The Queen's Gambit (The Wonderland Series: Book 4) Page 3

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  The church clock struck ten, the distant chime reverberating through the silent house. There had always been plenty of empty rooms, but for some reason, the house never felt as forlorn as it did tonight. Hugo gazed at the children who were fast asleep in the big bed. They’d been overwrought and tearful, but Archie brought some fresh bread and cheese, hot stew and meat pies, as well as bottles of ale and milk, and they had a feast in the kitchen, seated around the long table and warmed by the roaring fire. The food and cozy atmosphere lifted everyone’s sagging spirits. The children were washed and put to bed after supper, leaving Hugo alone with Neve. They hadn’t been alone since they left their house in Rouen, and it felt wonderfully peaceful just to sit by the fire and talk awhile before joining the children in bed.

  Archie and Frances had also retired after cleaning up the remains of their meal. Archie insisted on making a pallet on the floor and allowing Frances to take the bed, which confirmed Hugo’s suspicion that their relationship had never been consummated despite their betrothal. He wouldn’t have blamed them if it had been, but was glad that Archie chose to wait. Hugo never asked Archie any personal questions, but he was sure that Archie had been as celibate as a monk since declaring his love for Frances. Who would have thought that Archie would last that long? Hugo mused with an inward smile, but love did amazing things to people, as he knew only too well.

  “Do you think the letter went astray?” Neve asked as she turned her back to allow Hugo to unlace her gown. It was travel-stained and smelled of Neve’s particular scent, which Hugo loved, but Neve wrinkled her nose in disgust and threw the gown into the basket of items to be laundered at the first opportunity. The basket was already overflowing with children’s clothes, dirty clouts, and the damp and yellowed linen that Neve pulled off the beds.

  “I can only assume that it did,” Hugo replied thoughtfully. He didn’t want to worry Neve unnecessarily, but couldn’t hide his unease from her shrewd gaze. Neve knew Brad well enough to know that had he received the letter, their reception would have been a very different one, but there could be other reasons why Brad had been unable to comply with Hugo’s request, such as illness or death. Hugo hadn’t had a letter from Brad since September; a letter which had been penned in July. A lot could happen in five months.

  “You think something is wrong,” Neve stated as she turned around to face him. “Tell me.”

  “I don’t know; I really don’t,” Hugo replied as he pulled Neve onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her to keep her warm. “Archie said that there was much talk at the tavern. James II tried to flee London three days ago. He threw his royal seal into the Thames before he was apprehended and turned back by forces loyal to William. I knew this would happen, but somehow it still shocks me to hear it. How could he not stay and fight, and defend his kingdom and God-given right to the throne?”

  “Reading about history is never the same as being a part of it, is it?” Neve asked as she snuggled closer to Hugo. “I should know,” she added with a smile, “I used to consider myself quite the expert.”

  “No, things never appear as frightening or real as they do from a safe distance of four hundred years.”

  “James will be gone in less than ten days,” Neve reminded Hugo. “William will allow him to leave unharmed. I think that’s a generous gesture on his part.”

  “It has little to do with generosity,” Hugo replied as he stared at the leaping flames of the fire. “William is no fool. He realizes that throwing his father-in-law, who also happens to be his uncle, into the Tower as one of his first acts as future king will make him look petty in the eyes of the people, and the last thing he wants to do is turn James into a martyr for Catholics. Allowing James and his family to live in exile is a savvy political decision, since he will be seen as being magnanimous by both the Catholics and the Protestants.”

  “But it will also give the Catholics hope, which will lead to decades of failed rebellions and countless deaths,” Neve countered hotly.

  “Yes, but William and Mary don’t know what you do, and besides, executing James wouldn’t put an end to the problem. William would also have to kill the child, his own wife’s little brother, which would be seen as unnecessarily cruel and incite rebellion anyway.”

  “You know,” Neve said as she yawned, covering her mouth daintily. “There was a time at school when I thought British history was boring,” she said with a smile as she slid off Hugo’s lap.

  “Really?” Hugo asked, stunned.

  “Yes. It was such a chore trying to remember who was related to whom, who’d been executed, crowned, or exiled. I never imagined I’d get to live it.”

