Lord Montgomery Hamilton-Hussey had felt sick to his stomach since his confrontation with his father-in-law. He had returned to the party but kept his distance from Cecil – and the beastly Rufus – until he could stand idle political gossip no more, downing the last of his brandy glass and slipping out of the room and back into the hallway. He didn't normally have the desperate urge to light up, but this time he felt were extenuating circumstances so with a sigh made his way out into the summer dusk, the crown of the amber sun dipping behind the trees and extinguishing the last vestiges of light. The night was perfectly still, hardly a breeze to ripple the stagnant air as Monty lit up his cigar and took a long, satisfying drag, before raising his head and exhaling the smoke in one long breath. He was surprised at how calming he found the warm dryness in his mouth and the taste of the burnt weed on his tongue, and he immediately began to relax.
Monty was rather certain that Cecil was bluffing, for his precious daughter's sake rather than Monty's career. He wouldn't wish to ruin Francesca's already battered reputation further by exposing her husband, but even still the threat would remain over Monty right through his Parliamentary career like the Sword of Damocles. He would be hostage to the political whims of Lord Farquarson and his parliamentary career would become a farce. He hung his head, ambling down the side of the house as the flaming torches lit up the night sky. All his life he had been controlled, whether it be by his father or his father-in-law, or even his wife. He had wanted to become an engineer, there was so much potential and such an exciting time to learn, but his father had insisted he study law. Monty had hated it and had dropped out of university after only a year, and his father barely spoke to him again after that. He then decided to go into business and found his niche, but he always wondered what could have been. He hated to think it, and he shuddered slightly at the thought, but for the first time in his life he wouldn't mind at all if someone – Cecil Farquarson – would drop dead. He loved Molly and he wasn't going to lose her over the pathetic threats of a man hell-bent on ruining his life.
Just as he turned his thoughts to how on earth he was going to tell Molly that it had all become far more complicated than either of them had imagined, he heard a quiet yet distinctive sob. Pausing, Monty frowned and turned his head, trying desperately to work out where the sound was coming from. He squinted through the darkness, waiting, and as he heard the second sob concluded that it must be coming from inside the Orangery.
He hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to go in or to leave whoever it was alone, but his conscience got the better of him and he tentatively stepped inside. It didn't take him long to work out who it was, the lady in question slumped over in a chair and sobbing into her hands. With a gulp, Monty softly tread forwards, wondering if she had heard him, but when she failed to look up he stopped a short distance away and stared at her pitifully.
"Rebecca?" He asked soothingly, his voice cutting through the quietened sobs. Swiftly Rebecca glanced up at her new company, forcing a weak smile as she uneasily lowered her eyes to the floor. "What is wrong? Is it that cad Gannon? What has the unthoughtful rotter said?"
She shook her head and sniffed. "No, not him. Well, partly, but I wish I could say it is all his fault, but it isn't. Oh Monty, it's such a mess. I was meant to be speaking to him, telling him we have to speak to Father, but I don't know if I can! Flora's right, but how can I do it!" Rebecca's frame began to shake in despair and fear, shutting her eyes and completely missing the look of confusion on Monty's face. What was she telling him – or trying to tell him?
"I don't understand, you and Gannon were meant to be telling your father something? Not that it's any of my business, but I thought you didn't like him?"
"No, not Rufus, I'm not talking about him, Monty." Rebecca said, almost laughing through her tears at such a preposterous suggestion. "There's…there's something I haven't told anyone, well anyone in the family anyway. I have a secret – a dreaded, awful secret – and somehow I feel you might not be as harsh on me as my father, or my sister."
Monty's concerned expression turned stunned but he remained silent, pulling up a chair so he was facing his sister-in-law. A gentleman should always carry a handkerchief for such occasions, even when dressed in an unusual costume, so fishing around in his 'ridiculous' robes he found what he was looking for and handed her a crisp white hankie which Rebecca accepted graciously. Then she poured her heart out, right from the beginning when she first met Andrew, how they were apart for such a long time, her first arrival at Taplows, how Hugo had been her saviour and her best friend, and finally baby Hugo's – and Archie's – paternity. She felt it unnecessary to mention her husband's 'leanings', it was something she had vowed to take to her grave, but she did tell Monty that she and Hugo had never been in love, just very close friends. And that he had understood her.
When she had finished, every word which had poured out of her mouth providing her with greater release, it felt strange yet rather liberating to have finally told someone of her own social status.
She didn't wish to freely admit it, but somehow Monty's view of her relationship with the under-butler mattered more than even Flora's. Maybe, if he too understood like Hugo had done, that their whole world was built on horrific constraints, suppressed emotions and condemned to always trying to live up to unreasonable and often cruel expectations, then she would be sure she wasn't mad after all. When she had finished, she drew in a deep breath and her shoulders slumped. Monty may have appeared shocked, but somehow her revelation didn't surprise him all that much. He wanted to laugh out loud at the irony of the situation, that he himself was in the same predicament and joke about how funny it was that her secret was the brother of his, but instead he drew her into a hug and soothed her. He had every sympathy for her, but he knew she was putting herself in an impossible situation. He could hardly think of a thing to say, he had no solution, damnit he couldn't even think of one for himself let alone a widowed woman with a child to raise.
"What am I to do, Monty? I'm in love and can't keep this a secret much longer." Rebecca asked quietly, but before he could even consider a reply they heard loud footsteps followed by a booming voice which shook them to the core.
"I should have known! Hamilton-Hussey, you're the Devil in disguise; a rogue!"
Monty and Rebecca broke apart instantly, Monty jumping to his feet in utter horror. The look of pure hatred on Lord Farquarson's face caused Rebecca to yelp, almost cowering in her seat, but Monty stood firmly in between her and her father.
Monty began to protest in the firmest of tones. "Cecil, it's not what you think….."
"It's not what I think !" Lord Farquarson's voice was low and growling, his eyes popping out of their sockets and his veined cheeks blushing crimson. "You are damn right it's not what I think, it's what I know !"
"Father….!" Rebecca began wearily, but Monty quickly jumped in with a quick attempt to avert crisis.
"She was upset about Archie, it's still only been a few days Cecil!" He tried to reason, but instead the Lord grew more and more incandescent by the second as he took a dramatic step towards his son-in-law.
"How dare you use the memory of my grandson to cover for your…your….indiscretions, your ungentlemanly behaviour, your….your treachery against Francesca! I knew you had one whore under this roof, but two !"
Monty snorted, raising his eyebrows at the sheer gall of the man. "How dare you call Rebecca – your own daughter – a whore! She is the most gracious woman I have ever met and I have a lot of respect for her, and I can assure you my good Cecil there is absolutely nothing untoward going on between us!"
"And why would that be, because you love your wife so much?" Lord Farquarson asked scathingly, glaring at Monty as if he was something he had just found on the stable floor. He jabbed an accusing finger into Monty's chest, his blood so near boiling point Monty could almost feel the heat radiating from his body. "I don't believe you, and I'm going to make sure you are ruined, there is no way I am going to let you become a member of such an influential institution as Parliament! You can keep to your gentleman's club, that is all that is good for you, although by the time I'm through with you, you will not be welcome in a public house let alone the House of Commons!"
"Father, stop!" Rebecca felt she had held her tongue long enough. As a wave of fury like she had never felt engulfed her, she rose to her feet and gently pushed past Monty so she was stood in front of him. The speed with which she physically confronted her father may have suggested she wasn't afraid of him any longer, but it wasn't until afterwards she realised it was merely the adrenalin – or the 'quickness of her mood' – which had suppressed her usual fear.
