“Yes.” Gabriel felt his heart, tired as it was, breaking again. “As will I.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Hardcote House glowed in the light of the setting sun as Gabriel, Caroline, and Ginger approached, moving through the woods in purposeful silence. Ginger clung to Caroline’s skirts as they passed the gamekeeper’s cottage and made their halting way over the lawns.
Bryce met them at the servants’ entrance, heavy silver candlestick in hand as he narrowly scanned the horizon. “Reverend.” His voice betrayed no hint of surprise, even if his face showed a flicker of shock. “And Lady Ploverdale. And Ginger. Shall I fetch...well, who should I fetch?”
“Lord Maurice.” Gabriel sighed. “There is really no reason to fetch anyone else. Why are you guarding the door with a candlestick?”
“Lord Maurice’s whisper network has been whispering. The invitation to Sussex has been received but not answered.” Bryce shrugged. “There’s every chance they’ll choose to smoke us out or trap us in rather than negotiate. Even if we’ve made it sound like we know much more than we do.”
“Well.” Gabriel looked at Ginger, small and sad as he huddled close to Caroline. “I think we may have more than we had before.”
He hoped, hoped against all hope as they climbed the ornate staircase, that no one but Maurice would be in the dark, paper-strewn morning room. But when Bryce opened the door, gently taking Ginger’s hand to walk him over the threshold, the room was full.
Maurice sat glowering at the desk, his expression deliberately inscrutable. Frakes and Lambert stood awkwardly to attention—and there was a gap, where Hartley would have stood...
And Edward. Edward, one cheek reddened, cravat hastily tied, staring at Gabriel as if he were something holy.
“Well?” Maurice glared at Gabriel. “You grace us with your presence. Make it worthwhile.”
Gabriel cleared his throat. “Hartley?”
“Sequestered somewhere where he can’t be bothersome. I would have broken his writing hand, but our London guests had attacks of conscience.” Maurice directed his acid glare to Frakes and Lambert, who wilted a little. “Now, he is irrelevant to me. Please make sure you do not suffer the same fate.”
“Fine.” Gabriel was suddenly, tremendously irritated. Irritated with Maurice, with the ill-lit, evil-smelling room—with Edward who kept looking at him, stealing the breath from his lungs, making him feel weak. “Watch. Learn.”
With a reassuring glance at Ginger, he led him a little farther into the room. As Maurice’s serpent-like gaze followed his hands, Gabriel gently removed the boy’s hat.
Ginger’s bright red roots shone in the candlelight. Maurice’s brow furrowed; Gabriel lifted the cloth bundle he had brought with him, untying the corners. Moving to the desk, avoiding Edward’s eyes, he spilled the contents of the bundle all over the papers that covered Maurice’s desk.
A comb, with AH carved on it. An old cravat, smelling of dust; letters, letter after letter after letter, signed your Arthur...and the Madingley diamonds, large and bright, sparkling vividly in the evening gloom.
“Sussex’s men came to his house today. His mother has...passed away.” Gabriel put his arm around Ginger as the boy hung his head. “And his real name is Arthur.”
He heard Edward gasp behind him. Gabriel knew that the woman’s death would be on his conscience like a brand; his heart, despite the storm raging within him, ached for the man.
Maurice slowly stood up. He looked over the items that lay on his desk; Gabriel could see him reading, assessing, calculating. Then, with a barely perceptible flicker of his brow, he sat down again.
“This can’t be real. Come now.” Frakes stepped forward, looking at Ginger’s hair more closely, before staring at the diamonds on Maurice’s desk. “You mean to tell me that Ginger’s father is—”
“Yes.” Gabriel stared at Maurice. “Arthur Harbury. Duke of Sussex.”
“A by-blow?” Lambert put one finger on his chin. “Regrettable but perhaps not enough.”
“More than we had.” Gabriel gestured to the diamonds. “And this was no by-blow. He...he lived with the woman. In Hardcote, in a cottage, five streets away from the church. For a year at least, if he gave her the diamonds while she was with child. He gave her gifts. Gifts like these.”
