Chapter Twenty Eight
Tristan leaned back in his chair, studying the documents on his desk, documents that said his father hadn’t been the fool and the spendthrift he’d been led to believe by his uncle’s solicitor. The documents were just some of the one’s that Marcus had found hidden in the bottom of Miriam’s wardrobe. The documents listed various business ventures and refereed to accounts that Tristan had yet to uncover, but all suggested of substantial wealth.
Four very eventful days had passed since the intimal meeting with Mr. Morgan, had transpired. The day after his meeting with Mr. Morgan, he had come to see him again with another solicitor, Mr. Pickering. The reed-thin Mr. Pickering had also handled investments for Tristan’s father and brothers. Mr. Pickering had told Tristan and Marcus that his father owned substantial shares in four shipbuilding companies, two in Liverpool and two in Ireland. Mr. Pickering had told him that his grandfather had made the initial investments some forty years ago and that Tristan’s father had increased them.
Mr. Pickering had served his family for over twenty years; he had also been suspicious of how quickly the late Earl had fallen ill after always being a healthy and vital man. Mr. Pickering had also not liked the way Mr. Keene had insinuated himself into the late earl’s affairs and began to dictate what was done with the accounts. Mr. Pickering had also doubted that the imposter lord Tristan was a Sizemore, as he looked nothing like the late earl or his brothers.
Mr. Pickering had also served in the army in his youth and had been suspicious of how pale the imposter was after spending a decade in India and then time in Malta, in addition the imposter couldn’t answer any questions about his term of service in the army. Mr. Pickering had told Tristan that his father had often spoken of Tristan’s deeds in the army in pride, that the supposed Tristan couldn’t answer a single question, had trouble Mr. Pickering deeply.
Mr. Pickering’s office, like those of Mr. Morgan and Mr. Ball had, had his office broken into and ransacked. Mr. Pickering took his client’s files seriously and kept their financial records locked in a safe, while the files of his most important clients locked in metal strong boxes. Mr. Pickering like Mr. Morgan and Mr. Ball had been attacked by ruffians. Because of the attack he had been laid up for some time and had gone to the country to recuperate. He had only recently returned to London and begun putting his accounts to rights. Mr. Pickering also did not read the society pages or the gossip columns; it was only because of Mr. Morgan coming to see him that he knew that Tristan the rightful heir had returned to England. Mr. Pickering had given Tristan four bank drafts, dividends from his family’s shares in the businesses; one had been for five thousand pounds, the others all just over seven thousand pounds. The amount of money was staggering, and added to possible motives for destroying his family. All he had to do was figure out who would benefit from his family being destroyed.
Another piece of jarring news had come from Jules, who’d asked Tristan and Marcus to meet him in his office, fearing someone in Hasting’s House was spying for the unseen enemy. Jules had told them that the coroner had determined that Tristan’s father and Allister had both died from arsenic poisoning, that they had apparently been dosed for some time with substantial amounts of it. The coroner was currently examining Richard’s remains to see if he had also been poisoned.
Another piece of potentially good news was that Mr. Morgan had sent his senior clerk and a junior solicitor to Rawlings with examples of his father’s and brother’s hand writing to examine the bills of sales for the property. If he believed the signatures were fake he would contact the local magistrate and begin an investigation to see if the property had been sold by an imposter.
Tristan drummed his fingers on his desk top as he studied the reports from India, trying to distract himself from the madness that was his life. His friendship with Marcus and his marriage to Arabella were two of the few bright spots in his life right now. He could not wait till this unseen enemy was exposed and dealt with, and he and Arabella could begin their lives.
There was a knock on the door, and Marcus and Penelope entered a moment later unbidden, followed by Seamus and Sebastian. Tristan pushed the papers on his desk into a neat pile and before placing them in his desk drawer as he looked up with a frown.
“Good heavens, what do I owe this unexpected visit to?” Tristan asked, confused at the invasion of his office
“Seamus and Sebastian wish to speak to you, they told Arabella and I that they needed to speak to you, well, to all of us in private about something important,” Marcus said, placing his hand on Sebastian’s back and gently pushing him forward.
Behind them, Arabella closed and locked the door before stepping forward to stand before the large wooden desk, her face serene, though by the look in her eyes, Tristan could tell she was as curious as he was. Tristan looked from Arabella to Marcus, seeing Marcus shrug as if saying he didn’t know what the matter was about. Tristan’s gaze then settled on his nephews; the boys had rather serious expressions, so whatever they had to say must be important.
“Very well, what do you need to tell me?” Tristan watched the boys look at each other, and then Seamus nudged Sebastian forward. “Whatever it is I promise I won’t be angry.”