"Stop, I tell you, you are wrong! In fact I cannot recall a time when you have been right about anything!" Rebecca's voice was firm but shaken, unshed tears sparkling through the dim light. She had no idea of the other woman her father was accusing Monty of seeing, but he had no right to threaten him like that. Farquarson stood in enraged silence as his daughter continued. "It is not Monty I love, it is another! A caring, thoughtful man who I know loves me, not like Rufus Gannon or any of the other men you would have me wed!"
"Who is it!" Farquarson hissed through his clenched teeth.
"You don't have to tell him, Rebecca." Monty breathed, his eyes firmly fixed on the old Lord.
Farquarson was indignant.
"Stay out of this, Montgomery! You have come between me and my daughters enough!" Monty fell silent. Rebecca knew her own mind, but whether she had thought through the consequences of telling Cecil Farquarson about her socially abhorrent love affair he wasn't sure.
"Rebecca tell me, WHO IS HE!"
"It is me, my Lord."
Farquarson spun round on his heels as Rebecca whimpered, covering her mouth as she stared over at the door of the Orangery. For a long, earth-shattering moment there was silence, except for the soft sound of Monty slowly lowering himself into a chair. Adams stood defiantly in the doorway, his gaze only flickering briefly to Rebecca before holding it on Lord Farquarson as their eyes met.
"What did you just say?" Farquarson's voice began to falter with the shock and disbelief flooding his mind.
Adams spoke clearly, emerging from the shadows as he edged slightly in Rebecca's direction. He had such an overwhelming urge to protect her, and if Farquarson was to lash out he much rather it be directed at him than her. He knew, however, that the issue of Hugo's paternity should be kept from the old goat at all costs, he had no wish to disinherit his young son from what he saw as rightfully his. "I think you heard me, sir. I love your daughter and your grandson as if he were my own, and I would wish to marry her, if you would give me her hand."
Farquarson opened his mouth to speak, but all he could muster was a strange, choked squeak as his scarlet complexion turned purple. The tears had begun to stream silently down Rebecca's cheeks once more but Monty had no idea what he should do, if anything. Instead he continued to sit, deeply wishing he could speak freely in favour of the under-butler.
Finally, Farquarson was able to talk, much to everyone's disappointment. "I don't believe you! Rebecca, tell him to leave you be, that you will see he is sacked for his wild accusations!"
Rebecca gulped hard, her mouth dry and her heart thumping quickly. "Father, it is true. We are in love, and one day we wish to be married. Hugo would have blessed our union, and I would love it dearly if you were to do the same. Please, Papa."
"Over my dead and buried body!" Farquarson growled. "I would see him clapped in irons in Newgate before I let him marry you! How could you! What would you see in him, he has no money, no airs and graces, he has nothing to offer you! You are a disgrace to the Farquarson – and the Mackenzie – name, and I would not be surprised if that child is a bd! The good Lord only knows if this…this vermin is his father, I do not think I wish to know, but one thing is for certain you are no daughter of mine! You are dead to me!"
Rebecca began to wail. "Father, please! Do not say those things!"
"So I take it that's a 'no' then, Your Lordship?" Adams asked calmly, injecting a sarcasm into the heat of the row which nearly caused Monty to laugh out loud.
"And as for you!" Farquarson boomed at Adams, walking stiffly towards him. "I will make sure you never work again, you will live in isolated poverty for the rest of your life until you die in a pool of your own excrement because you couldn't even afford a hole in the floor to piss in!"
"Well," Adams began, keeping his voice, and his temper, under control as best he could. He didn't want assault adding to his list of felonies. "If you will not give your blessing, then I am afraid we will have no choice but to live without it. Once I'm Rebecca's husband you will no longer have any rights over her. We don't need society's approval to live happy and content, our lives are nothing without each other and the late Lord Hugo Mackenzie gave us his consent before his death and that is enough for me. If the only person we am wronging is you, my Lord, then although I am sorry for it, it is certainly not reason enough for us to live apart. Rebecca is a vibrant, beautiful, intelligent woman and you are right about one thing, I don't know why she would choose someone like me, but you are wrong when you say I have nothing to offer her."
Farquarson turned from Adams, as if gracing him with any more attention was far too beneath him and elevated him to a status of which he was not worthy. Instead, he turned warningly to his daughter, determined to have the last say before he walked away from this sorry mess to consider his next move. He was damned if his wayward daughter was about to shame him like that, but he had to consider some damage limitation. One thing was for sure, his first action the next morning would be to go straight to Algie, by-passing that useless butler this time. He didn't wish to disturb Algie while his party was in full swing, but he was going to get his own back on that Glaswegian servant scum Andrew Adams sooner rather than later.
"Listen to me, young lady." Farquarson said in a low, threatening tone. "When we are done at Taplows I never, ever wish to see you again, consider yourself cut off from your inheritance! You would have received a nice, tidy sum from me but I will amend my will on my return to Scotland and you won't see a penny! And not only that, I will take Hugo away from you, you're not fit to be his mother!"
Rebecca stood firm, hiding the desperate need to crumple into a heap and sob until she was sick. Adams could not have felt more proud of her. "We will be married before you can take Hugo away from me, you will have no right to do so, and I am glad you will be out of my life, I don't need such a bigot for a father!"
Farquarson sniffed, turning to Monty. "Did you know about this!"
Monty simply shrugged. For the first time Farquarson realised he was isolated. Without another word, he stormed from the room, hell-bent on heading straight to his chamber to hide his shame from the world. Monty also quickly left; Rebecca's world wasn't the only one soon be turned upside-down.
Storming into the footmen's room Will barged past Joe, before pulling his foot up onto a bench, quickly untying his shoe laces before kicking both of his boots up into the air, the first one narrowing missing Fred's head.
"Summit up?" Fred snorts, smirking towards Joe who just scowled at his insensitivity.
"Like hell there is!" Will yelled, clenching his fists tightly before moving them over to massage his tired feet.
"That bloody get!"
"Charles? He ain't that bad…so he got promoted, we've been through all this," Joe sighs.
"Not him!" Will snaps, "That bastard!"
"We are gonna need more than that Will, you could be talking about anyone, Adams, Jarvis, Keneally…"
"Lord bloody Farquarson!" He interrupts, realising that the list could go on for a while before they reached this particular git.
"Oh right," Fred rolls his eyes, returning to his chores, suddenly not interested anymore.
"Well you could ask why!"
"We already know why," Joe explains. "We heard Liz spilling the whole ordeal to Grace."
"Oh great!" Will hisses. "How did she sound? She's not going to talk to me ever again is she?" Will rambles on, oblivious to the figure of a certain new footman lurking in the corridor, just out of sight. "Jarvis is going to bloody love this! Another excuse to fire my arse!"
"I doubt he'll go to that extreme," Joe comforts, patting his arm reassuringly.
"You've no idea!" Will curses under his breath, turning to bang his head against the wall. The last thing he needed was word of this getting round, but by the sounds of it it already had. Joe and Fred, well Fred especially found it difficult to keep anything to themselves. And he doubted very much he was Grace's favourite bloke since their little conversation on the stairs. "What exactly did Grace say to Liz?"
"Well we couldn't really hear much. Lizzie's cries were filling the room, but the way Grace was trying to make you sound like the bad guy apparently your not on her good side at the moment…"
"Understatement of the century," Will mumbles bitterly. "I was only telling her what I really thought of Frank."
"Well you did right mate. If you ask me he's concocting up some vicious scheme, it's not like him to be so cute and sympathetic. She needs warning…well we all saw what they were like in India."
"Yes, all over each other," Joe and Will chorus.
