In which a butler is obstructive
Servants lie all the time, usually at the behest of their masters.
- from Lady Avely’s Guide to Lies and Charms
Robert tentatively requested an explanation, and the duke simply replied that they were investigating the circumstances of his long-ago duel with Lord Garvey. “I may have been misled by an Illusion,” said Dacian, and he spared Judith’s blushes by not elucidating the exact details. “Judith thinks she can reach the bottom of it, but I insist on accompanying her, and now you must too.”
Robert nodded slowly. “Very well.”
Dacian’s reticence reminded Judith of a pertinent fact: that she had not yet told Robert the nature of her own Gift. He knew, undoubtedly, that she was a Discernor, but he did not know the specifics.
Accordingly, when Robert led her back to her room that night, Judith stopped him outside the door. Marigold had flown off on some adventure, so unfortunately she wasn’t there to smooth out the following confession.
“Robert,” Judith began. “I must tell you something.”
He held the lantern aloft, turning to face her. “Yes, my lady?”
“Call me Judith, for goodness’ sake,” she said uncomfortably. “Do not forget we are family now.”
Robert said nothing to this, and she wondered if she had overstepped. He had not yet claimed the relation, even if she had decided it was the right thing to do. Well, perhaps taking him into her confidence would further that aim. After all, Elinor and Peregrine knew of her Gift, and they had been quite cross that she had kept it from her own children for so long.
“I must inform you that I am a Truth Discernor,” she said baldly. “I can tell when someone lies, by the tenor of their voice.”
Robert’s eyes widened a little. “Oh.”
“It is not an exact art, for although I know when someone is lying, it doesn’t always tell me the truth.”
“That explains quite a bit.” Robert frowned. “It’s why his grace had you question all the servants… and why he is letting you go to Stokesford.”
“I don’t know about ‘letting’,” said Judith. “But yes, it makes me useful in ferreting out secrets.”
“I see.”
“I thought you would like to know, especially if you are going to help us discover such secrets.”
“Indeed.” Robert cleared his throat. “I appreciate the intelligence.” If anything, he looked rather discomfited by it.
“And,” she added, for it seemed opportune, “are you certain you want to come to Garvey House with us? You are under no obligation to do so, you know.”
He hesitated. “It is difficult to say no to his grace. And he has offered to help me choose my profession afterwards.”
Judith repressed a huff of disapproval. “You do not need to rely upon his generosity going forward. You have a place waiting for you in Cornwall as part of the Avely family.”
He stiffened slightly. “Just because I am coming to Garvey House does not mean that I have decided to continue on to Castle Lanyon.”
Judith coughed to cover her awkwardness, for she had indeed thought that to be the case. “I can hear that to be the truth, at least.”
Her little attempt at humour fell flat, however, for Robert merely bowed his goodnight, and retreated down the hallway.
As she turned her doorknob, she thought dismally that he had withdrawn even more from her.
Curse it. She ought to have remembered that people didn’t like Truth Discernors. No one liked having their little white lies and exaggerations exposed. Sighing, she let herself into her room, hoping that she hadn’t just miscalculated.
The following morning, Judith was set to depart in the duke’s unmarked carriage. She had decried this as unnecessary but Dacian had overruled her objections, saying that it was his honour at stake and she would take the damned carriage, and he would pay for her private parlour at the Golden Bat. He had told his coachman, Patrick, to regard Lady Avely as his new mistress for the next while, and not to confess his true master.
In the cold light of day (and without the softening edges of whisky), the whole plan seemed foolish in the extreme. Judith only allowed it to persist because Dacian’s little disguise meant that Robert would accompany them. It would give her further opportunity to talk with the boy, and convince him to come to her new castle in Cornwall. Surely they would both grow closer together as they endured ‘Mr Fortnew’s’ company together.