“Well, sir, yesterday after you all went out, we were in our room, and Seamus realized that he had forgotten his tin soldiers in the nursery upstairs. We stepped from our room and were heading to the stairs when Miss Miriam came upon us. She told us to go back to our chamber, that he were making too much noise.” Sebastian stated. “When we protested, she threatened to cane us for disobedience.”
“Hell, she has no authority over you. Please continue, I sense you have more to say.” Tristan came around his desk to perch on the edge so that he was closer to his obviously nervous nephews.
Seamus nodded his head slowly, “Well, she locked us in our room. But she doesn’t know that we have our own key. That Mr. Buttons gave us one. Waited till she was gone then we let ourselves out and, using the back stairs, went upstairs to the nursery. We were setting up a battle and heard footsteps coming, we were afraid it was Miriam, so we grabbed our soldiers and ducked from the nursery and went to hide in the room next to it.” Seamus paused and looked over at Sebastian, who nodded for him to continue.
“Go on, Seamus,” Marcus prompted, his brows furrowed in a combination of annoyance and curiosity
“We heard footsteps coming closer, so we climbed into the wardrobe to hide, and that is when we found the secret passageway,” Seamus blurted out.
“Secret passageway?” Tristan asked, looking from the boys to Marcus and Arabella.
“Yes, sir, we were trying to hide behind some clothes in it, and I accidentally bumped a little knob, and a door slid open. We were afraid of being found, so we stepped into the passageway and found stairs that went up.” Sebastian stated.
“Wasn’t it too dark to see?” Arabella asked, studying the boys who both shook their heads.
Sebastian shook his head. “No, Aunt Arabella, there are small square windows in the one wall, the windows look out back onto the stable yard. We thought that it was a spy tunnel, like the one in the last book Mr. Marcus read to us, so we wanted to explore it and see where it went. The stairs took us up to the attic and a secret room under the eaves. We were looking around and found a peep hole. We looked through the peephole and saw Miriam standing before a large trunk full of papers, and she was talking to a man.”
Tristan shook his head, not sure he had heard correctly, and then he looked up at Marcus, who was also in obvious disbelief.
“Did you recognize this man? Was it one of the footmen, perhaps?” Tristan prompted, and his nephews shook their heads.
“No, Uncle, it wasn’t anyone we recognized,” Seamus replied, earning a nod from Sebastian.
“Hell, what did this man look like?” Tristan asked. The thought of a strange man in the house skulking about unseen made him uneasy.
“Taller than Miriam, thin with a face like a rat,” Seamus stated, wrinkling his nose as if smelling something bad.
“Brown hair and brown eyes, and he had a voice that made your ears hurt,” Sebastian added.
“It sounds like Mr. Keene, but how in the hell did he get into the attic, and what was he and Miriam doing together?” Marcus asked, arms folded before him.
“Miriam is out with the dowager visiting friends and will be gone for hours,” Arabella stated.
“Boys, can you show us the passage you found and this trunk?” Tristan asked and saw the boys both nod enthusiastically.
“Please show us now,” Tristan directed, rising and motioning towards the door.
“Yes, Uncle,” Seamus replied. The boys turned and headed for the door. They paused only long enough to unlock it then, headed down the hall, followed by Tristan, Marcus, and Arabella.
Tristan and the others followed the boys through the house and then up to the attic by way of the secret passageway in the back of the third-floor closet. They stepped out of the passageway and into a small room tucked into the attic eave. Light filtered into the small room from two small windows in the wall, illuminating a small and messy bed, a table with an oil lamp, a crumb-covered plate and several magazines on it, a chair, a small wardrobe, and even a water closet. The room contained everything a person would need to stay in secret.
“Someone has been staying here,” Marcus stated as he looked about the room, even peering into the wardrobe. “The bed has been slept in, and there are men’s clothes in the wardrobe, and there are remains of a meal on the table.”
“And not that long ago by the looks of it,” Tristan added. The room was relatively dust-free, and the remains of food on the plate were even mold-free.
Arabella looked around the small room, using a finger to cautiously push at the magazines on the table, and examine the lamp that was almost out of oil. “What was this room used for, it is rather small and not in a convenient place for staff to come and go from? Who would have stayed in such a cramped little room?”
“A lower-ranking member of staff perhaps, someone like a chimney swift or a char woman,” Tristan shrugged. “But the fact that someone was staying in here explains the loud noises the boys had been hearing while they were in the nursery. It was not giant mice or squirrels but a scoundrel.”
“Indeed, I wish we had taken your comments more seriously, boys and decided to investigate your mysterious sounds sooner,” Marcus added, looking about.
“Let’s try the door there, and I want you to show us the trunk you saw Miriam going through.” Tristan looked at his nephews, who nodded.
Tristan stepped up to the narrow door and flipped up the simple wrought iron latch that held it closed. He stepped through the door and into a large section of the main attic, looking around; he saw old furniture of every kind, some covered by sheets, others by Holland covers. Tristan stepped further into the crowded space, noticing three different sets of footprints in the thick dust, one a woman’s and two different sets of men’s prints.