"Look mate Liz'll come round I'm sure. She's got no reason to be mad at you anyway from what I heard, she should be more livid with that pompous idiot upstairs," Joe begins, receiving a raised eyebrow from Fred as he went into 'loved up, understanding' mood. "Just try talking to her, preferably before Grace has more chance to bad mouth you."
"You're turning into more of a soft git by the minute," Fred whispered in Joe's ear, as Will turns to retrieve his scattered shoes.
"I know you're right guys, it's just I hate the idea of having to sit round here and wait for Jarvis to come along with a verdict from my favourite Lord. He'll love this, I'm not his favourite at the moment am I?…no I ain't." He answers for them. "That bloody Charles Lewis though, oh don't even get me started. Just wait till I see him, I'll…ooooo, I'll chop his bloody bollocks off before he nicks my job."
Well we'll see about that, Charles thinks from outside the door, smirking as Will got himself more and more wound up about the new Charlotte Evan's brother. Disappointed by the fact he had to make his escape before the owner of the approaching footsteps appeared he pricked up his ears to hear that the messenger was telling Will to get upstairs to see Lord Farquarson…This was going to be most interesting.
'Urgh! That bloody man!' Lady Mackenzie seethed after slamming her bedroom door so hard that the wooden panels were still vibrating as she slid half way down the back of it, wiping her trembling hands over her reddened face to cradle her head in her hands. 'WHY is he so maddeningly unreasonable!' she cried, tearing the headdress from her brow, swiftly hurling it aside, the thin golden frame ricocheting off the nearest wall.
With a heavy, exasperated sigh she hauled herself up and began pacing the room before continuing 'WHY does he ache to conform to what society dictates? Bend over backwards to satisfy, to pander to these inconsequential idiots … pushing me towards a man I could no sooner stand than love, away from the only one I ever could!'
'Ma'am' a timid voice spoke out, the interjection absentmindedly ignored as Rebecca persisted with her rant.
'Oh WHY does he insist on doing so, now he knows full well how much I love your father!' she paused, initially to take breath, but on at last surveying her company in the room, she now stopped dead.
'My father?' an exceedingly confused Hettie enquired.
'I … I' Rebecca stammered, completely taken aback at the site of a virtual stranger sitting in her bedside chair, watching over her son. 'I was talking to Hugo.'
'But my Lady, from what I've heard, Lord Mackenzie passed away.'
'I am well aware of the fact that my husband is dead Miss … Miss! I didn't mean hi-' Rebecca paused, unable to believe she was about to say what she was about to say, recovering with 'I mean, just because someone has passed, it never stops you lov…' she trailed off, looking down at her son, now remembering his brother as well Hugo.
Hettie could see this and instantly tried back-peddling to somehow rectify her gross insensitivity 'I'm sorry ma'am, I … I …'
'You were …' Rebecca began, quickly coming to the conclusion she had neither the inclination nor the patience to carry on. 'Where's Lizzy?'
'Who?'
'Elizabeth McDuff, my Lady's Maid' Rebecca spoke slowly and clearly, obviously having asked the unnerved girl a rather taxing question.
'She … she's gone your La-'
'Gone? What do you mean gone?'
'Well, gone, I think she's downstairs packing.'
'Packing? Where the hell is she go… no, she cant be, Lizzy wouldn't go, at least not without telling me!'
'I don't think she had a lot of choice in the matter your ladyship. She's been sacked.' Hettie added quite matter-of-factly having found her feet at last.
'Sacked! HOW!' Rebecca spat, utterly outraged.
'I'm not quite sure, something about an influence she's supposed to have had on you. Lord Fa-'
'No, don't say another word!' she snapped, abruptly holding up her hand to silence the young maid. 'How dare he!'
'Your Ladyship, if theres anything I … can … do.' Hettie offered suggestively.
'Yes, yes there is!' At this, Hettie's face instinctively lit up at the prospect of going from scullery maid to Lady's maid within the week. 'Could you please watch over Little Hugo whilst I promptly nip next door to strangle my father – he's trying to take everything else, he's not taking her too!' Rebecca proclaimed, bending down to stroke her son's head, placing a kiss before picking up the somewhat dented headdress - which her father had earlier told her looked 'bloody awful' - placing it firmly back on her head as she swept out of the room, seconds later to be heard hammering on her door to the one adjacent.
Around half an hour later, after a torrent of muffled abuse had seeped through the wall between the two rooms for at least half the time, the remainder then deathly silent (give or take a few guests out in the hallway returning to their rooms), Lady Rebecca entering her room once again stirred Hettie from her slumber, jump starting her to attention. The former strode purposefully across the room, again removing her headdress, this time in her usual calm and civilized manner, though her facial expression was far from so, she'd obviously been crying.
'Thank you Miss …'
'Willis, Hettie'
'Miss Willis, that will be all.'
'For now?' Hettie added hopefully.
'Well, not quite …' Rebecca started, at which Hettie's ears once again pricked up. ' … could you please Inform Miss McDuff that I'm looking forward to seeing her back on duty in the morning'
'Bu … but your father-' Hettie stuttered.
'My father, is not your concern thank you, I doubt he'll be voicing his ill-conceived opinions on my staff for quite some time.'
With that, Hettie admitted defeat, rapidly removing herself from the room, head down, after a pitiful attempt at a curtsy, only to see Monty hovering outside the next room, a deeply perplexed look on his face. This was disguised with a brief smile and a nod as he acknowledged her presence, Hettie half-heartedly returning them as she disappeared around the corner.
Meanwhile below stairs, an unawares Lizzie was doing exactly what her would-be replacement said she would be – preparing to leave. After being spoken to in such a discourteous manner, many people wouldn't have returned even if they received an apology on bended knee, but Lizzie, although having a strong set of principles, second only to Grace (third only to Charlotte and Grace had Charlotte still been with them), would have done anything to remain at Taplows.
After the debacle with Lord Farquason she'd been too quick for Will, purposely winding through the corridors as she didn't want him to catch up with her, to tell her everything was going to be alright, that he'd do whatever it took to keep her there, put his arms … she just wanted to be on her own. Of course in saying on her own, naturally that meant plus Grace who was distraught to hear of her dearest friend's imminent departure, Lizzie having to make her swear that on her next trip upstairs to tend the guests, she wouldn't go within spitting distance of Lord Farquason, as she had fully resigned herself to her fate, and did not under any circumstances want Grace ending up walking side by side with her down the drive in the morning.
Grace was convinced that it wouldn't come to that, 'clearly in denial' was the phrase Lizzie had called out to her as she was summoned to attend the t-total Countess Beatrice Casio, so rushing off upstairs balancing half the Earl's tea service on the only spare – dented - tray she could find. In her absence, Lizzie took what she feared would be one of her last looks around Mr Kraus' kitchen, now fondly remembering the countless times the rather highly-strung chef had declared her apple crumble a 'mud pie' and had launched into a lecture, worthy of comparison to a Reverend Postlebury Sunday service, each time he caught her and Grace swapping the daily gossip when they were supposed to be going about their set tasks.
Staring into the flames over which her friend had just boiled the water, the tears began to fall again as the precariousness of her situation sunk painfully in deeper. This place wasn't just her work, not just her home, it was her life and the thought of no longer being a proper daughter to her father, friend to all who knew her, and sister to her new brother, wasn't one she was bearing too well. She'd miss so much, especially with Hugo, why next time he saw her (if ever) would he even recognise her?
It was whilst debating this that she could have sworn she heard a child's cry. She knew the sound so well, too well she now told herself as she ran her fingers through her hair, resting her weary head in her hands as she sat at the large beech table. As she let out an exhaustive yawn, the sound seemed to disappear, but shortly after laying her head down on the table, she detected it once more, only louder and much more aggravated.