“But how?” Frakes looked at the assembled group. “Most of you lived here growing up. How did you not notice him?”
“Why would we?” Edward’s voice was low and halting. “If he wasn’t living as aristocracy, or even gentry? Why on earth would we have asked, especially if he took pains not to be anywhere near my father? We didn’t interact with the villagers. No one of any import did. We had our own concerns.”
“He knew what circles to move in. He knew who to befriend, and who to avoid.” Gabriel shook his head. “He completely fooled everyone.”
“Sussex used to be away for weeks at a time.” Caroline rested her chin on her hand. “Do you remember, Gabriel? I remember his wife at a ball, very loudly hinting that he was doing something dangerous for the Crown.” She shook her head. “My God. That was probably what he told the poor woman.”
“They had a child, a year after the diamonds were stolen. And then...” Gabriel cast his mind back, remembering a rain-lashed coffin. “Then the man died. I went with Mr. Welton to the house. The woman had insisted on doing everything herself. The carpenter had already nailed down the lid of the coffin by the time we arrived...but Mr. Welton didn’t object. Didn’t ask any questions at all, really. I imagine he kept her secrets too.”
Edward’s voice had changed. Now there was a rage to it, something that sent excitement through Gabriel however much he hated its source. “So a village man died here in Hardcote, leaving a widow and a child—and Sussex swans back to London, his indiscretion swept under the rug. A trick that fooled the world. No wonder he’s spent the entirety of his London life turning his nose up at us. Any moment in close quarters could have revealed the whole sham.”
“No wonder he reacted so badly when he discovered His Grace in the stables.” Caroline’s voice was grave, determinedly formal; she faced away from Edward. “Not only the immorality of it—the danger. Any link, of any kind, between the families...any connection that could link him to Hardcote...”
“He may have even considered it a deliberate provocation. He thought Maurice found it out—the whole thing.” Edward snorted. “My conduct was a sign that the house of cards was about to fall down on his head. So he decided to get me out of the way...and when he found out that we were in Hardcote, he decided it was time to remove all evidence that he had ever been there.”
A hush fell over the group.
“It does, of course, remain my fault.” Edward continued, not looking at anyone. “And now...now a woman’s death is on my hands.”
“No.” Ginger’s small, mutinous voice filled the room. “You didn’t do that to her, sir. You didn’t.” He looked up at Gabriel, his eyes full of tears. “He didn’t. Only one bastard did that to my mum.” A tear fell down his cheek; Caroline fussed, wiping it away. “And I’ll kill him for it.”
Maurice rose again. This time, when he spoke to Gabriel, his voice was markedly more polite. “I imagined our discussion of terms with Sussex would be difficult. Spinning a conspiracy out of the air, making all the silences work in my favour...” He slowly gathered the pile of papers and trinkets towards him, the diamonds resting on the china dish like sweets. “Now, it will be a much more satisfactory meeting.” His face was grim, tired, even as his eyes glittered with triumph. “Very satisfying indeed.”
“Then I shall leave. I do not need to be here for the denouement. And my sister will accompany me.”
“Fine.” Maurice looked back at the papers; Gabriel thought he saw a quick glance in Caroline’s direction, but decided that he was mistaken. “The boy will need to stay here, of course. He is my most
important piece of evidence.”
“Don’t leave me.” Ginger clung to Caroline’s arms. “Don’t.”
“Ginger...” Caroline turned to Gabriel, anguished. “I...”
“The boy needs you.” Maurice spoke more gruffly than usual. “Stay.”
“I can’t leave her alone here.” Gabriel stepped forward. “If Sussex or his men are coming here, violence is to be expected.”
Edward’s voice came from behind him, so raw with emotion that he saw Caroline wince. “Then don’t leave. Stay.”
Frakes and Lambert stared at one another as the room sank into deep, uncomfortable silence. Gabriel, all too aware of everyone’s eyes on him, didn’t know what words to use.
This was how it was always going to end, then. Forced into proximity with Edward Stanhope, forced to confront his feelings for him. Forced to admit that he would always, always, be too weak to stop loving him.
