‘She says his Lordship is lettin’ the garden go wild and means to tear out the standin’ stones and put in one of them follies.’ Webb frowned. ‘It ain’t right. Them stones was there before the house. Before the village, even. Bad luck to knock ’em down.’
Thomas frowned as well. Removing the garden, especially the stones, was a direct attempt to hurt Louisa. He must have known how much she loved them. Which meant she had sent the gardener here as a cry for help. ‘The garden will be all right without you for a couple of days,’ he said to Webb with a grim smile. ‘And I doubt he will find anyone in the area ready to tempt fate by pulling down those stones. We have time.’
‘Time for what?’ Percy said.
‘To summon the Duke of Bonham so he might pay a visit to your grandfather.’
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Louisa stared out of her bedroom window at the garden below, assuring herself that it was still as she remembered it. A day or two without tending it was not going to make a difference. Even a week was not likely to matter, especially if she took a few minutes during her morning walk to pinch off the dead buds of flowers as she was passing them.
But much more time than that and it would begin the downward slide her grandfather was hoping for. She was not sure if she could stand watching that. It had been the only thing to make her life bearable here. What would she do if it was gone?
She still hoped it would not come to that. She’d sent Webb to the inn to find Thomas and Percy, but several days had passed with no sign of them arriving to rescue her. She’d assumed it had been Thomas who had tried to interrupt breakfast, on the first day, but had not actually seen him. She could not blame the servants for keeping him out. They were only obeying Grandfather, just as she’d done when she’d fired Webb. But it was maddening to be here alone, with no idea what he might be thinking, after what they had done and the way they’d parted.
If there was a new plan in place to help her get away, no one had given her any clue what it might be. The original idea seemed even more mad in retrospect, and she was not surprised it had failed. If she was as clever as Thomas seemed to think, she’d have been better off finding her own way out.
She turned away from the window and glanced in the mirror, making sure that her dress was immaculate and no hair was out of place before she went downstairs to breakfast. Grandfather would criticise her, in any case. But there was no reason to give him additional cause, nor did she want him to think his abuse was affecting her.
She walked down to the ground floor via the main stairs, head held high and an impassive expression on her face. She entered the dining room and took her place without acknowledging her grandfather, who was at the table head going through the morning’s post.
As she helped herself to a full plate with eggs and ham, and toast with marmalade, the rattling of letters became louder, as if the man holding them was growing increasingly annoyed.
‘You eat too much,’ he said finally.
‘I will get fat,’ she said, placidly.
She took a second slice of toast knowing it would irritate him even more.
This was the way Percy had been responding to Grandfather’s taunts for years. Why had she never tried it before? It was surprisingly satisfying to fight him in these little ways. It also meant she left the meal satisfied. His other insults were easier to take when she was not constantly hungry.
‘I think I shall tell the cook to forego the morning meal,’ he said, still watching her. ‘It really is a gluttony to have so many full meals prepared when we can subsist on much less.’
‘As you wish,’ she said, finishing her eggs. ‘If I require more than tea, I am perfectly capable of going below stairs and eating with the servants.’
This was met with silence, as he tried to decide if the satisfaction of depriving her of food was worth the embarrassment of her joining the staff in the kitchen. ‘Perhaps not,’ he said at last.
She resisted the urge to smile. It would not do to take too much pleasure in these small victories. If she was truly alone, the battle would be long and hard. She would save her celebration until the end.
There was a knock at the door.
She ignored it. Let the person on the other side take all the disappointment. She could not spare the energy to shoulder it herself.
She hadn’t expected the butler to appear in the doorway a moment later, looking as nervous as she’d ever seen him. ‘My lord, there is a visitor.’ He paused, as if not sure how to proceed.
‘I told you we are not receiving,’ her grandfather snapped, prepared to take his irritation out on the servant.
‘It is the Duke of Bonham, my lord.’ He held out a salver with a business card in the centre.
Louisa looked up from her food.
‘I did not know what to do. He was accompanied by his own footmen.’
‘Put him in the sitting room.’
‘I have already done so. He wishes to speak to you…’
‘Of course he does.’ Her grandfather rose.
