Page 68 of A Devilish Element
That she was duplicitous herself did not seem to cross her mind. It made Eliza wonder if anyone in this castle was entirely honest. And what of the argument she had witnessed between George and Linfield? How was that connected? She felt certain it had to be.
They reached their destination, and Eliza went to stoke the fire, while Jane settled at her table, the cushion with her lace pinned to it before her. A horrific thought struck Eliza as she stabbed the coals. What if Linfield had in fact already been wed before he recited vows to Jane? What if he was in fact wed to Henrietta, and it was Jane who was the interloper? That might explain a good deal about why the “spirits” were haunting her and proving shy of anyone else. No one besides that one maid who’d left her employment had witnessed the visitations.
But no, it could not be. She’d overheard George as he’d begun to recite the names on that certificate. He’d said Jane, hadn’t he? But then why had Linfield flown into such a terrible rage?
Ought she to voice her concerns to Jane? Oh, but she couldn’t, not without certainty. It would destroy her friend utterly. No, she would have to find the certificate George had claimed and view it for herself.
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Jem
As Jem digested the scene before him, he heartily wished that he’d remained below stairs in Bell’s surgery, Eliza in his arms and his experiment bubbling away in the background, for it took only moments of listening to Linfield and George shouting into one another’s faces to establish the facts of what had occurred.
He had wondered over Mrs Cluett’s inclusion in their numbers. The answer now was delivered without preamble. The lady was present as she had no other place to go, George having thrown the deeds of her abode into the pot as his stakes for that disastrous carriage race. George, naturally, had a scheme in play to rectify his loss. Meanwhile, his mother had plans of her own to restore their property, and Jem couldn’t even be sorry about her attempt. If it had worked, then it would have absolved him of the martyrdom currently in his future. As it was, the billiards room and much of the entry hall stood wrecked, pictures and vases smashed, and billiard balls scattered about the place as though lawn bowls were being played.
“You had no right, George. Nor have you any to interfere now. I earned that property on my back, and if it pleases me to restore it to my ownership in the same manner, then it is no business of yours.”
Henrietta in her fury was certainly a sight to behold, puffed up and red in the face. If he was not mistaken, her accent had taken on different inflections too, betraying perhaps the area of her birth. It was neither local nor London born.
George was not heeding his mother’s calls; despite the fact she was simultaneously hanging onto his arm while batting him with her reticule. No, his focus was all on his former bosom companion, who had yet to exhaust the supply of billiard balls and was still pitching them at George’s head, displaying considerable skill in the process. Evidently, he’d have made a fine cricketer if his passion had not been subsumed by carriage racing.
“What manner of scoundrel preys on a fellow’s mother?”
Linfield, his floss-like hair springing out from his head in hereto unprecedented fluffiness, was reared in spiteful glory, his shoulders back, chest out, and a hopelessly malevolent sneer on his aristocrat lips. “What manner of fool gambles his mater’s bed out from under her? I, in my benevolence as your friend, was assisting in righting your wrongs, providing the lady with an opportunity to rectify your mistakes.”
“You are the one responsible for her situation. You need not have called in the debt.”
“George, if I choose to work—”
“Mother!” He shook her off and made a futile attempt to waft her from the room, succeeding only in propelling her as far as a chair. This she perched on like a turtle dove, all plump elegance and not an ounce of remorse about her. George turned from her and made a spring for Linfield’s throat. Clearly, not having expected things to progress quite so rapidly, he succeeded in knocking Linfield off his lordly feet with a blow to the chin that sent him careening backwards into an ancient and rather rusted suit of armour. Both mail and master crashed noisily to the floor, while George swung his foot back to deliver a boot to Linfield’s arse, only to be stopped by his mother’s shriek.
Henrietta had lost all her studied congeniality and harkened at him like a fish wife—or at least fisherman’s daughter. “For goodness sakes, George, pull yourself together. Are you trying to have us banished from polite society forever, not to mention turned out into this godforsaken wilderness that surrounds us? We have no place to go, and no money, thanks to your efforts. You should be licking his arse, not trying to ram your foot up it. I kept you out of my business when you were small, but I do sometimes wonder if that was the right course. You’d have a better head on your shoulders if you’d been an apprentice of ill fortune as I was, rather than that of the pampered toff you aspire to be. I should never had sent you to that ridiculous establishment. What did they teach you save ciphering and sums you could have picked up at Sunday school? And all for an exorbitant fee. It has left you with neither brains nor brawn to speak of, nor the wherewithal to even woo yourself one of the scores of widows with more money than teeth to keep us flush. You are truly hopeless. A failure. At least if I’d kept you with me, you’d know when being prepared to get on your knees and open your mouth was to your net advantage, instead of being the overstuffed buffoon that you are. All this mither and mayhem you’ve created, and for what? For one measly suck that would have saved our fortunes.”
At this point, she sniffed, and turned imperiously to Lord Linfield, whom Bell had had the presence to assist to his feet. He was sporting a rather long gash to his cheek, at which he was dabbing gently with a fresh handkerchief, also supplied by Bell.
“My lord, I hope you will excuse my dimwit of a son. The offer remains, perhaps we could retire elsewhere and—”
“Mother, I am not about to let you—”
“Let me, George?” Oh, she was terrifying in her ire. Terrifying and magnificent. On her feet again and spitting like a swan. “There is no letting me about it, George Hector Cluett. You are not my master. If it pleases me to suck the knob of every goldfinch you know to better our lot, then I will do it. I’ll spread my legs too, if it pleases, but as it happens, a suck would have done. The deeds, George, the ones you lost. They’d have been mine if not for your interfering and Jane and her ghastly howling. And all for the price of one paltry spending. I gave you one simple task. One. To ensure the maid stayed at her making, but you could not even handle that. I did not realise it was so damnably difficult to turn a key in a lock.”
She sank again, into a disconsolate rage and scowled into her handkerchief. Jem could not precisely ascertain if she was truly overwrought or simply making a good display of it. Linfield remained unmoved by the display. His lips pinched into a sour glout, which served to make his thin nose more pointed and his voice emerge reedy. “I will not retire elsewhere with you, madam. In fact, I think it best if you and your son leave this house.”
Henrietta wailed. “Fool. See what you’ve done.”
George pulled his shoulders back. “Whatyouhave done, mother. It was not necessary to debase yourself. I have things in hand. We will not be leaving.” He turned his attention back to Linfield. “My lord forgets something.”
“You will leave,” Linfield insisted.
“Truly? That is your final edict on the matter?” George speculatively cocked a brow.
Interestingly, Linfield quailed. “You wouldn’t.”
George responded with a sly “Hm”, whereupon he licked his lips.
Linfield pitched another ball at his head. It arched wide, struck the wainscotting and dropped to the ground with a thud.
“Should we retire to your study to negotiate, Eustace, or would you prefer all these souls be privy to the matter?”
