Without a word, Smithers soft-footed it down the stairs to do McClellan’s bidding. Within seconds, Lucas was bolting back up the stairs, and Michaels was tearing out the backdoor, running pell-mell for the old manor down the road. Another footman shot out the service door, running straight for Constable Brooks’ rooms that he let at a certain gentleman’s club.
* * *
Unaware of the movements of his servants, Percival continued to stall for time. He hoped to come up with a plan, although at the moment he had no idea what to do.
“Who is this young lady, Uncle Ronald? Do I know her?”
“You do not. Since it seems you like young ladies who are talented and energetic, I have found a niece of a certain lord. She is in need of a husband, and right soon, so you shall not have to trouble yourself with getting an heir.”
“Not trouble myself!” Percival was shocked at the idea. “Uncle, that is going too far. I am sorry for this unknown young woman, but I can assure you that I am by no means desperate to set up housekeeping, nor am I incapable of getting an heir of my own, thank you!” Percival was so angry he could scarcely find words.
“Oh, but this would solve everything for everyone, very neatly. And pay a debt that I owe, besides.”
“A debt. Gambling, Uncle? Let me guess, you lost, and now you need to recover your fortunes before the quarter is up. Your allowance from the estate is paid regularly. What more do you want?”
“An allowance,” Lord Ronald spat in contempt “Paid to me as if I were a paltry child. I want a seat at the table. I want to do my part in running the estate. It should have come to me upon my brother’s death, rather than to you. I am far better suited to running it.”
“I have listened to you, Uncle. I allowed you to help hire the staff for the house when several of the servants left. And what did I get? A cook who kept a kitchen so filthy it would sicken a…a…” Percival tried to think of a suitable comparison, “a baboon!” he burst out.
“Hiring a thief is better?”
“The thief could and did cook until you scared her away,” Percival shot back. “I miss Tiffany. I miss her heavenly bread, the cakes, and pies. But most of all I miss her perspective on the other staff, on the books she is learning to read, and her pithy comments on old dead Romans.”
And I miss the way she looked at me, as if I knew everything and was wise in the ways of learning. I’d give anything to be in my mother’s old solar, listening to her mispronounce French and criticizing my selection of what she should learn.
Percival paused to take a breath. “You want me to take Jones back? Why? Do you owe him for something?”
“You foul-minded little wretch!” Lord Ronald shouted. “How could I possibly owe a cook? For anything?”
“That is an excellent question, Uncle. How could you owe him? What hold does he have over you? For it is certain that he could not, or at least, did not cook. There must have been some other reason why you wanted me to give him a place here.”
“I owe him nothing!” Lord Ronald exploded. “He is a cook. He was highly recommended by the same agency your father used. You do not want him? Fine. Get another cook, but not one that you should have sent to gaol for burglary.”
Percival drew breath to answer the shout with one of his own, when he felt a shoe tap the side of his foot. He very nearly grinned with relief. Quentin was not as soundly asleep as he was pretending. “Fine. If I can locate one who is as good a cook as Tiffany, I just might. But I am not going to hire Jones again. Not under any circumstances, ever.”
“Ultimatums, Nephew? I hardly think you are in a position to make them. Your friends are drugged insensible. Your man is out, and so is your footman. What will you do to enforce your will?”
Good question. He is bigger than I, uninjured, and more experienced at fighting. I need to keep him talking until help can arrive.
Chapter 48
Constable Brooks frowned at the notes he had made in the little leather-bound book he carried in his pocket. Then he slipped on down the stairs to where Tiffany and Old Elizabet were quietly talking.
“Should be clear to go back now,” he said. “Lord Ronald’s Watch have cleared out, havin’ not found what they were lookin’ for. I’ll just take a turn about the grounds. I’m not happy with the way things are shaping up.”
Old Elizabet turned to him. “I was just telling Tiffany how you take care of our protection money.”
“I do what I can,” Constable Brooks said modestly. “Mayhap one day I’ll be able to turn up the heir. I do wonder what he would say to the way the old place has been run.”
“Considerin’ that he’s a long time past due landlord,” Old Elizabet replied smartly, “I think he’ll just have to take potluck. But you do have our thanks for acting as our agent in this.”
“You are welcome,” the constable replied. “Tiffany, how are you faring?”
“Better than I expected, by far,” Tiffany replied. “But have you found out anything more concerning who attacked Lord Northbury?”
“I’ve nosed about a bit,” Constable Brooks replied. “I am none too sure that current events might not have a link back to the late Lord Northbury’s death. I was never easy about Lord Ronald’s account of what happened that afternoon. Still, there was no proof of any wrongdoing. Just a hunter in the wrong place, while another grew excited at the prospect of a good shot. A shot that turned out to be in the wrong direction.”
“What are you saying, Constable Brooks? Do you think that Lord Northbury’s father was shot on purpose?”
