Chapter Twenty-Seven

B e prepared. How was one to prepare for something like this?

Vanessa decided to confess to Charlotte and Lydia that the caller who had come to pay respects and reminisce about Henry had, in fact, been Lieutenant Taverston. He gave a false name to Charlotte so that Lydia and the corporal would not draw false conclusions but when she’d told him that they already had, he merely laughed.

She told them all, too, that she was going back to Binnings to parade her boots around and wander the shops. Now that she had seen it, it seemed a safe enough place that she didn’t feel the necessity of dragging Mary and Myrtle along.

Once she swept up the mess Crispin’s visit might have created, she concentrated on the next steps.

She decided what to wear: her two best dresses—one from the dress shop in Binnings and one from London. Neither was particularly fine. She removed the cuffs and collars from the old dress and added new lace. She didn’t want Jasper thinking she was living in poverty, but not extravagantly either. She would pack only a single valise that she could carry by herself to Paxton Downs. It seemed pragmatic and commonsensical once she made up her mind, but she was embarrassed to admit how much time she’d spent on the decision—even whether to bring two dresses or three.

She spent the next few days cleaning, tending her garden, and choosing a bracelet to sell in Binnings so that she would not have to bother Will when the time came.

Friday was slow to arrive. Then she rose early, walked to Paxton Downs, and waited at a tea shop for Crispin’s hired carriage.

She encountered no difficulties en route to Binnings. After a few hours, she found herself peering out the window as the carriage entered a long, winding drive. The first several hundred feet were overgrown with brambles but then the way cleared. The road was rutted and lined on either side by trees that had been recently cut back and wildflowers doing their best to flourish.

The carriage pulled up to a two-story stone cottage with large windows and an impressive double-doored front entrance. The roof was newly thatched. The windows appeared clean though the glass was yellowed. The lawn was weedy. And one large tree at the side of the house was dying or dead and should really have been removed.

The carriage halted and a groom opened the door and let down the step so she could descend. He grabbed her valise from the roof and carried it up the walk, then set it at the door. Some of the bricks in the walkway were cracked and grass grew through the crevices.

It was not difficult to see the charm of the place beneath its disrepair, but the time and effort that would be required to bring it back must be discouraging.

She put a coin in the groom’s hand. “Thank you. Good day.”

He gave the house a skeptical look, then nodded and headed back to the carriage.

How very curious this all made her. She had so many questions. Questions to which she would never know the answers. Why had this house been sold and then repurchased? Why purchased for Crispin’s inheritance if it had been a family retreat? Did it break his heart to see it like this? Or did he see it as a burden he would happily transfer to Reginald?

She reached for the door knocker. A simple black iron ring. The door needed a new coat of paint.

“Vanessa! Good. You’re here. I heard the carriage.”

Crispin emerged from around the side of the house. But for his voice, she might not have recognized him. He wore loose trousers tucked into dirty boots and a smock rather than a shirt. No jacket. No neckcloth. No gloves. His hair had the tumbled wild appearance men strove for with layers of pomade and a skilled valet, but she was certain his was merely unwashed and badly combed. The smock was smeared with mud and his trouser legs showed blotchy green stains.

He came up to her and bowed. Then he grinned, gesturing to himself. “Sorry. We were clearing things out a bit down by the lake. I intended to change clothes before you arrived, but mistimed.”

“We? Are you working with the gardeners?”

“Don’t tell Jasper.” Crispin put his hand to the door and opened it. “He’ll write a draft for some ungodly sum and tell me to hire more people.”

Yes. Jasper would.

Crispin looked…happy and had a healthy glow that he had certainly not possessed a few days before.

They stepped into a cool, dark entryway and a woman skuttled around the corner.

“Captain! Oh! The lady is here?” She shook her head, tut-tutting. The woman was plump and gray haired and red cheeked and looked very, very peeved. “You were supposed to—”

“I know! I know!” Crispin laughed, cringing theatrically. “Mrs. Wardrip, this is Mrs. Badge. Mrs. Badge, Mrs. Wardrip.”

“How do you do?” Vanessa said.

The housekeeper flushed. “Well enough, thank you.”

Crispin said, “I’ll show Mrs. Wardrip to her room.” He took Vanessa’s valise out of her hand.

Mrs. Badge looked scandalized. “I’ll take her. You go clean up.”

“It’s on the way. We’ll be wanting supper in an hour.”

He grabbed Vanessa by the elbow and hurried her away, through a dark corridor toward a sturdy set of stone stairs.

“She has a great deal of trouble with steps. Reg tried to warn me, but I didn’t realize…” He shook his head. “I’m going to have to hire more help.”

