Eugenie didn't dare open her eyes until she heard a woman's voice. She had been carried into the hallway and deposited, none too gently, on a wooden settle, so uncomfortable that she suspected the butler, or whoever had been summoned to carry her, of trying to jolt her back into consciousness. Then there was a woman waving a bottle of some evil-smelling stuff under her nose, and calling for burnt feathers. She decided to regain her senses before they arrived, and opened her eyes.
'There, my dearie, you'll be feeling better in no time.'
'Tricking her way in, Mistress Potter.'
This was the butler, and Eugenie could see him hovering behind the woman who was holding the smelling bottle. She dared not be left with him, for she was sure he would throw her out as soon as she looked capable of walking.
'I'm Eugenie Daubney,' she said quickly. 'Oh please, tell my uncle I'm here.'
'Well I never! Yes, you do have a look of Master Eugene's pretty wife,' the woman said, 'but they went to Switzerland, and we've never heard a word from them since that French monster started the war again.'
'My parents both died,' Eugenie said. 'I've managed to reach England, and I need to see my uncle.'
'What's all this noise, Compton?'
It was a new voice, languid and clearly used to command. Even the butler stood up straighter.
'This – ' he paused, clearly unsure about her status, 'young person claims to be your cousin, Master George.'
'The only cousin I know of is in Switzerland. Let me see her.'
'She do look like your Aunt Augusta,' Mistress Potter ventured. 'You won't remember her, you were at Eton the last time they came here.'
Eugenie felt at a disadvantage lying awkwardly on the settle and tried to sit up, and Mrs Potter, clucking anxiously, helped her. She regarded this cousin. He was a very elegant young man, dressed in pale lemon pantaloons, highly polished hessians, a close-fitting blue coat and a grey waistcoat embroidered with silver thread. His cravat was, she could see, a most intricately tied affair, and his fair hair was brushed into an elaborately negligent style. He carried in one hand a quizzing glass through which he was regarding her, and a snuff box and handkerchief in the other. Several fobs dangled from his clothes. He wore a pained expression on a face that was too plump for handsomeness. She felt a pang as she recalled Hugues' lean good looks.
At last he turned to the butler. 'I suppose we will have to investigate. We can hardly turn her out unheard. Take her to the small morning room. Can you walk?' he asked abruptly, swinging round to face Eugenie again.
'Yes,' she said curtly. She was not about to treat this arrogant fellow with more than the minimum courtesy. She stood up and took a step towards him. He looked down his nose at her and turned away. Mrs Potter sniffed and came to offer Eugenie her own arm.
'He might have offered to help you,' she muttered. 'But that's Master George all over. Come, Miss Eugenie, this way.'
The butler had vanished, clearly washing his hands of the business. They went along a narrow passageway leading from the back of the hall, which Eugenie suspected led to rooms not much used, and when she was taken into a room stuffy from the heat and with windows that seemed to be rarely opened, she was certain her cousin had intended some subtle insult.
There was a small round table, half a dozen chairs, a side table and little else in the room. Eugenie, saying thank you to Mistress Potter, sat down on one of the chairs without waiting for her surly cousin to invite her. George took up a position in front of one window, so that she could not see his expression.
'That will be all, Mistress Potter.'
She bobbed a curtsey, but said in a firm voice, 'I'll let his Grace know his niece is here,' before she left the room.
'So you claim to be my Uncle Eugene's daughter?' George said, in a tone clearly expressing disbelief.
Eugenie's temper had been simmering at his rude manners. Now it boiled over. 'Not just claim,' she snapped. 'I am your cousin, my father was your father's younger brother Eugene. And if he had been here to witness your arrogant disdain towards me, he would no doubt have told you what he thought. And had you been ten years younger he'd have thrashed you until you begged for mercy!'
She heard a chuckle behind her and swung round to see an older man, dressed in breeches and riding boots, an old coat and, instead of a cravat, a coloured neckerchief round his neck. If she had encountered him on the road she'd have taken him for a farmer, but a glance at George, who was swallowing nervously, gave her a clue as to the newcomer's identity.
'It's a pity you ever grew too big for a beating, George,' he said. He turned towards Eugenie. 'So you are my brother's child, they tell me?'
