Chapter 3

Three

“ A nd good riddance to her,” Mrs. Mason said, shaking her head.

Connor smiled and nodded. He was glad to hear Teresa had fled the house early that morning. It made his own job far easier. He had made the short walk from his home on the estate for his morning meeting with the duke. Ralph had not heeded his advice to get rid of Teresa immediately, and he had come to insist on it, fearing for the reputation of the house and the family he had served faithfully for many years.

“He wanted to pay her off. I told him it was a mistake. Pay off one…” Connor began.

“And you’ll pay them all off. Quite right, Mr. Edge. I don’t know what he saw in her. She was just a little…well, I won’t say the word out loud,” Mrs. Mason replied.

Connor smiled. Mrs. Mason had long been an ally of his below stairs. She kept him abreast of the goings on amongst the servants, and it had been some months previously she had voiced her concerns about Teresa.

“I think he saw rather too much in her, if you catch my drift,” Connor said.

Mrs. Mason raised her eyebrows.

“Then thank goodness she’s gone. I don’t think the other servants noticed. She had the decency to let out her dresses, rather than let it show. But they’d soon have realized if her waters broke, or she gave birth in the servants’ hall,” the housekeeper said, tutting and shaking her head.

They were standing outside the pantry, their voices low, as the other servants hurried back and forth about their duties.

“We’ve avoided a scandal, Mrs. Mason, and saved the Duke from an embarrassment. For whatever reason she left, I give thanks. Let her go, and may we hope to never see her – or the child – again. We’ll keep the matter between ourselves,” Connor said, and the housekeeper nodded.

“You have my discretion, Mr. Edge,” she assured him .

Connor nodded, before making his way upstairs. The house was quiet. The dowager had gone to stay with a cousin during her period of mourning, and the fact of that period meant no guests had been invited to Burnley Abbey, despite it being the height of the season, and the shooting being particularly good that year. Connor gazed around the hallway, smiling to himself. He liked to imagine he was the Duke of Lancaster, and now he drew himself up, adopting a pose of the late duke, who was looking down on him from a portrait above the wide staircase which curved up to the landing above.

“I run this estate, not that fool of a younger brother,” he thought to himself.

Ralph was like a lost sheep. He had not expected to inherit, and having done so, he was floundering. Connor despaired of him. He could not make decisions, and when it came to the likes of Teresa, he had proved himself weak. Connor was suspicious of the duke. A baby did not come from nowhere, and Ralph’s insistence on defending Teresa – even providing for her – had led him to suspect the baby was not the result of a tussle with a stable boy or a fleeting romance with a footman.

“And wouldn’t that be a scandal to rock the institution?” Connor thought to himself, smiling at the thought of the power he wielded.

He looked up at Ralph’s father’s portrait and sneered. The old duke had been weak, but Ralph’s brother had been different, and for a while, Connor had feared his hold over the dukedom was dwindling. But Ralph was proving himself in the mold of his father, and Connor had no doubt he could use that fact to his advantage. He was still smiling to himself as the door to the library opened, and Burnley Abbey’s butler, Mr. Gregson, emerged, carrying a tray of empty glasses.

“Can I help you, Mr. Edge?” he asked, looking imperiously at Connor, who had never liked the hook-nosed butler, whose bushy eyebrows gave him a permanent look of suspicion.

“I’m going in to see the Duke,” Connor replied, for he had no reason to divulge his intentions to a mere servant – even the butler.

Mr. Gregson nodded.

“I’m sure he’ll be happy for you to disturb him, sir,” the butler replied, striding past Connor, who made a face at his retreating form.

“Who does he think he is?” Connor muttered to himself.

The duke’s study lay along a corridor at the front of the house, lined with portraits of the previous holders of the title, which stretched back several centuries, and was gifted to the family by a grateful monarch at the time of the restoration. The oak paneled door was closed, and Connor raised his hand and knocked loudly. There was no response. He knocked again, irritated to think his appointment had been forgotten.

“Your Grace? It’s Connor. I’ve an appointment to see you this morning to talk about Teresa,” Connor called out.

