When they grew up, they had remained close friends and had continued to enjoy life together, even if doing so had meant frequently stirring up mischief and mayhem and putting themselves in danger and raking their way to an admiring reputation among their peers and a less approving notoriety among society in general. They had both been great favorites among the ladies.
They had been two young blades sowing their wild oats together, in fact, never doing anyone any great harm, including - by some miracle - themselves.
They had been young gentlemen, after all, and had known where to draw the line.
Even after Con's father died they had remained friends though Con had started to spend more and more of his time at Warren Hall with Jonathan, of whom he had been inordinately fond. Elliott had missed him but admired his devotion to the handicapped boy. It had even struck him that Con was growing up and settling down faster than he was. Elliott's father had been the boy's guardian, of course, but he had been slack in his duties, trusting Con to look after the boy's needs and oversee the day-by-day running of his estates with the aid of a competent steward.
And then Elliott's father had died too.
And everything had changed. For Elliott had made the decision to take his new responsibilities seriously, and one of those responsibilities had been Jonathan. So he had spent some time at Warren Hall, acquainting himself with the nature of his duties there, though he had fully expected to be able to turn over the unofficial guardianship to Con again. He had even felt somewhat embarrassed that his uncle had not made Con the official guardian. He was old enough and quite capable enough, after all. And Jonathan had adored him.
But Elliott had soon made the painful discovery that Con had abused the trust Elliott's father had placed in him, embezzling funds and stealing costly family jewels for his own gain, safe in the knowledge that Jonathan would never know the difference. And then there were the debaucheries Elliott had become aware of - house-maids impregnated and dismissed, laborers' daughters ruined.
Con was not the person Elliott had always thought him to be. There was no honor in him after all. He preyed upon the weak. He was the very antithesis of a gentleman. It was no excuse that through no fault of his own he had narrowly missed being his father's heir.
His villainy had been an excruciatingly painful discovery. /Not /that he had ever admitted to the thefts or the debaucheries.
Though he had not denied them either. He had merely laughed when Elliott had confronted him with his findings. "You may go to the devil, Elliott" was all he had said.
They had been bitter enemies for the last year. At least, for Elliott it had been bitter. He could not speak for Con.
Elliott had, of course, taken Jonathan's care and the running of his estates directly into his own hands and had spent as much time at Warren Hall as he had at Finchley Park, it had seemed. There had been precious little time left for himself.
Con had made that year almost intolerable for him. He had done all in his power to set obstacles in the path of his erstwhile friend and to influence Jonathan to defy Elliott's wishes. That had not been a hard thing to accomplish - the poor boy had not even realized he was doing it.
Naively perhaps, Elliott had hoped that the worst of his burden was now behind him, for even though the new Merton was a minor and totally unprepared for the life and duties that would be his, and even though he had three sisters who were equally unprepared, /at least /there would no longer be Con Huxtable as a thorn in his side.
Or so he had thought. He had told Con to leave.
But he was still here. And he had chosen to greet the new owner of Warren Hall and his sisters with all the power of his great charm.
Common decency ought to have dictated that he leave before the new earl took up residence, even if he /was /a distant relative. But one ought to have known by now not to expect common decency from Con Huxtable.
Elliott left Mrs. Dew's side and crossed the drawing room with determined steps. "Indeed it /is /all rather splendid," Con was saying, apparently in answer to something one of his young cousins had said. "My esteemed father saw fit to pull down the old abbey-cum-fortress-cum-hall soon after he succeeded to the title and to put up this testament to his wealth and taste in its place. Later he filled it with treasures from his travels as a very young man." "Oh, but I /wish,/" Katherine Huxtable said, "I might have seen the abbey." "It /was /nothing short of criminal," Con agreed, "to have pulled it down, though perhaps one would not really have enjoyed its drafty corridors and dark, narrow-windowed chambers and archaic sanitation rather than the opulent comforts of this building." "If /I /had been doing it," Merton said, "I would have left the old hall standing and built this house close by. History is all very well, and historic buildings really ought to be preserved, as Nessie is always saying, but I confess to enjoying the comforts of modern living." "Ah," Con said just as Elliott was about to try maneuvering him closer to the window, where he intended to have a private word with him, "here is the tea tray. Set it down in the usual place, Mrs. Forsythe. Perhaps Miss Huxtable will be so good as to pour." But then he smiled ruefully and bowed to her. "I do beg your pardon," he said. "As the eldest sister of young Merton, you are hostess here, Cousin, and do not need my permission to pour.
Please proceed." She inclined her head to him and took her seat behind the tray. Mrs. Dew joined her there in order to hand around the cups and saucers and the plate of dainties. George, in silent communication with Elliott, drew Merton and his young sister toward the marble fireplace, where they held out their hands to the welcome warmth of the fire.
Elliott strolled in the direction of the window, virtually forcing Con to go with him. He did not mince his words when they were out of earshot of the others. "This is in decidedly poor taste," he said, keeping his voice low. "Putting aside my own inclination in order to remain here to greet my cousins' arrival and help them feel at home?" Con said, feigning surprise. "I would call it in the /best /of taste, Elliott. I congratulate myself on my unselfishness and thoughtfulness." "You have greeted them and welcomed them," Elliott said curtly. "Now you may leave." /"Now?" /Con's eyebrows arched upward. "At this very moment? Would it not appear somewhat abrupt, somewhat ill-mannered? I am amazed you would suggest such a thing, Elliott. You, who have turned into such a high stickler lately. You are in grave danger of turning into a dry old stick, you know. It fairly gives one the shudders." "I will not spar verbally with you," Elliott said. "I want you gone." "I beg your pardon." Con regarded him with a puzzled frown - and mocking eyes. "But do your wishes rule Warren Hall? Is it not rather those of Merton, my second cousin?" "He is a /boy,/" Elliott said between half-clenched teeth. "And impressionable. And I am officially his guardian. You have already terrorized one child and there was precious little I could do about it - he was your brother and under your influence. It will not happen with /this /boy." "Terrorized." For one moment the air of mockery slipped and something altogether more ugly gleamed in Con's eyes. "I /terrorized /Jon." And then he recovered. "But of course I did, and it was easy to do. He did not exactly have all his wits about him, did he? Or if he did, there were not very many of them behind which he might have sheltered himself from my pernicious influence. Ah, Mrs. Dew - an appropriate name. I am parched and you bring me tea." His charming smile was back in place.
She carried two cups. Elliott took the other one and inclined his head in acknowledgment. "Mrs. Dew," Con said. "But there is no /Mr. /Dew with you?" "I am a widow," she told him. "My husband died a year and a half ago." "Ah," Con said. "But you are yet so young. I am sorry. It is hard to lose loved ones - especially those who are as close as one's own heartbeat." "It /was /hard," she agreed. "It /is /hard. I have come here to live with Stephen and my sisters. Where will /you /live, Mr. Huxtable? Here?" "I will find somewhere to lay my weary head after I leave here, ma'am," Con said. "You must not worry about me." "I am sure you will," she said. "It had not occurred to me to worry. But there is no hurry, surely. This house is more than large enough for all of us, and it /is /your home. And we really ought to get properly acquainted. An ancient family feud has kept us apart for too long. May I fetch you some dainties? And you, Lord Lyngate?" Something in her eyes and her tone told Elliott that she had overheard at least a part of his conversation with Con. And, being one as usual to jump to conclusions, she was annoyed with him.