Eugenie was on her feet, blushing furiously. 'Your Grace! I had to come to you. You are my only relative now. My parents are dead.'
'Yes, they told me you said so. But we can't talk here. Come along to my study, and tell me all about it.'
He held out his arm and led her from the room. She struggled to keep back her tears at his kindness, and he patted her arm but did not speak until he led her into a comfortably furnished room lined with well-filled bookshelves and sat her down in a soft armchair. There was a tray with glasses and a decanter on a table beside another chair, which he sat in, and he poured her a glass.
'Here, have some Madeira. You look cold as well as wet.'
'Thank you.' Eugenie took the glass and sipped slowly. It certainly warmed her.
'Now,' he said, 'we can be comfortable.'
*
'Tell me. Your mother was unwell when you all went to Switzerland. When did she die?'
'A year ago, and Papa six months later.'
'How did you manage to reach England?'
Eugenie told him, leaving nothing out. He listened without comment until she came to the end of her story, then he nodded slowly.
'So no money reached your father from England?'
'Not after the war started again.'
'Then I think, when you have had an opportunity to rest for a few days, we will go to Beechcotes and question your father's bailiff. He always assured me, when I asked, that he was sending money regularly through the offices of a banker he knew in the City.'
Eugenie stared. 'None reached us! Oh, and Papa had to work so hard to earn sufficient to keep us! Has he been defrauding us?'
'That we shall discover. But this man Hugues who helped you? What do you know of him?'
'Very little. He gave me no other name. But he spoke both French and English fluently, and he gave me English guineas for my journey, besides knowing fishermen in Zeeland who would bring me to England. I think they had done this journey before. And there was the other man who came too, and never spoke.'
'Never? Who was he? What did he do when you landed?'
'He just walked away, going inland, I think, not along the coast, without even a word of thanks to the fishermen. I have no notion who he was, and not even whether he was English, but he was already waiting for the boat when Hugues put me on it.'
The Duke sighed. 'I regret not being on better terms with your father of late years, child. He scorned asking me for help, even for his poor wife. He was always too independent. But enough of that. I am pleased you have come to me, and we will help you. Ignore my ungracious son. George thinks too much of himself. My wife will make you welcome.'
'Your wife?' Eugenie had understood her aunt had died soon after George was born.
'My second wife, Arabella. I married her soon after you went to Switzerland. And you have four more cousins to meet. All girls,' he added with a sigh. 'If George were to die, though as he scorns joining the army that is only likely to happen in the hunting field, or a duel with a cuckolded husband, and since Eugene is dead and had no sons, my title will go to a distant cousin.'
Eugenie did not know how to respond to this. She remained silent and her uncle shook his head.
'I don't wish him to die, you must understand. I'm not old, and I'm healthy. There is time to fashion George into a suitable Duke, so I don't despair. And I may still have more sons, Arabella is young and fertile. Besides, why should it worry me after I am dead?'
How was she to answer this? She had been told by her father that all men want to be succeeded by an heir who would carry on the family traditions.
'Er, no, sir.'
He stood up. 'Come with me and meet your aunt, and her brats if they are with her as they often are at this hour. Your gown, and I assume it is your only one, is deplorable, and she will enjoy fitting you out respectably. You are about the same size, and she has far too many gowns, and besides, she keeps a sewing woman here, but for the life of me I can't see how the woman can possibly be employed for more than a couple of hours a day.'
He took Eugenie's arm and led her from the room. She had leisure to glance about her now, for when first inside the house she had noticed little. The hall was spacious, with gilded columns and several mirrors on the walls so that the reflections gave it a luxurious appearance. Where there were no mirrors there were portraits. A shallow staircase led off to one side and the Duke guided her to this. More portraits lined the walls. She suspected many of these were her own ancestors. Perhaps one day she might have an opportunity of examining them. At the top a gallery led round all four sides of an upper floor, with windows overlooking the terrace at the front of the house and wide corridors leading off to both sides, a narrower one at the back. She was given little time to admire, for her uncle led her along one corridor to a large room at the end, which he explained was his wife's boudoir.
'She'll be here this morning, and yes,' he added as she opened the door, 'the brats are with her.'