Lizzie's ears pricked up as she tried to work out where the cries were coming from – had Lady Rebecca found out and had come down with Hugo to take her back? Even though she had told Grace she'd given up all hope, that wasn't quite true, somewhere deep down she'd managed to retain the belief that Rebecca would send for her, but as the clock ticked away and Hugo's feeding time had come and gone, her credence began to wane.
There it was again, she could definitely hear something she concluded as she dragged her throbbing head up off the table and began to search for the noise. It sounded like it was coming from the pantry, but as Lizzie opened its door and ventured inside, it became increasingly evident that it was actually coming from outside. After a slight moment of hesitation, Lizzie cautiously crept over to the door that led into the Servant's courtyard and warily opened it, automatically enquiring 'Lady Rebecca?'
There was no answer, Lizzie looked right, towards the main courtyard – no one was there. Breathing a slight sigh of relief, she again took hold of the door handle and was about to pull the door to a close when out of the shadows to her left, came a voice which made her jump, followed by the emergence of a woman she'd never seen before, roughly leading what appeared to be a young boy out from behind her.
'C'm 'ere Phil! She scolded 'I dunno what your game is love, but I'm no Lady, and his name certainly isn't Rebecca!'
Completely taken aback by this bizarre turn of events Lizzie replied nothing to this, simply looked from what was presumably the mother, to the restless young child, who was rubbing his reds beetroot red, clearly being deprived of sleep.
'A mute are we?' the woman callously continued 'Ah well, Im sure you'll find some way of disciplining him, just like his father, he could do with a kick up the arse.'
'Father, who's father?'
Ahhh, it has got a tongue! HIS … father' the woman sardonically pointed out, looking at Lizzie as though she were brain dead.
A little embarrassed, Lizzie looked down at the child, who was now hiding his face in his mother's skirts. While being of fine material, and undoubtedly it was her best, her dress was blatantly second hand and very worn, the tears in the hems and numerous stains indicated that much.
When the woman noticed that Lizzie was studying her dress, she was quite affronted, defensively stepping back into the darkness, pushing the child forward, snarling 'Look, it might not be much, but its better than you'll ever have!'
'Who are you?' Lizzie breathed, her face contorted in a deep confusion at this rather surreal encounter.
'Who I am is not for you to know, but you'll certainly find out' the woman replied quite matter-of-factly 'After my association with this place and its inhabitants – one in particular - I'm going to make the best of myself, and to do that, I don't need him!' she went on, shoving the deeply disorientated toddler forward, forcing Lizzie to dive down in order to catch him. 'See he is returned to whom he belongs!' she cried as she promptly turned on her heels, fleeing the servants courtyard.
As the poor little mite began to scream and reach out for his wayward mother, Lizzie gathered him up into her arms, which was made most difficult by the fact that he was violently struggling, before shouting after her –
'Who!'
'Start with the second floor corridor, he'll still be there no doubt!' was the reply before she disappeared around the corner.
It was a good few moments after this that Lizzie turned her stunned gaze form the spot she had last seen her, to her young son who was still stretching with all his might in the same direction. For another few she just stood there, staring with the greatest sadness she'd ever experienced, watching this distraught little boy calling out for his mother, whom in all likelihood, Lizzie knew would never return.
'Hey …' she started awkwardly attempting with her free hand to stop him waving his hands furiously. 'Its ok, it ok, sssshh' she soothed, pulling him into her embrace, smoothing his fine tufts of brown hair down, as he'd clearly been twiddling them nervously.
When he had appeared to calm down, she pulled him up off her shoulder, and began to wipe the tears away from his sore red eyes. 'What are we gonna do with you my wee man eh?' she thought out loud, stopping as the infant momentarily looked her straight in the eyes – they were so strangely familiar - before flopping back onto her chest, sliding him arms round her neck.
Instinctively jogging him up and down as she gently rubbed his back, Lizzie stepped back inside the door, wandering straight through the darkened pantry into the warmly lit kitchen. She knew she couldn't stay there, pretty soon the guests would be sending for their warm milks - what the hell was she going to do now?
She wasn't concerned about the repercussions of her being caught with the child, as far as she knew, she'd been given her marching orders, so it didn't matter how loud Jarvis yelled, no, it was what would happen if he was discovered with her? What was going to happen to this handsome little lad who'd so carelessly been abandoned by his mother – where the hell would he go?
It was asking herself this that Lizzie remembered the woman's departing words 'Second floor corridor' she puzzled. Her initial reaction on seeing the original quality on her dress was that she must've had a fairly wealthy lover, but second floor corridor – now that was most certainly not an address of the rich and powerful … it was the location of the footman's room.
For a second Lizzie's heart stopped beating, she knew, she knew the child was his, it must be! Never one to leave a stone unturned, after checking the hallway, especially for senior staff, she pulled the dozing child further into her arms as she scurried down the passageway to the nearest stairs, rapidly finding herself outside the correct door.
However, when she actually reached it, it took her twice that time to pluck up the courage to enter. Not because there were likely to be half dressed males servants in there, but because now she wasn't so sure if she wanted her suspicions confirmed. Taking a deep breath, she seized the handle and forcefully opened the door.
Scanning the room she found no one there, only Johnny who was always the first in bed as after serving Lady Francesca warm milk, and Lady Mary stone cold milk after the Christmas feast, Jarvis had declared him too incompetent to stay up past ten. Despite this, he was currently defying orders by sitting up in his bed, which was the smallest of them all, reading a book which had been his only birthday present, only having been able to read some of the words after Charlotte had spent 4 painstaking months teaching him his ABCs, only getting as far as 'N' before she left, so 'Oliver Twist' was proving quite a challenge.
Just as Lizzie was about to retreat out of the room, she suddenly struck on the idea of extracting as much information from Johnny as she could – this could have taken a while, especially as in the darkness, she didn't get a very good look at the woman.
She took a deep breath and raised her head to look at Johnny, on doing so a shiver ran down her spine as she realised that he was looking at her in rather a disturbing manner, leading her to cough nervously.
'What you got there Miss Lizzie?' he asked, peering over the top of his book, which, on closer inspection she discovered was actually upside down, with an expression of deep though, one he often wore during staff meetings.
'Johnny …' she started, quite uncomfortably 'Do you know of any woman who used to work here?'
'Yup, been quite a few over the years' Johnny replied.
'Stupid question' Lizzie said to herself before trying to be a bit more specific. 'She must have been here just over a year ago' she continued, looking down at the child in her arms, trying desperately to remember what she looked like. 'Quite short, a little rounded, dark hair, brownish eyes?'
Johnny simply looked at her blankly – 'give me strength' she thought, scanning her memory for any other detail 'bit of a London accent?' she coaxed.
'London?'
'Yes London, well, cockney really' she supplied, realising she was fighting a loosing battle here this was beyond hopeless.
'Esther Spicer?' another voice suggested, it was Charles Lewis, whom she hadn't noticed until now. 'Charlotte said she knew a girl from London, think it was her'
'Esther Spicer!' Lizzie exclaimed, turning to see Charles pushing himself up his bed to rest against the headboard.
'Esther!' a third voice came.
Lizzie whirled back round to see Will standing at the open door, his eyes travelling from hers to the child in her arms, a look of part fury, part fear on his face.
