The old gentleman gave a cynical snort. “You’ve an odd standard of values, madam! You worry about imposing on his hospitality for a few days, but don’t wink an eye at dispossessing him of his rightful inheritance.” Ignoring, but aware of, Dimity’s painful blush, he gathered the papers together. “Do not forget what I told you, Farrar. I want those letters Walter writ you, and his birth certificate. Most of all, I want your mama’s diary. Get ’em to me so soon as possible. Hear me?”
“Yes, sir. But I’ll be dashed if I can see—”
“Have you the least notion of how much you pay me every year?”
Farrar gave a wry grin.
“Just so. And ’tis because I know how to go on in this sort of nasty business that I take so much of your money, my boy. I presume you are aware, Mrs. Deene, that you may very well wind up in prison for attempted fraud?”
It had been said without pause and with no change in tone. Dimity was startled, but managed to respond, “Oh, no. It does not apply, you see.”
Norris glared at her. “Besides which,” he went on, his attention returning to his client, “we can tell from letters whether they were writ with the left hand.” He laid one finger alongside his hooked nose and shook his head as Farrar made as if to speak. Standing, he bowed to my lady, gave Dimity a curt nod and a searching look, then went with Farrar into the garden.
They walked together along the sunlit path, silent, until Farrar demanded, “What was that business about the left hand?”
“An attempt to scare the gel—which, I might add did not work. You gave me to expect a trollop, Tony. Are you gone daft?”
Beset by his own confusion, Farrar grunted, “You saw the gown.”
“Fiddlesticks! She’d be a lady clad in three fig leaves!”
“I wish I may see it,” said Farrar, amused. “She’s a shapely wench!”
“Hum. I fear she is also something shrewd. She gave me as good as I sent, did you mark it? One might think she don’t give a farthing whether she wins or loses. You’ve a fight on your hands, m’boy. And what’s worse, she don’t strike me as the type to defraud a child out of a comfit—much less stoop to this kind of chicanery.”
“Then you’re sure it is chicanery?”
“What I am sure of, and what can be proven in a court of law is another story. Why in the name of all that’s holy d’you permit them to stay here?”
“I think Aunt Helen took a liking to the boy the instant she saw him. She insisted they stay. She has enjoyed these few days. She’s lonely, you know.”
“Hum. Misses Harding, I shouldn’t wonder. You should’ve put your foot down on this, though. Is the most lunatic arrangement I ever heard of.” Farrar returning no answer, the solicitor slanted a sly glance at him, and said with a grin, “You know what I’d do in your shoes? I’d marry the gel!”
He had spoken in jest and was surprised when Farrar gave a start, then laughed scornfully. “What a fellow you are, Norrie! A fine surrender, to marry an adventuress only to silence her.”
The old gentleman pursed up his mouth and changed the subject. “What’s Ellsworth doing here?”
“Flattering Lady Helen. As ever.”
“And fairly slathering over Mrs. Deene. A careful gent, your cousin.”
The response was vulgar in the extreme. Norris cackled appreciatively. “I hear you’ve had more trouble with your neighbour’s pets. Leonard said your arm is properly mauled. Not serious, is it, lad?”
Farrar clapped him on the back. “No. I thank you.”
“We can take him to court. Only say the word.”
“An I’d had a pistol within reach, we’d not have the need!” Farrar scowled. “Next time they stray onto my land, I swear I’ll shoot the pair of ’em! You’d not believe the power of the brutes! They’d rip a man’s throat out in a minute.” He frowned thoughtfully. “And would likely have done so to me, had not Mrs. Deene come very bravely to my aid.”
Norris stopped walking and eyed his companion in dismay. “Balks at murder, does she? Well, that’s something to be said for the woman. But for God’s sake, have a care! You’ve many enemies and you take too many chances. I’d be most damnably sorry to see anything happen to you.”
Grateful, Farrar said, “You old curmudgeon, you’re one of the few who’d not be delighted.”
“No, I am serious, Tony. That pretty cousin of yours and his bosom bow would stop at nothing to—”
“Avenge Harding?” Farrar’s expression darkened. “Perchance they think themselves justified.”
