Page 21 of Dangerous Illusions (Dangerous #1)
Gideon was silent long enough to see the twinkle fade. Then he said quietly, “I am informed that there has been some sort of a ruckus, Ned. I won’t tolerate that.”
Shalton straightened to a parade ground posture. “No, sir.”
Amused, Gideon said, “Enough, damn you. I’m not going to eat you, as you know very well. What was it all about?”
Relaxing, Shalton ran a hand through his grizzled curls, shook his head, and said, “It’s that horse-faced fopdoodle Kibworth, Major.
Man talks like he’s got a mouthful of buckshot, and if he don’t drown in the first squall from holding his nose so high in the air, I’ll eat my hat, and that’s a fact.
Can’t be in the same room with him for ten seconds without wanting to draw his cork, much as I try to mind my temper, and when he said he don’t know what incompetent fool’s been looking after your traps, ’n all, well, it was more than mind and heart could stomach, and that’s the truth of it.
I tipped him a wisty castor, I did. Aye, and I’m glad of it, too,” he added belligerently.
No longer amused, Gideon let the silence lengthen again until Shalton looked defensive, then said, “I won’t have this sort of thing, Ned.
It annoys my father and unsettles everyone else in the house, so in future you will keep your temper.
Kibworth has his uses, you know. He wields a mean iron and knows just what he’s about when it comes to seeing my shirts and other linens properly laundered and starched.
“You, on the other hand,” he added when he saw Shalton’s face tighten with indignation, “have an unmatched talent for putting a gloss on a pair of boots and for looking after my leathers and other traps. The two of you can sort things out if at least one of you will exert a modicum of tact. Is that clear?” His voice hardened on the last words, and the look he bent upon his henchman was implacable.
Shalton had heard the tone and seen the look before. “Aye, sir, it be as clear as daylight.”
“Good. Now, find that rascal Kibworth and send him to me.”
Looking instantly more cheerful, Shalton went to do as he was bid, and it was not long before the valet appeared.
“You rang, sir?”
An entirely different sort of man from Shalton, Kibworth was precise to a pin and carried himself with a good deal more dignity than even Jervaulx did.
His face was long and narrow, his lips thin and unyielding, and he did seem to look down his nose at the world.
Gideon felt a stirring of sympathy for Shalton.
Again he let the silence lengthen, but it seemed to have no effect upon the valet.
He merely waited patiently until it should be his master’s decision to speak.
At last Gideon said, “I won’t have discord between my servants, Kibworth. Is that clear?”
“Certainly, my lord.”
“Excellent. No, no, don’t go. I have more to say to you. You are new to my service, and there are a few things you ought to know in order to serve me well. First of all, Mr. Shalton has been with me for some years and knows my ways better than anyone else can ever know them.”
“Shalton is no doubt an excellent man, in his way, to serve a military officer, my lord, but surely now that you are come home and will be meaning to go about in society—”
“Mr. Shalton is still an excellent man, Kibworth, and if there is any more of the sort of uproar there was today, he will be the only man. I trust I make my meaning clear.” He could see that the valet was struggling with his feelings, but training stood the test, helped by the knowledge that he would be unlikely to find another position of such enviable stature in his world.
“I will see that you are not disturbed by such discord again, my lord. Will your lordship be riding again today, or shall I order your lordship’s bath and lay out fresh raiment?”
Satisfied, Gideon said, “I intend to meet with Mr. Barton for an hour or so, but then I shall want to change. You may go.”
Hoping he had scotched the rivalry between the two men and forced them into a semblance at least of unity, he went to find his father’s steward.
Barton, a bald little man with a habit of rubbing his hands together when he was pleased, was uncommonly delighted to see him.
“Excellent, my lord,” he said when Gideon had stated his purpose in seeking him out.
“I hope this means you intend to take some of the burden from his lordship’s shoulders.
He goes a mean pace, sir, and he ought to be taking matters more at his ease these days. ”
“Well, he isn’t handing over the reins, Barton, but he did say that I should look to you for schooling.”
“Then you intend to remain here for a time, sir. I had thought you would be leaving soon, what with all the house parties and other activities of the autumn to look forward to. ’Tis what young Master Jack would have been doing, I can tell you, God rest his soul. I see you’ve put off your mourning.”
Gideon recalled that his father had been wearing a black coat and pantaloons, but Jervaulx nearly always wore black, and he had not thought much about it.
Jack had been dead for less than four months, so he supposed he ought to be wearing a black waistcoat at least. He had not known him well and had not liked him at all, and what with all the deaths at Waterloo and the tacit understanding that the entire nation would not smother itself in black after such a great victory, despite the enormous losses, he had somehow neglected this admittedly important mark of family duty.
Odd, he thought now, that Jervaulx had said nothing to him about it.
To Barton, he said only, “I mourn for my comrades in the field as well as for my brother, Mr. Barton, but I believe in getting on with life rather than pondering our mortality. Tell me, sir, where will I find any old letters that might lie amongst the family papers? I am particularly curious to learn more about the feud between the Deverills and the Tarrant family of Tuscombe Park. Perhaps you know what began it all.”
Barton shook his head. “Before my time, that was, my lord. All I know about it is that when your father and St. Merryn had a dispute some years ago about a piece of land, St. Merryn was very mifty. Nothing much came of it, as I recall, but it seemed to me that Lord Jervaulx was displeased even to have had it brought to his attention, and I soon realized that the less he had to deal with the earl, the better. As to old letters, things of that nature would be in the muniments room. I don’t know what all you might find there, but the whole lot could stand a sorting. ”
Gideon nodded, agreed to setting a time to allow Barton to begin his instruction, and went to have a look at the muniments room in the northwest tower.
He could not remember setting foot in it before, and he soon formed the opinion that no one else had done so for some time other than to add another record book or pile of papers to the litter in the room.
His was an orderly mind, and the sight of books piled on shelves lining the walls, scrolled documents, stacks of papers, and general clutter everywhere else both irritated and dismayed him.
A writing table near the window overlooked the peaceful home wood, however, so gathering a pile of what appeared to be miscellaneous records, he soon made himself comfortable and began to sort through them.
An hour later, he gave it up for the day. There were records of every sort imaginable in the pile, but it was just as Barton had warned him. They would require careful sorting and examination before he would be able to make any sense of them.
Remembering that Daintry Tarrant liked to ride, he sent orders to the stables to have Shadow saddled for him first thing in the morning, then went to have his bath and change for dinner.