He didn't know how he had done it, but Adams had managed to escape the Orangery and return to his room without Jarvis noticing. Or so he had thought. He had left his darling Lady Rebecca in Monty's capable hands, but as he headed back towards the party he felt in no fit state to carry out his duties. He could hardly bear to imagine the look of horror and disappointment on the butler's face. If Lord Farquarson hadn't already let the cat firmly out of its bag and allowed it to cause havoc with the Earl, then there was little point handing out drinks and acting as if nothing had happened, while on the other hand he knew his own expression would give the game away to Jarvis. He would much rather face the lesser of two evils and face a dressing down for being absent when he could at least hide his feelings a little better.
But, so lost in thought was Adams as he skirted through the servants quarters he failed to notice Jarvis watching him from the stairwell, tight-lipped, his crystal eyes narrowed in suspicion.
Adams knew he had to stop Lord Farquarson somehow. For all his brave words in front of Rebecca, he knew in his heart they were true, but at the back of his mind he was terrified of losing the little reputation he had. How he could possibly become used to being Laird of the Manor he had no idea; he, Rebecca and little Hugo would be isolated both geographically and socially and he knew his beautiful, young wife would become bored and unhappy. If wouldn't be fair on his son, and he was more scared than he would ever let on to Rebecca at the thought of having no job to do. He had little interest in the pursuit of hunting, and nobody on the surrounding estates would wish to ride out with him anyway, and other aristocratic past times hardly excited him. Andrew Adams was a proud, working class Glaswegian who was brought up by his aunt to expect to work for his money. The thought of becoming a 'kept man' on the back of a dead man's fortune for the rest of his life wasn't a wholly agreeable one if he thought deeper than superficial wealth. He felt it would destroy him as a man, and that was something a rich, aristocratic Lady just wouldn't understand.
Adams found his whiskey, dragging the bottle from under his bed and swigging straight from it. He gulped the burning nectar then wiped his mouth on his sleeve as he sighed.
"You're a total fool, Andrew." He huffed to himself, hanging his head. "You're thinking about being a man when all the while wouldn't you be less of a man to run away from your son and a wonderful woman like Rebecca?" It was a rhetorical question, as he knew the answer only too well. For all his preoccupation with class he had momentarily forgotten just how much he loved Rebecca and how desperate he was to bring up his son in a way he saw fit. He couldn't help but admit to himself that, in retrospect, striking up a taboo relationship with an aristocrat and making love to her secretly in her own bed gave him such a feeling of exhilaration it had taken him a while to realise that it was love and not just lust he had felt in his aching heart. Now he had a son with her, and that changed things even more – they were a /family/ in his mind, they belonged together and he had a duty towards them far greater than the duty towards his masters. He was damned if Hugo was to grow up without ever knowing him, maybe only catching a glimpse of his own flesh and blood as he passed in his carriage as Adams stood in the dirt at the side of the road and bowed submissively. He knew Farquarson had a good idea that Hugo was his and not the late Laird's, but Cecil's stubborn pride wasn't about to let him admit such an abomination to himself let alone the outside world. At least Adams could take some comfort in that.
"Andrew?" A quiet, soothingly familiar voice whispered through the crack of the door, dragging Adams from his deep thoughts. "Are you in there?"
Adams cleared his throat and hurriedly screwed the top back on his bottle and stuffed it under his pillow. His sister certainly couldn't see him drinking on duty. "Er, yes, Molly I'm in here."
The door creaked open and Molly's delicate frame became silhouetted in the doorway, her tresses ruffled and
draped around her skullcap. He didn't need to see her face to sense she was exhausted.
"Why are you in here all alone? Sitting in the dark?" She asked as her eyes adjusted to the near pitch of her brother's bedroom. "Has Mr Jarvis dismissed you for the evening?"
Adams sniffed out a sarcastic laugh and paced the small floor space around his bed. "I will be dismissed permanently if Rebecca's father has her way."
Molly made an indecipherable small noise and lit some nearby candles so a soft glow instantly gave some much needed light to the room. Adams' shoulders slumped and he stared at his feet as his sister fussed around him, picking up his strewn socks and mumbling under her breath about the untidiness of his room and how she thought he may have grown out of being such an utter mess by now. It took a few minutes before she responded to his downhearted comment, talking about everything else as if she were trying to work out what to say. She loved her brother, but if he had said or done something to jeopardise his fragile secret relationship with Rebecca it certainly wouldn't have surprised her. He was a hot-headed Adams as was she and she knew only too well words said in haste could have terrible consequences.
"I don't know what to do." Adams finally said, in a small voice. Molly promptly stopped shoving books on his bookshelf at this unusual admission and gulped. She kept her eyes fixed firmly on the battered wood of the shelf as he continued. "It's all….terrible. All ghastly, as Rebecca would say. Farquarson knows, and not only that he's going to have me dismissed tomorrow. I'm torn – I love Rebecca, but how….how can I leave the life I know for one of...oh, I don't know."
Molly sat herself down in the only chair in the room as her brother flopped back down onto his bed and covered his face in self-pity.
"My dear, dear Andrew." Molly chided gently. "What am I to do with you? What am I to do with myself? Love is so complicated, it's not like it is in the storybooks, people don't live happily ever after. You can't be the knight who rescues the fair maiden from the clutches of the fire-breathing dragon, Andrew, but you can do the right thing by her."
"Which is?" He asked, at a loss.
Molly smiled. "You tell me."
"No, I need you to tell me. That's what sisters are for."
"Only you know in your heart what is the right thing to do." Molly said, but her words were cold comfort. Adams had no idea.
Adams shrugged defeatedly. "Anyway I'm left with little choice really, once I have been sacked without character I will be unemployable, I will have to turn to Rebecca for help. She will have to look after me, and that's just not how it should be. It's not how I imagined it to be, I should be supporting her not the other way around."
"You men and your pride." Molly mocked, but there was a kindness to her tone. "It was never going to be like that, was it? Realistically? You love the woman and sometimes….sometimes love does conquer all, but you can't have blinkers on where someone of Rebecca's stature is concerned."
"What do you mean?" Adams frowned. Women talking about other women just meant double the confusion to him.
Sighing, Molly reached over and squeezed his arm. "She's not just a young Glaswegian lass with a mere shilling to her name and only the prospect of marriage going for her, Andrew. I haven't known Rebecca for all that long, but she comes across to me as a strong-willed woman who likes her independence and knows her own mind. She feels just as much pride in herself as you do in yourself." Molly smiled, her eyes twinkling against the moonlight shining into the room. "And, my dear brother, she seems to me to be a very persuasive lady. There is another way, to prevent Lord Farquarson from revealing your secret."
Adams' eyebrows shot up, but Molly could tell that he was already unconvinced and she hadn't even explained yet. But, Molly knew, what she was about to tell him would leave her wide open to her brother's questioning afterwards. With a deep breath she lowered her eyes to the ground. "There exists a – a document. It was drawn up by Lord Hugo's lawyer shortly before his death, all done in haste of course, but it was to be used if this were to happen."
Adams grew red. Surely Rebecca had told him all of Hugo's wishes? "Well, what is it then?"
Molly continued cautiously. "It was an addition to his will, a writ stating that he wished you to marry Rebecca in the event of his death. It was something that he knew Rebecca's father couldn't ignore, even if it did bring a whiff of scandal. Rebecca was now a MacKenzie and no longer a Farquarson so the Laird saw it as his own name to dirty, not Lord Cecil's, if you understand!"
"Then why….?" Adams shook his head in bewilderment as his heart leapt in a surge of hope. He also felt a twinge of anger that he hadn't been told about this document, unless of course Rebecca didn't know about it. "Why wasn't I told? That's bloody marvellous news, Hugo was right our dear Cecil can't ignore…"
"There's more." Molly interrupted, her soothing tone developing a negativity about it. "There's something else you should know. He knew Farquarson wouldn't be convinced easily, he needed some gentle…persuasion. The writ also states that on your marriage half of the MacKenzie estate be turned over to Farquarson's only nephew, you may have heard of him, Baron McManus of Glenarchy?"
