A Debt of Dishonor

by Marek, Lillian

  Cook, who had often been frustrated by the duke’s indifference to elaborate entertainments, was determined to show what he could do. The meal began with a choice of fresh pea soup with tiny croutons or a clear bouillon garnished with minced herbs, followed by a fish course featuring sea bass in a champagne sauce or turbot in a cream sauce. Then there were vol-au-vents stuffed with lobster or a forcemeat of chicken, braised ducklings, a chaudfroid of game, a roast sirloin of beef with mustard sauce, pies of herbs and greens, oranges stuffed with ices, meringues and syllabubs, all accompanied by fine wines.

  The dinner was a triumph. Sidmouth basked in the honor done him by so elaborate a meal for so small a company, and felt pleasantly flattered by the admiration of Mrs. Darling and her niece. An occasional smile lightened his heavy countenance as he responded to their chatter.

  Lord Eldon was pleased as well, most especially by the welcome given to his wife, his beloved Bessie. As the daughter of a banker, she had not always been accorded a warm welcome in the ton. Here, however, not only had Lady Talmadge greeted her as an old and valued friend but the duke paid her particular attention, and Lord Merton’s light teasing had the elderly lady blushing happily.

  By the time the ladies withdrew, the guests were in a comfortably mellow mood, and Ashleigh nodded to dismiss the servants.

  Sidmouth cast a sardonic glance at his host. Now was doubtless the time when he would discover the reason for all this attention. He lifted his glass and admired the glow of the port in the candlelight before speaking. “Pleasant girl, your betrothed. I don’t believe I have seen her in town before.” He looked questioningly at Ashleigh.

  “No, Miss Russell lived always in Yorkshire and came to stay with her aunt in Lewes only after her mother’s death.”

  “Ah. There’s a great attraction in modest country manners.” Sidmouth gave a knowing smile. He remembered the former duke and duchess, whose escapades had frequently exploded on the public scene. “And I don’t suppose you are in need of a great dowry.”

  Eldon looked a trifle uncomfortable at such plain speaking, but Ashleigh managed a small smile.

  “Right.” Sidmouth drained his glass and refilled it. He disliked waiting. “Well then, what is all this in aid of? The dinner has been excellent, and the ladies charming, but I cannot believe you invited us only for the pleasure of our company. What favor is it that you are asking? A place for an indigent relative? A bill of enclosure?”

  Ashleigh fingered his glass and spoke slowly. “It is a bit awkward. I do not know quite what should be done, and I am hoping that you gentlemen, positioned as you are, might be able to advise me.”

  Eldon’s white brows came together in a frown. “If this is a legal matter…”

  Sidmouth scowled, his mind leaping as always to his major preoccupation. “Treason? Have you uncovered some sort of plot?” He turned his glare on Bancroft and Merton.

  “No, nothing of that sort. At least not precisely. My friends here are familiar with the situation, which is why I wished them to be present.” Ashleigh looked from Sidmouth to Eldon and back again. “Do you, my lords, by any chance know the Earl of Farnsworth?”

  “Know him? I would not say that, precisely.” A shadow of distaste crossed Eldon’s face. He tended to the puritanical. “I know something of him. However, he has never taken any great interest in affairs of state. I have rarely seen him in the Lords.”

  Sidmouth snorted. “I would not have thought him the sort of person you would wish to know, Duke.”

  “I cannot say that I wish to know him. Unfortunately, he has intruded himself into my life rather dangerously. He has developed some sort of obsession regarding Miss Russell and is determined to have her.”

  “Annoying perhaps, embarrassing even, especially for the young lady, but your betrothal has been announced. Surely that put an end to his persistence,” said Eldon.

  “All of which is in no way the concern of government ministers,” Sidmouth snapped.

  “Unfortunately,” said Ashleigh, “his actions went well beyond persistence, and have not ceased. He endeavored to abduct Miss Russell, and it was only by chance that I arrived in time to rescue her. Then he sent men to burn down the house in which she had been living with her aunt. Fortunately, I had already removed the ladies and their servants to Kelswick, and the men I left guarding the place were able to capture one of the arsonists and put out the flames.”

