The Steward of Blackwood Hall

Chapter fifteen - The best laid plans

As Fielding arrived at Blackwood he found an obstruction to his plan, in the form of Mountford's chaise and two other carriages standing before the main door. Servants congregated around a mound of baggage that was being toted into the house. In the distance he heard the shrill note of Margaret Mountford's voice raised in the hallway, tossing contrary demands around like handkerchiefs, and just as heedless of where they fell.

He made his way to the back of the house and entered through the servant's corridor, finding temporary solace in the dusty silence of the steward's office. He ought to be happy to have the house occupied once more, but could derive no pleasure from his friend's return. Not when it would preclude him from speaking to Anabelle's father. Mountford would expect an accounting of everything that had happened since he left for town and it would be impossible to get away.

When a knock sounded on the office door, he braced himself. However, it was not Mountford who had sought him out, but another familiar face.

"Henry said I might find you here," Edward Langdale said as he poked his head around the door. He exuded his usual elegant urbanity as he entered the room, leaning only slightly upon his cane.

Fielding jumped out of his chair, eager to clasp his friend's hand. "How long have you been in town?"

Langdale perched his tall frame on the edge of the desk, removing his gloves as he glanced around the steward's office. "A little over a sennight. I've been staying at Hill Street and Henry was kind enough to extend an invitation to visit Blackwood. I've long been curious to see what Uncle George's house looked like."

"I suggest not inspecting it too closely," Fielding said as he closed the door against the prying ears of curious servants. "The property is not in the best condition. Henry will have to expend a great deal of effort, time and money to set the place to rights. I do not envy him the task."

"But I hear you have been helping with the estate. Was that not why you stayed behind? Henry gave the impression that he had left you to suffer in some sort of provincial purgatory."

If Fielding was in purgatory it was a torment of his own making that had nothing to do with Mountford's estate. "As usual, your cousin exaggerates the situation. I stayed behind because the quicker I found a new steward, the sooner Blackwood would be brought into profit."

"You are a good friend to him, Fielding. I daresay he does not appreciate you, or his situation, as well as he ought."

He recognised the cold, harsh tone in his friend's words and wondered whether Langdale harboured some jealousy over Henry being their uncle's main beneficiary. "Do you believe you should have inherited Blackwood?"

Langdale laughed. "Hardly. Although I am older than Henry, he is the eldest Mountford, so it is his by right. Besides, Uncle George excised my mother from the family bible. I doubt he knew or cared that I existed. I only wish that Henry had a more responsible head on those elegantly garbed shoulders."

"Perhaps that is something Blackwood will provide him with." Fielding glanced at the mantle clock. "Who else did Henry persuade to accompany you?"

"Sally and Margaret are here. I offered Sally a seat in my post-chaise, which left Henry to accommodate Margaret and her tame caper merchant."

"Her what?"

"A Frenchman called Fournier. He was some kind of dancing master in town, eking out a living by teaching the Village Maid to pretty young things. Then he came into some money and now thinks himself a gentleman."

"If money alone made a gentleman London would be awash with them. Margaret has always set her sights high. I am surprised she is entertaining the fellow."