The Master Of Stonegrave Hall

* * *

Victoria was enjoying the calm and the pleasant fresh air, yet listening with delight to a trilling blackbird, when a carriage came speeding up the drive and came to a bone-jarring halt in front of the house. A groom ran forwards and the young gentlemen tossed the reins to him and jumped down, striding purposefully up the front steps to the house.

‘Good day, Mr Rockford,’ Jenkins intoned as he opened the door and stepped aside.

‘Is my brother at home?’ Nathan Rockford asked, handing him his hat and gloves, clearly agitated about something.

‘Yes, sir. You’ll find him in his study.’

Nathan stalked past him and down the hall, his quick strides eloquent of his turbulent wrath as he flung open the study door and confronted the older brother he had last seen in London two months earlier. Laurence was engrossed in his ledgers at his desk. He glanced up and, seeing his brother, shoved back his chair and stood up to greet him, taller than Nathan by a head.

‘Nathan! Good to see you back. How was Paris—and how is Diana?’

‘Well—she is well. But I haven’t come here to talk about Diana or Paris. Laurence, I cannot believe what you have done! When I got your letter I don’t think you need me to tell you that I was outraged. How could you bring that—that woman into this house! It is not to be borne! I take it she is still here?’

‘If you mean Betty, then, yes, she is.’

‘Then she must leave. At once.’

He gave Laurence that beguiling look that ever since their childhood could get nearly anything he wanted out of him, but this time Laurence was unmoved. ‘No,’ he stated implacably, undaunted by his brother’s soaring fury. ‘Betty stays, Nathan.’

Victoria was passing through the hall to the stairs. Hearing raised voices coming from behind the closed door, she paused, intending to walk on, but on hearing her mother’s name mentioned she became rooted to the spot. She felt a coldness seep into every pore at the words that came next. She was stung by them, as sharply as if by a hornets’ nest.

A pulse drummed in Nathan’s temple as he fought to control his wrath. ‘Have a care, Laurence. By raking over old coals you are in danger of exposing our sordid and most intimate family linen to the scrutiny of all.’

‘That won’t happen.’

‘And you can be sure of that, can you? I am telling you that bringing that woman here will portend no good. To allow her to remain at Stonegrave Hall is detrimental to our own well-being. If we are to avoid a public and very unsavoury scandal, she must leave. For goodness’ sake, Laurence, she shouldn’t be here and I strongly resent what you have done. Did you not think to consult me? Did my opinions on a matter as important as this not count?’

‘Of course they did, but you weren’t here.’

‘And if I had been I doubt very much you would have sought my feelings on the matter. I have always respected your judgement in the past, but not this time. What in God’s name made you do it?’

‘You know why. I promised our mother that Betty would be taken care of should the need arise—and it did.’

‘Mother’s dead and this woman hasn’t been inside this house for over twenty years. And if taking her in isn’t bad enough, I believe you have extended your hospitality to her daughter. It beggars belief, Laurence, it really does,’ he thundered, combing his fingers through his hair and pacing the carpet in frustration.

‘None of this is Miss Lewis’s fault. You must understand that.’

‘Really! Then she must be made to understand that I don’t want her here and you know damned well why.’

‘I do,’ Laurence retorted fiercely, ‘and I’m going to find it very difficult keeping it from her whilst she lives in this house. I wish you would just tell her, Nathan, or at the very least allow me to do so.’

Nathan paled and gave his brother a desperate, beseeching look, sudden fear clouding his eyes. ‘No, Laurence, I implore you not to,’ he said, his voice low and hoarse with tension. ‘Diana and I have just returned from our honeymoon. To have this thrust on me now is intolerable. I could not bear it—the explanations... For my sake, I beg you to keep this to ourselves.’

Laurence was silent. Seeing the tortured look in his brother’s eyes he nodded. ‘Yes—yes, I will.’

‘Thank you. It means a lot to me. I am sure Miss Lewis is capable of taking care of her mother in her own home, where she doesn’t have to hang about the Hall like a beggar or some charity case.’

‘No,’ Laurence said sharply. He might have agreed to keep the secret within the family to protect Nathan, but he would not turn Betty and her daughter out of the house. ‘Betty is too ill to be moved. Whatever your feelings on the matter, mother and daughter are staying, Nathan, so you’ll just have to get used to the idea.’

Nathan reacted to his brother’s statement with withering contempt. ‘I don’t want to get used to it! A girl who is on a par with the kitchen maids?’

‘Stop it, Nathan. She’ll never be on a par in any way with the maids in the kitchen and you damned well know it—no matter how hard you try to ignore the fact by pretending she doesn’t exist. She is the daughter of a schoolmaster—an academic, whose own father was a high-ranking military man. Betty is from good stock—the Nesbitts of Cumbria. The family fell on hard times and her parents died, which was the reason why Betty became a lady’s maid, but they were of the class.’

‘Good Lord, Laurence! We have gone into their heredity, haven’t we?’ Nathan retorted, his voice heavily laden with sarcasm. ‘I was already aware of it.’

‘I want you to know that my actions in bringing Betty to this house did not stem from a flash in the pan. I thought deeply on it.’

‘And did you not consider the effect it would have on her daughter?’

‘I did, but Betty has consumption and needed taking care of. She was my primary concern. I expect you to accept it.’

‘You don’t know what you are asking of me. I will never accept it! I may not live in this house any longer, but this is still the family home and I want her and her daughter out of it.’