  “There are days when I would give a lot to be bored,” Hugo replied as he pulled back the covers and got into bed next to Valentine, who was snoring lightly. Michael was between the two girls, his fair head resting on Elena’s pillow and her arm protectively placed around his middle.

  “Me too,” Neve replied. She got in on the other side to make sure that no one rolled off the high bed during the night. Hugo reached out and took Neve’s hand, holding it for a moment while they bracketed their children. His whole world was in this bed, and he meant to keep them safe — no matter what it took.

  Chapter 5

  The next day dawned bright and sunny, but very cold. Frost sparkled on the windows, the crystals arranged in fanciful patterns, and the bare trees made a lacework quilt against the nearly colorless sky. Getting out of bed was a daring feat, but Hugo finally forced himself to throw off the covers and leave the warmth and comfort of the bed. The floorboards were ice-cold, and his breath came out in gossamer spheres of vapor as he hastily pulled on his clothes. The water left over in the basin from last night had a thin crust of ice, and the fire had long since died out, leaving behind a heap of ash.

  “Stay in bed,” Hugo whispered to Neve. “I’ll get the fire going here and in the parlor and then you can wake the children. I don’t want them catching a chill.”

  “Don’t mind if I do,” Neve replied sheepishly. She hated being cold.

  Hugo cleaned out the ashes and laid a fire in the hearth, waiting around for a few minutes to make sure that the logs were burning brightly. The room began to fill with a pleasant warmth, although it would take at least a half-hour for the fire to drive out the arctic chill. Neve seemed to have fallen back to sleep, so Hugo let himself out of the room and made his way downstairs to the parlor. The room was shrouded in darkness; the dust sheets looking like lumpy ghosts in the half-light. Hugo threw open the shutters and began pulling off the sheets. The parlor was the heart of the house, and it was time to bring it back to life.

  The fireplace was clean, not having seen a fire in several years, and the mantel covered with a thick layer of dust. The house needed a good cleaning, but that would have to wait. There were more pressing matters such as food and firewood. The rhythmic thwack of an axe could be heard from outside, where Archie was already chopping wood. There was hardly enough left in the dwindling pile to last through the day.

  “You are up early,” Hugo remarked as he loaded up with wood.

  “Don’t enjoy sleeping on the cold floor as much as I used to,” Archie replied sarcastically. “Besides, there’s work to be done. I think it’s actually colder inside than it is out here. I’ll get the fire going in the kitchen momentarily,” Archie said as he swung the axe again. “We have enough food left for this morning, but then we’ll need supplies.”

  “I’ll see to that,” Hugo replied grimly. Brad mentioned in his letters that the estate was being well looked after, but after having seen the state of the house, Hugo wasn’t so sure. His first stop would be the home of Godfrey Bowden, the estate manager. He would be up at such an early hour, or at least he should be, Hugo reasoned, if he hoped to keep his position. After a meeting with Bowden, Hugo would head over to see Brad. Hugo didn’t relish having to walk to Bowden’s cottage and then making his way to Nash House on foot, but there were no horses in the stable.<
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  Hugo turned his head suspiciously as he heard a faint neighing coming from the stable. Was he hearing things?

  “I hired a horse from the inn’s livery,” Archie informed him with a wry smile. “How do you think I brought all that food back last night? I’ve only got the two hands, you know. Besides, I knew you’d need to see to business this morning.”

  Hugo just nodded in gratitude. “Archie, you are the most practical man I’ve ever met, and I love you for it,” he said with an impish smile.

  “Oh, go on with you,” Archie replied, his attention already back on his chopping.

  There was much to do, so Hugo made sure the family was up and having breakfast before setting off. The horse from the livery wasn’t a shining example of fine horseflesh, but it had four legs and it moved, saving Hugo time and the misery of having to trudge through frozen snow for miles. Master Bowden lived alone in a cottage on the estate and kept only one servant, a middle-aged widow named Abigail, who Hugo strongly suspected did more than wash the master’s hose. He was of middle years, bald as an egg, and shaped like one as well. Neve had met him only once but secretly referred to him as Humpty Dumpty. The man was utterly lacking in any personal charm, but he was fastidious, intelligent, and extremely practical; all excellent qualities in a manager. Godfrey’s father had managed the estate for Joss Everly, and Godfrey had actually been born in the cottage where he now lived, having seen no desire to travel farther afield in search of his own future.