Robert was saying goodbye to Lewis, his good friend who was also the steward at Sargenet. Lewis was scowling, as usual, his black hair scraped back to expose the enviable Sargen bone structure. He clapped Robert on the back and wished him luck, even as he looked as if he rather wished he could join the fun. But the duke needed someone to stay home and help Agatha run the estate.
A chill autumn breeze plucked at Judith’s skirts as she stepped into the carriage, handed up by Dacian. Marigold was tucked into her valise, already aboard, and Robert leapt up to cling to the rear step of the vehicle. He was insisting on maintaining the role of a footman, though Judith had invited him again to dispense with formalities. At least now he had abandoned the green and gold Sargenet livery, for it was imperative that no one in Stokesford connected her with the Duke of Sargen. Instead, Robert now wore plain black and accompanied Judith as a manservant. She was determined that this little charade would only last as long as they were in sight of Sargenet.
Dacian bowed over Judith’s hand as he helped her into the carriage. “God speed, marchioness.” He held her fingers longer than was necessary, and lowered his voice. “I’ll follow this afternoon, after I have seen to a few pesky matters. Wait for me at the Golden Bat.”
Judith nodded. Of course, she had no intention of waiting tamely for him at the inn. She could visit Garvey House that very day and make her first enquiries. No time to lose, after all. It would be quite convenient if she could wrap the matter up before his grace even arrived in Stokesford.
The coachman set the horses into motion, and she leaned back, relieved to put the ducal estate behind her. She had what she came for: Robert now travelled with her.
They drove through the dark Sargenet woods and Judith heaved a sigh as she peered out at the thick trees. She had walked through these woods so many times and each time it had taken on the character of her own mood. It had been the gentle bosom of her first courtship with her husband Nicholas, and the cold witness to her stumbling grief as she left with the knowledge of his love for Anna Thane. It had been an enchanting, private world in which the duke strolled with her, soon after, and its leaves had whispered in ecstasy on the day she had walked to Sargenet in hope of a ducal declaration among the roses all those years ago. It had been dark and indifferent as she was delivered home with her heart punctured. Then black and mocking, full of shadows, when she fled again, after Dacian lied to her on that fateful night.
Returning twenty-three years later, it had witnessed her pilgrimage to confront her husband’s illegitimate child, and seen her face the duke again after his long absence abroad. She had been glad to see him in the woods, with a secret hope lurking in her breast, her pulse quickening as he smiled at her.
Now the forest was cold and impassive, the trees rearing up on either side with bleak implacability. The woods were witness to her own foolishness, calmly judgemental. It was clear now that Dacian had only wanted a dalliance, a chance to ravish her in the rose garden. Like he had with Lady Isobel Vosse, and countless others before and after.
Outside, clouds gathered above, making the woods gloomier. She pulled her shawl close around her. It was time to put aside such fruitless rumination and unpick the mysterious circumstances of Lord Garvey’s death. Her hand drifted to the lapis lazuli pendant resting on her bodice, hoping it would grant her clarity, serving in its function as a Talisman Stone.
Reluctantly, she conjured the memory of Lord Garvey in her mind. He had been in his third decade when he died, with swarthy good looks topped by thick blond hair. He did not, of course, compare to the Duke of Sargen for masculine beauty, but there were plenty of women who were happy to receive Lord Garvey’s attentions. Lord Garvey had even flirted with Judith at the house party, she recalled, with some joking remarks and caressing looks. She had allowed it only because she’d known Dacian was watching, and she’d been so angry at him. She had reasoned to herself that Dacian wouldn’t mind, because he had Lady Vosse hanging off his arm.
She frowned. Someone had been watching their tangled web of desire. And someone had taken advantage of it. The thought was infuriating.
