The Captain's Kidnapped Beauty. Mary Nichols
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so? If so, it is of no consequence, I can go alone.’
‘Nothing that cannot be put off. Oh, Alex, I should dearly like to see Foxlees. But how shall we travel? My carriage is not up to so long a journey.’
‘I have bought a chaise and a pair of fine horses to pull it. We shall travel very comfortably.’
‘Oh, I shall like that above everything.’ She clapped her gloved hands in delight. She was a tiny woman, a little plump, made more so by the stuffing she wore on her hips and the flounces on her sleeves. She looked frail, but her looks deceived; she had been used to travelling backwards and forwards to India with her late husband and thought nothing of rough seas and sweltering heat. A carriage ride into Norfolk would certainly not put her in a quake. She hurried away to give instructions for her bags to be packed, Alex’s bed to be made up and supper to be served for two.
Over the meal she demanded to know what he had been up to in town.
‘Nothing of any note, Mama. I finalised my inheritance with my uncle’s lawyer, attended a meeting of the Piccadilly Gentleman’s Club and I went to Gilpin’s to buy a carriage. Do you know the business is half-run by Gilpin’s daughter? I was quite taken aback when she insisted on seeing to my needs herself.’
‘I hope you were not gulled.’
‘Gulled by a slip of a girl, Mama, how can you think it? I inspected the vehicle very carefully before agreeing to buy it. It was dear, but I think worth it. Gilpin’s has an excellent reputation for quality.’
‘Did you not go to any dances or routs where you might meet people of the ton?’
‘I went to a concert with Leinster in aid of the Foundling Hospital.’
‘Pah! You will not find a bride doing that.’
‘Mama, I am not looking for a bride.’
‘How can you say so? Alex, you are a marquis now, not a roving sea captain, and it behoves you to wed and start a family. I should very much like grandchildren.’
‘There is plenty of time for that.’
‘I do believe you are still pining for that minx, Letitia.’
‘No, Mama, I am not.’ It was said firmly and brooked no argument.
‘There is no point in any case,’ she went on, determined to have the last word. ‘I had heard that the Earl of Falsham is now a widower and looking for a second wife.’
This was news to Alex and he spent a silent moment or two contemplating it and wondering why he felt nothing more than sorrow that a young life should have been lost. ‘I am sorry for that,’ he said. ‘Do you know how the Countess died?’
‘Giving birth to a daughter, so I heard. The Earl was said to be very vexed that the child was not a son. I heard he had gone abroad to escape his creditors.’
‘It is my opinion that there is too much importance put on begetting heirs,’ he said, glad that he would not have to encounter the gentleman. ‘I hope I should not be vexed if my wife produced a daughter and not a son. I should be happy if they were both healthy.’
She laughed. ‘Just now you insisted you were not looking for a wife.’
‘Nor am I.’ He paused. ‘How long will it take you to pack?’
She recognised the deliberate changing of the subject and smiled. ‘Now, Alex, how can you ask such a question? How many times have I had to pack to go off to India or the West Indies or the China seas at a moment’s notice? I am an expert and so is Betty, who is even now putting a few things in a trunk. I hope the carriage you bought can accommodate one trunk.’
‘It can, Mama, easily. Shall you come out when we have finished our supper and see for yourself? There is still enough daylight left.’
Briarcroft was a simple country mansion, bought with money his father had made on the first two or three of his cargoes, against the day when he would give up the sea and retire. Since his death, his mother had lived there quietly but happily and Alex often stayed there with her. It had been his bolt hole when he came back to England after that disastrous affair with Letitia and it was still the place he came to when he needed respite. He wondered if Foxlees Manor would ever take its place.
When he saw it two days later, he doubted it. Knowing his uncle and cousin had rarely visited it since his aunt’s death and forewarned by the lawyer, he had expected it to be shabby, but the extent of the dereliction was shocking. It was not a large mansion and did not have a parkland, but extensive gardens which had once been well cared for, but which were now tangled and overgrown. The gravel carriage drive was full of weeds and the house, when they came upon it, had a neglected air. Ivy clung to its walls and had invaded the windows. The paint was scuffed, the door knocker rusty.
‘Alex, this is dreadful,’ his mother said, as he helped her down and she stood in the drive to look up at the façade. ‘You could never bring a bride here. She would die of mortification.’
She was so transparent it made him smile, but he decided not to comment and went up the moss-covered stone steps and unlocked the door with the key he had been given.
‘Are there no servants?’ she asked, preceding him into a dark vestibule that smelled fusty.
‘There is a steward and a housekeeper, both of whom live in the village. The lawyer said they would not live here after my uncle died. The rest of the servants moved on long ago.’
‘And I, for one, do not blame them.’ She was making her way down the hall as she spoke and threw open a door. ‘This must be the drawing room.’ She strode forwards and flung back the heavy brocade curtains. They fell to pieces in her hands and dust flew everywhere. ‘Alex, you surely do not expect me to sleep here tonight?’
‘No, Mama, we will go to the village inn, where I will leave you to have some refreshment and a rest while I go in search of the steward.’ He laughed suddenly. ‘To think my friends in the Piccadilly Gentleman’s Club congratulated me on my inheritance. I fear it is like to be a millstone.’
They inspected the rest of the house. It was no better that the drawing room. They returned downstairs and made their way to be kitchen area, where Davy was endeavouring to light a fire in order to boil a kettle. The room was full of smoke.
‘Leave it, Davy,’ he said. ‘The chimneys will have to be swept and all the doors and windows left open to air the place. I am going to take Mrs Carstairs to the local inn and root out the steward. Have you unharnessed the horses?’
‘No, sir … my lord. There’s no fodder for them, though I’ve given them a drink.’
‘Sir will do very well, Davy, thank you. I will drive my mother to the inn. You stay here and see what needs doing.’
‘Everything, sir,’ was said with a grin.
‘I know. Make a list, most urgent first. I will be back betimes.’
Fortunately the local hostelry was a coaching inn, standing on the cross roads of a substantial village a mile or two inland from Cromer. The coach and horses were led away to be looked after while Alex escorted his mother indoors and requested his best room for her.
‘Certainly sir,’ the innkeeper said, then turned and flung orders to his employees who were standing around gaping with curiosity. ‘I didn’t reckon you’d want to stay up at the Manor.’
‘How did you know I was bound there?’
‘Why, Mr Boniface said the new owner was expected at any time and my son, Arthur, saw the carriage in the village going towards the rise at a spanking pace. We don’t get equipages like that hereabouts very often.’
‘Where can I find Mr Boniface?’
‘He’ll have heard you’ve arrived,’ the man said. ‘And will no doubt be on his way to the Manor as we speak.’
Alex made