Page 25 of Gentlemen of Honor (Bennet Gang Duology #2)

Uninvited Callers

Because anything she did seemed to further aggravate her mother, Lydia sat very still as Kitty fixed Mama tea in the private sitting room that connected Mrs. Oakwood’s bedchamber with that of the master of the house, a bedchamber empty for many years. Kitty carefully added a copious amount of sugar, and an equally large portion of cream. With a set smile, she held out the offering to where Mrs. Oakwood reclined on her fainting couch. Normally set to one side of the room, in view of Matthew’s decline and Thomas’s disappearance, they’d moved the fainting couch over beside the tea table.

“Mama,” Kitty said softly. “Your tea is ready. It is the perfect temperature. You should try a sip, and perhaps one of Cook’s tarts? Or there is toast. You know you will feel better if you eat a little.”

Not removing the compress from her eyes, Mama shook her head, her mouth clamped closed. She did not even trouble to wail, or moan, or expound on the unfairness of the world. She merely slumped back against the pillows, looking wretched and small.

Lydia watched in worry, acutely aware that Mrs. Oakwood had, indeed, lost weight. Mama was prone to exaggeration, and she enjoyed the dramatic, but this time she truly was ill, worry for her sons tormenting her.

Kitty set down the teacup. “Maybe you should get Jane,” she whispered.

Of them all, Jane was the only one able to get Mrs. Oakwood to eat anything.

“She’s gardening with Elizabeth and Mary,” Lydia whispered back.

In truth, they were plotting. Elizabeth hadn’t said about what, only that she needed to speak with Jane and Mary. Not, Lydia recalled with a sigh, with her. Only with her older sisters. She was on the outside again, not truly part of their group. She might have joined them regardless, forced them to permit her into their confidence, but Jane had asked her to help with their mother to give her time to meet with Elizabeth and Mary, who had asked Nanny Hill to sit with Matthew.

“Gardening?” Kitty’s voice rose. She cast a quick glance at their mother and lowered it again. “It is December. There is no gardening to do. Mama needs her.”

Lydia worried at her lower lip. Kitty made a fair point. “I think, maybe, she simply wanted to escape the house for a time.”

“As do we all,” Kitty hissed. “But it is important that we help Mama right now. We can leave the house later. Go fetch Jane.”

There was no point arguing, especially not with their mother listening, for all she gave no reaction to their words. “Very well. I will do my best,” Lydia said, standing. Maybe, at the least, she could learn something of her sisters’ collusions.

“Your best?” Kitty flopped back against the couch. “I suppose that is some small hope.”

Lydia bit back a retort as she crossed the room. Kitty had been in an extra foul mood since Colonel Fitzwilliam’s departure.

Lydia was halfway down the hall when a knock sounded on the front door below. She hurried her steps, wondering who would be so bold. Everyone knew Mama had declared they would have no callers while Matthew was ill. True, that stricture did not apply to Cousin Robert or Mr. Bingley, but Mr. Darcy, she knew, had gone to speak with them again. Unless he’d somehow missed passing them on the roadway, they would not be at Dovemark’s manor house door.

Below, the door opened to a vaguely familiar male voice. Lydia walked faster.

She came down the staircase to find Colonel Forster in the entrance hall with Hector and cried, “Colonel Forster. I did not realize you had returned. Have you come to help find Thomas?”

He looked up, saying, “Miss Lydia,” then shook his head. “Master Thomas? We were sent to enquire about the attack on Master Matthew, and to offer our protection against the scourge that is the Boney Bandits.”

“I told the colonel that Mrs. Oakwood is not at home,” Hector said firmly.

Not acknowledging the butler, Colonel Forster asked her, “Why would Master Thomas require locating?”

Lydia descended the final steps, her mind churning. The Boney Bandits hadn’t harmed Matthew or taken Thomas, but surely it would be helpful to have the militia both protecting them and searching for her brother? Especially as no one else seemed able to find him. “He has gone missing and we fear he’s been abducted. ”

“By the bandits?” Forster asked intently.

