My latest novel, If Not For the Entail, is now available on Amazon. I released the eBook late Saturday evening and am now working on the paperback version. The process, from idea to completion, was not easy, so I’m pleased as punch to get to this point. I pray that my next composition goes a little easier but I suppose that is, for the most part, entirely up to me.

I’m pleased with this story. It’s a bit more in-depth than my previous offerings and concludes with the introduction of five new characters I am considering for a new series of books. The overall premise concerns the Darcy children and their efforts to find justice for those who come to them for help. I’m thinking of it as a cross between “Sherlock Holmes” and “The Equalizer”. Right now, I’m still playing with the idea, so it might come to nothing, but I think there are possibilities.

Today’s post is not about future projects, however, but about my new novel. The last time I wrote about it, I posted the blurb, so today I am posting an excerpt for your reading pleasure. Of course, my ulterior motive is to pique your curiosity enough to read the entire novel, either through purchase or on Kindle Unlimited.

Enjoy this prologue:

 

“Do you have it?” he demanded, crossing the threshold and immediately turning on his host. “My time is valuable, and spending a week away from London is not good for business.”

Henry held his breath and waved the man to a chair. With a snort, the fellow strode past him to Henry’s personal seat beside the fireplace. It was a simple act of defiance that on other days, and in different circumstances, he might take exception to, but today he did not pursue the matter. If this led to a rapid conclusion of the situation, he would accept the implied insult.

A week to come from London and return? Only if he was riding the swiftest steed in England, and even then, the unfortunate animal would drop from exhaustion halfway back. I doubt he runs an honest business, unless it involves the sale of worn-out clothing.

Henry watched the slovenly visitor. He did not doubt the reports that put them about the same age, but if they had first met on a London Street, he would have assumed the man was twenty years or more his senior.

Lines creased his face and wrinkled his lids, narrowed to thin slits that must limit how much he could see. The dim light in the room, provided by the fire and two low-lit lamps, hindered his own examination and the visitor dealt with the same barrier.

The day outside was bright, a rarity for this time of year in England, but Henry kept the curtains drawn so the visitor could not see the room’s contents. According to rumors, he was a thief, so it was wise to hide the chamber from his view.

“Why couldn’t we do this in London?” he complained when Henry remained at the door. “The money this cost me would have been of more use to me there. We need to finish so I can get back. People are expecting me, and I cannot afford to keep them waiting.”

Henry studied the man as he spoke. A sheen of moisture covered his brow, and he dragged an arm across his forehead to wipe it away. The filth on the sleeve mixed with his sweat, leaving a black streak that widened as he repeated the action.

A scent so strong it was almost palatable surrounded Henry, like the milk the cook had poured in the garden that morning. When the man stopped in the doorway upon entering, his delay allowed the stink to precede him into the room and work its way into every corner. If his intent in pausing was to wait for the fetid aroma to announce his presence, he had succeeded admirably. Henry felt a momentary bit of sympathy for the poor servants charged with ridding the house of the stink he would leave behind as a reminder of his visit.

He was almost sick from the smell, and the rosewater he splashed liberally under his nose had no effect. As soon as he was able, Henry intended to immerse himself in a vat of the liquid to rid his body of the stench. The attempt was most likely a fool’s errand, but he had to erase the stink from his memory.

Desperation to conclude the affair sent him around the desk to the estate master’s chair, which he dropped into with alacrity. This issue needed to end before the remains of his breakfast made an involuntary appearance.

If the man offered a friendlier demeanor, Henry might have felt the temptation to ease his discomfort with a light-hearted bit of humor. From the look of him, though, the fellow would not welcome the attempt, so Henry did not try.

Instead, he nodded toward the chair across from him and waved a hand to encourage his guest to occupy the seat first indicated. The man’s approach turned his stomach, but holding his breath gave him temporary respite. He did not look forward to having to inhale again, but any relief, no matter how fleeting, was preferable to the sickening odors rising from this man.

