Home, at last.
When Major William Devane arrived at his mother’s house shortly after leaving the city, he discovered that he had not only missed her, as she'd deserted the city for Bath some days earlier with no indication of when she might return, but had missed his sister Elizabeth too, as she had left for Brooklands.
Once he'd turned his horses over to his mother’s stable lad, he entered the house and was warmly greeted by an old retainer whom he recalled from five years earlier. His mother’s butler informed him that he had been expected some days ago but that his sister had become impatient of waiting for him.
“I would have been here last week, Horace, but I needed to see my horses safely transported, so I landed only this morning.”
“Yes, sir. Your mother did expect you last week I think, and then when this week came and you were still not here, her disappointment got the better of her, and her nerves demanded that she go to Bath for a few days.”
“So she still has nerves then? I thought I had destroyed them all years ago. She has you well trained, Horace, to recite that old Codswallop about her nerves, and on cue, as you still do.”
“Yes, sir. Also, your sister has gone to Kellands lodge, to your cousin for a day or so, before she goes on to Brooklands.”
As his late father’s estate, Brooklands, was some distance beyond Kellands, it made sense for him also to ride to his cousin’s estate first, even as the greater part of his baggage went off ahead of him to Brooklands. He would be sure to catch up to his sister in one of those places.
Horace continued. “She thought she might remain there for a day or so, but if not, she will leave directions for you there too, in case you arrived unexpectedly as you now have, sir. There is a letter she left for you here too, and another addressed to you from Lord Seymour and the present Lady Seymour, his daughter. That one, came a day or so ago. Her ladyship’s man said that her ladyship regarded it as urgent, I believe.”
“I have been away five years, Horace. What can there possibly be that is urgent on the very day I arrive some weeks late, and from someone I barely know and have seen but once, to my knowledge, in my entire life? I shall read that one, later. I believe my mother is distantly related to the old Lady Seymour, and that is as far as it goes. I would not put it past her ladyship to have written this herself for some reason. She seems to be devious that way.”
“I believe Lord Seymour is not in good health, sir. If you will pardon me for pointing it out, but you are related to both Lord Seymour and his late wife through some distant connection. It is his daughter, the present Lady Adelaide Seymour, your godmother, who sees to her father’s affairs now, and that is why she saw it delivered to you.”
“So what might she be up to now?” He was well aware of his godmother’s limited affection for him. “No matter. He had his stroke even before I left, so I would say he is hanging on quite well. Probably still as grouchy as he always was from what little I hear. Why my godmother might want me anywhere near him beats me, for she couldn’t stand me fifteen years ago. And from what Elizabeth said to me in her last letter, her animosity for me seems not to have diminished.”
Horace felt he should put a positive light upon the circumstance. “Situations change in five years, sir, as do people.”
“I suppose you are right about that, Horace. But I don’t think that I have. I’m still me. Lady Seymour also still dislikes me intensely—so my sister hinted in her letters. No change there from what I hear.”
“She dislikes everyone, sir, except your mother and sister, and a few others.”
“A very few,” William grudgingly allowed. “They still meet in that little coven of theirs each month, do they, and burn little effigies of me?”
The older gentleman cleared his throat as a sign of disapproval that he might speak of his mother that way. “I don’t think I would put either your mother or your sister into that same class of people, sir.”
“Yes. Unkind to call it a coven. My sister is not a witch any more than my mother is, though my mother engages in some strange dealings with equally strange people.” He quickly glanced at himself in the mirror beside him before he continued.
“Elizabeth wrote me and told me of some of their scheming and plotting for my future. But I cannot speak for Lady Seymour. She always did seem threatening to me, even the one time I consciously met her. She seemed to hate all children. That is the way she seemed to me as a small boy, which is when I last saw her. At that time she would happily have had me spitted and roasted.”
The butler ignored that comment. “I believe the matter may be important, sir. At least her ladyship’s man, Maltby, who brought it, thought it was.”
“It always is when they want you to do something for them. Why is Lord Seymour now taking an interest in me? He never did before, and I am sure that I have no expectations there.”
“Others might recommend that you should go and ask him, sir. However, Maltby was...,” his voice dropped, “In confidence, sir, I must add, he was quite of the opinion that it was all her ladyship’s doing and that she was in a strangely aggressive and awkward mood where you were concerned. He was of the opinion that it was she who wanted to see you and suggested to drop a word of wisdom in your ear, that it might be wise to ignore her letter for the moment and give her the bye.”
“He did, did he? I wonder if she knows of his treachery.”
“Yes, sir. No, sir. I think I tend to agree with him. Your sister said the same thing by way of warning to me before she left, and she also left you a note to that effect on the hall table with the instructions that I was to ensure you got it and read it before you left here.”
“This sounds exciting, Horace. Did he say why she wanted to see me or might be aggressive toward me? Though why it should concern me, I am at a loss to understand. Besides, when was she not ever aggressive to me?”
He stammered in his reluctance to explain further. “Well, sir, I...I am not sure I should say anything. It is not my place to give credence to what her ladyship might believe.”
“Oh, come now, Horace. I know she already believes the worst of me as she has for many years and is the one who continues to spread vicious rumors of my behavior even after all this time. Surely it cannot be something new that we have not had to deal with in the past. I have been away for five years?”
The old gentleman blushed. “No, sir. It was something to do with a young lady some years ago.”
