Lord Cavendish Returns
Page 4
“You are entitled now, and have wealth and an estate waiting for you.”
“Sod off, have I,” Harper growled. “I am not entitled with anything other than Mr Harper Lawton, which is my bloody name. I am not related to you mad bunch of despots, thank God.” He stalked toward the door and lifted one finger to point back into the room. “You are bloody lucky that you are not facing kidnapping charges, mates. Touch me again and I will bloody well see to it that you end up behind bars whether you are best friends with Sir Hugo or not.”
He didn’t wait for any of them to reply and slammed out of the door with sufficient force that the picture in hallway fell off the wall and shattered as soon as it hit the stone floor. The passing maid screamed at the sight of him and dropped the plate of food she carried.
Harper glared down at the pie and gravy that splattered up his breeches and cursed fluidly. His already miserable day had just got considerably worse.
CHAPTER TWO
Harper rolled over in bed and lay basking in the warm sunshine that streamed through the window. He felt as though this was the first time he had been warm in a decade. He just wished that the rest of his life could be so easy to enjoy. Right now he had an entirely new set of problems to the ones he had last night, like a group of rich and entitled members of the aristocracy who thought they were his family.
His thoughts immediately turned to Yorkshire, and the small village of Hambley Wood. It had been many years since he had been there and he wondered if it was still the same. The sudden yearning to go home came from nowhere and refused to be ignored. In that moment, memories of his fun-filled youth came tumbling back and brought with them a bittersweet yearning that drove him to climb out of bed and urged him to complete his journey north.
Hambley Wood. The small village of approximately two hundred people had been the place where he had been born and raised. Unlike many, his childhood had been full of fun and laughter, with most of his youth spent chasing across fields after his equally ebullient and happy brothers. He wondered how they had faired over the years, and what they were doing now. Guilt swept over him for not having kept in touch with them a little more often but, given the nature of his work with the Star Elite, it was damned near impossible to know where he was going to be next week, let alone in three weeks’ time and he had been unable to arrange a visit for a time when he knew that he would be able to turn up.
While he shaved, he studied himself in the cracked mirror above the dresser. His thoughts turned toward the Cavendish brothers’ revelations from yesterday. While he was in Hambley Wood, he could at least make a few discrete enquiries about whether anyone had ever heard of this Harry Johnson fellow who claimed to be his father. He could also take a look at the parish registers and get the proof that the Cavendish men were mistaken.
While he dressed, he considered his childhood carefully. He had always taken it for granted that the people he had always called ‘mother’ and ‘father’ were indeed his actual parents. He had certainly always called Angus, Joseph and Robert his brothers and nobody had ever corrected him. Last night he had wracked his memories for any word or mention of a visitor called Harry Johnson, but simply couldn’t remember much at all except for direct family. As the sons of the local war hero, there had always been a steady stream of visitors to the house but he had never thought anything about them before. It was quite conceivable that Harry Johnson had called at the house and he just wouldn’t have paid any attention to him.
Harper rubbed his hand across his now smooth jaw and paused in front of the mirror again to study the new lines on his face. It wasn’t often that he really ever stopped and stared at himself. He usually went to sleep in the dark, woke up in the dark, and spent most of his working hours in the dark. Now that he did take a look, he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the changes the ravages of time had wrought.
There were fine lines on either side of his almond shaped eyes that he was sure hadn’t been there the last time he looked and, although his beard had been thick and rich mahogany, his hair now had a slight smattering of grey at the temples. He was also certain that the groves on either side of his mouth were deeper than they had been when he had left Yorkshire all those years ago. Putting all of that aside though, he was aware that the most significant change was in his eyes. There was a weariness there; a certain jaded wisdom that bothered him. The sparkling laughter that had lit his eyes throughout his youth had long since faced, and been replaced with a bone deep cynicism that made him wonder just what his future would be like if he didn’t soon stop what he was doing and make some changes.
Harper sighed and turned away in disgust. He had no idea what the hell was going on right now but one thing was for certain, he wasn’t going to uncover the truth by staring at his face.
“He has gone,” Edward announced and threw himself down in the chair with a sigh of disgust.
“Has he gone on foot?” Sebastian demanded around a mouthful of toast.
“Nope. The inn keeper said he has bought a horse: bought it mind, not borrowed it, from the farmer on the outskirts of town. He ordered a pouch of food and took off.”
“He is an angry man,” Dominic sighed. He couldn’t help but wonder if they could have managed yesterday’s confrontation a bit better. To assault him had been bad enough, but then to kidnap him, tell him that his life was a lie and expect him to just accept it without question was ludicrous. No wonder the man was angry. “He needs to look into what we have told him. It is bound to be disturbing but, once the shock wears off, he will start to ask questions.”
“The man has a penchant for ignoring what he chooses not to know though. What if he rides away and simply puts it out of his mind, and doesn’t bother to check it out because he doesn’t want anything to do with the title or wealth?” Edward took a gulp of his wine and stared first at Dominic and then Sebastian.
