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William skidded to a halt. “Wait. What about Louisa? She and I have a conversation to finish. I have a promise to keep with her.”
“And keep it you must. But it shan’t be happening today, old chap; I can tell you that with a high degree of certainty. Where is your carriage?”
“I, uh, hackney,” William said. He hadn’t wanted Walter to be present, in case he’d ultimately chosen the cowardly route.
“Follow me, then.” Lord Anthony took off in the direction of the private lane that led to the mews behind Ashworth House, and William mutely followed.
Lord Anthony located one of the grooms, a boy of about eighteen, and instructed him to get his curricle ready. In no time at all—William was quite sure he’d shut his eyes for only a moment—the groom returned with a fine curricle William couldn’t help but admire and even covet just a bit.
“Thank you, Tom,” Lord Anthony said. “Good man. We’re going to Gentleman Jackson’s. Hop on back.”
Lord Anthony climbed into the curricle and took the reins from Tom, who jumped into his seat at the back of the curricle. “Come on, then, Farleigh. Let’s be off,” Lord Anthony called. “Time is our enemy.”
That statement was true enough, William thought as he climbed into the curricle. Time was definitely his enemy, as he had once again lost an opportunity to speak with Louisa. She had been upset enough to not accept visitors today. William concluded that by “visitors,” she’d meant him. It was also highly likely that at least one of her brothers was fully aware of the situation.
And William had just agreed to a few rounds of boxing with him. He hoped he and his head survived.
* * *
The first thing Louisa noticed when she stepped into the entry hall of Farleigh Manor was its overall emptiness. There were no paintings accenting the walls as there were at Ashworth Park and Ashworth House, except for a single piece of framed needlework. Dark rectangles on the walls showed where paintings had hung—the rest of the wallpaper having faded over the years, leaving the artworks’ drab ghosts behind. At Ashworth Park, a great chandelier with shining crystals illuminated the entry hall, but Farleigh Manor boasted no such extravagance, beyond a telltale mark in the high ceiling where a chandelier of some sort must have hung.
Mrs. Holly excused herself and bustled out of the room, leaving Louisa and Alex with Grimshaw, but in short order, she was back, leading a small group of people into the hall single file—the service staff of Farleigh Manor. A few of them were wiping their dirty hands on aprons or shirtsleeves, and Louisa heard Alex snort.
They were introduced to Matthew, the steward, who’d “recently been promoted from groundskeeper, milady”; the cook, Mrs. Brill, and her daughter, Mary, a sweet girl who appeared to be slow-witted and rather childlike; Samuel, the stable master; as well as a young girl, Sally, and a boy, Jim, who served as maid- and man-of-all-work.
“I’m very pleased to meet you all,” Louisa said, smiling, hoping she came across as kind and approachable. She needed to earn their trust quickly if she was to learn anything of import in the next day and a half.
Mary, the simple girl, broke the line and rushed toward her, her arms outstretched. “You’re the real one, then, what’s marrying our Will and giving ’im babies! Not the one—”
Mrs. Brill darted after her and quickly grabbed her arm and pulled her back into line. “Hush, Mary, dear,” Mrs. Brill murmured. “Apologies, milady.”
“Not to worry,” Louisa said, taken aback. Mary’s innocent words had provided the first real evidence that another woman was involved somehow, but they weren’t at all what Louisa had hoped to hear. “Perhaps, if you would be so kind, you would show my brother and me to our rooms so we can get settled in. Afterward, I should like to tour the house and get to know each of you better.”
“Very good, milady,” Mrs. Holly said, nodding.
Old Grimshaw bowed. “Jim will see that your trunks are taken upstairs.”
“Sally, get some fresh water and towels for Lady Louisa and Lord Halford,” Mrs. Holly added. The housekeeper was beaming. “Such a pleasure to have you here at last, milady! And you too, milord,” she hastily added.
“Hmph,” Alex said, arching his eyebrow and looking down his nose at her, but Louisa knew he was actually laughing inside.
Mrs. Holly led the way up the stairs and showed each of them their guest rooms. The rooms were sparsely furnished, the quality not much better than that of a rustic inn, but Mrs. Holly was gracious and helpful and unapologetic about its appearance, which Louisa appreciated.
After a quick review of his room, Alex excused himself, telling Louisa he wished to go outside and get better acquainted with Samuel, the stable master, and Matthew, the groundskeeper-slash-steward.
“If you would meet me in the entry hall in fifteen minutes, Mrs. Holly, I would be grateful. And then you may show me the house,” Louisa said.
“Very good, milady.” Mrs. Holly curtsied and left.
The tour began in the sitting room. Louisa checked the condition of the few pieces of furniture, then carefully inspected the draperies for holes. Mrs. Holly hovered nearby, ready to answer questions. “We have done our best to keep the house in good repair, I assure you,” she said.
Louisa nodded in acknowledgment. She ran her fingers over the mantelpiece, noting there was another framed piece of needlework hanging above the fireplace. “This is lovely. Who was it done by?” she asked.
“The current Lord Farleigh’s mother,” Mrs. Holly said. “Such a talented lady, she was too. An eye for color such as few people have, I daresay. She had a sketchbook she kept for her ideas, but—well, it’s gone now. But her son got her talent, as I’m sure you already know.”
Louisa did know. William’s painting of the oak tree was ample proof.
So far, she’d found Mrs. Holly’s work exceptional. So exceptional, in fact, that regardless of how threadbare the rugs were or the wear on the upholstery of the single sofa facing the fireplace or the removal of paintings from the walls, one still felt a sense of tidy respectability. The tables—there were but two small ones—were lacking ornamental pieces one would normally find on display in the homes of the upper classes but were dressed with inexpensive crockery overflowing with flowers instead. Louisa didn’t ask, but owing to what she’d learned so far about the former viscount, she assumed anything of value had been sold to cover his debts at various points in time.
