Chapter Four
Tristan shifted in his seat, as he tried to find a comfortable position. His lower back was screaming at him in protest. They had loaded six trunks of clothing into the wagon as well as all his father’s bedroom furniture and two rather hideously ugly wooden chairs that had been in his father’s study.
After visiting four tailors and two used clothing shops they’d made a bit over five hundred pounds. The furniture had only made two hundred pounds as it was no longer in style. But it had been enough to pay the wine merchant, the hay merchant and two of his brother’s tailor’s bills.
He’d treated Jeremy, Jimmy and Marcus to several pints of ale and some meat pies at the nearest pub as a thanks for their help that day. When he’d returned home his sister had taken him aside to confess some shameful things about her marriage and her husband. Things that had made Tristan’s blood boil, so while the footmen under Button’s direction were loading furniture from his brother’s chamber into the wagon, he and Marcus would be paying a visit to his brother in law.
“I warned you not to try loading the chest of drawers by yourself,” Marcus said around a mouthful of kippers.
“Don’t remind me,” Tristan replied as he reached for his cup of coffee. “So you in for a bit of, shall we say tussle this morning?”
“Your brother in law, from what you told me he needs a good thrashing,” Marcus replied as he reached for his own coffee.
“Yes, I promised Penny I’d get her pin money and her jewelry. The bastard won’t send her things, and since the worm probably used part of her dowry to buy them he can bloody well give them to her.” Tristan said.
“I can use a good work out, just as long as I don’t break my hand. I have a lot of stitching to do latter, if I’m going to take in those jackets and breeches.” Marcus said.
Tristan shook his head ruefully and turned his attention back to his breakfast. After speaking with Penny, Tristan had Marcus had gone through his brother’s rooms and discovered even more clothing than his father had owned. Most of the clothing had been new and apparently never worn. It also appeared that his eldest brother, Allister, had gained a substantial amount of weight, which was lucky for Tristan and Marcus, as it meant they had many choices of jackets, shirts and breeches.
Buttons had enlisted the help of two of the maids, who were good at sewing, to help alter several of the shirts and breeches for both Tristan and Marcus. After eating, Tristan and Marcus would take the carriage to his brother in law’s house and retrieve his sister’s things. Then he would return home to take the wagon of furniture from his father’s study and some from Allister’s to another used furniture dealer. Tristan was hoping he’d make enough money to cover the coal merchant debt as well as his brother’s debt to his exclusive gambling club.
Selling his brother’s clothing would have to wait till he returned from Avondale, hopefully with Miss Arabella Layden. But first his brother in law had to be brought in line. The fact that his older brother’s had never bothered to defend Penelope’s honor was unfathomable.
“I don’t think you have to worry about that from what Penny said he was lazy and rarely exerted himself, hopefully it will take only an hour and we can return to sell the furniture.” Tristan said, earning a nod from Marcus as he dug into his food.
* * * *
Tristan lifted the fancy bronze knocker to again wrap on the dark blue door. Behind him Marcus and Jimmy exchanged looks of annoyance as a distant clock tower rang nine. Tristan was considering kicking in the door, when it was finely opened by a middle aged man dressed in a black jacket.
“His lordship is not accepting visitors at this time,” The man, obviously the butler, moved to close the door and Tristan thrusted his large booted foot forward, blocking the door.
“I’m not a visitor. I’m his brother in law Lord Tristan; tell him I’m here to retrieve my sister’s things.” Tristan stated.
The butler smiled and stepped back opening the door wide.
“Please come in my lord, gentlemen. Since her ladyship was forced from the house, it has become a den of inequity. Her ladyship was always a kind and generous mistress, and she is missed.”
“Thank you?” Tristan paused.
Roger’s Sir,” the Butler replied.
“Thank you Roger’s,” Tristan said as he stepped into a large airy foyer with a white marble floor as a huge sweeping staircase, Marcus and Jimmy followed him inside.
Roger’s closed the large wood door behind them. “He is upstairs, with her. The master bedroom is the third door on the left,” Roger’s motioned towards the staircase.
“His lordship has been making her wear some of her ladyship’s clothing, which is beyond the pale. I had the maids take some of it and hide it, I will have a footman bring the trunks down for you, her ladyship will likely want it back.” Rogers stated.
