Page 63 of Mesmerized

“He saved my neck, matter of fact,” Rafe contributed. “I got into a little contretemps with a couple of Yankees.”

“Yankees?” Olivia looked puzzled. “But I thought—”

“People from the northern United States,” Stephen interpreted. “Rafe is from the South, you see.”

“Oh. But it’s been ten years since the war there was over, hasn’t it?” Olivia asked. “Surely there’s not still fighting.”

Rafe grinned. “Not in any official way. This was just a little private quarrel regarding the other fellow’s ancestry.”

“It was actually over a card game,” Stephen put in. “And Rafe here was a trifle outnumbered, so I stepped in.”

“Stepped in with a Winchester, I’m happy to say,” Rafe went on. “And we got along, so we decided to pitch in together.”

“I see,” Olivia replied, although she wasn’t entirely certain she did, what with the combination of the American’s accent and his vocabulary.

“We were partners in the silver mine. Then I sold my share of the mine to Rafe when I had to return to England,” Stephen explained.

Great-uncle Bellard entered the conversation. “Mr. McIntyre and I met on the train up here. We were quite astonished to discover that we were bound not only for the same village but for the same estate.”

“Helped to pass the time, having somebody to talk to,” Rafe said.

“We had an interesting conversation,” Great-uncle Bellard confided. “Mr. McIntyre told me quite a bit about the state of Virginia, where he is from originally. I was intrigued to discover that one of his ancestors was a follower of Bonnie Prince Charlie in his doomed attempt to capture the throne, and he fled to the American colonies after their defeat.”

“The McIntyres have always been given to lost causes, you see,” Rafe stuck in with a self-deprecating smile that Olivia noticed did not quite reach his eyes.

“But why were you on the train in the first place, Uncle?” Olivia asked curiously. “Not that I am not happy to see you, for of course I am. It’s just that, well, it is unusual for you ever to leave London.” Indeed, it was unusual for Great-uncle Bellard to even leave the house, but Olivia saw no reason to add that.

“I received your letter,” he explained. “About the untoward things that had been happening here and your questions about the history of the house and all that. As it happened, I had already been looking into the St. Leger family—idle curiosity, I’m afraid,” he said, with a shy smile to Stephen. “And when you wrote me, of course, I went to see Addison Portwell, who is something of a scholar on old estates. He lent me several of his texts. Highly interesting, I must say. It led me to a wonderful book on the Scorhill family—written by a St. Leger, so naturally I cannot be certain of the accuracy of it.”

“Uncle!”

“Oh.” The old man realized how his words sounded and looked immediately distressed. “I did not mean any slur upon you or your family, my lord. I simply meant that since the St. Legers were given the estate that once belonged to Lord Scorhill, they would, of course, have a vested interest in, well, showing that the Scorhills were not the best people to have the land. For the St. Legers to be right in owning Blackhope, then King Henry VIII had to be right to take it away from Lord Scorhill, don’t you see? It’s only natural and quite common in histories, I’m afraid, especially those written immediately after an event. But, of course, it means that one must take great care in reading it not to put one’s faith in it entirely.”

“Of course,” Stephen said, with a smile for Great-uncle Bellard. “I understand perfectly. I am not offended, I assure you, and I agree that we cannot swallow it whole cloth. But I am very pleased that you found some information.”

Relieved, Great-uncle Bellard smiled happily. “Yes, it was quite good, actually, and after what Olivia had said in her letter, I hated to waste the time writing it all down and posting it. So I decided to pack up my books and bring it straight here.”

“Uncle! That’s wonderful!”

“Yes, thank you,” Stephen added. He glanced around at the group. “Let us do this—I am sure you two would like to have a chance to settle into your rooms. And Lady Olivia and I, as you can see, have been exploring in the attic, and we could use a chance to freshen up, as well. So why don’t I ring for tea for us in my study in a few minutes, and we can talk then about what you’ve found out?”

It turned out that Great-uncle Bellard and Rafe, politely not wishing to burden Lord St. Leger, had left their things at the inn in the village, but Lord St. Leger, of course, would not hear of them staying anywhere but in one of the many guest rooms of Blackhope. So, after some courteous social sparring, it was arranged that the two guests would indeed stay at Blackhope and a groom would be sent to the village to bring their bags back to the house. Stephen rang for the butler to give him instructions regarding the rooms and the baggage.

Olivia, linking her arm through her great-uncle’s, took him off with her upstairs. “I am so happy to see you,” she told him, squeezing his arm.

He smiled. “And I, you, my dear. I quite like your young man.”

Flustered by his words, Olivia was not sure what to say. “You know, Uncle, I came here because of the medium. I wrote you about that.”

“Oh, yes.” He nodded happily. “And all the other events. Most interesting, my dear.”

“So Lord St. Leger is a colleague, actually. Not my ‘young man.’”

“Oh? Pity. He seems to admire you.” He switched the topic suddenly. “Very old house—quite a lot of history to it. Do you suppose Lord St. Leger would mind if I used his library?”

“No, I am sure not. What makes you say he admires me?”

“What? Oh.” Great-uncle Bellard looked thoughtful. “I’m not sure, actually, just an impression I had. He looked at you a certain way is all, rather the way your father looked at your mother. Still does, really. As if he had made an extraordinary find. You know.”