“I will stand surety for you and your people,” Percival put in. “Even as you have sheltered Tiffany, I am told.”
“Very well, Lord Northbury. But bear in mind that if you should come a-cropper with this venture, in your fall, so shall we.”
“It is my hope not to fall into difficulty. And I must admit this play that Constable Brooks has arranged for us has me intrigued. Pray, do go on.”
“I was not always a charwoman,” Old Elizabet announced. “In point of fact, I was lady’s maid to Sir James’ wife. In that position, I was privy to a great deal that went on in the house. Sir James Barrette was a proud man. Proud of the knighthood he had earned, proud of his oldest son, and proud of his holdings. More than that, he was ambitious and had high hopes of furthering his position at court. To that end, he fell in with some fellows who seemed to have the royal ear.”
There was a collective sigh around the room. Gentlemen with ambition were a well-known factor in many a well-laid plan.
“He encouraged his sons to make contacts at court, thinking that the lads might marry well, and in that way move up in the world.”
“Did that plan come to fruition?” Constable Brooks asked.
“The oldest did. The girl was not so highly placed as Sir James had hoped, but she could claim “Lady” in front of her name. More than that, her father was willing that they should marry because of the reasonable financial competency the girl would then afford.”
“But what of the other sons?” Constable Brooks prompted.
“The second son did not share his father’s ambitions. In fact, he told him to his face that he would rather shovel dung in the stables than become a court toad-eater. So his father obliged him by giving him the position of stable hand at the inn on his own estate.”
There was a ripple of appreciative laughter at this bit of information.
“Then what happened?” Constable Brooks asked.
“Why, as you might expect, the second son fell in love with the buxom maid who worked in the inn. He didn’t tell her who he was until his older brother tried to forestall their wedding by protesting the reading of the banns.”
“And quite a lot of a to-do there was about it,” Mr. Ironholder put in. “Even though my son-in-law did not stand to inherit in the regular way of things, his father made sure that the lad knew that he was disinherited, an’ make just as sure that my daughter and all our kin knew it was because of us. Add that up with my own stiff-necked pride and my anger, you’ve a sum of pure misery.”
“Am I your granddaughter?” Tiffany asked, unable to remain still any longer.
“If that knife was your father’s, then you are my granddaughter. I forged the blade and carved the handle clasp myself. More than that, you are the spittin’ image of my daughter. Gave me quite a turn to see you sittin’ there.”
Tiffany turned to Constable Brooks. “I cannot see how this will help Lord Northbury, but if you have truly solved the mystery of my birth, I thank you.”
“Nor do I see what this has to do with my nephew,” Lord Ronald put in. “In fact, this tale gives me the feeling that you are all daft. Dr. Abslom, I feel that we need to collect Lord Northbury, and have done with this charade.”
“I have no desire to be collected,” Percival said firmly. “And I find that I am becoming quite fascinated by this story. I have a feeling that there is something more to it than simply reuniting an orphan with her family.”
“Oh, you are very right, Lord Northbury,” Constable Brooks replied. “There is a great deal more. Not only does it concern the reason why an inn burned to the ground twenty years ago, it also concerns a certain hunting party that took place about two years ago.”
Lord Ronald started up from his seat, seemingly angry. “This is enough. I am done with this peroration. There is no need to cause my nephew grief by bringing up this recent tragedy. Constable, you will order your men to let us go at once.”
“Not quite yet,” Constable Brooks soothed. “Do sit down, Lord Ronald. The best is yet to come. Surely, you do not wish to leave the party before the best part of the entertainment is served up to all and sundry.”
Lord Ronald subsided back into his chair, maintaining a thunderous scowl on his face. But it might have been that he was just a little paler than he had been a few minutes before, and his hand on the arm of his chair might have trembled.
Chapter 60
Tiffany stared at Mr. Ironholder. It seemed as if all her senses had stopped. Did she truly have a grandfather, and one who had lived so nearby all these years? It staggered the imagination.
“Come, sit beside me,” the old man said softly. Someone, Tiffany was not sure who, brought a chair and set it beside Mr. Ironholder. Slowly, Tiffany got up from where she sat, and moved to the offered chair. Michaels also approached, standing behind the old fellow’s chair, watching the lords, Constable Brooks, and Old Elizabet as words were quietly exchanged.
Old Elizabet drew apart from them a pace or two and said, “You are sure that you will protect me and mine?”
“If he cannot, then I will,” Lord Nevard asserted. “This is a matter that has long needed to be explained.”
Old Elizabet nodded. “Then I will tell you the rest of what I remember.” Thus, she began the following tale.
* * *
