Page 5 of Needs Must
Cal retreated to the side of a ballroom that seldom hosted balls anymore. His sister was now married, and the brothers had agreed amongst themselves that filling their house with ambitious debutantes keen to trap one of them into matrimony was not the kind of sport they felt any pressing need to participate in.
Not that this prevented their mother from pushing any young women she considered suitable into their paths at every opportunity. Cal could understand her frustration to a degree. With their father two years buried, she worried about the future of the family and the continuance of the title. As the eldest brother, Cal was aware of his responsibilities and knew that it would fall to his lot to father the next heir. All well and good, he thought, smiling as Arthur almost disarmed Saul, and he would gladly fulfil that duty but for the fact that he had yet to meet a single female of marriageable age who didn’t bore him rigid within five minutes of making her acquaintance.
Aware of the correspondence that awaited his attention in his library, Cal left his brothers to their sparring and returned to his private domain, where Julius Hardy, his friend and righthand man, awaited him. As Cal knew would be the case, Jules had already examined the morning’s post and dealt with the routine requests without bothering him. Only matters requiring Cal’s immediate attention were set in a neat pile on his desk.
‘What gives, Jules?’ he asked, taking his chair and flipping through the papers in question.
‘The usual requests for your intervention in various local issues,’ Jules replied, yawning behind his hand. ‘Let me have your thoughts and I will reply accordingly. But there is one that might interest you,’ Jules added after a momentary pause.
‘From whom?’ Cal asked, rubbing his arm. Saul swung his sword with considerable power and had almost disarmed Cal. The resulting pain caused by deflecting his blows still ricocheted through his bicep and shoulder. ‘I’m getting too old for this malarkey,’ he muttered.
‘Thirty is knocking on a bit,’ Jules remarked in a droll tone. ‘Anyway, your indignant correspondent is Henry Bagshott.’
‘Good heavens!’ Cal sat bolt upright, his fencing injuries forgotten. ‘I thought he was dead. When did anyone last see him out and about?’
Jules shrugged. ‘He is not socially disposed.’
‘That’s putting it mildly. But he’s as rich as Croesus, and wealthy men are permitted to be taciturn. His estate, what one can see of it from the road, is in pristine order and I know well enough how much it must be costing him to keep it that way.’
‘He withdrew from the world when his wife died, as well you know,’ Jules pointed out. ‘Which is when relations with this family fell apart.’
Cal nodded. ‘The closure of that wretched track. There’s still bad feeling about it in the village, not to mention on this estate. It makes everyone’s lives more difficult. It was damned unreasonable of him.’
‘He doted on his wife, apparently, but clearly his feelings were not reciprocated because they say he caught her in that cottage of hers with another man. The cottage in which she was murdered. What is shrouded in mystery is the identity and fate of the man in question, although one can guess. Bagshott never was one to be crossed. Anyway, he went a bit mad after that, shut himself away and closed that track to prevent anyone disturbing his seclusion. More to the point, he was never called to account when his wife’s body was discovered.’
‘Don’t be so naïve, Jules. We both know that if Bagshott was a butcher then his guilt would not have been questioned and his neck would have been stretched. But a man with Bagshott’s influence … well, his wealth would have caused the magistrate to hesitate.’ Cal yawned behind his hand. ‘Before my time. I only know what my father told me. He was incandescent when Bagshott not only closed off that track but also refused to see reason, or to see anyone at all for that matter.’
Jules gave another negligent shrug. ‘True enough. But why still hide away after ten years?’
‘He might have bought off the magistrate, but he’d have been aware that public opinion wouldn’t be so easily swayed. His wife, Mother tells me, was lively and popular, but Bagshott has always been curmudgeonly.’
‘Well, they say opposites attract and live to regret it.’
Cal grunted. ‘Anyway, what does Bagshott want?’ he asked.
‘For you to call upon him,’ Jules said, rolling his eyes.
‘Damned impertinence! If he wants to see me then he can make an appointment and call here, just like anyone else,’ Cal said. ‘I shall not dance to his tune.’ He paused to rub his chin reflectively. ‘I’d be interested to meet him, mind you. I’ve never set eyes on the man – even before his wife had the temerity to turn him into a cuckold.’ He glanced through Bagshott’s letter. ‘“Something to our mutual advantage?” What the devil could he mean by such a thing?’
‘Well, you have a boundary in common. I expect it’s something to do with that,’ Jules replied. ‘There’s only one way to find out.’
‘Tell him I will receive him here tomorrow at two. He can take it or leave it.’
‘Will do.’ Jules gave a mock salute. ‘Anything else?’
‘Have you heard?’ Cal frowned when the door burst open and his sister Celia Daventry sailed through it without bothering to knock. Married to a wastrel of whom Cal heartily disapproved, the Daventrys had lived off Cal’s largesse at Arndale Hall for the three years of their marriage. His late father had approved that arrangement until the lease on Daventry’s estate expired and he could evict the tenants. Cal had acquired the two of them upon his father’s death, and the time was rapidly approaching when he must remind Daventry that his estate and his cellar were not his brother-in-law’s personal domain.
‘What do you want, Celia?’ Cal asked impatiently.
‘Don’t get in a taking with me, Caleb Russell. I deserve some respect.’
Cal simply looked at his sister until she averted her gaze, no doubt aware that his patience had been running thin of late. Only his mother’s dependence upon Celia had prevented Cal from evicting the couple from his home long since. Their father, Cal knew, had permitted the match against his better judgement because Celia had decided that she was in love with the handsome wastrel and there would have been no peace at Arndale Hall until she got her way.
The only daughter had been overindulged by their mother and was accustomed to getting whatever she wanted. Cal hoped that she would provide her husband with an heir before too long. The child would occupy Celia’s attention and hopefully remind Daventry of his obligations.
Anything was possible.
‘What I think you deserve, Celia, would likely leave you disappointed. Respect must be earned, rather than demanded. Now, I ask you again, what’s so important that you must burst in here uninvited?’