Dacian was quick to blame Kenneth Garvey for his brother’s death, and it was true that Kenneth had an obvious motive to eliminate the threat to his inheritance. Yet there may have been others at the house party eager to trouble Lord Charles Garvey. Perhaps they had not even intended his death, in antagonising the duke, but simply a cruel prank. However, they must have known of Dacian’s reputation for duelling…
Tapping on the front aperture, Judith communicated her change of plans to Patrick. Then she stuck her head out the window and ordered Robert to come inside. He simply shook his head. Testily, she sat back down. Young men could be so stubborn.
Within an hour, the carriage rattled up the long drive to Garvey House. Judith looked down at her navy-blue skirts, and adjusted her matching cap with its white lace ribbons, and tucked her lapis pendant away. It was time to play the concerned matron. It was a role she was well suited to, no matter what Dacian might imply. And most people only saw the outer accoutrements of character and looked no further.
She peered out the window to see the familiar shape of the Renaissance structure. Garvey House was smaller and more elegant than Sargenet, built of white limestone and curved gracefully where the bay windows and oriels jutted out. Window panes reflected the opaque grey of the clouds, and a lawn swept down in great swathes between gravel paths.
Yet despite its tasteful lines, the house had a shuttered look. The grass was long, and the gravel unraked. Huge ash trees lined the far drive, their branches a riot of yellow and orange. The leaves had been allowed to fall unchecked, and some scuttled along the road before them. The windows were closed, curtains pulled shut against the gloomy morning.
The carriage drew up, and the rumbling wheels fell silent. No servant came out to greet her, and Judith repressed her doubt and gripped her reticule tightly. She would be roundly defeated if the Garveys were not even home.
Robert opened her carriage door, and she stepped down, boots crunching on the brown leaf litter. She tutted. A cool wind crept under her shawl, tossing her lace ribbons and rustling the leaves. Resolute, she marched up to the front door and knocked, glad that Robert was standing behind her.
She had to knock loudly twice more before the door finally swung open.
A burly man stood there, with a thick thatch of brown hair, bloodshot eyes, and a pugnacious chin. He was about the same age as Judith. He frowned suspiciously, quite unlike the manner of an implacable butler. Yet he was clothed in the neat garb of an upper servant, with a dark coat and short white gloves. Judith couldn’t help but wonder if they had been hurriedly thrust on.
“Yes, my lady?” His tone, at least, was subservient enough, though Judith could hear the falseness of it.
“I have come to visit Lady Garvey,” she announced. “Or, failing that, Mrs Harriet Bollopher.” Either matron would do, though Lady Garvey was higher in rank, with Mrs Bollopher (Lord Garvey’s mother-in-law) a poorly tolerated poor relation.
“Lady Garvey is not at home.” On this man’s lips, the polite refrain seemed even more like a lie. What is more, Judith’s ears could detect a flat echo. She gave a sigh of relief. It was indeed a lie. At least one quarry was in the den.
She allowed him the platitude, however. “What of Mrs Bollopher?” she asked. “My errand concerns her too.”
A fleeting look of discomfort crossed the butler’s face, flattening his lips. “I am sorry to inform you that Mrs Bollopher passed away two years ago, my lady.”
Judith stared, for no lie coated his voice this time. “Harriet? Dead?” A sharp pang of regret spun through her, that Harriet’s dignity and patience had been snuffed out. The woman had been little more than an unpaid servant in the Garvey household, yet she had borne her lot with quiet fortitude, looking after her daughter’s child, Georgina, and helping manage the house with an eagle eye. “When did she pass?”
“A few years ago. Good day, my lady.”
The butler went to close the door in her face. Judith, recovering from her shock - at both the news and his conduct - wedged her foot in the way. “Wait a moment,” she said firmly. “What about Lord Kenneth Garvey? May I speak with him?”
“Lord Kenneth Garvey does not live here,” was the cold response. “He resides in London.”
Again, the butler spoke the truth. Judith frowned. It was strange that the new lord and master of Garvey House had not taken up residence. “Well, I must insist on speaking with someone . My visit concerns a matter of some importance. Lady Garvey might not be home for others, but she will be home for me. Tell her-” she hesitated, “-that Mrs Avely is here.” Her new title might confuse the issue, whereas Lady Garvey must surely remember Mrs Judith Avely.