Lydia shook her head. “We are uncertain by whom.” She cast Hector an apologetic smile, not liking to go against him, but returned her attention to Colonel Forster to say, “Perhaps my mother would like to speak with you. Wait here and I will find out.” She whirled and started back up the staircase.

If the hope Colonel Forster offered could rouse Mrs. Oakwood to go to the drawing room and take tea, he would already have assisted them, even if he couldn’t locate Thomas.

She rushed back down the hallway and into Mrs. Oakwood’s sitting room, only realizing the fervor with which she’d barged in when her mother sat up. The compress fell from her eyes to reveal a startled, worried expression.

“Whatever is the matter?” Mrs. Oakwood demanded. “Have the bandits returned? Are we besieged?”

Lydia shook her head, remorse weighing in her gut. “I didn’t mean to startle you, Mama. Colonel Forster is here. He wants to speak with you. He wants to help find Thomas and to protect us.”

Kitty turned from glaring at Lydia to give their mother a beseeching look, “Mama? Will you go down and speak with him? I can call for fresh tea.”

Mrs. Oakwood nodded, raising a shaky hand to her brow. “Yes. Yes, I must speak with him. Lydia can call for tea. Have him put in the drawing room, Lydia. Kitty, dearest, help me make ready.”

“Yes, Mama,” Kitty said happily. She cast Lydia a quick smile.

Her remorse fleeing, Lydia grinned back. “I will tell Hector to put the colonel in the drawing room and then call for tea.” She whirled and all but skipped down the hallway.

Sooner than Lydia expected, she was seated in the drawing room with her mother, Colonel Forster, and Kitty. Her sister set to preparing the tea, and Lydia squeezed into the corner of the sofa she occupied, worried to be noticed and sent away. While Kitty handed tea first to their guest and then to their mother, Mrs. Oakwood provided a garbled recounting of how the Boney Bandits had broken in during the ball and poisoned Matthew, and then Thomas had gone missing and no one knew precisely when, or where, or even why.

When Mrs. Oakwood finished talking, Colonel Forster said, “It seems the bandits have gone from being a nuisance to a true threat.” He set down his teacup. “I feared this might happen when no one could tell me for certain who killed Mr. Collins. I say it was the bandits, and that they would have done for Mr. Bingley as well if we had not arrived in time. ”

Mrs. Oakwood gasped, swaying.

Kitty put an arm about her and cast Colonel Forster a glare. “Sir, such plain talk is not appreciated.”

He blinked once, clearly startled, then nodded. “My apologies, Mrs. Oakwood. I do not know why the Boney Bandits have gone from robbing carriages to assaulting landholders, but we will apprehend them. I mean, with your permission, to station men around this house, day and night, and will do likewise at Netherfield Park and Longbourn.”

“Oh, thank you, sir.” Mrs. Oakwood twisted tight the handkerchief she held in her hands. “We will all rest easier knowing that your men are keeping us safe.”

“Furthermore, I will mount a search for Master Thomas. No stone will go unturned.”

“Thank you.” Mrs. Oakwood dabbed her handkerchief at her eyes.

The colonel rose. “If you will excuse me, Mrs. Oakwood, I will begin immediately.”

Lydia rose to curtsy, as did Kitty.

Their mother remained seated, looking up at Colonel Forster with teary eyes. “Please find my Thomas, Colonel.”

He bowed. “I will, madam. You can—”

“You cannot see her,” Hector’s voice cried somewhere down the hallway without. “Mrs. Oakwood is indisposed. Stop this—”

“Tell me again what I can and cannot do and I will see you hang,” a cultured, feminine voice snapped.

A ball of anger knotted Lydia’s gut as Miss Hargreaves entered the room, a sheaf of papers in hand.

She halted at the sight of Colonel Forster, but then a coy smile appeared on her lips. “Why, who have we here? A military man, if I am not mistaken.”

He bowed to her. “Colonel Forster.”

Miss Hargreaves looked to them expectantly.

Rather than introduce her, Lydia said, “Colonel Forster has brought a militia unit to search for Thomas.”