  There was silence while the two members of the government considered this, Eldon shocked and Sidmouth angry.

  “These are serious criminal charges, Your Grace.” Sidmouth was now sitting stiffly in his chair. “Have you evidence to bring before a magistrate?”

  “There are witnesses to both events.” Ashleigh removed a paper from the inner pocket of his coat and handed it to Sidmouth. “Then there is this.”

  Sidmouth started to glance through it quickly, then stopped and read it again slowly before passing it to Eldon. His face was once again impassive when he spoke. “How did you come by this letter, Your Grace?”

  “The fellow to whom it was written brought it to me,” said Ashleigh. “It seems he does not consider himself a criminal, no less a murderer, and was rather offended that Farnsworth assumed he was available for such a task.”

  Eldon had finished reading the letter and looked up, aghast. “And Farnsworth signed his name to this? The man must be mad.”

  Ashleigh gave him a long look. “The thought had crossed my mind.”

  Eldon started to speak, then stopped. “Mad?” he said slowly. “You are serious?”

  Ashleigh shrugged.

  At this point Merton broke into the conversation. “Bancroft and I went with the duke to confront Farnsworth and try to bring him to his senses. He was—I do not know quite how to describe it.”

  “He was raving,” said Bancroft bluntly. “Practically foaming at the mouth.”

  His mouth tight with displeasure, Sidmouth looked around the company. “This is a matter that should be dealt with by Farnsworth’s family. I do not see why you are endeavoring to bring us into it.”

  Ashworth nodded in agreement. “That was my thought. Unfortunately, Farnsworth does not seem to have any family, at least none who are known. I could have charges brought against him, but that would inevitably bring scandal and notoriety down on my betrothed and me. I would prefer to avoid that.”

  “On the other hand,” said Merton, “having a peer going about acting as if he is above the law plays right into the hands of the radicals demanding reform.”

  “An unpleasant situation,” contributed Bancroft.

  “In many ways,” said Sidmouth tightly.

  Ashleigh nodded. “I do not know what the law might be here, but I wondered if you, Lord Eldon, as lord chancellor, might be empowered to institute proceedings? To have Farnsworth examined by a panel of doctors who would, in turn, be able to determine the best course for him?”

  Eldon looked no happier than Sidmouth. “I really do not know, Your Grace…”

  Ashleigh raised a hand and looked rueful. “I apologize, my lord. I do not mean to put you in an awkward position. It is only that I thought you ought to be apprised of the situation, since there is the possibility that it could erupt into something serious.”

  Bancroft coughed and examined his glass. “After all, none of us would wish to see another scandal like the trial of Earl Ferrars.”

  Sidmouth glared at everyone, and was about to speak when a confusion of noise penetrated the room. Ashleigh frowned and stood. The rest followed him as he strode into the hall.

  The Earl of Farnsworth stood in the center of the hall, a circle of distressed footmen surrounding him. The earl leaned arrogantly on his cane, a hectic flush on his face. “Ah, there you are, Ashleigh. I have come for Miss Russell. Tell your minions to bring her to me.”

  “Remove him,” Ashleigh said to the footmen in icy tones.

  Farnsworth cast a glance over the footmen and his mouth curled in a sneer. “These canaille? They
would not dare to so much as touch me.” He turned back to Ashleigh and noticed the others behind him. “You have your tame toadies again, I see. And who is this? Ah, more canaille. Sidmouth, the doctor’s brat, and Eldon, the jumped-up cit. You keep low company, Duke.”

  At a gesture from Ashleigh, two of the footmen approached Farnsworth, but he suddenly turned and swung his cane at them, smashing it across the face of one. “You would dare to touch me?”

  Merton muttered something and stepped toward Farnsworth, but Ashleigh stopped him. “My play, I believe,” he murmured. Two steps brought him to Farnsworth. He snatched the flailing cane with one hand and, with the other, dealt a blow that laid the earl low.

  “Neat, very neat,” said Merton. “You do these things with a certain flair.”