Tristan knelt to study them while Marcus and Arabella peered over his shoulders to see what he was looking at.
“Two sets of men’s footprints, one a big man wearing boots, a smaller man wearing shoes, and a woman’s.” Tristan pointed out.
“Mr. Keene, Dr. Fletcher, and Miriam’s perhaps,” Marcus stated, as Tristan rose.
“Indeed, what I want to know is how long was Keene hiding up here and how long Fletcher slipping in and out of the house?” Tristan shook his head and saw Arabella shivering behind him.
“Bella? Are you all right?” Tristan asked in concern.
“Yes, no, I mean it makes me feel odd to know that someone was hiding up here and we didn’t know.” Arabella shook her head, “I’m just being silly. I suppose.”
“No not at all, I understand. But he’s gone now and I’m going to make sure he can’t come back.” Tristan squeezed Arabella’s hand earning a nod, then he turned to the boys who had lingered behind in the little room.
“Which trunk, boys?” Marcus asked, and Seamus pointed to a chest with a rounded top and flowers painted on it.
“Thank you,” Tristan stepped up to the trunk and tried to open it, finding it locked. “Locked, whatever is inside Miriam doesn’t want us in it.”
“Let me,” Marcus bent to pull a short knife out of his boot top, and bending, wedged the knife under the lock and exerted a bit of force. A moment later, there was a dull metallic ping and the lock tongue gave. Marcus stood, slipped the knife back into his boot, and then flipped open the trunk.
“Bloody hell, sorry, Arabella,” Tristan drawled, papers and books filled the trunk.
“What are all of these?” Arabella stepped up to the trunk and lifted one of the books, flipping it open in her hand. “It’s one of the missing account books; it’s from two years ago.”
Tristan rooted in the chest, discovering more account books, and day journals from the late Mr. Vickers, and what appeared to be diaries of daily meetings from Mr. Vickers as well.
“It’s all of the missing account books, diaries and correspondents.” Tristan stated it disbelief. “Why would they take them and then keep them? It makes no sense.”
“Unless whoever took hem has need of them, but wanted to hide the truth from you when you returned. What do you want to do with all of these?” Marcus demanded.
“Take them, of course, but if we take the trunk and Miriam goes nosing around, she’ll discover we know she’s involved.” Tristan looked around, spotting several other trunks. “We transfer everything from here to that one.”
“Right, good plan,” Marcus walked across the attic and grabbed another trunk. When he lifted it, he frowned, it surprisingly heavy for a supposedly empty trunk. Marcus tried to open it and, finding it locked again, pulled out his knife to pry open the lock. When he’d opened it he discovered it was full of linens. “It’s full of linens. Arabella, could you help me empty this?”
“Of course,” Arabella replied. She stepped up to the trunk and, reaching inside, grabbed one of the linens and pulled it out, dropping something as she did back into the trunk. Frowning, she set the linen on the open lid and picked up what she had dropped. “It is a snuff box, I believe.” Arabella extended the box to Tristan, who stepped up to examine it. “There are others in here, too.”
“That was my father’s; he had a large collection of them, even though he never used the snuff. I remember seeing this one and the others on his desk as a boy.” Tristan shook his head in disbelief. “I thought these were gone forever, sold by Mr. Keene. I can’t say I ever loved my father as he was such an evil blighter,” Tristan looked over at his nephews, still standing a few feet away, and censored his words. “But having these back makes me rather happy.”
“What should we do?” Marcus asked, looking down at the packed trunk.
“Find two empty trunks, shift everything to them, then take these downstairs and hide them in our dressing room closet,” Tristan replied.
“But what about Miriam? She will notice the contents are missing.” Marcus replied.
“Simple, she’s out now with mother, isn’t she?” Tristan asked and saw Arabella nod.
“Yes, your mother was delighted that you let her resume visiting her friends and plans to be gone most of the day,” Arabella replied.
“So while they are gone, we call the footmen and have everything removed from here. It shall be placed in the wagon, and taken to be sold. No one knows about,” Tristan paused, looking over at the boys who were looking about the attic with interest. “Our increase in fortune, so when Miriam finds out, she will simply think that we were carrying on as we had before selling furniture to pay our bills.”
“She will go barmy when she realizes this is all gone,” Marcus commented.
“I thought about that, we have Buttons call the locksmith and change a few more locks. The one to the boy’s room, the one below that leads to the secret passageway up here, and the one to the attic door, as well as my mother’s. I also want him to check the locks on all the downstairs windows and if they are weak of lacking replace them. Keene got up here somehow, and out of the house without being noticed, the most logical way is out a window.” Tristan stated. He knew that Buttons checked all the doors every night, so the only logical way was a window.