Annoyance flashed across her face, vanishing in a heartbeat before she leveled another smile on the colonel. “How noble of you, sir. I do hope you are able to help poor Mrs. Oakwood. Rumor has her quite bereaved.”

“We will do our best,” he said, frowning slightly. With a quick look about the room, he issued another bow. “If you will excuse me.” He left them, walking past a worried looking Hector standing in the doorway.

Miss Hargreaves watched the colonel go, then turned to Hector. “You are dismissed as well. Mrs. Oakwood and I have important matters to discuss.” With that, she closed the drawing room door in Hector’s face.

Turning back, a false smile in place, Miss Hargreaves glided over to the sofa across from Lydia’s mother and sister. She alighted, setting down the papers she carried and smoothing her skirt, then looked up, her smile taking on a vicious edge. “I do hope whoever has taken your dear, sweet boy does not get word that a militia is about to search for him. Who knows to what extremes the blaggards might be driven to keep him from being found.”

Mrs. Oakwood’s jaw hinged open.

Clasping their mother’s hand, Kitty glared across the table. “What do you want, Miss Hargreaves? Mama is not well and should return to her chamber.”

“Such animosity.” Miss Hargreaves clutched her gloved hands to her chest. “And here I thought that you desired for us to be sisters, Miss Kitty.”

Kitty tipped her nose into the air. “That idea seems to have staled.”

Miss Hargreaves’ nostrils flared, but she shifted her attention to their mother. “Mrs. Oakwood, I must speak with you alone.”

“No,” Lydia cried.

All three women turned to her.

She shrank back, realizing her error. They’d forgotten her, but now she would be sent from the room.

But before Mrs. Oakwood could speak, Kitty turned to her, clasping her hand. “Mama, do not send us away. You should not be alone with her.”

“Your daughters do not trust you, Mrs. Oakwood,” Miss Hargreaves said with a sniff.

Kitty swiveled to glare at her. “Our mother is overwrought and she has nothing to say to you, alone or otherwise.”

Lydia sat forward again, more afraid of her mother giving in to whatever Miss Hargreaves wanted than of being sent away. “Mama, it was her brother who poisoned Matthew, not a Boney Bandit. Lord Franklin did it, and he probably has Thomas. You cannot trust her.”

“Why, that is slander,” Miss Hargreaves said primly. “I ought to insist Franklin press a suit, Miss Laura.”

Lydia quirked her eyebrows, unscathed by Miss Hargreaves’ forgotten-name insult. “As if I care if someone like you knows my name.” For good measure, she added a derisive laugh.

“You should care if someone like me knows your name, Miss Lydia,” Miss Hargreaves all but hissed. “In fact, you should pray I forget it. People such as I are dangerous.”

“Enough,” Mama cried. “My girls will remain. Say what you came to. ”

“Are you certain? It would be a shame to subject such sweet children to the harsher realities of life.”

Kitty huffed, apparently not as immune as Lydia to Miss Hargreaves’ games. “I am not a child. I am out, and you cannot be more than four years my senior.”

The look Miss Hargreaves gave her held pity. “It is so sweet that you do not comprehend the difference four years makes at your age, child.”

Kitty’s face went red.

Taking in the glee on Miss Hargreaves’ face, Lydia popped up and snatched away her pile of papers. “Is this what you want to speak to Mama about?”

“You tread dangerous ground, Miss Lydia,” Miss Hargreaves snapped.

“So your brother already attempted to show me,” Lydia cast back, her attention on the pages she held. Distractedly, while she tried to decipher the meaning of the words before her, she loosened her shawl and tapped at the bandages encircling her neck.

Mrs. Oakwood gasped. “Lydia, what is that?”

She’d forgotten she was hiding the wound from her mother. She looked up from the page. “Lord Franklin held a knife to my throat the night he broke in and poisoned Matthew. What does a-b-d-i-c-a-t-e mean?” Maybe Nanny Hill was right that she should attend to her lessons better. “And, in p-e-r-p-e-t-u-i-t-y?”