Adams shook his head again. "Never heard of him! Half of the estate!"
"Yes, apparently Baron McManus has been desperate to get his hands on half of the land for a long time, through the encouragement of his uncle of course. There's been one of those land feuds between the Farquarson/McManus family and the McKenzies going back a few hundred years, and with this document Lord Hugo decided to end it once and for all. In exchange for Farquarson's acceptance of you."
Adams looked incredulous. He could tell there was more, Molly's expression told him as much. He didn't like the sound of this so far, but just as he was about to ask what this would mean for baby Hugo's future his sister spoke.
"There is one more thing, however." Molly said in a small voice as she shifted her gaze to the flickering candle flame. "Another condition of the writ – a secret part not for Farquarson's eyes - falls to you. You must never reveal Hugo's true paternity, you are to regard him as your step-son, and he will be told when he is old enough that Lord Hugo MacKenzie is his true-born father, and this he will always believe."
At this the under-butler jumped to his feet and swung round to glare at Molly, as if she had drawn up the conditions of this alleged writ herself. "That is madness!" He growled, causing Molly to jump a little in fright. She didn't often see her brother in a rage – well not nowadays anyway – and it scared her a little. "That is utter….but Hugo understood, he was supposed to be on our side! On Rebecca's side!"
"He was!" Molly insisted. "He did it to protect Rebecca, to protect her reputation! She doesn't even know about it!"
"To protect his own, you mean! How can I deny Hugo as my son, everyone says he even looks like me for God's sake! I will never lie to the boy, it would be unforgivable! He is MY son, not some Laird's, and I refuse to be held to ransom by Lord Farquarson and his extended bloody family!" Adams slammed his fist against the rough wood of his wardrobe, the loud thud causing Molly to reel and back away from attempting to comfort him. Instead she paced at the far side of the room, her hands firmly on her hips.
"I think Lord Hugo was being most generous, he has given you a ticket out of this mess and he had the foresight to plan ahead, which is more than I can say for you!" She snapped as Adams rested his head against the wardrobe door, panting.
"Where is it now?" Adams asked slowly.
"Mont….Lord Montague has it, he was made trustee, which was if you ask me a very sensible move. Another copy is with Lord Hugo's lawyer, as details of the estate still need to be finalised." Molly said firmly, but as she did so she could tell what question was next, and she had no way of answering it.
"And how do you even know about this writ?" Her brother's tone had turned accusing and Molly could feel her sympathetic side gradually ebbing away. He turned from the wardrobe and crossed his arms, his eyes cold and suspicious. "Come on, tell me. Have you been having a wee snoop around? You say Rebecca had no knowledge of it, so how would you know? Eh? Who would tell you? Lord Hugo died even before you set foot in this house."
Molly opened her mouth to speak, but she had begun to shiver. She felt she could say nothing but the truth. "Lord Montague told me, that's how I knew."
"And why would he do that?" Adams asked distrustfully. "Why would he tell the under-housekeeper this big secret, even if you are my sister? And when did he tell you, he didn't even find out about Rebecca and me until tonight!"
Molly's voice had shrunk to nearly a squeak, but even still it was firm. She wasn't going to be intimidated by her big brother, nor was she to volunteer any information without the right questions. "He told me less than twenty minutes ago. He escorted Rebecca back to her room, she was sobbing so much, and I saw him. He asked me to tell you."
Adams snorted. "I don't understand, though, why would he trust you, who he doesn't even know, with this information instead of coming to me direct……" Suddenly his expression clouded and his eyes widened in growing realisation as he thought back to Lord Farquarson's harsh words to Monty only a short while ago: "If you weren't my daughter's husband I could ruin you, she has confided in me, about your….your indiscretions! And I know that your whore is under this roof."
There was a long silence as the truth began to sink in. Adams could hardly feel disgusted at this news, instead he felt like laughing. It was like a family curse! Molly had turned extremely pink as she continued to stand quietly, waiting for her brother to say what he was thinking. Eventually, he did, but what he would say would send shockwaves surging through her body.
"So I am not the only Adams old Lord Farquarson has made it his life's quest to destroy?" Adams said dryly, a small smile tugging at his mouth. Molly's jaw dropped and she blinked. "I overheard him talking to Lord Montgomery – or Monty, as I'm sure you're accustomed to calling him – he was threatening to ruin his career, he said he knew about the whore he was seeing, a woman under this very roof."
Molly cringed at the 'whore' insult, but if what Andrew was saying was true she had more pressing worries than the choice words Farquarson would use to describe her. She had to get to Monty that night, to talk it through, she hadn't expected it to come to this so soon, to have to make a choice, and she suddenly realised how her brother must be feeling. They were both in exactly the same predicament.
"I've no idea how and when you and Hamilton-Hussey began seeing each other, and I'm not going to ask – well not now anyway." Adams said distractedly. "It seems we both have problems to solve, and I for one am not about to sit around here pondering whether to become a prisoner of Farquarson's wishes." He stormed towards the doorway, flinging open the door and turning back to his sister who was standing looking forlorn and confused.
"Where are you going?" She asked meekly.
"To sort this out once and for all, that's where." Adams announced, but the cold determination in his eyes shook Molly to the core. She had only ever seen that look a few times before, and it was always after he had resolved to find Henry and punch his lights out for hurting his sister. "And I suggest Molly you do the same, it seems like you and your dear Monty have some talking to do, unless events intervene of course and Farquarson doesn't get to open his over-stuffed mouth."
Before she could ask what on earth was he talking about, he had gone, marching up the hallway and bellowing orders at a few stray servants. With a gasp, Molly glanced at the clock. It was getting late, and so much had to be done until she could even think about catching up with Monty to discuss their predicament. She neatened her hair in her brother's mirror, and muttering under her breath she hurried off to find Mr Jarvis and to finish her many chores.
A few hours later and after he had seen the rest of the house off to bed the butler stood in the entrance hall giving the final nod to young Charles who had admirable agreed to stay up and help him oversee the final evening rituals of locking the doors and inspecting the now spick and span ballroom all evidence of the party now vanished as if a genie had simply snapped their fingers.
"Off to bed with you Charles…Oh and well done lad, I don't often say this but you're continuing to impress me keep this up and I won't hesitate to provide all the opportunities you could hope for." He added hinting at their unspoken agreement with a wry smile as he waved the fatigued young man back to the servant's quarters.
Staying behind for a moment Jarvis turned to the great grandfather clock that stood loud and proud in the hallway pulling out his own more accurate pocket watch and making the necessary adjustment to 'Old Algernon' as the previous butler had nicknamed the great clock. Which is apparently as cantankerous as the old Earl who had bought the clock from an eccentric London clockmaker and so had more than earned that name.
It was as he was putting the watch away in his pocket and was turning on his heel eager to head back and spend a little quality time with his beautiful bride, who had given him her word she would wait up for him and share a sip of his nightcap which was all he would allow, that he could have sworn he caught a glimpse of something dashing up along the upstairs balcony.
"Hello My Lord or Lady do you need anything?" He called out into the darkness shrugging when he received no reply and convincing himself he must have imagined it he turned and headed off to bed.