  Hugo was surprised when a new servant answered the door, a girl of no more than twelve, and invited him in. Master Bowden had just sat down to break his fast when Hugo arrived, an attractive young woman sitting across from him. Had Hugo not been so annoyed, he might have been amused by the reaction of the manager. The man nearly fell out of his chair at the sight of his master, and the young woman became flustered, unsure of whether she should remain seated, or follow Godfrey’s suit and jump to her feet.

  “Your lordship,” Godfrey Bowden stammered, bowing to Hugo as if he were the king himself. “What a surprise. Welcome home. I do hope you had a pleasant journey. May I present my wife, Mistress Bowden.” The young woman began to rise, but Hugo forestalled her by walking over and bowing over her hand.

  “Mistress Bowden, a pleasure. Many felicitations on your marriage.” Poor Abigail, Hugo thought as he looked into the peachy oval of Godfrey’s wife’s face. He’d done well for himself, and had no doubt gotten rid of Abigail before the new mistress arrived. Gazing into the hazel depths of her eyes, Hugo had no doubt that the young girl who answered the door had been hand-picked by her — the child being too young and skinny to be of any interest to her new husband for a good few years yet, not that Godfrey Bowden had a reputation for lechery.

  “Welcome home, your lordship,” the woman said, blushing prettily.

  “Thank you, it’s good to be home,” Hugo replied truthfully. Despite the cold and the lack of staff and provisions, he was deeply happy to be home at last.

  “Will you excuse us for a few minutes, my dear?” Godfrey asked his wife as he escorted Hugo into his study. He waited to sit down until Hugo made himself comfortable.

  “Master Bowden,” Hugo began, “I was surprised to find the house locked up with nary a scrap of food or any firewood prepared for the winter months. Has Master Nash not informed you of my arrival?”

  “No, your lordship. I haven’t seen Master Nash in some months, but he did take a very keen interest in the running of the estate, and had audited the accounts himself every quarter. I think you will find everything to be in good order.” The man had lost some of his nervousness as he made his speech, which Hugo took as a good sign. Had things gone to seed, he’d be a lot more apprehensive at the master’s unexpected arrival.

  “Master Bowden, I will expect to see the books and go over the accounts with you directly after Boxing Day, but right now I’m more concerned with the welfare of my family. I shall require a minimum of fifty cords of wood to be delivered to the manor, as well as foodstuffs that will last for two weeks at the very least. You may requisition the necessary provisions from the farmers on the estate and offset their quarterly taxes as payment.”

  Hugo waited for Bowden to process this before addressing the next issue. “I will also need a cook and at least three maids. I’m sure there are girls on the estate who are old enough to go into service and would like an opportunity to get away from farm work. Two grooms and a boot boy will be needed as well, but that’s not as urgent. I noticed that the stables are empty. Where are all my horses? Have they been properly looked after?”

  “Of course, your lordship. Master Nash had the horses removed to his own estate where he could exercise them regularly,” Bowden replied with a noticeable look of resentment. Having Brad take all the horses would seem like an insult to the manager, but Hugo was grateful that he had. He was very fond of his horses and expected them to be properly looked after, not simply fed and watered.

  “I’m afraid Aamir is long gone,” Bowden stammered. “Mistress Hiddleston sold him some years ago.” Hugo belatedly realized that Bowden had not seen him since his near arrest in May of 1685, and had to answer to Jane while she was alive. Bowden knew how much Hugo had loved his Arabian stallion, but the sale hadn’t been his fault.

  “Not to worry, Master Bowden. What’s done is done. Please see to the other matters this afternoon. My wife and children are cold and hungry.”

  “Yes, sir. Right away, sir.” Bowden bowed stiffly, his eyes already doing the calculations of what could be obtained where.

  “My regards to your good lady,” Bowden stammered as Hugo turned to leave.