“Aye, I can’t wait till Miriam discovers we not only changed the locks but sold off all the furniture in the attic.” Marcus shook his head as he began to laugh softly.
“Arabella, look about and see if there are any pieces you wish to keep, otherwise we sell everything.” Tristan smiled crookedly trying not to laugh along with Marcus at the thought of how infuriated Miriam would be.
“What about the boys?” Arabella nodded to the two young men. “Will they keep the secret?”
“Ah, yes, Seamus, Sebastian, please come here,” Tristan called over to his nephews, who hurried over to him.
“Yes, uncle?” Seamus asked.
“It is very important that you keep this all a secret. You can’t tell anyone, not even your mother,” Tristan stated, and saw the boys nod in unison.
“Very good, do you understand why?” Tristan asked studying the boy’s face for their reactions.
“Well, this is like the last book Mr. Marcus read to us. Miriam is the evil spy, and we have to thwart her.”
Sebastian stated.
“Indeed, if you can both keep this all a secret, I shall reward you. Now, what does a young gentleman need? Hmm, a horse, I’m guessing you can both ride?” Tristan asked and saw the boys nod.
“Yes, sir, we had lessons at boarding school,” Sebastian replied.
“Excellent then, if you can keep this all a secret in two weeks’ time I shall take you both to the horse auction and buy you each a horse. Not a thoroughbred, mind you, but something staid and good for a first horse. Now, do we have an agreement as gentlemen?” Tristan asked, extending his hand, and the boys looked at each other, then nodded as they each shook his hand in turn.
“Oh, yes, sir, we can do that. What about Aunt Arabella? May she have one, too?” Seamus asked, looking over at Arabella.
“Why yes, I think that is a wonderful idea,” Tristan replied giving Arabella a smile. “Now, boys, help us find two empty trunks, we need to transfer everything from these trunks into different ones so that Miriam won’t easily find out that we have reclaimed these. Then, once that is done, I need you to go find Mr. Buttons and ask him to send all the footmen up to carry this furniture down to the stable yard. Then, after you tell Buttons, I need you to tell Mr. Jeremy to prepare the wagon.”
“Oh yes sir, come along Seamus,” Sebastian said then turned to begin searching the huge attic.
“This shall take some time to see to, and we promised Mrs. Waterhouse to come for a visit and one. She said she found someone who knows about the history of Hasting’s House and about Mrs. Lester. We can’t miss the visit,” Arabella stated.
“That is simple; after these trunks are transferred and safely stowed I can see to everything else so you two can go to the Waterhouses.” Marcus replied as across the crowded attic there was a thump and the boys began dragging a trunk towards them.
“Aye that is a good plan and thank you Marcus,” Tristan stated as the boys settled a trunk before Tristan.
“Good job, gentlemen, see if you can find another one,” Tristan said, and the boys nodded and made their way off to hunt for another trunk.
“Clara will be disappointed, but I shall make your excuses; now let us begin moving these papers,” Arabella said, stepping over to the front trunk.
There was a crash that made Tristan and Marcus cringe. “You had best go help the boys,” Tristan said, and Marcus nodded and turned to thread his way through the densely packed furniture towards the two boys as Tristan stepped up to Arabella.
“This is a remarkable find, isn’t it?” Arabella asked as she pulled out a stack of ledger books.
“Indeed, after everything is carefully hidden in our chamber, I’ll send a note to Jules. I have a feeling everything will come to a head soon, and I want us all to be prepared.” Tristan reached over to squeeze Arabella’s
hand quickly, then turned his attention to the contents of the chest.
“I hope you are right. I, too, want to solve this mystery and get on with our marriage,” Arabella replied, then turned to the task at hand. She was looking forward to Miriam’s dismay when she discovered her stolen treasures were missing. It was time the irritating woman was put in her place.
* * * *
The well-starched middle-aged butler showed Tristan and Arabella into Mr. Waterhouses morning parlor with all the pomp one would expect of meeting the queen. He knocked on the door briskly then, opened it unbidden to admit Arabella and Tristan to the bright and sunny room.
“Ma’am, Lord Sizemore and Lady Sizemore,” the butler stated.
Mrs. Waterhouse was sitting on a well-padded white and gold chair beside a matching white and gold settee upon which sat two regally dressed older women, with dark hair sprinkled with grey and large brown eyes.
Mrs. Waterhouse rose to greet them with a smile, “Ah, Lord Tristan, Lady Arabella, right on time, please come in. I would like you to meet Lady Beatrice Williams and her twin sister, Lady Cassandra Martin. The ladies are familiar with Mrs. Lester, your father, and your uncle. They also have some interesting information about Hastings House.”
“A pleasure, ladies, but surely Mrs. Waterhouse is in error two; such young and lovely ladies could not possibly be acquainted with my father and uncle,” Tristan said, giving the ladies an elegant bow, while beside him, Arabella dipped politely before taking one of the open chairs near the settee.