Ten minutes later a now relaxed Walter Corey was relaxing in front of the fire in his sitting room having shrugged off his finest black dinner jacket and kicked off his shoes he sat slumped against one their easy chairs toasting his toes by the warmth of the flames. Letting his eyes drift slightly closed he smiled contentedly as he felt a teasing hand ruffle his hair, dragging her long fingers through his medium length locks as she pushed him gently aside settling herself down in the chair behind him.
"So how was your day Mrs Corey?" Jarvis asked reaching back and indulgently rubbing little circles on the soles of her aching feet, a satisfied smile pulling at his lips as he heard her sigh contentedly at his ministrations.
"Getting better by the second Mr Corey." Flora teasingly replied brushing her fingertips down across the side of his cheek before tugging gently on his earlobe before moving to massage his tense shoulder. "You're all tight Walter." She muttered almost to herself as she proceeded to loosen his tight shoulder muscles and missing the telltale giggle from her husband as he lent back into her caress.
"Oh well it's the staff you see, can't get them to do as they're told and as for my housekeeper well…" He began mischievously only stopping when a cushion came suddenly down on his head. "I see you've met her then." He muffled against the upholstery earning him a playful clip round the ear. "Now now Mrs Corey no need to be getting jealous…I must admit I have a soft spot for the gorgeous creature but I must admit I prefer my wife." He added pushing the cushion to the floor and turning to face his wife who was smiling indulgently at him.
"Well I always thought you had excellent taste Mr Corey." Flora countered tugging at his cravat until it lay loose on his shoulders.
"Join me?" He asked softly patting the cushion beside him. "I have it on safe authority there is room enough for two."
"How about two and a half?" Flora asked lazily patting her own large belly for emphasis.
"Oh it'll be a tight squeeze but I'm sure we'll manage." He retorted offering her his arm to lever herself out of the chair and settling somewhat clumsily due to her size on the rug beside him leaning her head against his shoulder as he wrapped his arms as far around her middle as he could.
"He's busy tonight." Walter muttered lovingly into her hair, as he drew his hand across her stomach his heart filling with a tender joy as he felt his child move beneath his hand.
"Don't I know it 'she' has been dancing a merry jig for the last hour or so…How the hell I am going to get to sleep?" Flora replied nuzzling her face into her husband's neck.
"Do you know what mother said helps?" The butler muttered leaning forward and brushing stray locks from his wife's face.
"Not another tip from Mrs Corey senior, what is it this time eat dairy products if you want a boy or such nonsense?"
"No singing tends to sooth a baby in the womb just like it does after they are born, why don't you…"
"Walter Corey!" Flora snapped wrenching her head an inch off his shoulder to look him in the eye. "I am not going to start singing to my stomach every time the baby starts kicking people will think I have caught lady Mary's complaint! But if you think it'll work then be my guest!"
"Fine then I will!" Walter retorted suddenly pushing his shocked wife flat against the floor, and moving to rest his head on her belly before beginning a somewhat strained tenor voice so that his wife had to stifle her giggles.
"Goodnight baby
Goodnight baby
Goodnight my darling baby
It's time for sleeping now
Merrily we roll along
Roll along
Merrily we roll along
on the deep blue sea"
"Well?" He added after repeating the same lullaby several times each time his voice getting more accustomed to the right pitch before he turned to his wife.
"Hmmm It seems to have worked, so tell me Walter what will it cost me to have you sing that every time I want to sleep?" Flora asked playfully reaching up to stroke her husbands face lovingly.
"Oh believe me I can think of something!" He added winking at the blushing Flora before leaning down to capture her lips at first gently then increasingly passionately cupping her face with his free hand.
However wherever the butler was intending to take his new found luck Flora never got the chance to discover as just things were heating up there was a harsh pounding on the door and before the butler could even utter a sharp come in the door was flung open and in stepped a panting and panicking and now incredibly embarrassed Joseph James.
"Mr Jarvis." He gasped averting his gaze as the housekeeper and butler practically jumped apart. "You have to come quick sir….There's been a fire Sir….Lord Farquerson….He…He's dead!"
By the time Jarvis had raced upstairs after ordering Flora to stay exactly where she was until he knew the situation, he realised he had missed all the action. The smoke was smothering, clouds of grey, stinging fumes lying stagnant along the main corridor and down the grand staircase. The butler's eyes began to water as he loosened his stiff collar, but after trying desperately to battle through the smoke he realised quickly enough that fortunately there wasn't a living soul left and everyone had made it outside.
Joe darted up to him, covering his mouth as he coughed. "Sir, the fire's out, William and Mr Adams managed to put it out, but….well we're not sure what happened….Lord Montague tried to save Lord Farquarson but he couldn't bring him round….they're still trying outside…"
"Why the hell wasn't I notified earlier!" Jarvis boomed, his throat becoming dry and scratchy as they burst through the main door and into the drenched but cooling night air. He breathed in deeply, thankful for the refreshing air bursting into his straining lungs, but his expression remained furious. Out on the drive stood a mixture of aristocrats and servants, all looking bedraggled in the teaming rain, and he might have found this sight slightly amusing if he hadn't been so enraged. It seemed as if everyone else had become involved before anybody even thought to fetch the one in charge of this motley lot. He concluded that there would have to be an investigation, he was so not inconsiderably incandescent with rage.
"Jarvis! Thank God, man!" The Earl snorted, shivering in his soaked pyjamas as his butler marched towards him, turning to stare up at the open window of Lord Farquarson's bedroom. "Cecil's dead, where the hell have you been!"
"I am sorry My Lord." Jarvis replied coolly, glaring at Adams who was still attempting compressions on the dead aristocrat's chest. "I had no idea what was happening."
Jarvis moved quickly towards the desperate scene, his jaw clenching. He could hardly have stern words with his deputy here on the path, Lady Rebecca was inconsolable as Lizzie cradled little Hugo, Lady Caroline was attempting to comfort her but all the while trying to hide her annoyance of having her favourite silk night gown ruined in the rain, and it was obvious that Adams was continuing with the resuscitation attempt simply to stave off the inevitable and thus having Rebecca break down completely.
"Has anyone gone to fetch the police!" Jarvis demanded to know, but the footmen simply stared at each other. It hadn't even occurred to them. At least this was something Jarvis could take control of. "Mr Matkin! Find Johnny Boots, tell him to get on the fastest steed we've got and tell him to get into Tappleton, we need the police and Dr Evans! Quick!"
Fred nodded and dashed off, his footman's uniform blackened and soaked.
"He's…he's dead, sir." Adams said in a small voice, sitting back on the wet gravel and cradling his head in his hands. Rebecca's pretty face turned even paler as her wide eyes brimmed with tears, but all she could manage was a whimper.
"He's not dead until Dr Evans declares him so!" Jarvis replied, glancing over at the lifeless, blackened form of Cecil Farquarson. He was obviously dead, but it wasn't for an unqualified man to say. Instead he tugged off his damp jacket and placed it carefully over the dead man's face as Rebecca finally sobbed into Caroline's shoulder, everyone else looking on in hopeless silence.
"Right, sir." Jarvis felt it his duty to remain as professional as ever, leaning in to mutter to the Earl. "I am going to go back in again if you are agreeable, open windows to clear the smoke so we can get everyone back in as quickly as possible and out of the rain."
The Earl nodded gravely, but he didn't look as if he were about to shed a tear for the loss of his friend, he was far more concerned for his own reputation. "Jarvis listen to me, this can't get out, especially if….well, if it is proved it wasn't as accidental as if may first appear. Just in case, do you understand?"
"Not accidental?" Jarvis raised his eyebrows, but then remembered the terrible atmosphere which had existed between the old lord and the other members of his family currently staying at Taplows. Nevertheless, he was shocked to hear the Earl openly say to him the death may seem suspicious, but glancing over at a very edgy-looking Lord Montgomery he decided it may not be such a ludicrous suggestion after all. "Of course, sir, you can count on my discretion….."
