Page 19 of A Gentleman in Possession of Secrets (The Lord Julian Mysteries #10)
“I hope my manners are a credit to my upbringing. I am a keen supporter of the love match, provided the sentiments are equal all around. The specifics of your past have not been made known to me, nor are they relevant to the purpose for my call.”
She smiled, a breathtaking beam of warmth in the shadowed room.
“Oh, how you talk, my lord. I was told you were the quiet brother, but I would hazard ‘quiet’ hides an abundance of independence in your case, and no small store of contrariness. Andrew would have liked you. Help yourself to the food. I can fill my own plate.”
She proceeded to do so, taking healthy portions of sliced ham, mashed potatoes, buttered peas, and braised carrots. I did likewise and supplemented my feast with two thick slices of buttered bread. Our beverage was cool, hard cider.
I held the lady’s chair, we bowed our heads in silence for a moment, then she whisked her table napkin onto her lap.
“What brings you here, my lord?”
She would have no patience with dithering or roundaboutation.
“Hannah Stadler has gone missing, and her friend Captain MacNamara fears for her safety. The family is being evasive and went so far as to suggest Miss Stadler might once again be biding with you. I am here to find out if that’s the case, or if you know anything regarding the lady’s disappearance. ”
Mrs. Witherspoon put her knife and fork down, her ham untasted.
“That mother of hers… The viscountess has threatened Hannah with banishment to Scotland, my lord, and nothing would suit the viscountess better than to commend Hannah and Lady Dewar both to some bleak croft in the Western Isles. If Hannah has become least in sight, ask the viscountess what she knows.”
“I tried. She’s keeping mum.”
“The viscount?”
“Haven’t had the recent pleasure.” I would have crossed paths with Lord Standish occasionally in my youth and during my Oxford years, but other than recalling him as a jovial bustler, he’d made no impression on me.
“Surely you’ve interrogated the Honorable Strother?
” She imbued his name with distaste. “Hannah despairs of him, and she is a tolerant woman as a rule. Strother was spoiled rotten by his older sisters and his parents. He can do the pretty when anybody’s watching, and he’d say he’s fond of Hannah.
What he means is, she lends him money without dunning him for repayment.
Hannah keeps him afloat knowing he’ll never make good on the loans.
Eat something. Surely my assessment of Strother’s character isn’t any sort of revelation? ”
I sliced off a bite of tender ham. “It is, in fact. Everybody else speaks well of him. Not glowingly, but well.”
“Because the folk around Pleasant View are fairly isolated, my lord. No smattering of baronets married to bankers’ daughters to ensure the intelligence flows from Town to Country.
Not all of my friends dropped me when I accepted Andrew’s proposal, and more than a few have tried to pick me back up now that it’s plain he wasn’t an impoverished farmer after all. ”
The ham was delicious. Not too salty, delicately redolent of clove. “You imply that Strother’s reputation in Town differs from his reputation in the shire?”
“One expects that to happen with young men, to some degree. I had three Seasons, my lord, and the occasional offer. The fortune hunters were easy to spot because they always left Town abruptly well before the Season was over. The excuse was ever the same: Must help Papa see to his acres. Plowing, planting, haying, always so much to do! Most of them went to Paris to avoid creditors until their next quarterly allowance came through. The truly desperate went to Rome on remittance. Pass the pickles, please. They are a guilty pleasure this time of year.”
I passed the pickles. “Strother is a fortune hunter?”
“He certainly should be, and nobody would blame him for that. One tries to marry well, or that’s the received wisdom, meaning one ought to marry money, money, always money.
My family washed their hands of me when I chose Andrew.
Tossed me into his arms without a penny.
He wasn’t a scoundrel, but he wasn’t good ton .
A glorified farm boy, according to my father.
Andrew was shrewd. Kept most of his wealth out of sight, and didn’t put on airs. ”
She considered a pickle and then chewed it into oblivion.
“I am a farm boy’s widow in possession of ten thousand, highly lucrative, gorgeous acres.
My family now makes it a point to look in on me for most of each winter.
They can’t afford to heat their houses, poor things, so they ‘take pity on me’ and impose themselves on me from November to March. ”
I felt sorry for her, having to pour out the tale of this Pyrrhic victory to a stranger. What response would Hyperia advise? Not pity, never that.
“Your family is fortunate that your kind heart prevails over your right to some vengeance. This is excellent ham.”
“Cook knows her job. I will pass on the compliment.” She selected another pickle.
“Hannah said the same thing: I’m twisting the knife by being generous to my family.
She’s wrong. The thought of them shivering away in their fancy parlors gives me no joy.
That won’t bring Andrew back, and neither would Andrew approve of pettiness.
He had no time for Strother Stadler, though. ”
“You’ve met Strother?”
“Any number of times. He was responsible for escorting Hannah to and from school, and he attended Andrew’s funeral service with Hannah.
” She patted those full lips daintily with her table napkin.
“Strother called on me three months later and propositioned me. One doesn’t forget disrespect of that magnitude.
I had the footmen see him to the door, but, my lord, I wanted to wallop the blighter. Hard.”
“You never told Hannah?”
“Didn’t dare. She would have taken him to task, and that might have earned her a tour of the Highlands. You’d better have some more pickles now, because I intend to finish whatever you leave me.”
I took two more pickles and surrendered the plate.