“Oh, my, he is as handsome as he is charming, and such a voice, my, my young man, your marriage must have broken the hearts of all the single misses of the ton,” The lady on the left said with a smile.
“Indeed, Bessie makes me wish I were forty years younger. You are a very lucky young woman, Lady Sizemore. I saw that kiss at the ball, not well done, but it certainly set all the tongues a wagging.” The lady on the right added.
“Sit, you handsome rogue, you are too tall to be standing, and I wish to look at you with out craning my neck.” The lady on the left said, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle out of her dark blue day dress. And you must call me Bessie, and the bird brain beside me is my younger sister Cassie.”
Tristan smiled warmly, liking the outspoken older woman immensely. They were bold and outspoken, rather rare among the ton.
“I would be honored too,” Tristan replied, taking the seat beside Arabella.
“Thank you, ladies, I am indeed a lucky woman to have such a handsome and considerate husband,” Arabella added, amused by the older women’s candor.
“Well said, I have decided that we shall like you both. Mrs. Waterhouse said you were both originals and not at all stuffy. She also said that you are the artist who made all these lovely watercolors and drawings of flowers,” Bessie stated as her sister nodded in agreement.
“Yes, thank you, you are very kind,” Arabella replied, embarrassed by the compliment even though it pleased her.
“Nonsense, we are both too old to give out compliments that we don’t mean. Now, Julia here said that you have questions about Hastings’s House and your father, uncle, and Katherine Lester. How should we begin, Cassie?” Bessie stated, looking over at her sister.
“Well, the beginning, I suppose, I don’t think Lord and Lady Sizemore are gossips, and even if they are, what we have to say is old news,” Cassie stated, then turned to look at Tristan and Arabella. “When we were young, our father had a bit of a reversal of fortune. He was a baron from an old and established line, but he had little funds to launch our season. We always enjoyed writing and collecting gossip, so we started to write gossip columns. They turned out to be rather popular after a time and helped reverse our fortunes.”
Bessie nodded in agreement. “As twins, we could dress alike and often pretend to be only one person and thus be in two places at the same time, shall we say.”
“Oh, how terribly clever, you must have been able to discover many secrets that way. How clever of you both,” Arabella stated, giving the older ladies a smile.
“Oh, thank you, but that was long ago. Now you want to know about Hastings house.” Bessie replied. “I was built by Baron Harris, the great-grandfather of Katherine Harris, whom you know as Katherine Lester.”
“Mrs. Lester lived in Hastings House,” Tristan asked in surprise.
“Oh yes, her great-grandfather was a merchant and a trader, and he dabbled in the slave trade among other disreputable things. He was rather scandalous as well as very prosperous and built Hastings House to flaunt his wealth.” Bessie paused. “The baron brought home a rather beautiful woman, a quadroon that he made his mistress and installed in Hastings House. His lady wife preferred the country and oversaw the running of their rural estate. The few times she came to London, it was rumored that he hid the poor lady in a room in the attic.”
“Good heavens, we found a small room in the attic and wondered who had used it,” Tristan stated, “Please continue.”
“It is also rumored that he had secret passageways throughout the house so he could sneak about as he pleased without his wife or the servants being any the wiser,” Cassie added.
“Yes, now where was I? Oh yes, the baron had several daughters but only one son, William. William added to the family fortune, but also had several daughters and only one son. That son, Bertram, was also a rogue and a spendthrift; he had two sons and Katherine.” Bessie stated, earning a nod of agreement from her sister.
Tristan exchanged a look with Arabella, who appeared as interested as he was. “Please continue, ladies,” Tristan prompted.
“Well, according to the rumors, Bertram lost almost all the family fortune and was forced to sell Hastings House. Your Grandfather was his friend and bought the house from him and Bertram and his family up in a small townhouse in one of the finer neighborhoods.”
“Good heavens, he was a very good friend indeed,” Arabella stated, thinking quickly of Sir Howard and how he had helped her. If not for him, she would not be here now, married to Tristan.
“Oh yes, they were very close and often seen together at various fashionable events. It was even rumored that Katherine was betrothed to your father; whether the rumor was true or not, I don’t know, but nothing ever came of it.” Cassie replied with a shrug.
“Now, Katherine was rather wild and a terrible flirt. She thought herself rather fine looking and was the kind of girl to use her looks as a weapon and make other women and girls feel inferior. She was also famous for her sharp tongue and biting remarks. After her third season, when she failed to secure a proposal from your father, she threw herself at your uncle.” Bessie added, “It was rather embarrassing the way she hung off him all the time.”
“That is rather odd, Uncle Howard adored my aunt Amelia from the first moment he saw her,” Tristan protested.
