn't have been more than a month or two before the contract was signed. There were some details to iron out about the dowry, but the solicitors sorted it all out right quick."
Matt's grin widened. "So, the marriage was only discussed, what, about a year ago?" he didn't wait for an answer that time, turning to point to Mister Green. The man, who had been confused and uncomfortable, was more so now that the attention was on him. "Mister Green, when did Lord Richards, the younger, leave the estate?"
The man scuffed one shoe against the other, his hands held behind his back. "Uh, about a year and a bit afore the old Lord Richards passed."
"Ah, ha!" Matt threw his hand in the air victoriously, startling the room. His grin faded somewhat as he was met with blank faces. Only Vincent looked as if he understood, and with a nod at his brother he left the room. "You're all useless," Matt sighed under his breath, continuing before anyone could protest. "David left before the contract was discussed, let alone created or signed. Your family has been lying." This was directed pointedly to Lady Richards, with his arms crossed over his chest and a very satisfied smirk etched on his face.
The dowager stood abruptly. "The contract is valid! It was signed by guardians from both families."
"Without David's consent."
"You have no proof of that! He agreed to the marriage by letter when he was away, gallivanting and... and..." Her face had gone beat red, and she huffed as her lips trembled in anger.
Into the pregnant pause, David shook his head, drawing the attention of the room. "I do not think so, Mother. You accused me of being a wayward, ungrateful son. Surely a man like that does not write when he has run off. You also said," his head snapped up, a light in his eyes that had not been there before. "You said that I left when my father died and that I agreed to the betrothal before I departed. Were you lying then, or are you lying now, Mother?"
The woman's mouth moved but no sound came out. It was into that silence that Vincent reappeared, offering Matt an open book and pointing to a line.
"This is ridiculous," Clarissa announced, standing and smoothing the hips of her dress. "What does it matter whether he knew or not? The contract is signed and it's binding. We are to marry."
It was said with such finality that Matt was almost loath to speak again.
Almost.
"Actually," he said, sounding as giddy as he looked, "It does matter a great deal. Since David was a man of legal age when the contract was signed, it is invalid without his consent." He snapped the book closed. "In short, the betrothal is illegal."
The room collectively held its breath.
David was scared to move. This felt like a dream, a happy, joyous dream, and if he moved it might shatter and he'd be left with reality. The idea of marrying a woman he didn't love, of being leg-shackled to someone he could not care for, had been suffocating. Particularly when he knew what – or who – he would be missing out on.
He wished for Beth, across the room, to lift her gaze, but she was fixated on the floor in front of her.
Mister Holt seemed oblivious to the tension. "Well, that's no matter," he said cheerfully. "We can have a new contract written up and signed in no time."
David's head whipped to the side. "That is very kind of you, Mister Holt, but I'm afraid I must decline. I cannot marry your daughter. I will not."
A lot happened in the room at that moment.
Matt celebrated with a whoop, his brothers more reserved but looking equally pleased.
Clarissa let out an enraged noise, somewhere between a howl and a gasp, and sank onto the settee, her mouth remaining open in disbelief.
Mister Holt made a small noise, his cheeks pinching. "What a pity," he said.
The dowager was not nearly as understanding. "You will not break this engagement," she shrieked, her fists carving dangerous paths through the air. "I forbid it! I will not allow you to destroy this family!"
"How would I be destroying the family, mother?" David's tone was alarmingly even, but Lady Richards did not heed the warning.
"You abandoned your responsibilities and now we are close to ruin! You will marry Clarissa and you will use her dowry to restore honour to our family." Spittle flew from her mouth and the vein in her temple was red and swollen.
"This family's honour was lost long before I left. Phil has shown me the records – our coffers have been in decline for generations." He turned to the 8-year-old, who was sitting calm as could be in the centre of the room. At some point she'd been given a biscuit, and she nibbled at the edges even now. "What say you, Phil? Is the estate ruined without Miss Holt's dowry?"
She considered it for a moment, her face screwing up into a contemplative frown. "I think not. With new tenants and a loan from the bank it should only be a couple of years before you're out of strife." She shrugged. "Besides, if you need some money urgently, I'm sure Beth's dowry would do." She returned her attention to the biscuit.
The Dowager erupted. "I knew it! That harpie wheedled her way into this house and practically threw herself at you, all so that she could..."
David was sure his mother said more, but he did not hear a word of it. He was looking at Beth. Somehow, sitting there with her head bent, her cheeks flushed bright red, and her chest moving with quick, shallow breaths, she looked the most beautiful she'd ever looked. And for the first time, he allowed himself to imagine how beautiful she'd look as Countess of Namby.
His countess.
"Beth and I are going for a walk."