“Fine.” He nodded his head. “When does Sussex arrive?”
“No hour was given.” Maurice smiled; the expression was entirely unpleasant. “But if I must guess...we should wait until dark.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Darkness fell, slow, relentless. Hardcote House sank into silence and gloom; only one window glowed with candlelight, like a single open eye. The bricks and mortar seemed to wait on tenterhooks for the crunch of carriage wheels on the drive, for the breaking of a window, or a stifled cry.
Edward leaned uncomfortably on the polished stairs that swept down the centre of the entrance hall. Lady Ploverdale, Maurice and Ginger sat around a small table in the middle of the vast space, as Frakes and Lambert muttered to one another in the shadows.
Perhaps he would die here. He had never been so nervous. He’d never had to keep himself so determinedly courageous before; his mouth was dry, and he gripped the bannister to stop his fingers from shaking.
He looked once, pleadingly, at the alcove where Gabriel had concealed himself. No friendly face emerged from the darkness, an absence that felt like a physical blow.
God, he missed him. It was as if an arm or a leg were lacking, something that he’d always relied upon, something as necessary as the breath in his body. Gabriel was where he kept his strength, his faith in himself...a small part, perhaps, of his soul.
And now Gabriel was gone, because he had chased him away. Because he was so frightened of what he felt for him.
He couldn’t think like this. Not now. He needed to pretend that he was splendid, confident...worthy. So worthy, that a man like Gabriel would love him.
That was it, then. That was the key. Pretending that the love he felt for Gabriel had a purpose, and an end. Only in this way could he keep from running, running blindly away, like a child afraid of his father’s voice.
Crash. No direct entrance for Sussex’s men, then; that was the sound of the servant’s entrance being rudely kicked open. Edward heard Bryce’s distant voice; the man could handle himself, handle himself well, but who knew how Sussex would decide to handle such a brazen invitation?
Soon the house rang with the sound of Sussex’s men. Edward felt Maurice wincing with every smashed vase, every scuffed floor—but a part of him was glad. Let them destroy this house, this carrier of so many difficult memories, and leave him and his family in peace.
They were coming closer. Raised voices, a burst of scornful laughter...a bang, as the door to the entrance hall was kicked open.
Five men entered the hall. One of them, to Edward’s great surprise, was Sussex himself. The duke walked stiffly, surreptitiously leaning on his cane, but his eyes blazed with the fury of a man twenty years younger.
“You.” As soon as the duke’s eyes settled on Edward, they narrowed in disgust. “I knew I’d find you here. Hiding in your house like a rat.”
Edward yawned, stretching his neck. Indolent and irritating, just as Maurice instructed. “Really? Did the gangs of ruffians you sent to the French coast go for the fresh sea air, then?”
“Watch yourself.” Sussex looked at one of his men; as if on cue, the man cracked his knuckles. “I’ll have your filthy neck scragged and—”
“Sussex.” Maurice’s proud, cold tone settled upon the room like frost. “You are beginning to forget yourself.”
The duke stepped back, holding up a warning sign to his men. He stepped forward, peering at the candlelit objects on the table...and stepped back, eyes widening, as he saw what was on it.
“Everything you gave her. From diamonds, to...” Maurice gently gestured to Ginger, whose fists were tightly clenched. “Well. This fine boy here, named for his father.”
For a moment, Sussex sagged. Then, as if remembering all the curious eyes upon him, he rallied.
“What’s to stop me eliminating all of you here, now?” He waved his stick; his men bristled. “Removing all of this evidence?”
“You are too much of a coward to be physically present for any violence.” Maurice looked at Caroline, who nodded. “And the absence of Lady Ploverdale would be unexplainable, if nothing else...but do you really think I have informed no one of our little meeting? I always protect myself.”
In truth, there had been no time to inform anyone. Edward marvelled at his brother’s calm ability to lie.
“You really are a traitor to your class. Grubbing around in the affairs of your elders and betters—destroying reputations over peccadilloes.” Sussex spat the words at Maurice, his face red with hatred. “You’re worse than a London gossip rag. Worse than a woman. No doubt your brother’s perversions twisted whatever noble aspects you once had.”
