“To myself!” Charles said. “They are weak.”
“They are happy, and you are ridiculous.”
“I should throw you out, now that I know I cannot stay at your house.”
Before Lord Burke could throwhimselfout to be done with the conversation, Bellamy hurried in with a letter on a silver tray.
Charles looked at him in some annoyance. Bellamy said, “Sorry to disturb, but it is from the duke.”
As a usual matter, a letter from his father did not bring good news. Most of the old man’s letters were long and heated diatribes over how much Charles spent on a horse or a gambling debt or, his father feared, an actress.
That could not be the case this time, though. Charles had been cut off for some months and so there was nothing the old fellow could complain about.
“Ah,” Charles said, “I will wager he writes to call off this pact business. He sees he cannot win and he does not like to imagine his son begging dinners or setting himself up in other people’s houses. It becomes embarrassing and he wants no more part of it. I knew the old boy would come round eventually.”
“Perhaps you ought to read his letter before you relay its contents,” Burke said, settling himself into a chair.
Charles took the letter. “He is my father, I know how he thinks. He is too proud for this shameful nonsense to go on indefinitely.”
He tore the letter open and read through it. Charles could feel his temper rise with every word. “That motherless son of a—”
“Stop this instant,” Burke said, holding his hand up. “I do not know what your father has written, but there is no cause to throwthosesorts of insults around.”
“Oh yes there is,” Charles said, handing the letter over to Burke. “Read it for yourself.”
Lord Burke took the letter and perused it. As Lord Dalton’s fury had increased word by word, Burke’s surprise kept apace.
Dalton,
As you may have heard, or will soon, Lord Childress has gone to meet his maker. (I cannot imagine God actually made him, so I assume he goes to the devil in the fastest conveyance possible.) He misjudged a fence and his hard head hit an even harder rock when he was thrown.
As you are aware, I am the estate’s entailed heir. What you most definitely do not know, as I cannot ever remember agreeing to this but there are papers that claim I did, I am now guardian to Miss Daisy Danworth, Lord Childress’ only child. It is all most irregular, as it ought not be the heir that is named guardian, but I have consulted with Spinks and he says we’d best just get on with it. He says the Chancery is so slow that the girl will be of age and married before a case is even heard.
Finding myself in such circumstances, I am determined to do right by the lady. However, I am much engaged with the estate at this present moment as we are set on doing long over-due renovations. The duchess and I will be moving into the dower house with your grandmother until the work is completed. Obviously, there will be no room for another person in that house, never mind the lady’s companion and her maid. As it is, we will find each other underfoot at every turn and I pray the duchess and the dowager do not strangle one another. (Yes, they get on perfectly well at a distance, but trap them in close quarters for too long a time and it will be like a couple of leopards tied in the same sack).
Therefore, I will require you to conduct this business on my behalf. Childress’ house in town was rented and the landlord wants them out. The estate in Shropshire is said to be in disarray and needs attention. I have been informed that the butler and housekeeper, who served both the estate and the London house, have run off together, and the cook has taken other employment. I presume there is still a footman or two lurking about. There is also a house in Ramsgate which is said to be in rather better shape.
You will escort Miss Danworth and her companion, Mrs. Jellops, to either of those two places, I care not. If you go to the estate, rectify its deficiencies. If you go to the house in Ramsgate, send me news of its real circumstances as I think the agent sounds over-enthusiastic. I have been informed there is a hunting lodge on the estate and a small cottage on the grounds at Ramsgate—those will be your choice of abode while the lady stays in the main house. You will bring your own staff for Miss Danworth’s use until suitable replacements can be found. Write weekly to tell me how you get on.
You will do as I ask, or I will see that every piece of unentailed property I own goes to your cousin Herbert. Consider this not a friendly request, but an iron warrant.
I will presume, though you are pressed into service, this is a welcome development. You cannot possibly afford to open the Brighton house, town shall be empty and dinners dried up, and I hear there are creditors banging on your door day and night.
As a last note, I am not so foolish as to give you funds directly to provide for the care of Miss Danworth. I will put the household kitty in the hands of her companion, Mrs. Jellops. Good luck prying gambling money from her sensible middle-aged fists.
Glastonburg
Lord Burke roared with laughter and set the letter down. “Good God, he is positively Machiavellian!”
Charles drummed his fingers on the desk. “He claims the dowager and my mother will be at odds in close quarters. A bit of nonsense. That makes me believe it is the two ofthemgot together to launch this scheme. Yes, it smacks of them. My father is no more Machiavellian than a turnip. But those two? Machiavelli, himself, would be fuddled to find himself in the middle of one of their plots.”
“Who is this Herbert who is to inherit your land?” Lord Burke said, hardly containing his laughter.
“A lump of a fellow who could no more manage an estate than fly to the moon. Nobody knows what’s to be done with him.”
Lord Burke composed himself and said, “However this plan came into being probably matters little. The question is, what will you do? Your father has issued what he terms an iron warrant—will you give up so much to Herbert? All the while starving in your house in town?”
“I know what they think,” Charles said, ignoring Burke’s questions. “They think, put me in close quarters with Miss Danworth and surely I will drop at her feet and beg her to marry me. Ha! Of course that’s what they think.”