“Indeed, it was rather obvious of his devotion to Amelia. He was kind to Katherine, but nothing more than that. It was rather obvious that Katherine was infatuated with your uncle; she followed him about at every function he attended even, trying to come between him and Amelia.” Cassie stated. “When your uncle began to blatantly ignore her, she began to follow your father about again. One night, Katherine was discovered in a garden at a ball in a state of partial undress with your father. She claimed that he had compromised her, and that he had to marry her,” Bessie sighed. “But he said nothing had happened, that Katherine had ripped her gown herself and in addition, he was already married.”
“He was already married? He had kept his marriage to my mother a secret?” Tristan frowned.
“Indeed, he and your mother had been married in secret two weeks earlier. Though they had been wed, they did not issue a statement in the paper. Katherine, of course, was outraged and humiliated.” Cassie said.
“Good heavens, I am beginning to understand things now. Whenever Mrs. Lester, visited she would always fawn over Lord Howard and make endless slights against Amelia, even though they were distant cousins on her mother’s side.” Arabella exclaimed.
“When your father refused to wed her, Katherine then insisted that Lord Howard had to marry her to save her reputation. Lord Howard refused; he was already betrothed to Amelia; and your father was vehemently denying that he had touched Katherine.” Cassie shrugged. “It was all rather scandalous, and Katherine became a laughing stock, and no one would open their doors to her. Everywhere Katherine went, she was given the cut direct, so Katherine fled to Bath and married Mr. Lester two weeks later. Mr. Lester was much older than she, but he was rich and a landed merchant, but he had no title. And Katherine had always made it very clear that she wanted a titled husband and nothing else.”
“I see, thank you, ladies, what you have told me has been immensely illuminating. How can I ever thank you?” Tristan said as he quickly thought over what the sisters had told him. Pieces were starting to fit together, like parts of one of the intricately carved puzzle boxes they would sell in the markets back in India.
Bessie and Cassie exchanged looks. “Well, between the two of us, we have five granddaughters. It would help elevate them if you were to perhaps dance with them upon occasion. We will, of course, introduce you when we are all at the same function, so it will all be proper.” Cassie stated.
Tristan sat back in surprise and then nodded happily. “I would be happy to, ladies, but only if you each grant me a dance as well.”
The ladies colored and then laughed soft matching laughs that brought smiles to Tristan and Arabella.
“You are a rogue, my lord, but we would be honored too,” Cassie replied. Her gaze shifted from Tristan to Arabella. “We met a young woman the other day, a Miss Lucinda Belmont, at Lady Michael’s card party; she claimed that she is a friend of yours from your village. That she was betrothed to Sir Tristan, but that you made him honor an agreement you had with his uncle that he had to marry you.”
“That is an utter lie,” Tristan thundered, shocked that the arrogant little blonde chit he’d met a handful of times would make such claims.
“Indeed, Lucinda Belmont never was, and never will be my friend. Her father was the highest-ranking member of the aristocracy in the village after Sir Howard passed. She barely even spoke to me the few times our paths crossed,” Arabella stated evenly as she tried to retain her temper.
“It is as we thought. We had heard of your kindness from Julia when she asked if we knew about Hastings House. A kind and nurturing girl would not be friends with such a virago.” Bessie looked over at Cassie, who nodded emphatically in obvious agreement.
“We shall happily let it be known that she is carrying false tales. It is also rather obvious to anyone who sees the two of you together that it is a love match.” Cassie added, giving Tristan and Arabella a grin.
“Thank you ladies that would be greatly appreciated and Arabella does not deserve that girl’s spiteful tongue,” Tristan replied as the large mantel clock chimed two.
“Oh no happy to help, we old ladies have to have our fun where we can. Beside the little shrew called my granddaughter Evelyn plump in front of several gentlemen, making them all laugh at Evelyn’s expense. And she is decidedly not. Because of it Evelyn has not eaten anything other than broth in days.” Bessie stated.
“You ladies are far from old, we would love to stay and chat but I have appointments.” Tristan rose and bowed to the ladies, then turned to offer his hand to Arabella helping her rise.
“Thank you ladies, Mrs. Waterhouse you have all been amazingly helpful.” Arabella stepped forward execute a perfect curtsy, out of respect to the sisters, who nodded their thanks.
“You are most welcome. I shall walk you to the door,” Mrs. Waterhouse rose and glided across the room to the parlor door and opened it for Tristan and Arabella and escorted them into the large, white marble foyer, where the butler stood hovering by the front door.
“Clara will be sorry that she did not have a chance to speak with you. Her ankle was paining her, as she overdid it at the Physiques garden this morning, and I confined her to her room for the rest of the day. We agreed to attend Lady Peters assembly tomorrow as she is an old friend, and it would be a terrible slight if he did not attend.” Mr. Waterhouse said as the butler stepped up to the front door. “Will you be there by any chance? Clara is so fond of you all, and after what happened, it is a great relief to know that you are all there.”