“A peccadillo?” Maurice appeared perfectly calm. Only Edward could see the pads of his fingers turning white as they pressed against the table. “Ruining a servant, playing house with her, and dropping her as soon as your wife conceives? Consigning them to a poverty so atrocious it was a miracle they survived? Sending your men to the house, causing such chaos that the poor woman died? For a peccadillo, it is...grandiose. I wonder how you’d ever thought you’d get away with it.”
A lightning-fast flicker of emotion passed over the duke’s face. “I...she shouldn’t have fought. She was always too wilful. And she didn’t need to be poor, either.” His eyes were unfocused; Edward wondered who, or what, he was seeing. “I gave her the diamonds. Why didn’t she use them after I left? Why didn’t the stupid girl use them?”
“How was she going to use them?” Maurice’s voice was as silken and relentless as a tightening noose. “Diamonds are a gift for a French courtesan, not an illiterate village girl with no contacts or connections. How would she spend them? If she had tried, she’d have been hanged for theft.”
“Shut up.” But Sussex wasn’t smug now, raining down righteous invective on Maurice’s head. He was gripping his cane tightly, his fist quivering with the effort. Edward caught the strange flicker of emotion on the man’s face, and pondered it...and suddenly, with a rush of power, knew exactly what to say.
“You didn’t think about leaving them. Not at first.”
The duke jumped, staring at him with bleary, red-rimmed eyes. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me. You thought you were going to stay.”
“Keep your brother muzzled.” Sussex growled the words, but his eyes never left Edward’s face. “He speaks above his station.”
“It’s true. You really believed you’d stay with them. Stay and play the village yeoman, the doting father.” Edward slowly stepped forward, staring at the duke. “You made all sorts of promises, no doubt—to her, and to yourself. You even stole your own diamonds for her, another secret, because you wanted to see her run her fingers through them...a grand, romantic gesture that could only gratify you, in the end. You weren’t thinking of practicalities. After all, you’ve never had to.”
“For the last time, Lord Maurice, shut your brother up.” Sussex made to raise his cane; Frakes stepped
out of the shadows, his pistol already cocked. “I will not listen to this. I will not.”
“Just one more ball, one more Season, and you’d spirit yourself away to Hardcote for good.” Edward tried to keep his voice cool. Why had he always let Maurice handle negotiations? This was easy. “But it proved to be impossible. All that poverty got less and less poetic. And you couldn’t sell those diamonds yourself, and you didn’t want to drag her into practicalities—half of her charm was in her freshness, no? Even the child you had together began to seem like a trap, an atrocious trap...and so, you left. Because...because running away is always, always easier than doing the work.”
Sussex had no more words. He simply stared; Edward looked down at him, almost pitying as he continued.
“Everything’s always decided for us, isn’t it? Every aspect of our lives, how we are to behave, to act, to love...why, we wouldn’t know how to command ourselves if our lives depended on it. And so, when we do make decisions, we make damnably foolish ones. We don’t know how to do any worthwhile work at all, because we secretly think ourselves unfit.” He cleared his throat, more than aware that Gabriel was listening. “Especially the work of loving someone. The most valuable work of all...and it will blight your life if you fail to do it.”
Lady Ploverdale’s wide eyes fixed on him in the candlelit gloom. There was a profound silence, a stillness, before Maurice rose.
“My terms are simple, Sussex. Listen to them well, in the knowledge that this is the most mercy I have ever felt inclined to show.” He picked up a thick sheaf of papers, loosely bound with ribbon. “I have already had copies made of your letters to her. Don’t worry—what you wrote was so incriminating that I didn’t even need to add embellishments.”
The duke’s eyes widened. The old man’s knees buckled a little, and Edward’s heart twisted with an unexpected stab of sympathy.
“S-stupid girl.” Sussex’s voice was suddenly faint, as if coming from a distant past. “I told her to burn them. Why didn’t the damned chit burn them?”
The Vicar and the Rake (Society of Beasts) Page 24