His guest grunted and crossed the room to throw himself into the correct chair, then leaned forward and grasped its arms to move the piece nearer. Without thinking, Henry shrank back to escape the renewed attack on his nose, the involuntary action bringing an insulting laugh from the other.

He forced himself to lean over the desk, despite the revolting odor that brought tears to his eyes, and fixed the man with a calm gaze, holding it until the other’s dropped.

“Sign the document and I will instruct Barton to release the funds,” he said, pointing to a large, well-muscled servant standing apart from them across the library. “But first, do you agree with the terms?”

“What kind of trickery is this?” the man shouted and jumped to his feet, his face purpling. “You called me out here so you could spend a week laughing at me while you send someone to London for my money?”

The chair he had occupied tipped back on its two hind legs but settled again on all four, coming to rest against the enraged man’s legs. At its touch, he reached behind himself to grasp the piece of furniture, which he raised above his head as if intending to use it as a club with which to strike Henry. The action brought Barton within a few steps, stopping close enough to interfere with any foolish decision to attack.

The man stopped with the chair still in the air, the sight one for the ages. Though informed of his lack of self-control, Henry had, until then, discounted the tales as an exaggeration. It would seem the stories were true, and a fleeting thought of imminent danger raced through his mind.

Barton gave a soft cough, however, catching the other’s attention. When the enraged man looked to the sound, the servant shook his head but said not a word, the finger he pointed at the floor sufficient to convey his message.

Henry watched the other fight to regain his temper. His breaths came in ragged gulps, their rapidity suggesting his difficulty in calming himself. Tightly closed eyes suggested he wanted to cry out at the unanticipated delay. His grip on the heavy furniture had the veins on his arms standing out, and Henry wondered how much longer he could remain in that position before his muscles failed him.

As though his body arrived at that realization, his arms started to drop. Henry expected him to fight the urge, but the anger seemed to leave at once and he returned the chair to the floor, collapsing into it as if spent.

“I did not say the money was elsewhere,” Henry said, sending his guardian back with a nod. “What I said was Barton would release it to you when our business was complete. You cannot expect me to hand it over first and trust you to live up to your part of the bargain. Now, are the terms agreeable?”

“How much money are you giving me?”

Henry wanted to smile at the man’s greed but kept the emotion to himself. There was too much at stake to risk it by celebrating early. There would be time for that when this unwelcome guest left the property and could not change his mind.

“The sum we settled on,” he said, struggling to keep his voice even. This conversation was getting tiresome, and he could not afford to lose his temper. Yelling would play into the fellow’s plans, and he refused to lower himself further than he already had in this affair.

“Seven thousand should go a long way,” the man said, rubbing his hands together.

Henry shrugged, the statement expected. “I suppose it would, but that is not what you demanded the last time we discussed this. You will receive the agreed-upon amount, and not a shilling more, so I ask again. Is that acceptable?”

The answering nod told Henry all he needed to know. Looking down, he opened a drawer and took a page from it, which he placed in front of the man, with a pen and saucer of ink in which to dip the quill.

“First, I want you to study this and satisfy yourself there is nothing on the page we did not agree to. When you finish, sign your name along the bottom.”

“Why not just do it now and be done with it?” asked the man, reaching for the pen, which Henry pulled away.

“Read it first or the money stays where it is. If you cannot do that, tell me and I will have someone other than myself or Barton do it for you.”

Henry’s remarks had the desired effect as the fellow reached out to snatch the page from where it lay. “I am not a simpleton,” he said, turning his head toward the paper.

The room grew silent while he read through the agreement, the only sound the ticking of the upright clock behind Henry, its steady beat almost lulling him to sleep.

“Give me the pen,” said the guest, slamming the document on the desk, the noise startling Henry from his relaxed state of mind.

The instrument clenched in his fist, he scratched out an all but illegible signature, after which he shoved the page back and rose.

Henry raised a hand, the gesture causing his guest to pause. “That is the first you need to sign. There are others.”

He reached into the drawer again and produced another document, identical to the first, which he pushed to the other. “There are two more pages to do the same on, then Barton will give you the money. They are identical copies, one for you and the other for safe keeping elsewhere.”