“What?” Mrs. Oakwood stood, her eyes so bright as to be nearly fevered. “A knife was held to my Lydia’s throat?” Mama leaned across the table and snatched the pages from Lydia’s hand, but she did not look at them, instead glaring down at the still seated Miss Hargreaves.

Suddenly, Lydia was reminded of where she got the height and stature that made her the tallest of her sisters, despite being only fifteen, for Mama was taller still. Even with her recent reluctance to eat, she was a formidable figure.

Mama stabbed a finger at the drawing room door. “Remove yourself from my home.”

Miss Hargreaves looked up, her expression placid, but Lydia read tension in her slender frame. “With great pleasure, madam. Simply sign those papers. Once you do, I have it on good authority that your elder son will be found, and the cure will arrive for the younger.”

“What do the papers say?” Kitty asked, looking from their mother to Miss Hargreaves and back again.

“They say, on behalf of your young brothers, that they relinquish all claim on the Earldom of Pillory.”

“I will sign nothing,” Lydia’s mother declared, indignation carving hard lines of her usually mobile features. “My Arthur warned me about you. You speak nothing but lies. Nothing I sign will help my sons.” Mrs. Oakwood strode to the fireplace. “This is what I think of you and your offer.”

“Mama, no,” Lydia cried, jumping forward to capture the pages before they could go into the flames. She clutched them to her chest.

Mrs. Oakwood blinked, staring at her in surprise. “You would have me sign them? Sign away your brothers’ futures on her word that they will be safe?”

Lydia shook her head vigorously. “No, but these are evidence.”

Miss Hargreaves stood, one hand extended to Lydia as she addressed Mrs. Oakwood. “If you will not sign them, I will have them back.”

A bark of laughter escaped Lydia at that. She pressed the pages to her chest.

Miss Hargreaves dropped her arm to her side, her mouth pinched in anger.

“What you will do, is leave,” Mrs. Oakwood said with cold finality.

Kitty shot to her feet. “Yes, get out. No one wants you here.”

As one, Lydia, her mother, and sister glared at Miss Hargreaves.

“You would invite me into your home and rob me of my possessions?” she demanded. “I will press charges. This is egregious. I will take this matter before the magistrate.”

“Robert Collins? A man soon to be Thomas and Matthew’s brother?” Mrs. Oakwood eyed Miss Hargreaves with open disdain, an expression Lydia had never before seen on her mother’s face.

Miss Hargreaves glared back, her frustration clear and her hands fisted. With her thumbs on the inside, Lydia noted. Elizabeth would not approve. She said that was how thumbs got dislocated or broken. Lydia wouldn’t mind if both happened to Miss Hargreaves.

Finally, she shrugged. “There is nothing damning in those pages. They merely abdicate your sons’ right to the earldom. They say nothing of any offers made. They are useless to you.”

“Then you will not mind us keeping them,” Kitty said primly.

Looking like a cat about to spit with rage, Miss Hargreaves executed another stiff shrug. With a parting glare, she pivoted and marched from the room.

Mrs. Oakwood sank down into the nearest chair. “Lydia, give Kitty the papers and go after her. Make certain she leaves. I do not want that creature lurking about in our home.”

Lydia didn’t want to give up the papers. She wanted to take them to Elizabeth, Jane, and Mary, but she complied. She knew why her mother asked her to go. She was much taller and more formidable than Kitty.

She trailed Miss Hargreaves to the front door, making no effort to walk softly. There, Hector held up a cloak and hat for Lord Franklin’s twin, letting them fall from his fingers the moment she touched them, as if loath for even that small connection to her. Miss Hargreaves did not trouble to put on either article, storming from the house and to her waiting carriage.

A liveried servant handed her in and closed the door, giving Lydia a good look at the Hargreaves’ crest. A winged serpent of some sort glaring across the shield at a wolf. A coiled snake decorated the dexter side of the shield as well, meaning that, sadly, it would remain no matter who Lord Franklin or his brother married. The Hargreaves name would always be tantamount to snakes. Folding her arms across her chest, Lydia watched the carriage slither away down the drive.