  Hugo mounted his horse and rode toward the Nash estate. He tried to tell himself that all was well and he was worrying for nothing, but the seed of doubt that had been planted last night had now taken root. Bowden hadn’t seen Brad in months, and had no inkling of Hugo’s imminent arrival. Even if Brad never received Hugo’s letter, he would have been by to check on things, especially with Christmas just two weeks away, and Boxing Day to prepare for. Hugo tried to nudge the old nag to go faster, suddenly fearing the worst.

  Chapter 6

  Hugo felt a lump in his throat as the pitched roof of Nash House came into view above the shaggy line of bare trees. He hadn’t seen Brad since leaving London in November of 1685, and he missed his friend terribly. Brad had been a permanent fixture in Hugo’s life since he’d been a child, and there hadn’t been a secret or a thought that he hadn’t shared with him. Brad was the one person whom Hugo had always counted on for understanding and support, especially when his own father offered neither. Brad’s wife, Beth, had been a childhood friend as well, and Hugo looked forward to seeing her and their children, the youngest of whom had been born while he was abroad. The years had flown by, and so much had changed in his absence.

  Hugo tossed the reins to a surprised groom and strode up the steps, glancing briefly at the ugly face of the gargoyle knocker that Brad’s father had been so proud of. He was eager to be ushered into the warmth of the house, but apprehensive about what he’d find. He prayed there was a simple explanation, one him and Brad could laugh about over breakfast. Hugo was cold and hungry, since he’d left whatever food was available for Neve and the children. He tried to contain his impatience as he heard the footsteps approaching the door. They seemed rather hurried.

  Hugo was taken aback when the door flew open, revealing not a servant, but Beth, who looked haunted and pale, her dark eyes huge in her face. She was somberly dressed, which was totally out of character since Beth loved color and light, and her wardrobe reflected her sprightly personality. The charcoal gray of her gown drained all color from her face and added years to her appearance. Beth’s expression went from hope to disappointment, and back to hope again as she absorbed the fact that Hugo Everly was standing on her doorstep.

  “Beth, what is it? What’s happened?” Hugo asked as she grabbed his arm and dragged him inside. The warmth enveloped him at once, but he was
n’t able to enjoy it when Beth was so clearly distressed.

  “Where is he, Hugo?” she cried, still clutching his arm and staring up into his eyes as if he had all the answers. “Please, tell me. I can’t take not knowing. That’s why you are here, isn’t it? To break the news to me gently?”

  Beth maneuvered him into the parlor and slammed the door shut behind them, facing Hugo and devouring him with those imploring eyes. “Where is he?” she whispered again, suddenly realizing that Hugo had no idea.

  “When was the last time you saw him? Where had he gone?” Hugo asked. “We’ve only just arrived last night. Had Brad not received my letter?”

  “I don’t know,” Beth replied vaguely. “He left in October. I’ve heard nothing since.”

  “Beth, please calm down and tell me everything from the beginning,” Hugo suggested as he pulled Beth toward a settle. He wished it was later in the day so that Beth might have a medicinal brandy, but it was scarcely past ten, and she had never been one for the drink anyway. Beth took a seat and began nervously plucking at the lace at her wrist, searching for the best way to tell her story. Hugo felt a knot in his stomach as he watched his childhood friend. She was much changed, and not for the better. He’d suspected something was wrong, but this exceeded his worst expectations. Brad had been gone for two months; this was serious.

  “I don’t know how much you know, having been away for so long,” Beth began, the look in her eyes suggesting that she knew exactly how much he knew, given his involvement in politics in the past. “It all started to unravel when Her Majesty gave birth in June. There were all these vicious rumors that the baby was stillborn, and a male child had been smuggled into the bedchamber by a maid carrying a bed warmer, but, of course, it was all just malicious gossip. As if it were even possible!” Beth exclaimed, outraged. “The child would have to have been no bigger than a kitten, and would probably tumble straight out. But, of course, there were many who refused to believe that after years of infertility, the queen had been blessed with a son. Brad was so happy. With the birth of a son, a Catholic monarchy was assured, and he dared to hope that in time, the discrimination and prejudice against Catholics would diminish, and perhaps, in our own lifetime, we might be able to worship openly and not fear persecution.” Beth pulled out a handkerchief and delicately wiped at her eyes before continuing.