Someone was playing a pianoforte, and several childish voices were singing a nursery rhyme. They were not in tune, or even together, and the musician was laughing as she played. Eugenie saw a woman with dark hair, wearing a most fetching cap that barely hid any of it, and a gown of blue silk. Two little girls of about six and seven years of age were holding hands and skipping, being followed by a smaller child clinging to their skirts, and trying to avoid a baby crawling determinedly towards the pianoforte. All four had dark curly hair and blue eyes. A woman wearing a nurse's uniform was sitting by one of the windows.
'My second family,' the Duke said. 'Arabella, my dear, here is my niece,' he managed before the children saw him, broke off their skipping, and ran towards him with squeals of excitement.
*
'Your niece? From Switzerland?' Arabella asked, and leapt to her feet to come and take Eugenie's hands in hers. 'My dear, we have wondered so often how you were! It's so good to see you at last!'
Eugenie blinked back tears. How good and welcoming the Duke and Duchess were! It was wonderful to feel she had a family again.
'Thank you, Aunt Arabella.'
'Heavens, don't call me aunt. It makes me feel so ancient, when I cannot be many years older than you. Call me Arabella.'
The Duke laughed. 'You are still a child, my love, despite four daughters! Now, she'll tell you all about it, while I take these rascals out to play for a while. Come and fetch them in half an hour, Miss Gregory. But if you'd be so kind, tell Mrs Potter to have the green room prepared for Miss Eugenie.'
Arabella made a gesture as though she would protest, but then shrugged and drew her hand back.
The nurse bobbed a curtsey and departed, casting Eugenie a curious glance. The Duke picked up the baby, and Arabella gave each child a kiss before they followed their father from the room.
'Come and sit here beside me,' Arabella said, seating herself on a sopha and patting it. Eugenie sat, and tried to express her thanks, but Arabella laughed and shook her head.
'Jerome said you had a story to tell, so please, I am all agog!'
For the second time Eugenie told all about her life in Switzerland, the deaths of her parents, and her journey back to England. Arabella gasped with distress and amazement.
'You really worked in taverns? Oh, how brave of you! I wouldn't have known what to do. But you say your Papa's bailiff was supposed to send money, and it never reached you? Do you think it was stolen on the way to you, or he was dishonest?'
'I can't remember him. I was ten when we left England. My uncle says he will go with me to Beechcotes to see him. He is being so kind to me!'
'You are family. And Jerome is the kindest man I know. Quite unlike George,' she added, and her voice became harsh.
Arabella clearly had no love for her stepson. 'I met him when I arrived,' Eugenie said.
'Then you'll have seen what a trial he is to his father.' Arabella sighed and nodded. 'My poor Jerome is at his wits' end to know how to treat him.'
'He lives here with you?'
'Unfortunately. But Jerome will not permit him to have rooms in London, after that big scandal when he was at Oxford. I think I must tell you, so that you can understand why he is kept at home when most young men his age would at least have rooms in London.'
Eugenie shook her head. 'Not if you don't want to.'
'You need to know. Well, he was in his last year at the university, but he was for most of his time in London and became embroiled with a group of men who spent all their time gambling – on cards, horses, any stupid bet, and he lost thousands which of course he couldn't pay, so Jerome had to. Then he had run up more thousands in debts to tailors and shoemakers, and bought horses and sporting carriages on credit. His father would have sent the carriages back, but he had smashed them, and the horses had been so ill-used they were not worth a tenth what he paid – or rather didn't pay – for them.'
'How dreadful!' Eugenie had heard from her father of men who gambled and lost fortunes, but had not expected to meet any.
'That was bad, but there was worse. He had seduced the daughter of a respectable tradesman in Oxford, and promised to marry her, then when she had a baby he said it wasn't his and there was a breach of promise case, which cost more thousands. Now Jerome insists he lives here, and permits him only enough money to buy a pint of ale in the village. All his bills have to come to his father, who has let it be known he will only meet them up to a certain limit. He has told the London tradesmen to send bills to him here, and they know that if they exceed the limit they will not be paid.'
Eugenie was staring at her in dismay. 'How can he behave in such a fashion? It's despicable.'
Arabella sighed. 'It is partly my fault, I fear.'
'Yours? How can it be?'