Connor hoped his words would bring a shiver to the duke’s spine, even as he had no intention of playing his hand just yet. But there was still no reply. Connor turned the handle of the door, wondering if perhaps the duke had fallen asleep in one of the armchairs by the fire. The handle gave way, and the door opened into Ralph’s comfortable study. It was lined with books, with windows looking out across the parkland at the front of the house, and a fire crackling in the hearth. But the duke was not there, and Connor sighed, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

“I’ll wait for him. He can find me here – it’ll remind him who’s in charge,” Connor thought to himself.

He stepped towards the desk, tutting at the piles of paper and correspondence – Ralph was losing control. He was probably fast asleep, shirking his responsibilities…

“He’s a pale comparison to his brother,” Connor thought to himself, though he had used Ralph’s weaknesses to his advantage, and had been somewhat glad to learn of Max’s demise on Corsica, as much as he had had pretended to the opposite.

As he glanced across the desk, an envelope caught his eye. It was addressed to him, in Ralph’s scrawling script, and reaching across, Connor picked it up, tearing it open and beginning to read. His eyes grew wide and angry, and he shook his head, a scowl coming over his lips.

“The fool!” he exclaimed, tossing the letter aside.

The letter was part apology and part explanation. In it, Ralph explained he had had gone away for a while – where, he did not say. He spoke of the difficulties he had encountered since returning from Corsica, and lamented his inability to follow in his brother’s footsteps. He would return, but for now, the running of the estate was left in Connor’s hands, and he urged the land agent not to come looking for him. The letter was signed “Ralph” with no allusion to the duke’s title or responsibilities. He had runaway, and Connor could only suspect what he had already suspected – that Teresa’s baby was Ralph’s, and the two of them had fled together.

“Curse them both,” he thought to himself, even as the thought of using the duke’s disappearance to his advantage crossed his mind.

With Ralph gone, and the dowager in mourning, Connor was in sole charge of the estate. Mr. Gregson would not speak to him with such disdain now, and smiling to himself, Connor sat down at the duke’s desk, leaning back in his chair, and placing his feet on the inset leather.

“I wonder where he’s gone? With the maid, no doubt. A love nest on the moors, perhaps, or even to Gretna Green. Imagine the scandal. It would bring the family down. What a fool, but I don’t intend to be dragged down with him,” Connor thought to himself, and now he felt only too glad to find the duke gone, as he wondered what his own next move might be…

“I’m afraid it’s nothing compared to Burnley Abbey, Your Grace. We’ve nothing more than you see before you,” the housekeeper said, looking nervously at Ralph, who gazed around him, nodding.

“It’s perfect, Mrs. Hill. It’s just what I want. A house, hidden away, far from anyone, where I won’t be disturbed,” Ralph replied.

He had left Burnley Abbey the previous day, before any of the servants had risen, and rode to Burnley, taking rooms at an inn, before beginning his search for a place to live. Briar Heights – the house in which he now stood – lay far out on the moors, hidden in a narrow valley, surrounded by woodland. It had been a hunting lodge, belonging to one of the estates, and though modest, it was precisely what Ralph was looking for. He wanted a place to lie low and collect his thoughts. He was confused as to the future and had felt the burden of responsibility acutely.

“And there’s only me here – and old Jackson who sees to the heavy lifting. Not that he’s much use,” the housekeeper continued.

It was as though she was trying to put Ralph off, but the duke was determined to take the house, and he would gladly do so without a staff of servants, or any of the advantages possessed by Burnley Abbey.

“I’m sure you can hire someone, Mrs. Hill. A maid and a cook,” Ralph replied.

The housekeeper, who was a young woman, dressed in a blue dress with a lace collar, her black hair tied into a bob, looked somewhat perturbed.

“But it’s difficult, Your Grace – maids and cooks don’t like to be out here in such a remote setting. They can’t go home on their day off, and…” she began, but Ralph was not interested in the practicalities.

“Pay them double the going rate. It’s no trouble to me. But I intend to take this house, Mrs. Hill, and that’s that,” Ralph replied.