“Thank you Rogers,” Tristan turned to Marcus and Jimmy, “It’s time to introduce myself to my brother in law.”
Tristan stalked up the elegant stairs, imagining what he’d do when he saw his pig of a brother in law. Tristan reached the top of the stairs and paused when he saw not one but three statues of naked women entwined with satyrs.
“Good heavens my lord, “Jimmy said, turning crimson at the sight of the risqué statues.
“Reminds me of that bordello we raided, you remember captain?” Marcus stopped a few feet down the crimson carpeted corridor to examine the painting of a man on a reclining couch being pleasured by two naked nymphs.
“Didn’t your sister say he’d moved his light-of-love and her two children here?” Marcus asked.
“Aye, two young daughters.” Tristan shook his head in disgust and strode down the corridor, stopping before the designated door. Tristan tried the door and, finding it locked, stepped back and kicked it hard. The door gave with a dull twang and swung inwards to smash against the inner wall. Tristan strode into the room, followed by Marcus and Jimmy. Directly ahead was a huge four-poster bed, with dark red velvet curtains.
A balding, chubby man of about forty-five sat up, while beside him a woman of perhaps thirty with jet black hair let out a shriek and dragged up a sheet to cover her nakedness.
“How dare you get out of here at once, before I call for my footman to have you thrown out,” The man shouted.
“We haven’t been introduced. I’m Earl Tristan Sizemore, your brother-in- law. I’m here to talk about how you have treated my sister.” Tristan leveled the pudgy man a hard look
“Madam, I suggest you leave, now.” Marcus grabbed a robe from a nearby chair and threw it to the woman.
“Gladly,” The woman said, catching the robe and using it to cover herself before she slid from the bed and, clutching the robe closed, ran from the room.
“If you know what is good for you will pack your things and go.” Marcus said.
Stanley ignored the woman as he sat up to glare at Tristan. “So you are that cold bitches sniveling little brother.
“Wrong answer. Any man who beats his wife doesn’t deserve her or an answer.” Tristan yanked the red silk bed cover off the bed, then stepped around the bed to wrap the sheet around Stanley’s neck and dragged him from the bed. Stanley hit the floor with a thud, then began to flop about like a beached fish. Stanley was not an attractive man, and Tristan pitied his sister for being forced to marry the portly, pale man at his feet.
“Get up and put your clothes on, even I won’t beat a naked man,” Tristan growled, trying not to look at the pasty Stanley.
“I’ll have you arrested, “Stanley protested as he crawled across the floor to grab a pair of discarded breeches.
“Jimmy best leave, go see if Rogers has brought down my sister’s trunks. If he did, please take them to the carriage, and close the door after you.” Tristan directed as Stanley turned to drag on his breeches.
“Aye, sir,” Jimmy quickly hurried from the room, closing the door behind him.
“I don’t think you’ll dare have me arrested, as the peelers would see how you turned your home into a bordello. And once I explain that you beat your lady wife and moved in your mistress, I think they will side with me.” Tristan growled. “Now you will turn over my sister’s jewels as well as all the pin money you owe her. I also want the name and location of the school you have sent the boys to.”
“No, you’re mad.” Stanley sniveled, “Not one pound. She embarrassed me by leaving.”
Tristan was barely containing his anger. The fat fool didn’t deserve his sister or her children. Tristan reached out to grab Stanley about the neck and slammed him back against the ruby red silk-covered wall.
Tristan tightened his hand about Stanley’s thick neck, till his hands began to bug out.
“I didn’t ask. You will give me my sister’s jewels, her pin money and tell me where my nephews are. Do you understand me?” Tristan drawled.
Stanley was now turning puce and clawing at Tristan’s wide hand. Tristan eased his grip.
“Yes, yes, just let me go,” Stanley choked out.
“Not yet, you see unlike my brothers, I care about my sister and her happiness, and you hurt her badly,” Tristan slammed Stanley into the wall again with enough force to make a painting of a naked woman a few inches away rattle. Tristan released Stanley, who dropped to the floor wheezing loudly.