The burly man returned her gaze balefully. “You misunderstand me, my lady. No one is home. Lady Garvey has gone to visit family in the north. She will not return for some time.”
Judith’s frown deepened. Now his words had rung with the tinny echo of a definite lie. She doubted Lady Garvey had any family in the north, and she certainly wasn’t visiting them. “Let me see her granddaughter then, Miss Garvey.”
“Miss Garvey accompanied Lady Garvey.”
Another lie. Judith pursed her lips, affronted, then fumbled in her bag for her card. “Very well, if you must be difficult, here is my card. I will call again tomorrow, on the chance that they have returned,” she said ironically, raising her brows. She could only hope that he would carry the message to Lady Garvey, who might change her mind.
The man took the card, his eye falling upon the name written there. “Indeed, my lady, though I don’t believe they will return for some time.”
Judith pursed her lips in disapproval. Why didn’t the man simply stick to ‘not at home’? Lady Garvey must have given very strict instructions to receive no visitors, if her servant felt compelled to weave such an insistent falsehood.
“Wait,” she said. Reluctantly, the man paused, though she could tell he was itching to be rid of her. She adjusted her cap. “Such a shame that the family is away. I was a good friend of Lord Charles Garvey.” This was not true, but the butler had no way of knowing it. “I might pay respects to his memory, by walking his maze. I know he was so proud of it.”
The butler’s expression froze, but before he could object, Judith turned on her heel and descended the steps.
“A moment, my lady,” he called after her.
“Just a little stroll,” she called sweetly over her shoulder. “In honour of the late Lord Garvey. I’m sure you understand.”
He glowered. Then, as she drew away, he shut the door with a snap.
She told Patrick to walk the horses, and nodded at Robert to accompany her. No need to take unnecessary risks. And rather than stroll, her step was quite brisk as they followed the drive around the house.
“What did you think of that man?” she asked in a low voice.
“He seemed like a groomsman elevated above his station,” Robert replied thoughtfully, remaining two steps behind her, which was most irksome. “Is Garvey House in dire financial straits, that it needs to employ such bad staff?”
Judith nibbled her lip. Perhaps Charles Garvey had died in debt. If so, it was even more important that she see how Miss Georgina Garvey fared.
“He was lying,” she remarked. “Lady Garvey is at home.”
“Useful to know,” said Robert, but reserve coloured his tone. She had the feeling that he didn’t really like her Truth Discernment. Of course, that was why she usually never told anyone! She had thought Robert might take it in his stride, with their recent adventures, but it seemed she was wrong.
The yellow ash leaves crunched under their feet, a breeze rustling the branches overhead. Judith rounded the corner, and then pulled to a halt, surprised.
The back grounds were in stark contrast to the front. The maze, off to the left, was neatly pruned and glossy. The gravel terraces were raked. Tidy lawns framed both, interspersed with well-kept beds of roses. This side of the house showed love and care, and clear signs of occupancy.
Proceeding more slowly, Judith walked forward, looking for further signs of life. The lower back windows glinted, cleaner than the front ones, and with the curtains open to allow in the afternoon air. Yet she could not see anyone.
Sticking to her story, they approached the maze, which was set at right angles and at some distance to the house. She knew from experience that the maze was shaped like a clover leaf, with the ‘centre’ in the top leaf but only reached after a torturous circumnavigation of the whole. Drawing in a determined breath, she stepped in, Robert at her heels.
The green walls loomed above them, the leaves thick and impenetrable, the way only wide enough to take one person abreast. It was as she remembered: the narrow walkways providing a shelter from the wind, and a sense of being enclosed in some private world. Red berries of autumn showed on the yew branches, like bright drops of blood. At intervals, they passed white stone statues set into the yew, the first one of Pan, and another of a woman pouring water.
