Affair of Pretense

Thirty-seven

The journey to Lord Dumbolton's home in West Berkshire took a little over three days to accomplish. Although the Marquis had not so far endured some misadventures as being caught in a snowstorm in the dead of the night (it had stopped snowing since he left Stanfield, much to his relief), or almost perilously brushing with a stage on a slippery lane the undertaking was not without some inconveniences. He had made a stopover in his London townhouse to rest his horses and himself and naturally startled Connor out of his wits by turning up shortly before midnight. Since this individual could scarcely have had any clue as to his master's homecoming, let alone had never been forewarned of what was afoot, his shock was palpable. "My lord! Why—? How—? But France!"

"As you see, not anymore!" returned his lordship brusquely. His butler, who was rarely devoid of aplomb, now stammered his protestations as to the state of his lordship's abode and had a note been sent to inform him of his lordship's impending arrival he would have had everything readied upon his lordship's return. It was an oversight that Denver now realized; he had been too absorbed and too hasty into this journey that he had completely forgotten to send a word to his servants in town. He cut impatiently into his butler's speech, telling him that there was no occasion to be thrown into such a pucker. "Now oblige me, Connor, to get the devil out of this unnecessary fretting and make yourself useful. Have the fire in my room ready! You need not bother with the Holland covers: I'm leaving at the first light tomorrow."

"Yes, my lord! At once, my lord!" Connor scurried away to carry out these orders with alacrity, the more pressing issue of settling his lordship comfortably and getting him out of a dangerous temper weighed heavily in his mind than a dozen unanswered questions surrounding this unexpected return.

At ten o'clock the next day, after having a substantial breakfast the Marquis was ready to depart again with a small alteration in his plans. The groom who had accompanied him to London was to be sent back to Stanfield and Jamie was summoned to fill in his stead.

To keep many indoor servants in an empty townhouse was a questionable economy, so before leaving indefinitely for France the Marquis had instructed his butler to reduce the staff to a minimum, as he saw no reason for the lot of them to loiter around the house with no one to serve. A mood of dejection had briefly taken over the household; it was an open secret that the grandfather and grandson had bad blood between them, but for things to have come to a head to have warranted an exile left his staff in a state of extreme disbelief and distress. Lord Denver might have been exacting in some ways, but he had been a conscientious employer to all of them. When they had time to convene in the servant's hall afterward, some had openly condemned the Duke of his callousness and cold heart and lost no time to bitterly lay the blame of losing unemployment upon his grace's door. "For say what they will, Mr Connor, but his lor'ship ain't one to bend into that ogre's will!" one of the footmen had said. "Unless of course, his lor'ship murdered someone, and I ain't believing in that either!"

Since nobody could have even ventured a clear notion as to the motives behind the Marquis' banishment across the Channel, Mr Connor rejoined acidly that no such hideous event as murder had ever taken place, that he might do well to entertain ideas of less incredulous nature, and refrain from using such language to describe his grace if he did not want to be turned out without a reference.

The reduction of staff had been duly accomplished and only the housekeeper, Connor, and one footman were to remain in the Marquis' household. As for his lordship's horses and stable staff, they had been sent to Braxton Hall for the time being, with the exception, as his lordship's wished, of his tiger, Jamie. Short of bringing him across the Channel, Denver had decided that he too should remain in his townhouse. Their association might have been relatively short, but his lordship could not help becoming fond of the lad, and to condemn him to a life of drudgery deep in the countryside when London was brimming with entertainments for his unworldly mind would be too shabby of him to do. Jamie had stayed and employed his time by dutifully performing various errands for his seniors; if no work had to be done, he was allowed to go out and indulge himself in some harmless amusements.