“You treated her worse than a mad dog; now you will give me what I asked for. In addition, you will write a letter to the school where they are stashed and tell them to send my nephews to my townhouse. You will also write a letter saying you are granting her full custody. With the letter, you will send a footman with enough funds to cover traveling expenses.” Tristan looked down at Stanley, who shook his head.
Tristan growled low in annoyance, then turned to his hulking friend. “Marcus, if you would please.”
“Gladly, you know how I fell about men that hurt women,” Marcus rumbled.
“Aye I do, perhaps Stanley would like to hear your story?” Tristan asked.
“Indeed you’re right, a little warning tale for men like you.” Marcus cracked his knuckles loudly. “There
was a toff in the village where I grew up. You remind me of him, though he was better that everyone else. He had a lovely little wife, daughter of a local baron. Toff was a marquis, but he had no money, so he married the baron’s daughter.” Marcus looked over at Tristan and motioned for him to turn about. “You might not want to watch Captain, in case the toff calls the peelers.”
“Yes, perhaps you are right. I’ll just check the drawers here for my sister’s jewels.” Tristan turned about, knowing what Marcus was about to do.
Tristan yanked open the top drawer of the expensive mahogany chest of drawers, while he heard Marcus relay the story of the wife beating lord. Tristan began tossing out handfuls of cravats and handkerchiefs. Behind him, there was the sound of flesh hitting flesh, followed by a yelp.
Tristan closed the top drawer, then yanked open the second drawer as he heard how the wife-beating lord had accidentally fallen off a cliff into the sea, and how his wife and sons were thriving without him. The second drawer contained socks and hose, but nothing of value.
“Don’t break his hands, Marcus, we need him to write letters,” Tristan commented, reaching for the third drawer down.
“I remember. Now where are the lady’s baubles?” Marcus asked. There was a heavy thunk followed by a yelp of pain
“Gone, I sold them all,” Stanley wheezed.
“He’s lying,” A female voice said from the open door.
Tristan turned to see the black-haired woman in the door, she was wearing a plain, grey high-necked gown, and was looking at Stanley with open hatred.
“Quiet, Becky,” Stanley wheezed.
“No, I won’t. My lord, if you help me, I’ll tell you where your sister’s jewels are,” Becky said.
“And why should I believe you? You’re his lover?” Tristan asked.
“I’m not his lover; he won me from Lord Weston in a card game. A game he cheated at,” Becky stated. “Lord Weston was a cur, and worse, he took me from my family when I was sixteen to settle my family’s debt to him. He used me, but at least after I bore his daughters, he bought me my own house. A house that bastard sold without my permission, so he could force me to live here with him.”
“Regret it more than being forced out of my home and required to share your bed every day? Forced to put up with you and your lecherous friend pawing me?” Beck stated.
Tristan felt sorry for Becky, she’d been as ill-used as Penelope.
“What do you want miss, and where are the jewels?” Tristan asked turning to face Becky
“Rebecca Forbes, the jewels are in his safe downstairs in his office and I know the combination,” Becky replied, “And I want what is owed me. He sold my house and my furniture and pocketed what was left after he paid a gambling debt. He also took the baubles Lord Weston gave me for having his daughters. He owes me ten thousand pounds for my house and another thousand for my baubles and furniture. He also never paid me for my, well my services.”
“If the money is there, Miss Forbes, you will have it,” Marcus said, and Tristan nodded in agreement.
“I’ll show you where the safe is and open it if you also help me escape him,” Becky pointed at Stanley. “He doesn’t think I know, but he means to sell me and my daughters to his lecherous friends. He told me if I tried to run, he’d call the coppers on me and say I stole from him. That they’d take my daughters and put me in prison.”
“The bloody swine,” Marcus snarled and turned to backhand Stanley, hard, knocking him to the carpeted floor.
“I agree Miss Forbes, you have our help,” Tristan replied. He stepped up to Becky and held out his hand to her. She looked at it for a moment before taking it and accepting his handshake.
“Thank you sir, come I’ll show you the safe,” Becky said then turned to walk from the room.
“Marcus, bring him.” Tristan ordered.
“My pleasure,” Marcus grabbed Stanley by the twisted sheet and began dragging him after him and out of the bedroom.