She had far too many questions so only asked the first. “Captain?”

“Ah.” He nodded, looking a little abashed. “Didn’t I tell you?”

“No.” She hesitated before asking. Men, even of Crispin’s undeniable caliber, were not promoted until a position opened above them. Then there would be jockeying and shifting.

He said, “Colonel Harrington. Damn it. Not dead, thank God. His horse fell on him and crushed both hips.”

“Oh, Crispin. I’m sorry.” Harrington was admired, though not particularly well-liked. He was arrogant. Well, so was Crispin. But differently.

They started up the steps and Crispin wiggled her valise.

“Not much in here.”

She said, “Travel light.”

He smiled at her. “Good for you.” They reached the landing.

“You’ll be in the countess’s room.” He laughed as she started to protest. “Don’t make too much out of that. It’s where Reg and Georgiana stay and it’s clean. I don’t want to cause more trouble for the Badges than I have to.”

She stopped arguing and merely followed him down a hallway. Doors were closed. The hall was dark and a little dank. Crispin halted and turned to her.

“I should explain.” He chewed his lip a moment, then said, “This property was deeded to me years ago. I sold it to buy my commission since my father refused to pay for it. He didn’t want me in the army. An excess of love, I suppose.” He shrugged. “Unfortunately, I was very young and stupid and a bit angry, so I sold it to…well, some half-crazed poet who really hadn’t the means to afford such a place. He let all the staff go. Drank and scribbled for a year, then sold it back to my father.”

“But the earl didn’t rehire the staff?”

“He didn’t realize they had been released. There were only five permanent people here. Others traveled with us from Chaumbers. Our steward at the time was an elderly man whose faculties were not what they once were. He simply paid no attention to the fact that those few salaries were no longer being paid. When he realized the error, he hired a caretaker to keep watch on the place, but that was about all the man did. Watched it fall to ruin.” Crispin laughed a bit ashamedly. “I offered the cottage to Reg and Georgiana for their honeymoon sight unseen. I shudder to think what they found.”

Vanessa did too.

“However, I suspect they made do.” Crispin snickered.

Vanessa gave him a small shove, thinking of that generous, warm, but very proper young couple.

“Actually, they were wonderful,” Crispin continued. “Reg fired the caretaker, found the Badges, and brought them back—as a kindness, I suspect—but it’s too much for them as it is now. He hired some workmen to clear up the drive, at least, until I had a chance to look at it and see what I wanted done. Georgiana saw to ensuring a couple of the rooms were livable. And bless them both, they didn’t tell Jasper.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s my responsibility and unfair to expect Jasper to take it on.” He sounded wearily exasperated, but then he frowned. “And because Reg treads more lightly than Jasper.”

“You can’t mean that.” Jasper was not a pushy man.

“No?” He lifted his eyebrow. “Jasper is well-intentioned, I grant. But he’d look at this mess and sigh and set it to right. He’d hire someone to hire someone to oversee all the necessary workers to restore it to the idyllic retreat of our youth. I’d return, eventually, to find it exactly as it was.”

“Which is not what you want?”

“Not now. Because it would look the same but not be the same.” He paused at the end of the hallway and put his hand to a door. “Countess’s room.” He pushed the door open. “No, Reg let me see what time has wrought. Through neglect that was partly my fault. And now it has to be reshaped. Re-formed. I suspect there is something even more beautiful here than what I remember.” He went on into her room and dropped her valise onto the bed. He gave her an ironic smile. “There is a metaphor in there somewhere.”

She stood in the doorway, feeling awkward. Everything about this was inappropriate.

Crispin glanced about then seemed to realize she had not followed him into the bedroom. Which was clean and airy with delicate furnishings, brushed and polished. The carpet, curtains, and bedding appeared new. He returned to the door.

“Excuse me.” He slid past her and smirked. “You can go in now.”

“Crispin, you said you had just two months’ leave. How do you intend to reshape this place in two months?”

“Another week is all I can spare. At most.” He laughed at her expression. “Yes. So it’s idiotic of me to have spent the day clearing a few feet of brush from the lakeshore.” He swiped at the dirt on his smock. “I’ll go change. Then we can have supper. Then, if you are interested, I’ll walk you down to the lake.”

*

The trek down to the lake was arduous. But worth it. They emerged from the trampled path into a small clearing surrounding a large rock that jutted into the water. Crispin helped her onto it, and then they sat, regarding the moon beginning to show itself above the trees. A sliver of moonlight shone on the rippling lake. She understood why, if Crispin had only a week, he prioritized this.