Judith stepped quietly, dreading and hoping that she might somehow find her way to the Apollo alcove. The grass pathways were smooth beneath her feet, and she wondered how Lady Garvey managed to maintain the grounds so well. And why not the front of the house?
Yet, as their path wound them round the back laneways of the maze, the neat clipped hedges gave way to an overgrown wilderness. The yew grew unchecked, bushy and crowding close together, making the walkway unnavigable unless Judith pushed against the foliage. Weeds marred the path below. The back - and centre - of the maze was neglected and overgrown. Eventually, unable to push further, Judith pulled to a halt and faced Robert.
“Strange,” she remarked. “Why is only half of the maze clipped?”
Robert glanced round nervously. “I don’t know, but I don’t like it. The duke wouldn’t want you wandering around in here, Lady Avely.”
“Nonsense. And please call me Judith. We are friends, at least, are we not?”
“Er, yes.” Still he left off her name.
Irritably, Judith became aware of a thick, cloying fragrance that hung on the air. Looking round, she could not see any flowers, despite the wilderness. It was an oddly familiar scent. Had it been in the maze nine years ago?
In the sudden silence, she also heard something, rustling low on the other side of the hedge. Some wild creature? Or human footsteps?
The sound died away. Judith put her hands on her hips and turned to face Robert. “And I give you warning that I will not allow you to be my footman when we reach the Golden Bat. You must be there as my son, even if it is only as a ruse for a while.”
His eyes widened. “Er…”
Judith felt suddenly abashed. “I mean, if you would be amenable to that arrangement.”
There was a short silence as she walked past him and busied herself with leading them away from the untamed hedges. It was with relief that she saw the path clear a little and the hedges recede to a more civilised distance.
Eventually Robert spoke behind her. “I don’t think I should pose as your son. It wouldn’t be…appropriate.”
“Appropriate?” There was some note of discord in the word. Was Robert fudging some other hesitation? Still, she was glad he had finally stopped My Ladying her. “You are my husband’s child,” she pointed out, taking a brisk turn. “I cannot in good conscience have you in the role of my servant.”
She glanced back, to see Robert awkwardly shake his head. Then he said, “It is easier to play the servant. At least then I know exactly what is expected of me.”
Again she had the sense that he was not being entirely honest with her, even though his words did not sound with the concavity of a lie. “Surely Taunton inducted you into the ways of the gentry?” Robert had attended Taunton Boys’ School for several years, sent there by the duke when Anna Thane died, along with another boy, Lewis.
“A little.” There was a short silence. The quiet of the green maze seemed to invite confidences, so she did not press him. “Yet I was raised as the son of a blacksmith.”
Judith paused before another turn, examining the different avenues while being careful not to look at him. “That need not determine your destiny.”
He sighed. “Yes, but I confess that I do not want to abandon my mother’s name - and my father’s - so easily.”
She took a sharp breath in, hearing the truth in his voice. So this is what bothered him.
Anna Thane had rejected Nicholas Avely, and raised her son as Robert Steer, son of a blacksmith. Only when Anna’s husband died, and she became ill, did she write to Nicholas, begging him to take care of Robert. It was understandable that Robert held a strong loyalty to his mother, and his surname, and did not wish to claim a new mother. Especially when he had been consigned to the position of a footman due to Judith’s neglect.
Perhaps he resented Nicholas too. She could not blame him.
Judith stiffened her spine. “I quite understand, and I will not press you into any relation with me.” There was an uncomfortable silence, where she felt quite mortified. “Now, have I misjudged a turn somewhere? Surely we should have reached the outer ring by now.”
“If we are lost,” said Robert, with a cheerful tone that rung rather hollowly, “the maze is only doing its job.”
“Indeed.”
