In fact, unless Piers could furnish a different tale, he was no nearer his goal, despite having bested the man in a fight.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The uproar following upon the party’s return from the ruins prevented Giff from having speech with his cousin for some time. Her partiality notwithstanding, the housekeeper was horrified at the fight.
“How could you, Master Giffard? Why, you might have killed him!”
“I never intended to go that far, Mrs Joyce.”
“Far enough, sir!” And, turning to the butler, “Dunford, send at once to Dr Egerton!”
Wholly ignoring the gentlemen, she was off in a whirlwind of directions, bustling the servants gathered in the hall where Piers had been deposited in a convenient chair.
“You there! Help Bines to carry the master up to his room. Bines, you must put him to bed and see to his comfort. I will set Cook to make a tisane and brew a posset against the doctor’s arrival. Until then, give him water only.”
Giff saw Sattar nod approval at this and was not surprised when he entered into low-voiced conversation with the fellow Bines, presumably Piers’s valet.
Rhoades left the man in the care of members of his household and came to Giff’s side. “We appear to bedetrop. Is this a convenient time to make our departure?”
“By no means. At least, you may go if you wish. Tarporley too. But I must have words with my cousin before I can leave.”
“We won’t desert you, Giffard,” said Tarporley from behind him. “Unless you have duties, Rhoades?”
The captain shrugged, his eye on the cavalcade now beginning to make their slow way up the stairs, Piers chaired between two stout footmen, Sattar following in colloquy with the fellow Bines. “Nothing that cannot wait. But I confess to feeling a trifle sharp set. Is there a decent inn hereabouts?”
The reference to food resonated with Giff. “A good point, my friend. However, I’m reluctant to remove from here. Who knows but this crew may refuse to let me re-enter after this?”
“My home is within reach, Rhoades. You and I may go there, perhaps. My people will feed us. Indeed, it might suit to remain overnight if the business cannot be settled soon.”
But at this point, the housekeeper came up. Having despatched various people on errands, she evidently had time to see to the invaders. She was looking harassed, but the belligerence had lessened. “Now then, Master Giffard, I suppose I must see to your comfort as well, little though you deserve it.”
Giff hid a smile at the severity coming from a creature quite a foot shorter than he and as plump as a goose besides. “A repast of some kind would not go amiss, Mrs Joyce, if it is not too much trouble. These gentlemen, however, are happy to repair to Lord Tarporley’s establishment to find sustenance there.”
The housekeeper bridled. “Nothing of the sort, sir! Do you suppose I keep so mean a table that we cannot feed you all?”
“We thought only to spare you the pain,” said Tarporley.
She turned on him. “As if you had not taken your mutton in this house time and again, my lord! Yes, I well know who you are and that you’ve not been a friend to the master since the old lord went to his maker, but I won’t have it spread about the county that we are inhospitable in Waldiche Keep.”
Which silenced Tarporley, who reddened and retired from the lists. Satisfied, Mrs Joyce looked all three up and down.
“Well! You’ve dirt and blood all over, the lot of you! You will please to clean up before sitting down to table in this house.”
With which, she turned to two hovering maids and beckoned. “Ellie, show these gentlemen to the blue bedchamber. And you, Grisel, fetch up a large jug of hot water to that room straight. Now, I’ve to see Cook.”
One scorching glance over the men and she sailed off towards the nether regions, presumably to put all her arrangements in hand.
The captain leaned in with lowered voice as they began to follow Ellie the maid, who was leading the way upstairs. “I feel as if I’ve been reduced to the status of a scrubby schoolboy.”
Giff laughed. “Yes, I might as well have been listening to Sattar. He’s just such a tartar.”
“Like my uncles,” sighed Tarporley. “They talk to me as if I’m a nincompoop.”
“I didn’t expect it from Mrs Joyce, I have to say. Not after the way she was damn near in tears when she showed me that portrait.”
The captain paused on the stairs. “What portrait?”
Giff explained on the way, but the subject was dropped when they entered a large bedchamber. The maid held the door as they trooped in and Giff was agreeably surprised to find it a deal less gloomy than the downstairs rooms. Light splayed from two wide windows onto a blue patterned carpet, which was matched with blue curtains tied at the posts of the bed. But best were the walls, papered throughout in a pattern of birds and flowers in blue on a cream ground.