“If he does then we just have to respect his wishes. We have done all we can to tell him. He knows where to find us if he wants any more information,” Sebastian replied.
“We don’t have any more information for him though, that’s the problem,” Edward argued. Frustration clawed at him. It wasn’t that their carefully laid plans had failed; it was just that the outcome hadn’t been what they had all hoped for.
Dominic put his goblet down on the table and leaned back in his chair. “I don’t doubt that the man is heading back to Yorkshire right now to see the brothers he does know. All we can do is hope that when he gets there he asks the right questions, and finds the evidence he needs to prove that his mother is our mother.”
There was little anyone could say to that and they lapsed into silence while they finished the rest of their meal.
Two days later, Harper sat on top of the hill and looked down into the small village at the bottom of the valley. The myriad rooftops were of a variety of shapes and sizes, but it was easy to pick out the house he had grown up in.
The last time he had received a letter from Angus, he had learned that his brother was now the village doctor and ran a small practice from the old family home where he still resided. Joseph had moved out years ago and owned a small farm a couple of miles away, while Robert was a blacksmith who had a workshop in the centre of Hambley Wood village, right next to the village green. Angus had requested Harper urgently return home, but had not explained why. Unfortunately, Harper had been undercover at the time and had been unable to make the journey to Yorkshire. Now he wished he had.
Harper felt a thrill of eager anticipation sweep through him, and he nudged his tired horse onward. If he was honest, he was a little uncertain whether his welcome was going to be a warm one given that he hadn’t answered any of their requests over the years that he return home. He could only hope that the Dog and Ferret tavern in the old market square still provided accommodation because, if his brothers were less than welcoming then at least he would have somewhere to stay.
As he rode through the village, he was aware that several people turned to stare
at him, but simply couldn’t remember if they were faces from his past or just people who were generally suspicious of strangers. A thrill of anticipation swept through him as he spied the huge open doors of the blacksmiths across the square and he hurried in that direction.
“Hello?” He paused just inside the door.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, it is you,” a huge bear of a man swore as he stalked out of the shadows and strode toward him. “Come here boy.”
Harper didn’t get the chance to do anything other than grin as he was swept into a huge hug.
“It’s been too long, Harper. Far too long, boy, and that’s a fact.”
Harper nodded in full agreement, and made no mention of the fact that as the youngest of the brothers Robert was in no position to call Harper ‘boy’.
“The last we heard of you, you were in the army,” Robert announced as he studied Harper carefully for a moment. “You look in fine fettle to me, boy, so what gives? Have you left yet? What are you doing now?” While he was throwing questions at a bemused Harper, Robert steered him toward a small room at the rear of the workshop. The scent of hot metal and leather hung in the air, and Harper studied the neat and tidy workshop ruefully for a moment while he tried to gather his emotions. Sensing Robert was waiting for an answer; he sighed and turned back to his youngest brother.
“I have left the army now but work for the War Office in London.”
“Good Lord above,” Robert grinned. “We have a nabob in the family.”
Harper swore crudely at him but was rewarded with Robert’s unrepentant grin.
“So what miracle has been wrought to bring you back here, brother mine? It is good to see you back at last, but why now?”
Harper studied his boots for a moment. All trace of humour suddenly vanished and was replaced with an edgy wariness that brought with it the memory of his confrontation with the Cavendish brothers. Now that he had seen one of his brothers again, the differences in their appearance were damning. Harper was tall but powerfully built, very much like the Cavendish brothers. Robert was shorter and stockier, and had mousy brown hair. He ran a hand down his face and studied Robert, who had begun to frown at Harper’s hesitation.
After a few moments of careful consideration he carefully put aside the real reason for his visit to talk about later, and smiled rakishly at his brother instead. “I decided that it was time I came back to see how you were all getting on. Are there any changes I should know about?”
“What, are you married? Is that it?” Robert demanded.
“God, no, I am not that old and decrepit yet.” Harper made a show of glancing around the dingy workshop. “I take it that there is not a Mrs Robert Lawton around here anywhere?”
“God, no, I am not that old and decrepit yet,” Robert mimicked with a grin.
“Angus and Joseph?”
Robert shook his head slowly but his grin was dimmed by a slight tinge of worry that had begun to cloud his eyes. Harper knew that look and, unless Robert had changed drastically while he had been away, was aware that he was going nowhere until he told his brother everything.
“You had better tell me, boy, or I will have no choice but to beat it out of you,” Robert announced calmly to which Harper snorted.
“Does the tavern still take residents?”
Sensing Harper would tell him in his own good time; Robert accepted his brother’s change of subject and scowled at him. “No brother of mine is going to stop at the inn while I have a room ready and available. Come on, I will show you. I take it that you have not been to see Angus and Joseph yet?”
“Not yet. I take it that they are still in the same places?”
“Aye, that they are.”