Tristan followed Becky down the stairs and then down the length of the lavishly decorated corridor into an office decorated with paintings of naked women.
“Bloody hell, this all belongs in a brothel” Tristan shook his head as Becky stepped up to the left wall and pointed to a painting to a painting of a woman and a satyr.
“After your sister left he turned the house into a men’s gambling club, and well, the men would bring their doves with them. Stanley would put things in their drinks so they played poorly and then he’d fleece them.” Becky said.
“Good god, my father would have a heart attack if he saw this lot,” Marcus stated as he dragged a staggering Stanley into the room.
“The safe is behind that one,” Becky indicated the painting of the satyr.
“Right, then,” Tristan reached up to remove the painting from the wall to reveal a large wall safe.
“You open that and I’ll see you regret it you whore,” Stanley shouted.
“I’m not a whore; I was a good girl, promised to a decent man before Lord Weston took me. And you stole me from him and made me share your bed.” Becky replied, head held high. Becky reached up and quickly opened the safe, pulling the door open with a low click.
Tristan gave her a nod of thanks and stepped up to it. Inside the safe were stacks of letters, black velvet bags, and bundles of pound notes. Tristan let out a low whistle and reached in to the safe to pull out several of the bags, then turning dropped them on the desk a few feet away. Behind him Marcus pushed Stanley into the desk chair, then ripping down the gold cords from the velvet curtains on the window, used them to tie Stanley to the desk.
“You can’t take those they are mine; I’ll see you pay for this.” Stanley blubbered.
Tristan pulled open one of the bags and poured the contents onto the desk, several strings of pearls and golden lockets spilled out.
“They belong to the men he cheated, sometimes he would play at their homes and come home with jewels.” Becky said. “Your sister’s things are in the black velvet box on the bottom.”
“Be quiet Becky”, Stanley growled trying to free himself from the chair and failing.
“That is enough out of you,” Marcus spotted a towel on a bar cart a few feet away, grabbing it back he stuffed it into Stanley’s mouth, “What do you want to do with it all and him?”
“Well remember Lieutenant Burns, he is with the Yard. He have Miss Forbes write down everything she knows, then we bundle Miss Forbes and her daughters in Stanley’s carriage with a good portion of that money and send her off someplace save. Then we deliver Stanley, the jewels, Miss Forbes letter and Stanley’s confession to Burns. Burns was a good friend and in his last letter he said he was trying to make his mark in the Yard. I think he would love to get his hand on Stanley.” Tristan said. “Do you think you can get Stanley to write a confession?”
Marcus gave Tristan a twisted grin, “Aye, what do you think of the idea of Stanley here leaving the house to your sister? I mean seeing as how he won’t need it anymore.”
Stanley made loud grunting noises and strained at his bonds, earning him a slap from Marcus.
“I think it’s a brilliant idea,” Tristan replied with a smile.
Tristan turned back to the safe, and reached for the stack of bags, and began dropping them on the desk. Tristan sighed mentally, what he’d thought would be a quick trip had now turned into something that would likely take all day. But if it would free Penelope from her lout of a husband and bring her peace of mind, it was worth it. If nothing else, it would give him more time to think about what to say to Miss Layden.
* * * *
Tristan leaned back in his father’s desk chair and propped his stocking feet up on the edge of his father’s desk and took a long sip of brandy. Across from him Marcus did the same thing, after a minute he let out a sigh and melted into his chair. He was exhausted, after Marcus had convinced Stanley to write everything they wanted, they had bundled Miss Forbes, her children, a maid and a footman from Stanley’s house into Stanley’s carriage and sent it away. There had been almost twenty thousand pounds in Stanley’s safe as well as Penelope’s jewels and ten backs of stolen jewels.
Tristan had given Miss Forbes her money and sent her and the others away. The Stanley’s carriage driver, Jack, after dropping Miss Forbes, her children, and her escorts at a posting inn outside of town, had returned to Stanley’s house. Tristan had then sent a footman, recommended by the estimable Rogers, with fifty pounds and a letter to the school where Stanley had stashed Penelope’s young sons to fetch the boys.