'He was furious when we married. It was a year or so after you went abroad. He was still at Eton, and he thought I was taking his mother's place. From what Jerome has told me she was always quick to defend him, plead for him to his father. He was thoroughly spoilt, but as he was the only son I suppose it was understandable. She died when he was twelve, and I suppose that was one of the worst ages a boy can be and lose a parent.'
'That doesn't excuse what he has done!'
'No, but Jerome felt guilty, I think, when he married me, and was too lenient with him. But I wanted to warn you not to believe what he may tell you. He can't be stopped from spreading lies about me and his father, how badly he is treated, and such nonsense.'
'After the disdainful way he treated me when I arrived I'm not likely to take his word for anything.'
'Good. Now, let us go to my dressing room and find you some clothes. No doubt Jerome has told you I have far too many? But he pampers me, and encourages me to be extravagant. Not like George was,' she added with a laugh. 'He gives me a big allowance, but I don't exceed it, run up debts.'
*
Eugenie did her best to restrain Arabella, but the Duchess insisted on giving her several gowns, and she went down to dinner in a delightful evening gown of sparkling green sarsnet, and carried a Norwich shawl with threads of green that echoed the gown. Even Arabella's shoes fit her. It was wonderful to be wearing such clothes, to feel elegant and fashionable. Even when she was old enough there had never been money to spend on such clothing in Switzerland.
Before she had tried on the gowns she mentioned how dirty she felt after all the travelling and Arabella immediately summoned maids and had a bath prepared in the green bedroom that Eugenie realised was to be hers.
'I'll go and sort out some gowns, and Jenny here will help you, and bring you to me.'
To wash her hair, and lie back in soft, scented warm water was something Eugenie had not experienced since she left Switzerland, and there she had been forced to prepare it for herself, heating the water and carrying it up to her small bedroom to the tub she had also carried up from where it had hung on an outside wall. And the water had not been scented. Nor had the towels been so thick and soft. Yet she thought back with a little nostalgia to the times she had been able to bathe in the rivers and streams while she was with Hugues.
It was the man she was missing, she admitted to herself. She had been grateful to him for his help and protection, and especially for the money he had given her, which had enabled her to travel across England in comfort to Castle Tempus, but she missed his company.
She had to forget him, and there was so much to think about, as well as trying to deter Arabella from giving her so many gowns, that she was able to push thoughts of him to the back of her mind.
Arabella, in a gown of rose pink, came to fetch her when it was time to go down for dinner. They normally ate in the smaller dining room when they had no company, she explained.
'And you are family, so please don't feel we are not paying you your due,' she said, laughing.
The table in the small dining room could have seated twenty persons, and Eugenie wondered how many the larger room seated. Arabella had promised to show her round the house on the following day, so presumably she would see it.
'And the old castle,' Arabella had said with a shiver. 'There are a few rooms there we could use if we needed them, but it's supposed to be haunted, so I only ever go there in full daylight.'
'Do you believe in ghosts?' Eugenie said, laughing.
'I do these. They are supposed to be two soldiers who refused to leave the castle when some king – I forget which – attacked it and ordered everyone to leave with nothing but the clothes they wore. These two were killed, and people have heard them with their armour clanking, and swords clashing as they fought their last. I never go anywhere near it at night, or dusk.'
Rather to Eugenie's relief George was not dining with them. The Duke explained he had gone to dine with Sir Robert Stephens, a gentleman farmer who lived a few miles away.
'He often does, Robert is about the only one who can tolerate him,' Arabella said quietly to Eugenie while the Duke was speaking to the butler. 'Jerome told me how he treated you when you arrived, so I hope he is feeling ashamed. Though I would not bet a shilling on it!'
The Duke entertained them with stories of how he and his brother had made life miserable for their tutors, before they had been sent to Eton.
'We were only two years apart in age,' he explained, 'and he was always cleverer than I was, and better at sports, so we were more like twins. I was so sad when he left England.'
Later, when the servants had cleared the cloth, he asked the ladies to bear with him and stay for a while. Arabella grinned at him, and said yes please, she would love a glass of port, and no doubt Eugenie would too.
'You are a hussy, my love. Don't teach my niece your hoydenish ways.'