They sat in silence. Crispin had likely talked himself out at dinner when he’d told her about Vitoria. Not the triumph of it, but the bitter conclusion. Rather than pursuing the French and destroying the western division of Napoleon’s army, the British soldiers descended on the town they had just liberated to engage in an orgy of looting. Crispin said the war would now drag on another year. Or maybe longer.

At supper, he also had asked if she’d ever been contacted by her brother. She told him about the one time, long ago after Crispin had saved him.

“It was just as you said. Freddy believed the letter was forged. He gave me this.” She’d looped her finger under her necklace and retrieved the ring and pendant from her bodice. “This ring. He said if I ever did need him, to send this, so that he wouldn’t be fooled again.”

“It would seem his character was not so weak, after all.”

“No.” She didn’t mention the fact that the Marquess of Hilyer had not only disappeared from London that night but disappeared altogether. It was something she and Jasper never talked about, and she suspected Crispin would not want to speak of it either. “I heard from an old friend that Freddy is taking a larger role in running the Culpepper mills.”

“Because your father is declining.”

“I don’t know. Will did not say—”

“No. I am saying. He’s declining. Some of his more recent decisions have been erratic.”

Vanessa had only scowled in response. Her father was none of Crispin’s business.

“Have you ever considered a reconciliation with your family?”

“Not with him.”

Crispin’s expression had been unreadable, but he nodded his understanding, and she didn’t feel judged. They spent the rest of the meal talking about lighter things. Cartmel, mostly.

Now it felt peaceful and comfortable to simply sit there by the lake in quiet contemplation. She was grateful to Crispin for saying nothing more about Jasper. For not pressing his brother’s case. She couldn’t go backward. She would not.

They were there for nearly an hour, lost in their own thoughts, when Crispin rose and extended his hand.

“We should get back before it gets any darker.” As he helped her to rise, he took a half-step back to anchor himself. “Would you like—” But the rock was slick and uneven. He slipped, reflexively clenching her hand and yanking her with him as he gasped with alarm. Too late, he let go of her.

For a moment, Vanessa saw trees and sky whirling to a blur as she fell, pulse bounding, shrieking, toward the edge of the rock. Somehow, Crispin rebalanced himself and caught her, one hand in her armpit and the other on her shoulder. His hands clamped vise-like as he hauled her against his torso, pinching her neck and bruising her arm.

He righted her and, after a moment, stepped away. His wide-eyed fear gave way to a flush of mortification.

“Vanessa, I am so, so sorry. That was the clumsiest thing I’ve ever done. Are you all right?”

Breathless with terror, she tried to laugh. “Thank you. I can’t–I can’t swim.”

“To swim, we dive off the other side. If we’d fallen here, we would’ve had our brains dashed out. My God. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m all right,” she said shakily. “Are you?”

“Fine. Let’s get down from this rock.”

He clambered down, no worse for the wear except for his embarrassment, and helped her to follow. She moved slowly; her legs had all the stability of wet bread. At the bottom, on solid—if muddy—ground, Crispin glanced about, then cleared his throat.

“I wanted to ask if you would like to meet Jasper out here. Rather than in the house.”

Ah. He was orchestrating after all.

“Is that the reason you spent all day clearing this spot?”

Moonlight splashed across his face, illuminating his grin. It was a little weak with chagrin, from being caught out or perhaps still embarrassed over his stumble.

“One reason. But not everything I do is for Jasper.”

“No,” she said, her composure regained. “I imagine you do things for Reginald as well.”

“Hmph.” He pointed to her feet. “Splendid boots.”

“Thank you. The Comptons make them.”

“They make boots that are too expensive for the army, unfortunately.”

“They are trying a different avenue.”

“So Georgiana told me. I am not the only do-gooder here.”

She laughed. “The only thing you’re defensive about is your kindness. Why is that?”

“Brothers, I suppose.” He tugged out a piece of leaf that had somehow threaded its way into his hair. “Competitiveness. Jasper is innately kind. It’s his default behavior. And Reg could not be unkind if he tried. I’m terrible at kindness.”

“Oh, what a fudge.”

“I have to work at it. It is much easier for me to be resentful and mean-spirited.”

She stared at him. He meant what he was saying. Or believed he did.

“Well, if you are faking it, you do a very good job.”

“Thank you.” He started up the path, gesturing for her to follow. “But I don’t actually have time for this. If Jasper and you botch all my efforts tomorrow, you will see my true self.”

*

Crispin’s threat still rang in her ears the next morning when she came downstairs for breakfast. He could not bully her into returning to Jasper. Could he? Well, he wouldn’t. He had been joking. Sometimes with Crispin, it was hard to tell.

She’d slept poorly, tossing and turning and worrying about seeing Jasper again. She’d wanted to look her best and knew she didn’t, and was annoyed with herself that she cared.

