The Duke (Silver Linings Mysteries Book 6)

by Mary Kingswood

  “I do not wonder at it, for my brother always had a great ability to play a part,” Ran said, laughing. “He could have made a career on the stage, without a doubt. Lord, I can hardly believe this! Ger alive… but it is more than a year now. Why has he not contacted me?”

  “It is possible,” Willerton-Forbes said gently, “that he suffered some injury during the sinking that has caused him to forget his true identity. He was quite badly injured, I understand, and was unconscious for some time.”

  “Ah, yes. That is possible. How awkward that would be!” Ran said.

  “Indeed. But… ah, such excellent brandy, thank you, my lord! I feel a great deal better already. But there is also the possibility that he simply prefers to be Mr Ellsworthy, a humble clerk. You said, I think, that he found his high rank a burden to him.”

  “Yes,” Ran said, frowning. “I suppose… if he woke up one day, and everyone believed him to be Ellsworthy and the duke was dead — and I identified him, after all! — then he might choose to stay as Ellsworthy.”

  “And he might not wish to take up the mantle of high office again,” the lawyer said quietly. “I believe you should prepare yourself for that, too, my lord.”

  “But either way — whether he has forgotten who he is, or is choosing to hide — it is all very awkward,” Ran said. Some of his excitement began to drain away as he considered the difficulties.

  “There is another, somewhat worse, possibility which we must consider,” Edgerton said, moving away from the now-blazing fire. “You told us once, my lord, that your brother found the burden of his rank weighed so heavily on him that he considered ways to pretend to die in order to evade it. Is it conceivable that he intentionally ran the ship aground?”

  “No!” cried Ran. “Ger would never do that! Just consider — if it were so, he must have driven the ship onto the rocks himself, and killed almost everyone aboard, in order to do so. It must have been an accident!”

  “It would have been a great risk, and difficult to accomplish,” Edgerton said thoughtfully. “He would have had to be on deck himself, then somehow taken control of the ship and steered it towards the shore. And then could he be sure that he would himself survive? He would have to jump overboard, avoiding the rocks, and swim a mile, perhaps two, in the dark in freezing water. Was your brother a good swimmer, my lord?”

  “He was,” Ran said, sitting down abruptly as his legs gave way. “But… I cannot believe such a thing of him! And he was injured… a broken leg, was it not? And unconscious. If he had walked out of the sea—”

  “An excellent point,” Willerton-Forbes said. “What do the notes say of his rescue, Michael?”

  “Let me see… ah, here we are. He was washed up on the beach unmoving. One of the locals spotted his body and he was dragged from the water, half dead. In fact, he was thought to be dead. The Second Mate was fished out of the bay by a fellow in a boat, and the deck boy floated ashore on wreckage, more or less unscathed. I agree it seems implausible, but we should not discount any possibility until we have spoken to His Grace ourselves.”

  Ran jumped up at once. “I must go to him… find him…”

  “And if he does not wish to be found, my lord?” Willerton-Forbes said gently. “What then?”

  That brought Ran to an abrupt halt. “If that is so, then he must be left alone. He must do what makes him happy, for, God knows, he was never happy with the prospect of becoming a duke. If he has found a place for himself in the world where he can be completely content, then he may stay there for his whole life with my goodwill, and I will be the Duke of Falconbury in his stead.”

  “And how precisely would that work?” Willerton-Forbes said, his voice as soft as butter. “How can you be the Duke of Falconbury and take your seat in the Lords and marry and raise children, all the while knowing that the real duke is alive and well in Cornwall? Knowing that the deception could be uncovered at any moment and the inheritance, the title, everything, would be thrown into confusion?”