Eugenie laughed. They were so clearly still besotted with one another even after eight years of marriage. Her parents had also been very much in love, and she wondered how common this was. The Duke was talking.
'I find I have to go to London for a few days, my dears. I'll leave early in the morning, and hope to do my business the following day, so I may be back in three days. Then, Eugenie, we will make arrangements to go to Beechcotes and see this bailiff of yours. But now, can I have a few words with you?'
*
He took her into the study, bade her sit down, and offered her a glass of Madeira.
'No doubt I should make it ratafia, but Arabella cannot stand the stuff. What I wanted to say, my dear, was that it could take some time to sort out your affairs, so I intend arranging with my bank to make you a quarterly allowance.'
He named a sum that made Eugenie shake her head. 'That is far too much! I have few expenses while I am with you.'
'Not if my wife takes you shopping! And if it is not enough you must tell me and I will increase it.'
'I will pay you back when I do get my inheritance.'
'If you insist. Meanwhile, I will give you this until the quarter payment can be made.'
He went to the desk, which was of two pillars containing drawers, and a long slim central one. He unlocked the centre drawer, and took out a roll of bills. Peeling some off, he replaced the rest, relocked the drawer, and gave Eugenie what she thought was an excessive amount.
She protested, but he merely laughed.
'Now, we had best rejoin Arabella.'
*
Later that night Eugenie sat by the open window of the green bedroom, in the nightrobe and wrapper Arabella had given her. Despite the rain it was still warm. Although she had spent two uncomfortable nights on the mail coaches, she could not sleep. It was the happiness of having found such a welcoming family, she knew.
Then she heard some odd noises, soft thumps and a metallic screech. It seemed to be coming from the old castle ruins which were joined onto the house by her bedroom. Was this why Arabella had winced when she knew Eugenie was to sleep there? But her fears of ghosts were nonsense, Eugenie told herself. It was the wind, and the rain which still came down even more heavily than earlier in the day. The Duke had said the storm would blow itself out by the morning, though at the moment that seemed unlikely. Perhaps the wind was moving some loose planks of wood in the ruins. There was a door at the end of the passage, just outside her room, which led into the ruins, but it was always locked, and Arabella had assured her the Duke held the only key.
'Some of the floors on this level are dangerous,' Arabella had told her. 'We can only go into the floor below, from an outer door at the far end.'
Eugenie strained to hear, but the noises appeared to have stopped. It must have been the wind, moving the loose floor boards as she had thought. She turned her thoughts once more to consider what they might find at Beechcotes. Had the bailiff been cheating them? Had she and her father been forced to work so hard in order to make a living just because of a conniving servant? If they had received the money, would it have made life easier for her mother? It was difficult to be sure, but they could have bought her more of the tasty food she had needed and craved.
Her uncle would sort it, she was sure, and if the bailiff had been stealing from them he would be made to pay for his villainy. She knew she could trust the Duke.
Beginning to feel sleepy, she looked towards the bed where the covers had been turned down invitingly. Tomorrow, Arabella had promised, she would be shown all over the new house and the castle, and if the weather improved and the rain stopped, she could see the gardens too.
She reached out to close the window, and at that moment heard a laugh which was undoubtedly human. She craned from the window, and saw a shadow running swiftly across the grass towards the trees that bordered the estate. It was a man, she was sure, from his dress and the way he moved. What had he been doing in the ruins? Something he should not have been doing, she was sure. But that laugh. Had there been someone else with him? She would mention it to Arabella in the morning. After watching for a few more minutes, without seeing anything more, she closed the window and went towards the bed, yawning. Now she would sleep.
In the process of discarding the wrapper, Eugenie paused. Surely that was the sound of a key turning? The only key near enough to be heard was the one in the door to the castle. Was it the Duke, who kept the only key? Or was there, unknown to him, another? Creeping to her door she opened it a crack and peered through. She could see the door, and tried to suppress a shiver of apprehension as it began, slowly and creakily, to open. Then her cousin George stepped through, looked round cautiously, and turned to shut the door and lock it. Eugenie softly shut her own door and stood by it, considering. What had George been doing? From all Arabella had told her she was sure it was not something innocent, or why the caution and secrecy? She would have to tell the Duke in the morning. Then she remembered he was leaving for London before she would be up. It would have to wait.
*