“Yes, we also received an invitation and planned to attend,” Arabella replied, and Mrs. Waterhouse smiled in response.
“Oh, wonderful, I won’t keep you then.” Mrs. Waterhouse replied as the hovering butler opened the door.
The butler handed Arabella back her parasol that he’d taken when she arrived, and Tristan’s gloves as he waited for them to leave.
“Thank you again, Mrs. Waterhouse. I greatly appreciate what you did.” Tristan paused in the open door as Arabella made her goodbyes. The austere butler closed the door behind them with a decided thunk, leaving Tristan and Arabella standing on the front steps. Tristan shook his head at the butler’s actions as he extended his arm to Arabella, who took it with a nod.
“Do you think your mother and Miriam have returned yet? I am eager to see Miriam’s reaction when she sees that the furniture from the attic is gone,” Arabella said with a twisted smile. She could not wait till Miriam was gone from her life; the tall, thin woman made it impossible to like her. Every time Arabella had tried to be pleasant the woman had found some way to taunt her or ridicule her.
“I, too, am eager to be there and see her reaction. If she protests in any way, it will give away the fact that she knew the items were in the attic. If she doesn’t react blatantly, we can watch her for subtle signs that she wants the items back.” Tristan replied as he looked down the street towards their home, a block and a half away.
“Indeed, it shall be amusing to watch her in the next few days,” Arabella commented. “What did you think of what Mrs. Waterhouse said about Lucinda Belmont? Can you believe she had the gall to say you wanted her?”
“No, I cannot fathom what the woman is thinking.” Tristan shook his head, wondering what Miss Belmont hoped to gain by saying he had been engaged to her.
They had gone barely ten feet down the sidewalk when a large, burly and roughly dressed man stepped up to them. He reeked of spirits, garlic, and sweat. “You lord Sizemore,” The man drawled in a thick cockney accent.
Tristan stilled and pushed Arabella behind him as his senses warned him of potential trouble.
“I am. What do you want?” Tristan demanded, warily eyeing the man.
“Just wanted to be sure,” The man drawled, then lunged forward to slam his shoulder into Tristan’s stomach, knocking him sideways into the street. The large man had hit Tristan with the force of a charging bull, sending him staggering backwards; he stumbled over the high curb and landed hard in the street with a thud. As the breath was knocked out of him, he heard Arabella scream his name and a loud piercing whistle at the same time.
Arabella went from shocked surprise to rage in a heartbeat as the brute that knocked Tristan into the street let loose a piercing whistle, then turned towards her with a feral look.
“Come along, pretty, she said I wasn’t to hurt you.” The man reached for Arabella, and she let out a screech of rage and swung her parasol with all her might. The parasol hit him hard across the side of the head, with enough force that the parasol cracked in two and a shock wave went up arms.
Tristan blinked against the pain in his back as he tried to get up. He needed to get to Arabella; he forced down the pain and looked up to see a carriage barreling towards him. His brain barely registered the fact that the drive meant to run him down, as he heard Arabella scream his name. He rolled hard towards the middle of the street just as the horses and carriage rattled, by the carriage wheels brushing against his left arm. Tristan heard someone shout his name as he staggered to his feet. He had to save Bella.
Tristan charged forward, slamming his shoulder into his attacker’s side as he reached for Arabella. Tristan drove the brute into the stone side of the Waterhouse mansion with such force that there was a loud thunk.
The brute let out a grunt as Tristan slammed his right fist into his ribs while he used his left arm to pin the man in place. The man attempted to push Tristan off him, but was rewarded with a snarl of rage from Tristan and another hammer-like fist to the ribs. Tristan felt the man hit him in the side with a wild punch, but ignored; it all that mattered was protecting Arabella.
Arabella stood back, brandishing her snapped parasol as Tristan slammed their attacker into the side of the mansion and began pummeling him. Arabella had been terrified when the carriage had borne down on Tristan, but he’d managed to roll out of the way at the last moment. She heard Tristan’s name shouted and the sound of running feet, and looked up to see Jules and several men racing towards them down the sidewalk.
“Tristan, Tristan, stop, we have him,” Jules shouted as the three men with him surged forward to grab the brute and hold him, while Jules placed his hands on Tristan and dragged him backwards.
Arabella heard her name and Tristan’s shouted and turned to see Victor and two men in dark livery running towards them, then she turned back to see Tristan shake off Jules’ grip.
Tristan took a deep, calming breath and turned to see Arabella behind him, holding her badly damaged parasol and breathing heavily. She gave him a wan smile and a nod as if to say she was well.
“I’m all right.” She said as Victor and his men surrounded her.