  “I have no idea,” Ran said bleakly. “I only know that it must be attempted, if that is what Ger needs to be happy.”

  ~~~~~

  Mr Willerton-Forbes arranged everything. Ger was living at the small fishing village of Pendower in Cornwall, but Ran could hardly turn up on the doorstep, unannounced, and give his brother the shock of his life. Besides, if Ger intended to live out his life incognito, Ran could not go into Pendower at all, for he would be recognised. He had spent some time in the neighbourhood after the sinking of the Brig Minerva and during the inquests, so his face and identity were well known. There would have to be great secrecy in the meeting, to leave Ger the freedom to remain as Jonathan Ellsworthy, if he so wished.

  The lawyer and his companions posted down to Cornwall, and found a busy coaching inn at the village of Trehannick about ten miles inland. It was away from the main London to Penzance route, where Ran might conceivably encounter acquaintances making their way up to London for the season, but the focus of enough well-used routes that a few extra travellers would occasion no comment. The story they had devised was that they were looking into the possibility of purchasing tin mines for a client. Willerton-Forbes and Captain Edgerton were so flamboyantly dressed that they would never be able to pass unnoticed anywhere, so they used their real names, but Ran was to be plain Mr Salterwood, a name taken from one of the family’s minor titles. He could only hope that he was far enough from Pendower that no one would recognise him.

  Willerton-Forbes sent a letter privately to Ran to inform him of the arrangements. This was not as easy to manage as might be supposed, for Ran had a veritable army of under-secretaries, whose job it was to open all his correspondence. Even a missive clearly marked ‘Personal and Private’ might be opened by mistake, and that could not be risked. If a suspicion got out that Ran was not, in fact, the rightful duke, there would be no possibility of Ger hiding away. So a letter was sent to Peter Lorrimer, with the letter to Ran hidden inside.

  When word came that all was ready, Ran ignored the shocked faces of his valet, coachman and grooms when he told them firmly that they were not needed, and took a post-chaise and four to Truro, with only a small portmanteau as luggage. From there, he hired a horse and rode on to Trehannick. He wore his oldest and plainest clothes, and although there was no hiding the quality of them, he was fairly certain that no one would immediately assume him to be of high rank.

  The inn was noisy and crowded, but Willerton-Forbes had secured all the best bedchambers and a substantial private parlour. Nor was the dinner in any way lacking . It would not have pleased the most fastidious, but Ran was not of that ilk, and was besides in no mood to notice what he ate. Now that the moment of truth was upon him, he found his nerves to be lamentably shredded.

  “I have written to Ellsworthy — to your brother,” Willerton-Forbes said, “and he will attend us here tomorrow at noon. Here is his note of reply. You may verify that it is your brother’s hand.”

  “It is,” Ran said, his stomach churning painfully. It was true, then! There was not the smallest chance of error. Ger was alive and living in this remote part of the country under a false name. But why?

  The evening passed with intolerable slowness. Neate was down in the tap room, mingling in his unobtrusive way with locals, but Willerton-Forbes and Edgerton stayed in the parlour with Ran after the table was cleared. Ran was minded neither for cards nor for reading, and after a while, guessing that his thoughts could not be drawn away from Ger, Edgerton said, “I am curious as to why your brother went to America in the first place. It seems an odd turn for him. Do not most men go there to make their fortune?”

  “Or to escape the law,” Willerton-Forbes said.

  Ran smiled. “It was neither of those, obviously. He had always wanted to visit, for he had some idea that his title would be of no account there. They talked so much, the Americans, of all men being equal, and such an idea was bound to appeal to Ger. He had met obsequiousness every day of his life, but the prospect of an
entire country without it enchanted him. Of course, when he arrived, he found it was not at all like that and the Americans were as fascinated by his rank as anyone else. ‘The world is nothing but disappointment,’ he said in one letter.”

  Ran sighed and fell silent, and the others respectfully forbore to press him. No doubt they understood the momentous precipice upon which he stood. What would tomorrow bring? A happy reunion, or anger and a breach? Or would Ger even recognise him? Unnerving thought. But perhaps it would help to talk about Ger, so after a while he spoke again.

  “Ger and I were four and twenty, and Ruth —” Ruth! Oh God, what about Ruth? But there was no point in considering that yet until he knew Ger’s mind. With an effort, he went on, “Lady Ruth Grenaby, whom Ger was expected to marry, was seventeen. She was about to be launched on society, and the marriage was finally resolved upon. They were not formally betrothed, but there was an understanding between them, and both families were happy with it. It was Ruth who hesitated. She felt too young, too unfamiliar with the world, she said. She would like to wait a year or two, to have some time in society and to gain a little experience of life before she was thrust into marriage and the running of Valmont.

  “Father was very ill at that time, and not expected to survive for more than a year or two at most. He had already given me the authority to manage the estates in his stead, as I had been doing unofficially for some years, but now I had the legal power, too. He wanted… I think all he wanted was to be left in peace to die. And Ger was restless. He was often so, but the more Father declined, the more Ger fretted. He said that he felt the bars of the cage closing around him, and once he assumed his honours, he would never escape. So it was agreed that he should go to America, and get the fidgets out of him.

  “Ger was only supposed to be away for a year or so, but Father lingered and there was no need to recall the heir, so there he stayed, seemingly enjoying himself, keeping himself busy. He was supposed to look at farms and land management and such like, but all he ever wrote about was social engagements. Balls, picnics, the theatre, card parties — a lot of card parties! I suspect he was financing himself with his winnings, for he never asked for more money. He moved around, but not as much as I would have expected. He seemed happy enough, until Father died and he had to return. That brought on the gloom again. I do believe, when I consider the matter, that if he had found himself unexpectedly living under a different name and his true self believed dead, he might well have imagined that Providence had blessed him, and stay silent.”

  “And if that is so, are you still minded to let him do so?” Willerton-Forbes said, quietly.

  “Of course,” Ran said. “I would not be so selfish as to drag him back against his will to a world where he was never comfortable. But the choice must be his.”

  Willerton-Forbes made no attempt to reiterate all the objections to such a scheme, but then he did not need to. Ran was all too aware of the impossible position in which he would be placed. He could never marry Ruth under such a deception. It was unthinkable.

