Page 45 of Dare it all for Love

Once the ladies had heard Henry out, inspected the corn dolls, and consumed a quite astonishing amount of tea and cakes, everyone waited for their opinions. Henry took the opportunity to stretch his legs, walking about the room and giving the old women privacy in which to put their heads together whilst they murmured with low voices.

After what seemed an interminable wait, they gestured for him to come and sit down again.

“It’s a strange thing to use these corn dolls, maidens and the like, in such a way. Almost against their will. They’re positive symbols, used to bring luck,” Pippin mused, turning the largest of the dolls in her hands. “This has been made with a great deal of skill and love, that much is clear, and I do not think it is anything to do with harvest. I think this represents a real person, a woman. Dharani?”

“Agreed.”

The Indian lady gave him a sharp look, her dark eyes settling on him like a knife blade. “Have you wronged an innocent, Mr Stanhope?”

Henry was so taken aback by the accusation he could only stare, and then of course he thought of Florence, about the liberties he’d taken. Heat rushed up his neck and he cursed the old woman for he had the horrid suspicion he was blushing.

“No!” he said, a little too late and too vehemently. The old women exchanged glances. Henry cleared his throat. “That is… No, damn it. I’m… I’m courting a young woman, but I’ve just written to her father. I wish to marry her. There is no question of wrongdoing.”

“Nani Maa,” said Ashton. The young man was hiding a grin and Henry wondered if he was a close friend of Florence’s. “I think you are barking up the wrong tree.”

“Hmph,” his grandmother said, still looking suspicious, an expression shared by Montagu whose piercing silver gaze was making Henry extremely uncomfortable. Montagu and Gabriel Knight were close friends and Henry did not need Montagu speaking out of turn before he’d had the chance to put his case to Gabriel himself.

“None of your business,” he told Montagu defiantly, folding his arms.

The devil take it, must he explain his romantic affairs to everyone? His lordship quirked one blond eyebrow but said nothing.

“If not you, then your father, or even his father,” Pippin murmured. “There is something here, an accusation of wrongdoing. I would say your accuser is certainly female, but it’s tangled up with something else that muddies the water. For now, Mr Stanhope, you must discover who you or your kin has wronged.”

“I’ve not even been in the country for years,” Henry exclaimed, feeling like the women were ganging up on him.

Pippin nodded, sympathy in her eyes. “I’m not saying it is your fault, Mr Stanhope, but perhaps someone believes it is your fault, or perhaps you merely represent your bloodline, and this goes back years. Revenge is a strange thing. Resentments can smoulder for generations, and then something happens, a spark that sets a blaze. Perhaps your return was simply the spark required to set this in motion.”

“I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh, please don’t start criticising Mr Oak again, Florence,” Grace said with a sigh.

She knew full well why Florence feared for her; it was for all the same reasons Grace feared for herself. It was just such a lovely morning and she had so little time left before she must tell her parents and, heaven help her, marry Mr Oak.

Florence returned an indignant expression. “I wasn’t going to even mention Mr Oak.”

“Oh. I apologise then, do carry on.”

They were meandering through the lovely gardens at Holbrook House after breakfast, before the sun got too high and it became unbearably hot again.

“I cannot help but think that this vendetta against Henry is something personal, yet he has not lived here for such a long time, and we know the only romance he had was when he himself was jilted.”

Grace nodded, having heard everything now, both about Henry’s past and Florence’s campaign to win the man’s heart. She could only smile. The poor fellow didn’t stand a chance, for Florence was nothing if not single-minded.

“So what if it isn’t Henry that is being targeted, but rather the Stanhope family? After all, Harriet is married now and Henry is the figurehead for the family, even if there are few of them left. Besides which, Harriet is too well guarded, being married to an earl. What if there is some old grudge, something that has been left to fester for years?”

Grace sighed and turned a suspicious glare upon her friend. “This is about Mr Oak.”

“No!” Florence protested and then coloured. “Well, he is someone I suspect, I admit, but I’m not targeting him specifically, Grace, I swear. I only think we should make enquiries and see if we can uncover any old stories about the Stanhopes, and Mr Oak’s family. You ought to know if he is involved, even if it his kin rather than he himself. Perhaps we might hear something that would shine some light upon it. I mean, we know Mr Oak’s grandmother was a witch.”

“He said a cunning woman, not a witch,” Grace said firmly.

Florence raised a dark eyebrow. “For most people that’s splitting hairs, or at least it would have been decades ago. Who else around here was known to have been, or still is a witch? People must know things like that. I think we ought to ask.”

“Ask who?” Grace asked, not liking the sound of this one bit.

“Anyone who is from the area. Henry’s estate begins only a few miles away, so I would think the servants at Holbrook would be a good place to start. I know some of them have followed in the footsteps of parents and grandparents, there are families that have worked for the St Clairs for generations. They’d know all the gossip and old stories from the area.”

Grace frowned. “I don’t know, Flo. I have a bad feeling about this. What if the person involved discovers you are digging for information?”