Jarvis may have thought more about it if he hadn't been instantly distracted by a now over-familiar voice exclaiming rather loudly behind him to anyone who would listen: "Yes, it was a most ghastly, the fire was raging but I thought it my duty to save those poor, wretched children from the flames of hell, so without a thought to my own life I ran back into the school. I fought back the flames and the smoke, moved falling planks of wood with my bare hands as the walls crashed in around me, until finally I saw them, their little faces covered in dirt as they coughed and cowered in the corner. I picked up a chair and threw it at the window, shards of glass splintering around me, then using the little strength I had left scooped the children up, one in each arm and leapt out of the window….."
"Sir Rufus." Jarvis cleared his throat, desperately trying to hide a wry smile totally inappropriate for the occasion. Gannon spun round in mid-tale to face the butler and gulped. "As you have such…experience with fires, and daring rescues, would you be so bold and kind as to accompany me into the house to check that the fire is indeed out, and that the building is secure?"
Gannon's jaw dropped open, scanning the hopeful, pleading faces with wide eyes as the rain lightened in a welcome respite. "Er, I, er….." He grinned in a sorry attempt to hide his embarrassment, and if it hadn't been so dark then his blushing might not have gone unnoticed. "Well, really I would Mr…erm…sorry, I've forgotten your name, I'll just call you Butler….I would go in, but….arghh…my ankle….I must have twisted it when I was guiding the ladies here out of the house…."
Lady Caroline snorted at his gall, Gannon suddenly collapsing onto the soaking grass and clutching his ankle in pain. Jarvis' expression instantly turned to one of contempt and he rolled his eyes.
"I'm so sorry," Sir Rufus grimaced in mock agony. "I can try….I can probably stagger to my feet…But ohhhh the pain, what a price to pay for saving the lives of these pretty ladies!" He cast a worried glance up at the late Lord Farquarson's bedroom as the thankfully dying smoke continued to billow.
"You're a bloody fool! You wouldn't even go into the nursery to fetch Hugo when asked, call yourself a hero!" Caroline spat at Sir Rufus before turning to find Julian. "Husband, where are you! This great idiot here nearly knocked me flying trying to get out of the house first, I've never seen a man run so quickly away from danger before!"
By now Lady Mary had begun to shiver, Mrs Diggins complaining as her clothes were soaked through, shakily holding an umbrella over Lady Mary's head in a vain attempt to keep her dry. Jarvis sighed heavily – if it was going to be done then he had better do it himself, even if it was just to let everyone into one of the downstairs rooms until the authorities arrived. With a disgusted glance at Sir Rufus, he turned on his heel and marched towards the house, dragging Adams along with him. He would need more than a word with his wayward under-butler.
Meanwhile, Monty had begun to think the unthinkable. Everyone had heard his arguments with Cecil, the threats, and how convenient that that old man turns up dead? After interviewing everyone the police would surely suspect arson; a murder made to look like a nasty accident with a cigar, and Monty knew in his blood he was going to be prime suspect. He had an alibi, a very firm one at that, but part of him would rather have hanged than put Molly through the heartache of exposure. He needed time to think, his head swam with horrific thoughts and his head pounded so painfully he thought his brain was swelling beneath his skull. He stepped backwards from the small gathering, wanting to turn and run as fast as he could, but he knew that would make him look downright guilty so he had no choice but to wait the arrival of the police. Monty was so engrossed in his own thoughts he barely heard Rebecca walk up behind him.
"Monty, we need to talk." She whispered tearfully, watching as Jarvis gave the reluctant go-head to let everyone back into the house and out of the drizzle. Rebecca thought she might be sick as she watched Will and Joe carry her father's portly body back inside, and she barely wished to think where they were about to put him until Dr Evans arrived.
"Rebecca, I'm so, so sorry about Cecil. He was a good man." Monty mumbled, hanging his head.
Rebecca sniffed and produced a bitter smile. "I know you don't mean that, and I don't blame you. I loved my father, I really did, but he tried my patience too much. It ended so badly between us, if only I could turn back the clock…." She suddenly sobbed again, tears and rain smudging down her pretty face as her brother-in-law drew her into a hug. If either had seen the look which had appeared on Lady Caroline's face the moment Monty comforted Rebecca with a physical gesture, they may have wondered if the suspicious situation they now found themselves in was actually far worse than they thought.
"Listen." Rebecca whispered, keeping her head low. Her sobbing stopped instantly, there were far more pressing things to be concerned about than her own grief. She had reputations and lives to save so she had to act fast.
"Monty, I was there for the argument between father and yourself, and I know how it might have sounded to other people. I'm not stupid, I know what the police may think."
"I'm innocent!" Monty hissed desperately, turning Rebecca so they both faced away from the house and out into the black void which was the surrounding land. "I was with Mrs Wat….." Suddenly Monty's mouth snapped shut as he cursed his own idiocy. After all Rebecca had told him in the orangery he decided his brain must have become confused as he had felt so at ease in her company. Perhaps he should have finished the sentence, made some lie up at the end, but it was too late.
Rebecca gaped at him, her tears now drying on her cheeks. She lowered her voice to an almost inaudable whisper. "I know you are innocent, I was about to ask you if you had an alibi – now I know who my father meant, it's true isn't it? You are secretly liaising with someone? And that someone is Andrew's sister!"
Monty was struck by the growing excitement in Rebecca's voice and her eyes lit up. He might have laughed if the situation hadn't been so incredibly hopeless.
"Oh I'm such a cad." Monty sighed. "What have I done to your sister?"
Rebecca gasped. "Oh, Francesca, we must get word to her about Papa…..I just don't understand how the fire happened….I feel so terrible, so responsible!"
"It wasn't your fault!" Monty protested. "You know how your father used to like to smoke cigars in bed! He probably dropped ash, didn't realise, set himself alight."
Rebecca's expression hardened. "You need an alibi, one you can give to the police. I could ask Andrew….."
"No!" Monty protested, shaking his head. "I couldn't ask that, this is something I need to solve on my own. I don't want you involved, Becca. You've a son to think about."
"But what if the police think it was me! What if they find out Father was being so controlling, that we had argued about Hugo's future? For all his faults I still loved him, he was my father, I wouldn't wish to hurt him!"
"Of course not." Monty soothed as he lead her back towards the house. "And I'm sure nobody, including the police, will suspect you at all. Why would they? They won't know about Andrew….."
The worst, most horrific thought suddenly crossed Rebecca's mind, and she clasped her hand over her mouth. Andrew! No, surely not, it can't be, she thought. Her heart was beating so hard against her rib cage she thought she might crack a bone. He would NEVER do such a terrible thing, no matter how desperate the situation had got. She knew him too well – but she also knew he could be a hot-headed Adams, doing things before thinking them through was often their family trait. Rebecca had heard things from gossiping servants, how he would like to give that William Forest a good hiding from time to time. That certainly wasn't the gentle, caring Scot she had come to know and love, he was always so loving towards her that maybe she saw him only how he wanted her to see him.
It would make sense, her father was about to ruin both of them, as well as little Hugo's future, and she wasn't about to underestimate the power of a man's hate towards another who threatened to destroy the people he loved. Her thoughts were busily going round and round in circles as Grace and Hettie fetched tea for the gathering aristocrats in the drawing room. It was by now the small hours, but all Rebecca wanted to do was to find Andrew and be comforted by him. The police, and Dr Evans, would soon arrive and the night wasn't about to be over for a long time yet.