Chapter 2

When the jollity from the other room turned to sounds of glass smashing, wood splintering, and heads cracking he deemed it time to leave. He downed the last of his beer, put the paper back into his pocket, and slid out unnoticed among the carnage that had erupted in the bar. Jonno was wading in together with the ever-present Bob Carter, the blacksmith, who, fortunately for Jonno, was built like a barn. Pulling his overcoat around him against the chill, he headed for his horse and cart, anger and misery still simmering quietly in his gut.

* * * *

He took his purchases into his house and stored them neatly. The house was small, but again, it had been perfect for him. A large room with a big blackened range, comfortable chairs, and a table, a large separate bedchamber with a soft bed that was a delight. It had sheltered porch with outhouses for cold storage, too. In short, everything he needed and quite possibly the closest thing to home he had felt since…well, in a long time. He stoked the fire, put more vegetables into the stew in the pot hung over the range, and then set off to do the last check and lock up at the Manor. All the staff were now gone. Being alone didn’t bother him in the least, but seeing good, loyal servants who had worked for the family all their lives turned off had infuriated him beyond words. The injustice of it all was staggering.

He walked the short distance from his cottage to the main house, past the stables, and watched as an unexpected burst of early evening sun danced burnt orange from the windows. It was a handsome-looking house. Not too big, the sort of thing he one day wanted to own. Perhaps that was why he had become so attached to it. He rarely became attached to things, and this reminded him forcibly why.

When all was checked, he turned the key in the main door and closed his eyes for a moment before shoving the instrument into his pocket.

Damned Holbrook family. The familiar gravel crunched under his workman’s boots as he stomped his way back to his cottage. The Manor had belonged to the Holbrook family for some years, ever since the dowager countess had married into the family. Apparently it had been part of her dowry. Will sighed as he walked. He missed her. Missed her sharp tongue, her gruff offers of advice, and her sly sense of humour.

When he realised she had bequeathed Denton Manor to the younger son, and not the current Earl of Holbrook he had been surprised. The younger son, a Captain in the King’s army, had a shoddy reputation in the village. Womaniser, gambler, drunkard. When he heard the man had gambled away his fortune and his inheritance, including Denton Manor, Will had been apoplectic. He was no stranger to young men losing their all on the gaming tables, but this was the first time he had been so affected by such careless disregard.

He jammed his cap on his head as he stewed on the matter yet again. He kicked at the gravel and swore. If he ever got his hands on the bastard…He had just two weeks left. Two weeks in which to find another post and somewhere else to live. Granted, it was better than the rest of the staff, but Christ. He had enough to tide him over, but he begrudged using his hard-earned savings to meet his living expenses. He hoped Dearne would remember to pay him once the two weeks was up.

He walked to the stables, to where he had left his horse in the now almost empty stalls, and took the time to look out over the green lawns and vibrant flowerbeds. He had done as much of the work needed to prepare for the coming months as he could, including in the huge walled garden to the rear where the vegetables grew; it was now in the hands of the new owner. His horse whickered as he approached and he smiled and pulled half an apple from his pocket to give him. “Here you go,” he murmured as Socrates nuzzled in his hand for the treat and crunched as he butted him with his head. Will scratched his ears, and in an uncharacteristic show of emotion, wrapped an arm around the warm strong neck and laid his forehead against the horse. “I know,” he muttered. “I know.”

A sound in the distance stayed him, and made him look up. Giving the horse a last pat he emerged from the stable and peered into the setting sun. The house was remote. People only travelled this way if they were visiting the Manor, and Will certainly was not expecting visitors. He made out a travelling coach heading towards them at some speed in the distance. His heart sank. It could only be a member of the family, or possibly the new owners. It was highly unlikely any news that either came to impart would cheer him.