Tristan had then set aside five hundred pounds for Penelope and a thousand pounds for her sons, the remaining seven thousand pounds Tristan had entrusted to Rogers to pay the remaining staff, and keep the house running till Penelope and her sons returned to take up occupancy. Seven thousand pounds was enough to pay the remaining staff wages for several years and keep the house in food, wine and coal for a good three years.
They had then forced Stanley to dress, and taken him, Miss Forbes letter, Stanley’s confession and the bags of Jewels to Scotland Yard and delivered them all to Burns. Burns had been delighted to have the worm like Stanley dropped in his lap, stating that returning the stolen jewels would likely earn him a promotion. He also promised to see that Stanley would never be seen again, after Tristan had told him what Stanley had done to Penelope and Miss Forbes. Stanley had been taken away alterably cursing and crying like a child to be locked away in a cell.
Then on Marcus suggestion they had taken all the ghastly paintings and statues away, as Marcus had rightly noted that Penelope and her sons should not see them. It had taken five stops to find dealers willing to buy the paintings, and statues. In the end they’d earned another two thousand pounds that Tristan had decided to give to Penelope. She and the boys would need something to live on now that Stanley would no longer be around.
Tristan, Marcus, and Jimmy had returned well after two, and while Jimmy and Marcus had gone to find food, Tristan had told Penelope everything that had happened. He’d then given her the money and told her that Stanley would no longer be in her life.
Penelope had wept openly and then hugged Tristan for a good five minutes. She’d then asked Tristan to help her write a letter to the land manager that ran Stanley’s estate in the Coswald’s, saying that she would now be managing things. Tristan had agreed, thinking that in addition to managing his affairs he’d now have to help Penelope run hers.
After grabbing a meat pie, he and Marcus had taken some of the furniture from Allister’s chamber as well as furniture from one of the guest rooms to a furniture dealer and earned the staggering sum of nine hundred pounds. The money would all be going to settle various debts, including the fish monger to the local baker, as well as several dress makers that his mother owed. Tristan would keep back a hundred pounds for traveling expenses for him, Marcus, and Jeremy.
“Are you still planning to see Miss Layden tomorrow?” Marcus asked before taking another long sip of brandy.
“Aye, I have no choice. While what we have sold has helped make a dent in the debts, there is still a stack of debts to be paid. And how long can we keep selling things before the ton takes notice? While I don’t give a damn what they think, it would go ill for Penelope and Rebecca if it came out that we were so in the suds that we were selling off furniture.” Tristan took a gulp of his brandy, feeling it burn as it went down.
“True, very true and your mother was less than pleased that we sold off your father’s furniture and that from the guest room. She started to ring a peal over my head before your sister managed to drag her off.” Marcus sighed.
“I also want to begin buying back the land my father sold off for our rural estate. It will take thousands and thousands of pounds to do that. And I don’t want to live in an empty house, as much as I hated my father and brothers, this is my home now.” Tristan swallowed the last of his brandy. “No I have no choice but to find Miss Layden and beg her to marry me. I only pray that she is as kind and attractive as we were led to believe, life time wed to an ugly shrew would be worse than death.”
“Aye, you are right. Well I’m off to bed then you’ll want to leave early.” Marcus finished his brandy and set the glass on the desk plotter before swinging his large feet to the floor. He bent and retrieved his boots and gave Tristan a nod. “Tris, don’t be up to late you’ll need your sleep, and you will get through this.”
“You know that is the first time you have called me Tris,” Tristan said with a quick smile.
“Well, were alone and right now you need a friend. Good night.” Marcus gave Tristan a nod then padded quietly from the office.
“Good night and thank you,” Tristan called, earning a head bob from Marcus as he walked away.
Tristan set his empty glass on the blotter next to Marcus’ and sat up, enjoying the feel of the thick Persian carpet under his stocking feet. His boots pinched these days, and he needed a new pair but that would have to take time. He looked across the office to where a painting of his father hung and Tristan scowled. The painting would have to go when he returned from the country. He’d hoped to marry one day but a bride of his choice, not one he’d been forced to marry because of his hateful father. He considered cursing his father and wishing him to hell, but his father was probably already there, so instead of cursing him father said a prayer hoping that Miss Layden would be open to his suit, if not all would be lost.