  ~~~~~

  Ran slept fitfully that night, and rose, unrefreshed, with the dawn. Then he had to wait until the boy brought up some barely tepid water for him to wash and shave before dressing. For a man who had had the expert services of a valet since he was ten years old, having to dress himself was more challenging than he might have supposed. Shaving and tying his cravat were matters he reserved to himself, but everything else would be handed to him at precisely the right moment, perfectly pressed, starched or polished. On his way down to Truro he had stayed at salubrious post houses where he was offered a man to help him, but here the inn was in a constant bustle and there was no one to spare. It was not until Neate knocked on the door and enquired if any assistance was required, for he had had some experience as a gentleman’s gentleman, that he got on a little better, although most of his garments were sadly rumpled.

  Then there was the wait until breakfast appeared. Captain Edgerton, quite unruffled, sat calmly reading a local newspaper, but Ran could only pace about, back and forth, like a beast in its cage at the menagerie. Willerton-Forbes, also assisted by Neate, was the last to appear, just as the dishes were being set out on the table. Neate again ate in the tap room, but Willerton-Forbes and Edgerton ate their way through everything provided for them, while Ran could manage no more than a slice of cold beef, and crumble bread in a fretful anxiety.

  The morning hours crept by, and eleven o’clock was reached, and then the half hour. At about ten minutes to the hour, Neate poked his head round the door.

  “Just arriving in the yard now.”

  “I will go down to meet him and bring him up here,” Willerton-Forbes said.

  Ran’s heart was thundering. He took a deep breath, and then another.

  “Courage!” Captain Edgerton said with a smile. “He is your brother, after all.”

  Ran smiled too, half-heartedly. Indeed, it must be Ger, everything proclaimed it, but would he be the Ger who had sailed away to America? Would he be angry with Ran for finding him? Would he even recognise him?

  He was terrified.

  There were steps on the stair, the sound of Willerton-Forbes’ voice outside. “Pray go in before me, sir.” The door was flung open.

  And there he was. He had a slight limp, but otherwise he was Ger to the life, looking not a day older, gazing without interest around the parlour. Just an ordinary parlour at an ordinary inn.

  Ran waited in dread.