  Ashleigh acknowledged the comment with a small bow before turning to the injured footman. The damage was minor, his nose was bloodied but not broken, and Gregson had the man helped below where the housekeeper was prepared for all emergencies. Then, assured that the earl’s carriage was at the door, he had the remaining footmen carry the unconscious earl out and ship him home.

  Ashleigh turned to his guests with an apologetic shrug. “As I mentioned, he is becoming intrusive.”

  Eldon looked deeply distressed and was shaking his head.

  Sidmouth continued to scowl, and looked searchingly at Ashleigh. “I don’t see how you could have planned this demonstration, but it was certainly fortuitous.” At the duke’s haughty look, he waved a hand dismissively. “No, no, I intend no insult, but you must admit it is a remarkable coincidence.”

  He harrumphed and stared at the floor, while Eldon made small exclamations of distress. Looking up once more, Sidmouth said, “I will take my leave now, Your Grace, if you will make my excuses to your ladies. I have a number of pressing matters demanding attention.”

  He looked pointedly at Eldon, who cleared his throat and said, “I, too, if you could let my lady know that we must be leaving.”

  *

  Sussex

  It was Bancroft who first noticed the item. He and Ashleigh had been sitting companionably over a quiet breakfast back at Kelswick, he reading the Morning Post and the duke reading The Times.

  “Good God,” he exclaimed. “Did you see this?”

  Ashleigh looked up curiously. “Hmm?”

  Bancroft handed the paper over, pointing to the headline: “Murder of peer in Mayfair Street, brutal attack on Earl of Farnsworth thought to be the work of footpads.”

  The duke snatched at the paper and read the brief story through twice. Still staring at it, he said, “Farnsworth was apparently walking home alone in the early morning hours. Does that seem likely to you?”

  “Does what seem likely?” Lady Talmadge came in, smiling cheerfully, followed by Clara. Although the question was directed at her brother, the smile went directly to Bancroft, where it was answered by one of his.

  Momentarily distracted, Ashleigh marveled once more at the change in his sister, so confident and happy at last. When she repeated her question, he caught himself up and showed her the paper.

  She read it and paled. “Farnsworth is dead? How, how extraordinary.”

  “Who?” asked Clara, her interest caught by the interest of her elders.

  “Oh, no one you know, dear. Just someone your uncle once met.” Lady Talmadge continued to stare at the paper.

  Clara frowned, then her face cleared. “Oh, I know. The Earl of Farnsworth. He’s the one who tried to kidnap Kate and burn down Mrs. Darling’s house. That will please Kate, won’t it?”

  Bancroft, who had been in the process of taking a sip of tea, came very close to snorting it all over the table. Her mother sighed. Her uncle demanded, “How the devil did you know that?”

  Clara looked affronted. “Everyone knows that,” she said dismissively.

  “Everyone?” Ashleigh glared at her, and was about to say more, but his sister silenced him with a look. He tightened his lips and stood up. “If you will excuse me, I must go see Mrs. Darling and Miss Russell.”

  Clara, munching on her toast, watched in surprise as her uncle strode out.

  Bancroft was now sitting beside Lady Talmadge and had his arm around her. Without looking up from her, he said, “Clara, I suggest you go for a stroll on the terrace.”

  His tone was so commanding that she took her toast and left without protest.

  “Alice,” he said softly. “Look at me.”

  She was, if possible, even paler than when she had first read the notice. “This was my idea, Stephen. I thought I was being so clever. I never expected…”

  “Of course not. None of us did. And for all we know, it may have been footpads. No one’s fault, he just chanced to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” She started to speak but he put a finger on her lips. “That is all we will ever know about it.”

  *

  A few minutes later, Ashleigh was holding Kate tightly in his arms, his cheek nestled against her hair, hers pillowed on his chest.

  “He is truly dead?” she whispered.

  “So it would seem.”

  “It’s a shock. I must admit that.” She lifted her face to look at him. “Do you believe it was footpads?” His hesitation was enough for her. “No more do I.”

  “It is probably a kinder fate than being locked away in a madhouse.”

  She sighed.