“Balderdash! And you just keep in mind, my lad, that a large and enraged dog has as much strength as two men! Be sure you do carry that pistol!”
* * *
Dimity had gone in search of Carlton, and was returning without having located the child when Ellsworth appeared, strolling towards her through the gardens. The look in his eyes bade her to proceed with caution, but he was perfectly polite. He had a good deal of charm, and a ready wit so that her suspicions were lulled until she suddenly realized they were in the woods, and that his last three remarks had concerned her supposed brother-in-law. A warning bell sounded in her mind.
“Indeed yes,” he drawled idly, taking her arm as he guided her down the slope towards the stream, “a fine musician was old Walter. If I know him, he had a full choir at his nuptials. Must’ve been quite a ceremony in the cathedral. Wish I had been there.”
“I think you are mistaken, sir,” she answered, her nerves tight. “Mary and Walter were married in a small church in Harrogate. If he was musical, I had no knowledge of it, nor did my sister ever mention such an accomplishment.”
“In which case, we are even,” he said gaily, “for Walter never mentioned your sister, either.”
“Indeed?” She opened her eyes at him. “Did you correspond with him, then? From what Sir Anthony said, I—”
He laughed. “Oh, but you must pay no attention to what that creature says.”
Dimity stiffened. “Sir, I must protest. Why it should be so I do not know, but Lady Helen and Sir Anthony have been exceeding kind to me. Indeed, it is incredible for I would think to have been thrown from the premises, instead of which I am treated as a guest.”
“I should think it more than incredible was so lovely a lady treated with anything less than the very greatest courtesy.”
It was charmingly said, and he was a charming young man, but Dimity experienced a surge of profound irritation and ignored the compliment. “Only consider the circumstances, Mr. Ellsworth. An I prove my claim, it will be a great loss to the family. To Sir Anthony, especially.”
“For my part, I can conceive of no more pleasant change than to have a beautiful lady at The Palfreys rather than the miserable worm who now lords it—”
Dimity frowned and stepped back, but Ellsworth paced even closer, smiling down at her. “You are displeased. Why? You are certainly aware he is a craven poltroon who—”
“You forget yourself, sir! Such remarks should be addressed to him. Not to me!”
“My, but here’s a fiery defence the clod don’t deserve. Make no doubt he knows my opinion of him. Did you not notice how he feared to come near me? My cousin and closest friend fell victim to his shameful cowardice. Although there may be more to that particular tragedy than we now know. You are our champion, Mrs. Deene! We welcome you with open arms!”
He moved closer, as though intending to demonstrate his words. Again attempting to step back, Dimity realized too late that she had retreated to the very edge of the bank. Her shoe slid downward. She gave a startled cry, but at once Ellsworth’s arms closed around her and dragged her to safety.
“My heavens!” she gasped with a tremulous little laugh.
Still holding her, his hot blue eyes slid hungrily from her eyes to her mouth, to the shapeliness of the breasts crushed close against him. “How very lovely … you are…” he murmured.
“And warm,” she said prosaically. “Pray grant me some air, sir.”
He made n
o attempt to relax his hold. “Poor girl. They tell me you faint readily, and faith, who could wonder at it! Are you all right?”
Mrs. Deene’s gowns were becoming a major annoyance. “I shall be, when you have the goodness to release me, Mr. Ellsworth.”
“You play your cards well,” he said huskily, “but there’s such a thing as carrying play-acting too far.”
Dimity was very still. His handsome head bowed lower, then, abruptly, he released her. She wondered how much he knew and, frightened, turned from him and at once halted.
The omnipresent Shuffle at his side, Farrar stood at the top of the slope, watching them.
Ellsworth took Dimity’s elbow and led her up the rough path, making an elaborate business of transferring himself to her right side as they approached Farrar. This time, his cousin did not move aside and Ellsworth murmured contemptuously, “It would be difficult to tell you, ma’am, which the captain does better. Run, or spy.”
His enigmatic gaze on Dimity’s embarrassed face, Farrar said, “You’ve a caller, Mrs. Deene. I am asked to escort you back to the house.”