His mother shrieked, Beth's brothers exchanged smirks, but he didn't look away from her. Not when she glanced up at him in surprise, cheeks rosy and mouth slightly open. He crossed the room and extended her a hand, before pulling her easily to her feet. He did not release her as they left.
The dowager made to follow them, but Bart stepped in between. "I think not," he said firmly. She was too enraged to cower, but she did not try to leave the sitting room again.
Matt let out a loud sigh, flopping into the armchair that Beth had vacated. He was still grinning broadly, the dimples at the corner of his mouth showing the intensity of his happiness.
"I'll be accepting your awestruck congratulations now."
.
Beth and David walked in silence until they reached the bridge. They were still joined at the hands. As their footsteps resounded on the timber slats, they didn't stop, but slowed slightly as David angled his head to the side to look at her.
"Are you alright?" He had to ask. Her blush had faded, leaving her concerningly pale.
Her head jerked up and she finally met his eyes. Her own were filled with tears.
"I'm not sure," she said softly.
David drew them both to a halt, his spare hand rising to cup her cheek. His thumb swiped beneath her eye, in preparation for when the tears spilled.
"Oh, Beth, I am so sorry. My mother said some terrible things in that room. I can't imagine how hurt you must be, but please believe that I-"
He stopped at the fervent shake of her head. "I'm not. Hurt, I mean. I just..." The tiniest hiccup escaped, and one tear broke free. David caught it. "You're not engaged?"
He laughed. After the week he'd had, he had to laugh. Either that or he'd start crying alongside her.
"Apparently not." He released her cheek and began to walk again. "And I cannot recall ever being so... relieved!"
Beth thought that was a very appropriate response. "Miss Holt did not seem to be a very nice woman."
The path they were on drew closer to a copse of trees, the shade barely pierced by the afternoon light. They were almost within it when David stopped them again.
"It would not have mattered if she was, she would still not have been the woman I wanted to marry." He swallowed. "The woman I want to marry."
Beth's heart skipped a beat. A small part of her screamed that the woman he wanted was her, that he might love her nearly as much as she was afraid she loved him, but she squashed it deep. To assume that and be mistaken would crush her. She'd only just got him back from Clarissa's claws and she would not risk losing him again.
But still she hoped he loved her.
She licked her lips.
His gaze focussed on her mouth. He stepped closer.
Beth couldn't breath and couldn't move away. This was inappropriate, she knew, as she felt the warmth of him threw the front of her dress. They were too close, too...
David's hands drifted to her cheeks, brushing lightly across her cheekbones, and he leant in.
And suddenly she saw the face of the last man who'd been this close to her.
Beth flinched away suddenly, her breath returning in a ragged gasp.
David's eyes were wide, mouth ajar in concern, but then understanding lit his face. "Forgive me. I forgot for a moment about P-"
"Don't say his name!" Beth interjected quickly, her hand resting a little too forcefully on David's lips. He blinked in surprise but did not move her away. "I do not need reminding." She cleared her throat slightly. "Anyhow, I am decidedly against kissing. I do not know why everyone puts up such a fuss."
David smiled at her. It was not condescending nor dismissive, it was kind. He was kind. Very slowly, he grasped her hand in his again, raising it up between them. Beth smiled slightly despite her frown, preparing to ask what he was about. Then he pressed the most delicate of kisses immediately above the thrum of her pulse.
"He was a cad, and you deserve so much better."
Maybe she would have responded if her brain hadn't turned to mush. She could still feel the imprint of his lips on her skin, a blazing mark of affection.
Despite her best efforts, Beth's entire being told her that this was the moment. This was when he would ask her to marry him.
.
At the same moment, Beth's brothers were rushing to the front of the house, drawn by the kerfuffle of a horse cantering up the drive and an abrupt dismount. Bart, first out the door, squinted into the afternoon light.
"Thomas?"
The man was panting and shook sweat-soaked curls out of his eyes. "Where is David?" he demanded, striding quickly towards the house without care to greet them.
The brothers turned as he passed them, confusion holding them in place on the lawn.
It was Phil in the doorway who answered. "Proposing to Beth."
The man reached her and nodded a hello, but still did not pause. Gone was his usual mischievous smiles and jokes, replaced with a heavy frown that looked distinctly out of place on his dark face. He continued on into the house, looking around fervently, and the Humphreys had no choice but to follow.
"We must find them," he could be heard to say. "Now!"
"This is all very mysterious, Thomas." Simon – ever reasonable – held up his hands in a calming gesture as the man moved from room to room on the ground floor, poking a head inside and then hurrying to the next. "Take a moment to tell us what this is about and perhaps we can help."
"We cannot spare a moment!" He turned, flinging his own hands in the air. "They are in danger. He escaped!"
A cold chill ran down Bart's spine, and despite being almost certain of the answer, he had to ask; "Who escaped?"
"The assassin!"
And then they heard a pistol fire.