“Are you all right, Tristan? I was just getting out of my carriage when my driver, Reggie, saw what was going on and alerted me,” Victor asked, looking over Tristan.
“I am, Jules, not that I’m not glad, but what are you doing here?” Tristan asked as he reached out to take Arabella’s hand. Tristan’s arm and side throbbed, but he would worry about that later all that mattered was Arabella and her safety.
“I told you I was going to have men watch you. I’m just sorry it took so long to get to you. We were in the park, and Phillips saw you were in trouble and alerted the rest of us.” Jules turned to the three men who had arrived with him and were struggling to detain the brute, who looked a little worse for Tristan’s beating.
“I, for one, am just glad you showed up when you did,” Arabella said. “I was terrified when I saw the carriage bearing down on Tristan.”
“I was a bit nervous myself,” Tristan replied as Arabella squeezed his hand. If they hadn’t been on the street, he would have embraced her fiercely, but as they were in public, he could not.
“”ere let me go, I did nothing wrong,” The brute snarled trying to pull free of the men’s grip.
“You attacked a peer and a lady; you will be spending the rest of your life in a cell or be transported.” Jules retorted as one of his men pulled a pair of wrist cuffs from his pocket and with a bit of effort managed to get them on the brute’s wrists.
“No, no, she said he was hurting the lady, and if I killed him, I would be doing the lady a favor. That I just had to push the tall, dark-haired toff into the road, and take the lady. That the carriage would run him down.” The Brute replied. “I did nothing wrong, now let me go.”
“We will discuss this later after you’ve had a few days in gaol,” Jules stated, “Take him away, Sergeant Bantling.”
“Aye, Sir, be happy to, shouldn’t be trying to kill the gentry.” The sergeant nodded to the two other men, who each grabbed one of the Brute’s arms and began to drag him away, garnering stares and gasps from the passerby’s.
“Thank you again for your intervention. Why don’t you and Victor come by the house later for supper? Come at five thirty so we can talk before dinner, all right?” Tristan proposed. “We learned something you need to know.”
“Thank you, and gladly, I have some news to share as well.” Jules replied, “Now I’d better go, I have a feeling your attacker might be willing to be more forthcoming after some time in lock up.”
Jules gave them all a nod then hurried off down the sidewalk in the way his men had gone leaving Victor alone with Tristan and Arabella.
“Thank you for the invitation, I look forward to it. I was hoping to catch you before you finished with mother; I wanted to discuss you selling more copies of your works.” Victor gave Tristan a nod. “I had two hundred copies made of the elephants and another two hundred copies of the ruins and they both have sold out, and we are putting out a second run.”
“That is amazing,” Arabella replied as she fought to compose herself.
“Oh forgive me Arabella you and Tristan have had a terrible shock and I’m prattling on about business, please take my carriage home. Its right here,” Victor turned and motioned to the large shinny black carriage behind them.
“Yes, thank you, I think Arabella could use a sit-down,” Tristan turned to Arabella and slipped his arm about her.
“No, I’m fine, really I am,” Arabella protested as Tristan and Victor escorted her down the sidewalk towards Victor’s carriage. The waiting driver opened the door of the carriage and helped Arabella in.
Arabella settled into the carriage seat as Tristan sat down beside her; Victor closed the carriage door and called out Tristan and Arabella’s address. As the carriage began to roll forward, Arabella leaned against Tristan and began to cry as what had just happened washed over her.
“Shh, I’m all right, just a bit bruised.” Tristan gave Arabella’s hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry this is happening, Bella. I never would have asked you to marry me if I knew any of this would happen.”
Arabella shook her head, “No, don’t say that. I love you, and this isn’t your fault. It’s just I broke my new parasol and you gave it to me.”
“Ah, well, let me see it,” Tristan took the broken parasol from Arabella and looked it over. The shaft was cracked almost completely through, so that only a thin strip of bamboo was still holding it together.
“I think I can repair it, if not we shall mount it on the wall in our sitting room as a memento of your bravery and your battle.” Tristan said with a gentle smile and saw Arabella smile and nod in turn. Tristan pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Arabella who took it with a nod of thanks.
Despite everything, Arabella laughed and nodded her head. “You always make me feel better, and I will never regret marrying you. Together we are stronger.”
Tristan lifted Arabella’s hand to kiss the back of it. “I love you too and I’m glad you feel that way too.
Arabella sniffed back her tears, only then noticing the scrapes covering the back of Tristan’s hands and the fact that his right jacket sleeve was torn.
“Oh dear, you are hurt, we will have to wash those,” Arabella stated as the carriage rolled to a stop before their house.
“My practical lady, I think we could both use a cup of tea or perhaps something stronger? And we can tell Marcus what happened.” Tristan suggested as he reached for the carriage door.
“Oh yes, he shall be angry he missed the excitement,” Arabella replied as Tristan stepped from the carriage.