Ellsworth’s grip on her elbow tightened. He began to guide her past. Farrar stepped squarely in front of them. “Do not test my patience too far, cousin.”
Ellsworth’s icy disdain slipped. “I wish to God I might!” he hissed. “For Harding’s sake, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to slide my sword through your ribs!”
Dimity was a stranger to hatred, and the swift flare of ferocity between the two men appalled her. She moved back, watching them. Ellsworth’s handsome features were distorted, the fingers of his right hand crooked as though he yearned to draw the sword that hung at his side.
Farrar was as cold as his cousin was inflamed. “Nor I be more willing to oblige,” he drawled. “Unfortunately, to indulge myself with the joy of ridding the world of you would distress the Lady Helen.”
“Shivering poltroon! You’ve no need to be inventing excuses! I’ll provide you one!” Ellsworth lifted a clenched hand.
“No!” Dimity ran between them. “You cannot! Sir Anthony has no weapon and is disabled. His arm was badly savaged by a dog this morning.”
“Had my cousin not been aware of that fact, ma’am,” drawled Farrar, “he’d never dare be so bold, I promise you.”
With a crude gutter oath, Ellsworth’s hand blurred to his sword hilt. Farrar seized Dimity and fairly threw her aside. Steel glittered in the sunlight as Ellsworth leapt to the attack, his swordpoint darting murderously for the unarmed man’s throat.
Farrar’s left arm whipped upward and knocked the blade aside. His right fist seemed to come up from his knees. Dimity heard the solid thwack of the impact. Ellsworth’s blue eyes crossed. Slammed back, he landed heavily and lay in an ungainly sprawl. Shuffle ran to his side and barked madly into his still face.
Stepping over the fallen, Dimity reached for Farrar’s hand. “Have you cut your arm?”
“Fortunately not. One benefit of a thick bandage.” Both tone and eyes were cold. “Shall we adjourn, ma’am?” He proffered his right arm. Dimity rested her hand on it and, with not another thought for Mr. Ellsworth, allowed him to lead her towards the house. She felt triumphant, which was extreme unmaidenly, and wondered if the man beside her scorned her because she was not having a fit of the vapours, as a well-bred girl should under such circumstances. She glanced at him under her lashes. He looked bleak and forbidding, his lips set in a stern line, and she restrained the question she had been about to ask.
They were approaching the front steps when Carlton came racing around from the east side of the house. “Aunty Cathy! Aunty Cathy!” he panted. “Matter ’f life an’ death!”
She halted, regarding him apprehensively.
“You terrify us,” drawled Farrar. “Who died?”
Carlton grinned at him. “I need my ’lowance, please ma’am. Mos’ desprit.”
“Allowance…?” echoed Dimity, taken aback.
“Certainly not,” said Farrar. “When you go off to school, your aunt may perhaps agree to such an—investment. You shall have to wait, Master Carlton.”
Rather to her own amazement, Dimity did not protest his autocratic interference, nor did Carlton seem surprised by it, although he wailed, “Two years? Sir—I cannot!”
“Child, you have no alternative. Unless you mean to earn it. That is another matter.”
The boy perked up a little. “Earn it, sir? How?”
Farrar shrugged. “There must be many profitable opportunities for an enterprising young fellow. I know there were when I was your age. Try the kitchen—or see my head groom in the stables. Trade your services for what you want.”
Carlton considered this, then started off at a gallop, only to come full circle and observe cheerfully, “Your hand is covered with blood and gore, Sir Uncle. Did you cut someone’s gizzard out?”
Farrar whipped his left arm behind him. “No, you young ghoul. Begone!”
All knees and elbows, the boy sped away.
Dimity said, “So he did cut you after all! I cannot think why you must—”
“He did not cut me, ma’am.” The chill in his eyes pronounced, he said, “The blow likely set it to bleeding again, is all.”
She viewed him stormily. “If ever I saw such a disgusting display! My brothers would have—”
“Brothers?” His brows lifted. “I thought there was but one. Your family grows by the hour. Have a care, ma’am.”