After a few more turns, she had to confess that she was completely disoriented. Each avenue looked much like the last, and even when she recognised a statue, she could not remember how to proceed from there. The thick walls seemed to press closer, and she began to feel concerned that they would be turning about for hours. The way was made even more difficult by coming across untamed corners which balked their passage.
Then she rounded a corner, and pulled up short again. “I recognise this.”
It was the Apollo alcove.
The statue of the god was set back in a curved recess in a hedge. He held his arm aloft, holding a bow, with robes draped seductively across a muscular body. A broken quiver of arrows angled awkwardly at his side, and Judith was glad to see that the suggestive silhouette had been reduced. As was tradition, his face was beautiful and aloof. Examining it, she couldn’t help but compare the god’s serene visage to Dacian’s beauty, and find it lacking. Dacian, after all, had more vitality and intelligence, as well as such firmly sensuous lips.
She shook her head slightly. This was no time to be mooning over a statue. Here was the scene of the crime, where the Illusion had been cast. She turned, observing that the alcove was pruned, and not let to grow wild like the further reaches.
Looking round, she saw only the opaque walls of yew hedges. Where had the Illusor hidden to cast their pantomime? The banks were sufficient to hide behind, but an Illusor would need to have line of sight to cast the Illusion.
Perhaps nine years ago, the maze had not fully grown, and there had been gaps between the leaves. Now, however, Judith could not see how someone could throw the Illusion without being seen themselves.
Unless they were also in the clearing, in plain sight.
She narrowed her eyes, examining the statue. Could someone have hidden behind it? That would take a certain boldness. Another possibility occurred to her. Who had been with Lord Garvey that night? There must have been someone under the Illusion of Judith.
Could it have been Lady Vosse, after all? Might she have thrown an Illusion up over her own indiscretions, to keep her reputation intact? Had she the gall to cast Judith’s visage over her face, to hide her own tryst with Lord Garvey?
With an angry swish of her navy blue skirts, Judith swept past Apollo. “I think I know the way from here.”
With some difficulty, Judith managed to at last lead Robert out of the maze, finding an overgrown exit on the other side. The narrow walkway opened onto a wide avenue of poplars, and the sudden sense of space provided a welcome relief. The slender trees shivered and glittered in the breeze, their leaves turning gold. It was a lovely promenade, but the path, Judith saw, was overgrown again, and the stone border in disarray. From this side of the property, it once more looked neglected and abandoned.
She and Robert slunk around the outer rim of the maze, making their way back to the house. As they rounded the last curve, they saw the gleaming edifice of a glasshouse, set on the southern angle of the house. It was a pretty structure with arching roofs, but Judith kept close to the hedge and examined the house as it came into view. As she hoped, she finally caught sight of movement in one of the windows. She froze, putting out a hand to stay Robert.
A face peered from the second story oriel. It was pale under long dark hair, and it turned as if searching the grounds. Feminine features pressed close to the glass, with a red ribbon tied above the ear. Judith shrank further into the shadow of the maze.
Just then, however, the watcher saw her. In a flash, the girl withdrew, vanishing behind a curtain.
Even at this distance, Judith could recognise the startle of fear.
That most certainly had been Georgina Garvey, in her grandmother’s drawing room. Judith well knew that the second story oriels were situated in the drawing room, with a fine view of the grounds and glasshouse.
The butler was confirmed as a liar. Yet why was Georgina hiding? And why was she afraid?
Judith stepped out into the open, marching back round the house and to the carriage with her head held high. Robert, curse the boy, helped her up into the carriage and then insisted on hanging off the back step again. It seemed as if he was determined to keep his distance. She felt a pang of hurt, even as she knew it was unwarranted. Of course the boy would not rush to claim a new family when it had treated him so badly. She would simply have to endeavour to make it up to him somehow.
The carriage rolled back through the grand driveway of ash trees, and onto the country laneways. Peering out, Judith was struck by a sudden memory: walking those same laneways long ago, escorted by Lord Garvey himself…