‘Right, yes, I’ll do that.’ He lingered in the doorway irresolute for a moment before stirring himself to go upstairs. ‘It’s too late to start out tonight. I’ll leave at first light.’
Naturally, he would be going home– to the Sandys’ family home, not the one he’d been sharing with her since they’d arrived from London for a summer visit to his cottage. They’d both needed a time away from danger after their two most recent investigations. Death, unfortunately, hadn’t got the message that he wasn’t welcome to join them.
She had the tea waiting for him and had added one of the griddle cakes they had cooked together that afternoon. She’d enjoyed seeing this domestic side of her lover, a skill learned on campaign in Portugal where simple campfire cooking had been essential for an army doctor. He sat down at the table and looked at the cup and plate as if no longer sure what to do with them.
‘How old was your father? I feel I know very little about your family,’ she asked.
Finally moving, he buttered the flat cake. ‘Seventy-nine.’
‘Not a bad innings, but still…’
‘He faded in the last ten years, poor health, worse memory, my mother and Arthur rather took over the reins as he lost interest in anything but his health.’
‘Arthur being your oldest brother?’
‘Yes, though I should start calling him Viscount Sandys.’
‘The king is dead, long live the king?’
‘Quite.’
The peerage was remorseless like that. ‘Where do you have to go tomorrow?’
‘Bailey said he’d died at Levens, our family seat.’ Jacob added jam but still didn’t eat. ‘Strange, I thought he was in Harrogate, taking the waters. He always said he wanted to die within sight of these mountains.’
‘Then he got his wish.’ Dora moved to his side to rub his shoulders. ‘Some of us have a homing instinct. As his days grew short, maybe he felt he had to come back before the end?’
‘Why did no one tell me? If I’d known, I could’ve called on him as we passed– or stayed with him if it was clear he had entered his last days.’
They’d passed close by Levens on their journey north, and he had pointed out the turn off the road. The house overlooked the treacherous Warton Sands, part of the wide estuary of the River Kent. They had avoided the estate because of her. It was not done to turn up at the family home with your actress lover, even if you did not think anyone was in residence. And hadn’t the messenger said his brothers and sisters were there too? It was as well they hadn’t burst in on them.
‘I’m sure your mother would’ve sent for you had there been time.’ Dora squeezed his tense neck muscles consolingly. ‘Perhaps she thought you were still in London?’
He gave a sound that wasn’t quite agreement. With the exception of his middle brother William, Jacob had been open with her about keeping his family at a distance because they had a tendency to disapprove of his choices; they appeared to have returned the compliment and left him out of the family circle at this momentous time. That had to sting.
‘Does it mean any changes for you?’ she asked. Her grasp of his finances was weak. He always appeared to have plenty of money but had that been some kind of paternal stipend? Was the ascension of his brother to the title about to cut off the funds from the Sandys’ coffers? Did Jacob have more than the death of a father to lament?
Jacob grimaced. ‘I can’t see how it will change the essentials. Arthur is the new lord, his eldest son the next in line. I’m sure I’ll be jogged further and further back from the title as he and William fill their nurseries.’
‘I rather think their wives do that.’ Giving up on the massage, which he seemed to be enduring rather than enjoying, Dora took her place opposite him again and sipped her tea.
‘My point is that I’m in no danger of having to take on the burden of the peerage. You can strike that worry off your list.’
He wasn’t getting her point. ‘But will you still have enough money to live on?’
He looked up at her, surprised. ‘Is that what’s been worrying you? My dear practical Dora, don’t be anxious about that. My fortune is my own. I will be able to afford tea and butter for some years to come.’
‘Good.’ She bit into her cake, chewed thoughtfully and swallowed. ‘I’m very sorry for your loss, of course, but not sorry that it won’t end your freedom to choose your own way of life.’ Not like her father had tried to end her choices. He’d wanted to marry her off to the overseer of his plantation in the West Indies. Her answer had been to go on stage and never darken his door again. Jacob wouldn’t have to do anything so dramatic.
‘I’ll leave first thing,’ he repeated, perhaps trying to persuade himself he shouldn’t set out immediately in the dark. But that would be needlessly alarming for the household, to turn up in the middle of the night when the death had already occurred.
‘That makes the best sense. What do you want me to do? Go back to London?’ They’d left Alex Smith, their ex-soldier employee, in charge of the office. She could go back and take part in whatever investigations had come through the door in the week they’d been away.
‘I’m sorry, Dora. I’d wanted to share the place I love best with you.’
‘You have nothing to apologise for.’
‘Then, if you don’t mind staying here without me, I’d like you to remain. I’ll only be half a day’s ride away. It’s likely I’ll be able to return soon after the funeral. I can’t think anyone would want me around for longer. Arthur’s been preparing for this moment all his life.’