The man crossed his arms and glared at Henry. “I am not signing anything else. How do I know you are not trying to cheat me? Give me what you promised so I can leave while it is still light outside.”

Henry allowed himself a tiny smile. “Take all the time you need and read them over. I am not cheating you out of anything and will stake my reputation on these documents being identical in every way. Now sign them so we can finish this. Like you, I have someplace to be, so the sooner you affix your signature, the quicker this wonderful meeting will end.”

Snatching the proffered pen, the man scratched out his name on the two remaining pieces of paper. “We are wasting time,” he said, nodding at the documents. “Are we done yet, or have you thought of other tricks you want me to perform?”

Henry turned the signed copies around and added his signature beside the visitor’s on each page, then nodded to Barton, who moved from his corner to the desk. This time he placed a valise on the table. At another nod, he opened the bag and, removing a bundle of bank notes, handed them to the man.

“What now?” the other asked, his concentration more on the notes he gripped than on Henry.

“Count what he gave you, so there is no question but that you received every penny of the agreed sum.”

A mocking laugh burst from the visitor, who began stuffing the paper into his pockets, filling each before moving to the next. “Are you saying you don’t trust me, old friend?” he said upon finishing.

“Or did you purposely cheat me out of a few quid and think I wasn’t going to count the money as I put it away?”

Henry stayed silent, refusing to involve himself in this farce of a discussion. The fellow’s disagreeable nature was hard enough to endure without providing him with an excuse to further torture everybody on the estate by his presence.

“I counted every penny,” he snarled and nodded toward Barton, standing against the wall. “I’ll give you no reason to have your man beat me and steal my money. Now, if we are done, people are waiting for me in London.”

With a smile he no longer wanted to hold, Henry responded, “Then our business is complete, so feel free to leave.”

The guest seemed happy to follow the suggestion, as he turned on his heel and moved to the door at a pace that surprised Henry. Barton, having crossed the room in response to the conversation, had it open.

“I will thank you for staying off my property now. We have nothing left to discuss, and your presence is unwelcome.”

“That is fine with me,” came the answer as the man moved through the door. “You were never the most welcoming host anyway, and I have no desire to listen to that shrew you married.”

With that the unwelcome visitor left. Henry did not move, taking a moment to bask in the relief flooding his soul at the completion of such distasteful business.

“He is gone,” said another man, entering the room as Barton left. “And none too soon. I was thinking he was going to be here all night, and I was not sure we had sufficient soap or water to make him presentable enough to join us at the table for supper.”

“Thank you again,” Henry responded. “Without your generosity, he would still have been tormenting me. I am at a loss in expressing my gratitude, but I will repay you. It might take a while, but I give you my word.”

The other man approached Henry to throw an arm around his shoulders. “You owe me nothing. You came to my rescue years ago, so this was my attempt to return your kindness. If not for your intervention, I would have lost everything.”

“My assistance was less than you claim,” Henry protested. “But I am glad I was able to help. Now, if you will excuse me, I should leave as well. I have a long journey ahead of me, and I want to start.”

“Can I entice you to stay the night? You just got here, and we have not had the chance to brag to each other about our children.”

Henry laughed. “As tempting as I find the offer, I left a lot undone to come here. I promise to visit soon, but they need me at home. We are preparing for autumn and my stablemaster made sure to tell me how important it was that I return as soon as this business was complete.”

“Then consider this your invitation to return after the harvest finishes in a few months. My son comes home from school at about that time, and I intend to spend a day or two celebrating.”

Henry smiled and clapped his friend on the back. “I appreciate the offer and I am sure my family would enjoy the experience. I will write when the work is complete, and we can plan the visit.”

The conversation continued as the friends left the library and the companions walked to the entrance, where a carriage stood waiting. “Goodbye, my friend,” he said, entering the cabin and settling himself on a seat.

A sharp rap against the roof told the driver he was ready, and the coach pulled away. The estate’s master watched it disappear, then went inside to instruct his housekeeper on cleaning the foul odor from his library and anywhere else the man had set foot.

 

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