An Unconventional Miss

Resuming his seat at the desk, he waited for Jesmond to return with the unexpected visitor. Then, casting an intent look at the elderly manservant, he enquired, kindly, ‘Well, now, Cranwell! What great emergency has brought you all this way—even you cannot possibly have finished sorting out his late lordship’s gear in such a short time, surely?’

A brief smile crossed the man’s face and he shook his head. He had been with the family long enough to recognise when he was being roasted.

‘I’m afraid not, your lordship,’ he replied, in his usual staid accents. ‘I still have plenty to occupy me in that respect. I am here on a rather more pressing matter—Mr Brigham was of the opinion that it needed to be brought to your notice immediately.’

His attention caught, Wyvern leaned forward. ‘Well, out with it, man! What is so pressing that a letter would not have served?’

‘We—ah…um—That is, Mr Brigham and Mr Kirmington and myself, sir—We felt that it would be more advisable to inform you directly, sir. The fact is, your lordship,’ he burst out hurriedly, having perceived the growing impatience on Wyvern’s face, ‘we have reason to believe that the Grange has been broken into!’

‘Broken into!’ returned Wyvern, astounded. ‘Burgled, do you mean?’

‘Well, no, sir, not exactly,’ came the man’s hesitant reply. ‘Things have been moved around—drawers tipped up and so on, but, as far as we can ascertain, nothing has been removed.’ He paused, then added, almost apologetically, ‘As you are aware, my lord, there is very little of value left to be taken and that, sir, is the reason I am here. We do believe, sir—ah…um—Mr Kirm—’

‘Yes, yes, I know!’ cut in Wyvern sharply. ‘You and Brigham and the butler—for pity’s sake, man—what the devil is it that you all believe?’

‘We are all of the opinion that he—They—Whoever—Must have been searching for something, my lord. And, my lord, I would venture a guess that it must be something rather important. As far as we are able to establish, there seem to have been three separate attempts so far, in spite of all our efforts to secure the property!’

Wyvern was mystified. ‘But all the doors and windows are kept locked at night, surely?’

‘Of course, sir,’ affirmed Cranwell. ‘However, we now believe that entry must have been made by way of the pantry window, which, as you may recall, sir, is less than a foot square and has no lock. It was not until Cook complained to Mr Kirmington this very morning that a butter crock had been knocked off the windowsill and several items of food had gone missing, that Mr Kirmington, upon investigation, noticed that the window latch had been forced, leading us to the conclusion that this had been the means of entry.’

Pausing briefly in order to determine whether the frowning earl was still following his argument, he then ventured, ‘Mr Brigham has subsequently repaired the damage to the window, your lordship, and has taken the precaution of fitting a padlock to the latch.’

Wyvern pursed his lips. ‘And you say that these—break-ins, as you call them—have occurred on three separate occasions?’

Cranwell inclined his head. ‘On each night since your departure, sir. On Monday, the library was ransacked—books pulled from the shelves and thrown about the place. On Tuesday, every single drawer and cupboard was emptied and the contents rummaged through and, last night, those few pictures that we still have left were lifted from the walls and their backings removed! Mr Brigham was of the opinion that, even though he is certain that he has foiled any further attempts to gain access, the matter should be brought to your attention without delay.’ Shooting a questioning glance at his master, he added, ‘Clearly someone in search of something, as I am sure your lordship would agree?’

‘So it would seem,’ acknowledged Wyvern, his brow puckering. Having spent the best part of his three-day sojourn at the Grange collecting every available scrap of paperwork he could lay his hands on, he was reasonably confident that nothing of moment could have been left behind. ‘However, what does rather puzzle me is how all of this somewhat destructive activity could have occurred without any of you servants being aware of it!’

‘Begging your lordship’s pardon, sir,’ returned Cranwell, nervously shifting his stance, ‘but, in view of the fact that the house staff has been reduced to a mere half-dozen or so—not to mention the fact that male and female staff are housed in separate attic wings…’ He flushed uncomfortably and his voice petered out.

‘Point taken, Cranwell,’ replied Wyvern heavily, as he called to mind the complicated warren of rooms, stairways and corridors that comprised the Grange, which was situated at the foot of a shallow escarpment, on the ridge of which could still be seen the ruins of what had once been the Cistercian monastery of Wyvern Abbey. Following his Act of Dissolution, Henry VIII had gifted the abbey, along with its considerable acreage of land, to Sir Cedric Ashcroft, in reward for his support during the previous year’s rebellions. Sir Cedric, created First Earl of Wyvern, had plundered the buff-coloured limestone from the decaying monastery to make extensive alterations to what had been, originally, the Abbey’s farmhouse. The present dwelling, due to successive earls having continued to alter, reshape and impose their own ideas on the original property, was now an impressive house, some four storeys high, winged on either side of its magnificent frontage by two lofty extensions.

Unfortunately, the building had grown into a structure of such rambling proportions that Wyvern was bound to concede that the idea of anyone situated in one of its attic rooms being able to hear intruders in another part of the house was, to say the least, somewhat unreasonable.

Rising to his feet, he tugged at the bell cord. ‘You travelled up by the mail, I take it?’ he asked the manservant.

Cranwell shook his head. ‘No, my lord,’ he replied. ‘In view of the urgency of the situation, I took the liberty of hiring a chaise.’

‘Very wise of you, Cranwell,’ returned Wyvern. Then, allowing himself a slight smile, he added, encouragingly, ‘It was perfectly correct of you to bring this matter to my attention. Jesmond will see that you are given some refreshments and, as soon as you are sufficiently rested, I shall accompany you back to the Grange. We must see if we cannot put a stop to all this nonsense!’

After he had delivered the weary but now considerably relieved Cranwell into the butler’s competent hands, the frowning Wyvern returned to his seat at the desk.

Yet another problem to add to an already quite formidable list, he thought grimly, as he endeavoured to apply his mind to the question of who could have broken into Ashcroft Grange and, rather more to the point, for what could these intruders have been searching?

Chapter Six

Although Jessica made every effort to banish the dilemma of Wyvern’s indifference from her thoughts, the highly provoking subject continued to plague her.

She found it hard to believe that the man could be so high in the instep as to regard her family as beneath his touch. Thanks to Imogen’s godmother, Lady Sydenham, having successfully paved the way for them, the Beresford family had been extremely well received by the beau monde. Imogen and Matt were well liked, and Jessica herself, as she could hardly have remained unaware, was extremely popular, not only with most of the young men about town, but also with quite a few of their female counterparts.

Back home in Kirton Priors, she had always reigned supreme in the popularity stakes. Here in the capital of the fashionable world, however, it had not taken her very long to discover that holding such an undisputed position in one’s own small neighbourhood was, in reality, of rather small consequence when one found oneself surrounded by a not inconsiderable number of other very attractive young ladies. Consequently, she had taken Imogen’s advice and had gone out of her way to make friends with many of her fellow debutantes—with the possible exception of the somewhat stuffy coterie to which Miss Felicity Draycott belonged!

All of which made Wyvern’s complete lack of interest in seeking any sort of introduction very difficult for her to comprehend. Eventually, however, after having forced herself to review their first encounter, she was obliged to admit that her own conduct towards the helpful stranger had not been all that it might have been, in the circumstances. Moreover, the longer she thought about it, despite all arguments to the contrary, it became increasingly obvious to her that the reason she had behaved so badly at the time was that Wyvern had managed to discompose her in a way that few men of her acquaintance had ever succeeded in doing.

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