  “Do not start to feel guilty, Kate. You are in no way responsible for his madness, and he had to be stopped. Had we shaken him loose from you, he would have fastened on to some other innocent.”

  “And she would not have had you to protect her, would she?” Kate managed a smile. “But I do not think I would care to have Lord Sidmouth for an enemy.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The guests—the special ones—began arriving several days before the wedding. Dr. Finley, Squire Grant and Mrs. Grant came first to Hawthorne Cottage, which rang with tears and laughter. Mrs. Grant could not believe how much Mrs. Darling resembled her dear friend, Mary. Mrs. Darling was so pleased to see the dear friends her sister had mentioned so often over the years in her letters. And all of them exclaimed over Kate, how well she looked, how happy she looked.

  Once that was over, and the new arrivals had been given a chance to freshen themselves, they all gathered in the drawing room for tea and information.

  Mrs. Grant began. Putting down her teacup, she turned to Kate. “I am pleased that everything has turned out well for you, but you must realize how terribly worried we have been. And the absence of any information other than your aunt’s mysterious assurance that you were safe did not make us rest easy. You must tell us.”

  So tell them Kate did. But all her efforts to make light of her adventures, to highlight the virtues of her friends and minimize the vices of her brother and Farnsworth, could not make it anything other than a sorry tale.

  The squire was outraged. “Should have thrashed that wastrel the first time he came nosing around,” he muttered. “West Indies… fever there… good.”

  Dr. Finley was also muttering, but in Greek, and too softly for Kate to catch what he was saying.

  Mrs. Grant had tears in her eyes. “Oh, Kate, my dear, why didn’t you come to us? You know we would never have let that creature take you!”

  Kate reached over to squeeze the good woman’s hand. “They would have looked for me there. They did, didn’t they? And I did not want to bring trouble down on you. Farnsworth is—was—powerful.”

  “But not, in the end, as powerful as he thought,” said Dr. Finley. “An amazing example of hubris, was it not?”

  The others smiled at him fondly.

  Later, when they had a chance to speak privately, Mrs. Grant asked Kate about Ashleigh. “You are not marrying him out of gratitude, are you? Or because he is a duke? Neither one is a good basis for marriage, and I know your mother always hoped you would be able to marry for love.”

  “Dear Mrs. Grant! I do, indeed, love him. You will, too, as soon as
you meet him. There is no need to fear.”

  That evening, the entire party went to dine at Kelswick, where everyone made much of the guests from Yorkshire. Ashleigh was flattering in his gratitude to them for their friendship to Kate as she was growing up, sought the squire’s advice on what needed to be done for the Newell estate, and told Dr. Finley to make free of the Kelswick library while he was here.

  Bancroft and Lady Talmadge had been wed the week before but had put off their departure for Longwood until after her brother’s wedding. She refused to use her title, however, and insisted on being called Mrs. Bancroft, somewhat to the Grants’ confusion.

  The next day brought the arrival of Sir Richard Langley. The feelings of the brother and sister, who had not seen each other in more than thirty years, may be imagined. In the face of Franny’s happy memories of her husband and her obvious prosperity, to say nothing of his niece’s forthcoming marriage to a duke, all he could do was shake his head in bewilderment and say, “Whatever would the old man have said.”

  On Saturday, Ashleigh and Miss Russell were married in the Church of St. Thomas, across the river from the main part of Lewes. The church was crowded with their friends and well-wishers, and townspeople and tenants lined the road back to Kelswick, where a celebratory feast was laid out under tents on the lawn. The bride and groom smiled and waved and accepted good wishes. But when they withdrew to their room at the end of the day, they could remember very little of it.

  They saw only each other.

  Epilogue

  The sheer white curtains were pulled closed, softening the afternoon sun that poured into the nursery. A cheerful fire burned in the grate, with a fire guard securely around it even though young Tom was not even crawling yet. But safety was always important.

  Nearby stood the cradle. It was an impressive affair, brought back from Venice by an ancestor several generations back. Painted garlands decorated its sides, and gilding highlighted the edges. Inside was bedding of the finest linen, smooth and silky to caress a baby’s tender skin. At least Ashleigh had been assured that was so.