She examined the offerings on the buffet. Tea. Milk. Sugar. Also, a bit of honey in a pot. Oh, Crispin . He remembered her off-hand comment about preferring it. There was not an overabundance of food, just a small selection of cakes that she recognized as being purchased from Mundy’s. She wasn’t hungry, but picked a cardamon cake and found it two-day-old stale. She envisioned Crispin making the trip into Binnings before her arrival, sparing Mrs. Badge the effort—supper last night had proved the woman was a barely competent cook—and yet he claimed he was not kind.

She poured herself tea, added a drizzle of honey, and then sat down, distracted and fidgeting from nerves. A few moments later, Crispin entered. He was dressed appropriately for a gentleman. He took only tea and drank it standing.

“I don’t know when he’ll arrive,” he said, without preliminaries. He sounded like a major, strategizing. “It will depend on where he timed his stops along the way. But I expect it will be earlier rather than later. I have a few letters to write, then I’ll take them to the post.” He sipped. “I’m stabling Mercury in town. I’ll take him out for some exercise. And it’s a long walk into town and back.” He set the cup down, studied the cakes a moment, and then picked his cup back up without choosing one. “I won’t be back until late.”

“I thought you said you would be on the property.”

“I changed my mind.”

“What if I asked you to stay?”

“Why?” He gave her a narrow look. “Jasper is an honorable man. You don’t need my protection. And I refuse to loom about as some sort of deterrent to your falling into bed.”

“My God!” Her face heated. “Could you be any blunter?”

“No. I think I stated my mind fairly accurately.” He leaned against the buffet and glanced over his shoulder at the cakes again.

“They are fine, Crispin. Delicious, really.”

“I’m sure they are. I ate earlier though.” He cocked his head.

“What is it?”

“Damn it. A carriage. Well.” He looked amused. “He must have risen before daybreak.”

She heard it too. She set down her fork and wrung her hands together.

Crispin said, “I suppose your choices are now limited to meet him at the door or greet him here.”

“Here.” Her voice was weak and choked. Her legs trembled too much for her to stand.

She heard the front door creak open, then a shuffling of footsteps that must belong to poor Badge, hurrying to welcome the new earl. She had no idea where Mrs. Badge was.

“What the devil?” Jasper said loudly. Angrily. Vanessa heard, or swore she heard, a female voice. Then she was sure of it when Jasper said, “No, wait here. Badge, where is Captain Taverston?”

She could not hear poor Badge’s response. Crispin sighed, set his cup down, and started for the door. He filled it just as Jasper’s shadow fell across the threshold.

“Crispin, what the hell? Why didn’t Reg say something? This place is a ruin!”

“Jasper—”

“Damn it. How am I supposed to woo Vanessa in a hellhole? Are you trying to sabotage me?”

“No, I think you are capable of fouling things up without my help.”

Crispin stepped aside as Vanessa stood up, her legs no longer wobbly. Jasper saw her. She watched his fury leak away. He stared at her. Stared.

“Hello, Jasper.”

“My God.” He stepped into the room. “I-I, my God. I wanted to do this right.”

His voice was shaking, and it made her heart quiver. Her mouth was too dry to speak.

“What is it?” A girl’s excited shout echoed down the hall, coming closer. “Is that Crispin?” Then she stepped into the doorway Jasper had just vacated. Tall, slender, pretty—a young woman, not a girl—she had the Taverston blue eyes, framed by extraordinary lashes for a blonde.

Crispin murmured, “Good show, Jasp.”

Jasper looked pained. “Mrs. Wardrip, this is Lady Olivia.”

The lady barreled into the room. She socked Crispin’s arm on the way past and came right up to Vanessa.

“You’re here! I’m Olivia. I hope I may call you Vanessa. I’ve heard so much about you.” She rolled her eyes. “All with my ears pressed against closed doors.”

“Only ever good things,” Crispin added.

“Oh, yes.” Olivia beamed at her. “I hope we will be friends. I’m great friends with Georgiana, even though she doesn’t like to ride. Oh.” She bit her lip. “I hope you do.”

“I…” She cast Jasper a helpless look. This was his sister .

“Vanessa prefers to ride in carriages,” he said. Then, “I’m sorry, Vanessa. If Olivia were a racehorse she would be disqualified for false starts. And I stumbled out the gate. May we please go outside and come in again?”

“I have a better idea,” Crispin said. “I will take Olivia down to see the lake.” He put his arm around his sister and steered her toward the door.

Olivia cast a glance over her shoulder. “Please say you will still be here when we come back.”

Crispin said, “No fair, Olivia.” Then he drew her out and kicked closed the door.