“As you wish, Your Grace,” the housekeeper replied, nodding to Ralph, who made his own tour of the house, investigating the rooms, and feeling thankful to have found a place he could be alone.

Burnley Abbey had become oppressive, and whilst he knew he was shirking his responsibilities, the burden of his title had become too much. He needed time to grieve for his brother, and to come to terms with the new life he now had.

“Will you stay here tonight, Your Grace?” Mrs. Hill asked, when Ralph returned to the hallway.

“Yes, I’ll write to the agent tomorrow and take the house immediately. But I want you to promise me one thing, Mrs. Hill – no one can know I’m here,” Ralph said.

He feared reprisal for his flight. Connor would be looking for him, and whilst he had not fled out of the county, he had come far enough from Burnley Abbey not to be known. Briar Heights, in its splendid isolation, was the perfect place in which to hide. He would be found eventually, he knew that, but for now, the remote house on the moor represented a sanctuary, one he wished to maintain.

“Very good, Your Grace. I’ll make up a room for you, and when you write to the agent tomorrow, we can send word with Jackson, and advertise for a cook and a maid. It’s a long time since anyone made their home at Briar Heights,” she said, shaking her head.

The whole house was covered in dust sheets, and Ralph now began to remove them, revealing ancient pieces of furniture, and raising clouds of dust into the air. He opened the nearest window, coughing and spluttering as he rubbed his eyes.

“I’m sure we can make it habitable again, Mrs. Hill,” he said, turning to the housekeeper with a smile.

“I’ll do my best, Your Grace,” she replied, shaking her head, as though she considered the duke to be quite mad.

“Gone? What do you mean he’s gone?” Mrs. Mason exclaimed, after Connor had explained to her the details of the duke’s letter.

“I mean just that, Mrs. Mason. He’s left. I don’t know where he’s gone, but he’s gone,” Connor replied.

The housekeeper shook her head in astonishment, throwing up her hands in frustration.

“And does that mean he’s gone with her? The little… She seduced him, didn’t she?” the housekeeper said.

Connor smiled.

“Don’t be so hard on the girl, Mrs. Mason. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was he who seduced her. He had no cares, no responsibilities. He was going off to war. What did it matter if he left a maid behind him with a child? Second sons can do that. It can be hushed up. But he didn’t expect to come back as the duke, now, did he?” Connor replied.

He had decided to enjoy the moment of Ralph’s humiliation. The secret of his flight could not be kept hidden. All the servants would soon realize their master was gone, and it would be impossible to prevent them from connecting the duke’s disappearance with that of Teresa’s. There had been rumors as to her being with child, and whilst only Mrs. Mason had known of it for certain, the others would surely guess as to a link between Teresa and Ralph. It was all playing out rather well for Connor, even as he would make a pretense to the opposite.

“No, Mr. Edge, he didn’t. I can’t believe it – eloping with a maid. And not just for marriage, but…oh, I can hardly bear to think of it. And what about the Dowager? What’s she going to say when she hears of this? If we’re not careful, she’ll hear of it in a drawing room – she the object of pity and ridicule,” Mrs. Mason said, holding her hands to her face in horror.

“Your devotion to the Dowager is most touching, Mrs. Mason. But it’s the Duke we need to think about. If he can be found, the scandal can be averted. Have we any idea where he might be?” Connor replied.

He did not necessarily wish Ralph to return to Burnley Abbey immediately, but he knew he must be seen to be doing something, if only for the sake of appearances. The duke’s return would only complicate matters, and he would be forced to confront the truth as to the scandal of a baby born out of wedlock.

“I don’t know. There are houses on the estate, I suppose. But he’d be easily found there. Perhaps he’s gone to London. A couple can live in sin there and no one would notice,” Mrs. Mason replied.

“I’ll begin to make enquiries. For now, speak only as necessary, and see if any of the servants might know the whereabouts of Teresa. If we can find her, I’m certain we’ll find the Duke, too,” Connor replied, smiling to himself at thought of how foolish Ralph had been.