Dimity bit her lip. Before she could think of a suitable response, he went on, “Be that as it may, you are perfectly right. I should not have lost my temper with Ellsworth.” His voice was bitter suddenly, his eyes dark and brooding.
“I did not mean to imply that you were disgusting, Sir Anthony! It was your cousin’s actions I found unpardonable.”
“Indeed? I’ll own you surprise me.” His mouth twisted into its most cynical smile. “When you were locked in that passionate embrace beside the stream, I rather gained the impression that you found him—er, more than pleasing.”
Infuriated, she said, “And I find you more than obnoxious, Captain! Mr. Ellsworth forced his attentions on me, but did I think him the most ‘pleasing’ gentleman in Christendom, I must only cry shame for an attack on an unarmed man!”
He said thoughtfully, “And you tried to stop him. That marks the second time you have come to my aid. I thank you, but in the light of such demonstrations of fair-mindedness, I can only be the more perplexed. You appear to dislike unsportsmanlike behaviour. Yet, by my standards, to plant the seeds of hatred and contempt in the mind of a child, ’gainst an uncle he has yet to meet, is no less unfair than Ellsworth’s despicable conduct.” He pressed a handkerchief to his left wrist, fixed Dimity with a grave stare, and waited.
Her mouth opened to voice a furious denial, then closed again. She was in the wretched position of being unable either to defend herself or to deny the justice of his remarks. Without a word, she walked past him and into the cool dimness of the house.
Humiliation died a sudden death. Between the shock of the fight and her vexation with Farrar, she had quite forgotten her reason for returning. Her “caller” stood and turned to face her as she mounted the steps to the music hall. He was young and powerfully built, his hair powdered and neatly styled. A tricorne was under one arm. And his coat was a bright scarlet.
Captain Jacob Holt bowed in perfunctory manner. “I give you good day, Mrs. Deene. We have found you, at last.”
She felt very cold and, quite sure she was about to be arrested, managed somehow to keep walking and to extend her hand. Reaching for it, Holt checked and stood rigid, staring at her bosom. For an instant, Dimity was petrified by the fear that he knew the deadly fragment of parchment nestled in her bodice, then she realized it was the vulgarity of her gown that had astonished him.
Farrar, who had entered also, said, “If you wish to—”
Returning his attention to Dimity, Holt gave her hand a brief shake. “We are hoping you ma
y be able to solve a puzzle for us, ma’am. Some of the other passengers—”
Dimity interrupted in turn, “I believe Sir Anthony addressed you, Captain Holt. You must not have heard him.”
In a voice of ice Holt said, “I know of no such person, ma’am. I had as soon go to Winchester to conduct this interview. Indeed, I should take it kindly did you consent to accompany me. I mislike the—aroma in this house.”
Dimity’s nerves tightened. Farrar had just knocked one man down. Now, it would seem he must repeat the process. Unless he challenged. Certainly, no gentleman would take such an insult, least of all in his own home and in front of a lady.
She was mistaken. Farrar stared at Holt steadily, but as she watched, his eyes lowered. Neither looking up nor uttering a word, he walked past and continued to the stairs.
She stared after him, deeply shocked and baffled by his inconsistent behaviour.
“Ah,” said Holt, with a thin smile, “the atmosphere improves. Will you sit here, Mrs. Deene? It is about the accident…”
Self-preservation demanded that she pull her wits together. Whatever happened, she must not go back to Winchester with Holt. If she met any of the other passengers face to face, she would certainly be unmasked as an impostor. She sat down and made an effort to appear calm. “You spoke of the other passengers, I believe?”
He drew another chair closer and occupied it. “There is some confusion regarding the injured lady.”
Her heart began to play leapfrog. “Injured? You mean the poor lady still lives?”
“She is in some kind of deep swoon caused by a blow to the head. The surgeon is hopeful she will recover at any time.” His eyes fixed on her face, he asked softly, “Does that disturb you, Mrs.—ah, Deene?”
‘It terrifies me, you horrid creature,’ thought Dimity, and answered, “Of course not. It is grand news, but what is the confusion about?”
“Only that—someone seemed to be under the impression the little boy was travelling with Miss Clement—the injured lady.”
Love Alters Not Page 11