  Ger saw him. His lips parted in sudden shock. For an instant, they were both motionless, staring at each other. Then Ger’s face broke into a huge grin.

  “Ran!” he shrieked. “Good God, Ran, it is you! Oh, Ran!”

  He hurled himself across the room and wrapped Ran in a tight embrace.

  “I cannot tell you how glad I am to see you!” Ger whispered. “I have dreamt of this moment…”

  Ran hugged him, and laughed, and then hugged him again. “You old rascal, Ger!”

  Ger’s smile faltered. “Oh brother, I have missed you so, so much. What an idiot I have been.”

  9: Questions Of Marriage

  Ran discovered that the parlour was empty save for Ger and himself. The others had diplomatically withdrawn, once it was clear that the reunion was harmonious. With shaking hands, Ran poured the indifferent wine which was all the inn afforded, and the brothers sat down at one end of the table. Ran knew himself to be grinning inanely, but he was incapable of a more sober expression, and when he looked at Ger he saw the same exhilaration reflected there.

  But he had to be serious for a while. “Ger, I want you to know that you need not return to Valmont if you dislike the idea, or do anything you do not want. If you are happy here, then I will not drag you away. No one knows of this except for Willerton-Forbes and his two colleagues. No one at Valmont knows, so if you want to—”

  “No, no, no,” Ger said, shaking his head emphatically. “I had already decided I have to return. The secrecy… pretending all the time… it eats at me inside. It was one thing to pretend to be nobody for a lark, but this—! I feel so guilty, and it was becoming dangerous. Cornwall is not the uncharted backwater you might suppose, brother, and I am not moving at such a low level of society as to avoid all possibility of meeting an acquaintance. My employer, Mr Pickering, even wishes me to go with him to London… London! Can you imagine? It would only take one person who knows me to expose everything. I cannot live my life in constant terror of recognition, and imagine if I am discovered in five or ten or twenty years’ time — there would be the devil to pay. When I read in the London newspapers just two weeks since that you were to take your seat soon — Ran, I had assumed it done long since, but when I saw that, I knew I had to emerge from hiding, and at once. There is a letter on its way to you even now.”

  Ran exhaled slowly, as relief washed through him. Thank God! He would not have to pretend to be the duke after all. But there were still questions to be answered. “That is all very well, Ger, but wh
o the deuce is lying in the family mausoleum?”

  “His name is Joseph Meadows. Joe, I called him. An actor. I met him on the way to Boston, and he was so interested in all that I was doing, but not encroaching in the least. He wanted to see what Boston society was like, so when I got an invitation, I took him with me. Well, he has far more presence than I have, so when we were announced, everyone assumed he was the Marquess of Beckhampton! It was so funny, Ran, you would have laughed so much! But I could go and hide in a corner, you see, just as I always wished I could do, and Joe just loved the attention, so we agreed that he would be me, and I would be him. He changed his hair, he wore some of my London clothes that I never bothered with, and eventually I let him wear my signet ring and fob.”

  “He wore the ring on the wrong finger,” Ran said.

  “Ah… yes, his hands were different, but the hair… that was just like mine, do you not think? And when I told him about that stupid birthmark of mine, and showed him what it looked like, he went out and got it inked onto his head just the same, the way some sailors do. He insisted that if he were to be me, even temporarily, the thing must be done properly. I imagine that was why you thought he was me. That was hard to believe, and… well, I was so ill, just at first, that there was no strength in me to care what was happening. I was alive, and that was all that seemed to matter. I had been identified by the Second Mate as Jonathan Ellsworthy, so no suspicions were aroused, and I simply lay in bed and gradually mended. Joe’s body was found, wearing my clothes — the ring and fob and my pocket watch, engraved with my name — but I assumed that you would take one look at him and deny him. I had planned, you know, to have him stay as me all the way to Southampton and give you a terrible shock when he stepped off the ship, everyone fawning around him, and then I would pop up and say, ‘Surprise!’ It would have been such a good joke. Did I not write to tell you I had a surprise for you? But for you to identify his body as me — it must have been that wretched mark.”