“I don’t give a rat’s whiskers for your miserable hostelry, my good man,” announced the Earl of Chatwyn from the corridor outside. “I’ll thank you to remember exactly who I am. I’ve relatives staying here and my groom informs me that your stables are half full of the horses and other grooms from my own estates. You will therefore immediately show me where my relatives are at present housed, while you continue to arrange my bedchamber and a hot dinner. And if this place is simply too overcrowded to oblige me, then you had better instruct some of your other guests to move themselves off without delay into some alternative premises.”
The baroness smiled apologetically at her companions, waved away the two remaining hostelry pages, leaned back in her chair, and addressed the hovering Petronella. “Please inform his lordship,” she sighed, “that his son is at present absent but will return shortly, his brother Jerrid is resting in a chamber upstairs, we are already seated here enjoying a pleasant midday meal, and he is – naturally – most welcome – to join us.”
The earl joined them. He eyed the laden dishes and scratched his head. “Been a tiresome journey,” he admitted. “Left me a touch peckish.”
“I shall order a new platter, spoon and napkin brought for your lordship,” said the baroness. “You are clearly half starved, sir.”
“Well, not exactly,” admitted the earl. “Had an early dinner back at some pokey little inn along the way. But it’s been a good few miles since then.”
“The spiced calves’ brains are very good, my lord.”
He tried the calves’ brains, along with nearly everything else, and regarded his hostesses with complacence. “Didn’t mean to come,” he explained, with a slight belch. “Used to travelling of course, though usually on the king’s business, but I saw no reason to come cavorting through the rain and wind just to seek out the rest of my pesky relatives. Usually only too glad to see the back of them. It made more sense to stay at home and wait for them to come to me. But – well,” he smiled with faint apology, “wondered if all you adventurous females might need an escort, or some such. Thought to do my duty. Besides,” he added, “got damned dull, just waiting alone. So here I am.” The earl lounged, ankles stretched out and crossed. He wore the fashionable short doublet usually admired by younger men, and his thighs pulsed large, muscles squashed together and forced into overflow.
The parlour, being a small back chamber, had only one very small window of polished horn which obscured everything but the falling drizzle outside. There were therefore two candles lit in spite of it being daytime, and one flickering spit of tallow illuminated the earl’s jowls with unforgiving candour. The baroness regarded her new companion and wondered how it was that this coarse featured man had sired two such handsomely charming sons. She decided, as she had previously, that the late countess must have been a beauty. She further decided, with a smugly secretive smile, that her own family situation had been a similar one. She shook her head free of pointless fancies and said, “But you find us sadly disorganised, my lord. Nicholas was here earlier, but has now gone to fulfil some errand which I know nothing of. I myself arrived only recently and have yet to see young Adrian.” She nodded towards Sysabel. “Though I am told he has proved himself a great hero and is much in favour. Now he has gone off on business with friends, but is expected to return either today or tomorrow.”
“Adrian? Humph,” decided the earl, pushing away crumbs. “He may well have gone off with friends, but genuine business in Weymouth is highly unlikely, I’m afraid. No head for it, you know. And as for being a hero, he never managed to live up to his hero worship of my boy Peter. I expect he’s off on some nonsense – well, his highness does use his more intelligent young courtiers from time to time. Looking into state matters and bringing back information. I am often employed on such subtle business, naturally. I wouldn’t put it past Adrian, though I doubt he’d be considered a principal player.”
“And Nicholas?”
“Madam,” sighed the earl, “you must know the answer to that as I do myself.”
“Perhaps,” decided her ladyship, “I have just a little more respect for my daughter’s husband than you do, my lord.”
He waved a plump handful of beringed fingers. “I know my son,” said the earl, “and for all a father’s natural fondness, I have to admit the wrong one died. I miss Peter. Such a good boy. I have every reason to suppose he was destined for greatness, as I’m sure the king already knew. But Nicholas? He’ll be lying drunk in some bordello off the coast, skulking away from duty and responsibility just as he hides from the cold north winds.”
Sysabel, in spite of her Aunt Elizabeth’s warning expression, interrupted. “I’ve no interest in defending Nicholas, uncle,” she said, her voice a little tremulous, “although I believe he recently behaved with honour concerning Emeline. But Adrian is exceedingly wise, although naturally, coming from a noble family, he is not actually in business himself.”
The earl sniffed. “No harm in a little trade sometimes, you know my dear. Wool through Norwich, even printing and books, something the king himself approves. But Adrian, well I doubt it. He’s a clever boy, but not for business.”
The Lady Elizabeth sighed. “If only there was something that brought in a little money –”
Avice snorted, and one of the candles blew out. “The only thing any of us should be worried about is Emma.”
“If young Nicholas has deserted –”
The baroness shook her head. “My elder daughter is upstairs in one of the smaller guest chambers, my lord. But she is – unwell. A slight chill, no doubt. Nicholas is looking after her, and has forbidden anyone else from becoming involved. A risk of – infection, no doubt. At present he has gone to procure medicines but is expected back at any moment.”
“Ah.” The earl looked around the party of females, and frowned. “A chill?”
“A chill, my lord. But since the aged groom my daughters originally took with them as guide and protector has also gone down with some form of cold and is at present incapacitated, we are taking no chances as to infection and Nicholas has dear Emeline close closeted upstairs.”
“And my wayward younger brother?”
“Uncle Jerrid,” sniffed Sysabel, “is upstairs snoozing. I have no idea what he’s doing here in the first place.”
“Travelling with Nicholas,” the baroness reminded her.
“Which,” said Sysabel softly, avoiding all accusatory glances, “I find highly suspicious. They were up to no good, I’m sure of it. And my poor Adrian –”
The earl refilled his wine cup. “At the first sneeze,” he declared, “I’m off. Can’t afford to be getting sick, no profit in it, and besides, the king needs me. Hopefully it’s just feminine sniffles. No harm done. But I need a decent chamber, and if there’s none to be had then I suppose I shall have to share with Jerrid.”
“He’ll be delighted, I’m sure,” muttered Avice.
“I believe,” said the baroness, “I shall have another cup of wine.” The earl released the jug, which he had once again taken up.
“I think,” decided the Lady Elizabeth suddenly rousing herself, “I need a little fortification as well. Life is no longer as peacefully predictable as it once was.”
“Was it?” sighed the baroness. “I don’t remember.”