‘Nathan, I know you are not as heartless and unfeeling as you sound right now. At least try to imagine how Miss Lewis must be feeling—in a strange house, her mother at death’s door.’ When his brother remained silent and unmoved, Laurence ran out of patience. ‘Damn it, Nathan! Have you forgotten how you felt when our father died? How you went to pieces? Think how she will feel when her mother dies. You are not unacquainted with death and loss—or have you forgotten the pain?’

They were facing each other now over a distance and the older brother’s countenance had darkened. His lips were drawn tight and his unblinking eyes were implacable. Looking at his brother, he could see in his eyes that which must not be spoken between them, not named, not defined, for fear it would become an active, swift, deadly danger, rather than something still contained, locked away, for as long as possible.

Struggling with his emotions, Nathan stared at him hard, then abruptly turned and strode to the door where he paused and looked back at his brother. ‘I will not set foot in this house until Mrs Lewis and the girl have left.’

‘If you wish to take it like that, Nathan, then it is up to you. You’ll always be welcome here, you know that.’

Too angry to reply, Nathan went out, leaving his older brother glowering after him. Closing the door behind him, he almost bumped into the very person who was at the heart of his fury and frustration. For a moment he was taken by surprise and shock and bewilderment—or was it fear that clouded his eyes?—but he quickly recovered.

‘I don’t believe it! Aren’t you the girl my wife and I met in Malton yesterday?’

‘Yes,’ she replied tightly, his words still hammering painfully in her brain. ‘The same.’ Having heard quite enough, with humiliation washing over her in sickening waves, Victoria had been about to flee to her room, but now she stood her ground and looked him directly in the eyes. Unlike his brother, he was only a little taller than she was and perhaps five years older. He did not resemble his brother, his hair being fair and his features more refined. He also lacked the aura of power and authority that seemed to surround Laurence.

‘I take it you are Miss Lewis?’ His angular face was etched with slowly deepening shock.

‘I am.’

‘And by the look on your face you must have overheard what my brother and I were discussing.’

‘Yes—at least, most of it.’

‘In which case I won’t have to repeat myself, so before you go any further you should know where you stand,’ he told her coldly. ‘When anything happens to your mother you will leave here. Is that understood?’

‘Don’t be absurd! After what I have just heard, why would I want to remain here a minute longer than is necessary? I make my own way in life,’ she said, her tone sharpening as she showed him her determination. ‘I won’t starve.’

‘You have cheek, I’ll give you that.’

‘I give as good as I get, that is all.’

‘Your impudence is most unappealing!’

‘Oh, don’t worry. Your comments don’t bother me. But next time have the decency to say them to my face.’

‘My brother may be acting a little soft in the head where your mother is concerned, Miss Lewis,’ he said coldly, ‘but as far as I am concerned you would be wise not to outstay your welcome. It is a warning.’

Victoria arched her brows. ‘Welcome? It is hardly that. And as far as issuing a warning—why, it sounds like a threat to me. However, it is what I intend,’ Victoria told him, equally as cold.

‘Good. Then we are in agreement.’

‘Absolutely. And for your information,’ she said, her voice low and shaking with anger, ‘I am not a beggar nor am I a charity case. My mother did not ask to come here and I most certainly did not. I do not know why Lord Rockford insisted on bringing my mother to the Hall. One thing is certain. Had I not been away it would not have happened.’

‘As long as that is clear.’ Grim faced, the look of hatred in his eyes was as potent as a spoken curse. Without another word Nathan Rockford strode across the hall and out the door—but not before Victoria had seen the tortured, fractured look in his eyes.

She stared after him. It was not his reaction to her presence at the Hall that unsettled her. It was his reaction to her, as a person. It was as if she meant something to him. She had surprised him—she had more than surprised him—seeing her had frightened him. There was something there. Something very strange—and she had to find out what it was. It was too important to ignore.

‘I’m sorry you had to hear that,’ Laurence said, watching her closely, having followed his brother out of the room.

‘I’m not,’ she retorted, beside herself with fury. ‘And before you say another word I was not eavesdropping. Your brother was assassinating my mother’s character and my own in a voice that could be heard in Ashcomb. How dare he? He insulted my mother and I will not allow anyone to do that. She is the kindest, gentlest of women ever to draw breath, but that is something a man as conceited as your brother would never understand. It is your fault that this has happened. I hate being here and I do not stay where I am unwelcome.’

Turning on her heel, her arms rigid by her sides, her hands clasped into tight fists, she marched to the stairs and up to her room, where she began shoving things into her bags, which had been delivered to the Hall earlier. The thought of staying in this house a moment longer was anathema to her. Suddenly the door was pushed open.

Victoria glanced up. Lord Rockford’s eyes touched hers—coolly arrogant, he raised his brows. Looking away, she carried on packing. ‘Someone should have taught you that before entering a room you should knock.’

‘Why, when the door was partly open?’ Laurence said with dry mockery.

‘Well-bred young ladies do not entertain gentlemen who are not their husbands in their bedchamber, but since I do not come into that category I don’t suppose I count,’ she retorted drily.

Laurence was aware of his own transgression in being there. He chose to ignore the issue in favour of speaking to her. He glanced at the bag and gave her an arched look. ‘Going somewhere?’

‘To Ashcomb,’ she replied, stuffing her hairbrush into the bag.

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