Harper followed Robert out of the workshop and across the square to a small terraced house. It wasn’t overly large but suited his purposes and had a spare room that overlooked the back of the house and Hambley Woods. To the left of them, the church bells began to ring.
Harper lifted his brows at his brother. “Wedding?”
“Funeral.”
The house suited Robert, but had very little in the way of fripperies and the little ornaments women usually liked to decorate the place with. Harper rolled his eyes and removed the damaged saddle from the kitchen chair before took a seat at the table which was cluttered with a variety of ironwork.
“Go on then, you had better tell me before I get back to work.” Robert sat in the chair opposite with a glint of challenge in his eye.
“What do you know about my birth?” Harper watched a blank look fall over his brother’s face.
“It was at home, like ours,” his brother replied in confusion. “Why?”
Harper could see no easy way to tell him and briefly contemplated the wisdom of doing so at all. Right now he didn’t know whether to just go to the church, check the parish records and then visit his brothers for a few days before he headed back to London. If he got confirmation that their mothers were one and the same person, then he could send word to the Cavendish brothers that they were barking up the wrong tree and head off to his next mission confident that they wouldn’t knock him on the head again. If he did uncover lies and deceit, then he would have to sit down with all of his brothers and tell them.
Still, casting all logic aside, it didn’t seem right to accept the kind hospitality of his brother and lie to him, but he didn’t see the point of raising the issue if it turned out to be stuff and nonsense.
“It’s nothing important, just something I need to check the parish records about, that’s all. It is to do with my work.”
Robert nodded but studied Harper far longer than was usual. It was as though he seemed to sense that Harper had just lied and was deciding whether to push for the truth, or wait until Harper was ready to confide in him.
“Well, I have got to get back to work,” Robert sighed after several moments of silence.
Harper hated the strangely awkward sense of disappointment that hung in the air and followed his brother to the door. “Is Reverend McCarthy still at the church?”
“McCarthy? No, he died several years back and his wife left to go and stay with some relatives. Reverend Farthing is there now. He lives with his wife and daughter at the vicarage. Reverend Farthing covers both this parish and Moldton parish now, and spends most of his time travelling backward and forward between the villages. His wife is a bit infirm. Lovely woman, but spends most of her time at home and doesn’t get about very easily. If you need anything, you had best speak to Arrabella.”
“Arrabella,” Harper sighed and lifted a hand to his brother, who hurried across the square to a waiting customer.
He stood on the doorstep and absorbed the silence that settled around him while he decided what to do. The thought of spending the afternoon by himself in the empty house behind him was not very appealing and so, with a sigh, he closed the front door and headed in the direction of the house he had grown up in.
As he strolled through the village, he felt as though he was walking through his memories. The faces were different, but the houses, the pub, the blacksmiths, the haberdashery, the bakery and even the ducks in the village pond were all the same as they had been. He absorbed the sights, the sounds, and even the smells as he made his way home, and was feeling quite nostalgic by the time he reached the single gate at the end of the front garden of The Manor; the house he had grown up in.
For several long moments he stood at the gate outside his old home and watched the ‘Doctor Lawton’ sign swing gently in the slight breeze. The house was the same, although it had been freshly painted and had a new fence around it. As he stood and absorbed his memories, he felt as though an entire lifetime had passed since he had waved goodbye to his childhood. He had been an eager and somewhat arrogant youth who wanted to see the world and experience adventure. If he had known then what he knew now, he would have been considerably better off if he had remained in the village and found himself a somewhat mundane profession to keep himself occupied with.
“Can I help you?” A feminine voice asked from behind him.
Harper turned and studied the middle aged woman for several moments and tried to recall if she was also new to the village or a figure from his dim and distant past, but simply had no recollection of her at all.
“I am here to see Doctor Lawton,” Harper replied vaguely. His attention was drawn to the shadows within room behind her. The door to the kitchen stood open and drew him steadily toward yet more memories.
“I am afraid that Doctor - here, wait, you cannot go in there,” the woman gasped but he ignored her and left her to hurry after him.
He stopped just inside the kitchen door and immediately wondered if he had just stepped back in time. Everything, literally everything, was the same as when he had left. The walls had been freshly painted but, unless he was mistaken, the kitchen table was the one he used to sit at as a young boy. One blunt finger traced the rough groove he had carved one day in his boredom and he smiled as memories swamped him of the scolding he had received from mama for damaging the furniture. He turned to the woman when her loud protest over his intrusion broke into his reverie.
“I am Harper Lawton, Doctor Lawton’s brother,” he announced calmly and it was enough to shut the woman up. “When will Doctor Lawton be back?”
“He has always been here.” Angus’s drawl made Harper spin around in surprise. “Good Lord, it is you.”
“That’s exactly what Robert said, give or take a few choice words,” Harper replied with a grin when he emerged from the huge hug Angus gave him. They sat at the kitchen table in the same seats they used to sit in as young boys, and grinned at each other over the table just as they had when they had been ten years old.