Lord Cavendish Returns

by King, Rebecca

  Arrabella nodded although could see no family resemblance whatsoever. The Lawton brothers were not as tall and distinguished as the man who was before her, nor did they have the powerful shoulders or the rakish charm. This gentleman must have ladies swooning at his feet wherever he went.

  Determined not to be one of them, Arrabella broke eye contact again and ruthlessly pushed aside the slight bereft feeling she felt as she did so.

  “How can I help you?”

  “Pardon?”

  Arrabella frowned at him and wondered if they would be there all morning. Not that she minded of course, it was just that she had to give her mother her medication in an hour and still had to change the flowers at the altar.

  “You said you needed my help in your quest,” Arrabella prompted. “How can I help you?”

  The way he stared at her made her want to run a hand over her face to see if she had some cream left on it from the scone she had eaten earlier. Rather than appear so self-conscious though, she merely stood before him and waited patiently for him to tell her why he was there.

  Harper gave himself a mental shake and studied the house behind her. It was the vicarage and it too had remained relatively untouched throughout the time he had been away. The only major difference was the presence of the woman before him. He knew with absolute certainty that if she had been the village when he had been here as a young man, he would never have left to fight any war. The hounds from Hell would not have parted him from her door.

  The sudden squawk from a crow as it flew out of the trees snapped him out of his daze. He ran a hand down his face and wondered just what the hell the country air had done to him. One sight of a pretty young woman and he turned into a blundering dunderhead.

  “I need to look at the parish records.”

  Arrabella frowned at him. “Any particular parish record or all of them?”

  Relieved to finally start to get some sense of normality back, Harper latched on to her determination to keep the conversation going and took a breath. “I work for the War Office.” He had no idea why he had just told her that but it had slipped out anyway. “I need to check the parish records to see if someone was born here. If they were, I need to know who their parents were.”

  His voice was rich and had a faint huskiness to it that made him sound as though he had just woken up. She wondered what he looked like first thing in the morning. Where the thought came from heaven only knew, but it was enough to make her gasp. Her cheeks immediately flooded with colour at the scandalous nature of her musings and she looked at him somewhat awkwardly.

  Harper broke off and studied her. A twinge of wry amusement swept through him. Although he had no idea what was going through her mind, he was fairly certain that the pretty lady was just as shaken by their first meeting as he was. It made him feel inordinately pleased with the world and, rather than feel slightly caged as he usually did when he attracted a lady’s interest, he was rather intrigued to know how far the attraction he felt for this particular beauty would go.

  Arrabella swallowed and fought the urge to groan aloud at the amused look he gave her.

  Well, the arrogance of the man, she thought rather waspishly. He knew that he was having an effect on her, and was enjoying every single moment of her discomfort.

  Determined not to let him see just how deeply she was affected by his presence, she squared her shoulders and gave him an almost defiant look. Manners demanded that she invite him back to the vicarage so that she could take the details of the records he needed to see, but she didn’t want him in her home. She knew instinctively that the presence of the man beside her would linger like an ephemeral spirit who refused to leave, and she didn’t want to walk around her own home thinking about him whenever she found herself alone.

  “What year do you need to see?” She sighed and slowly began to walk toward the church door instead. Some of the parish records were still kept in the ante room under lock and key. If she was lucky she could find the record he needed, give him the information he was after, and send him on his way.

  “I need a birth record from one and thirty years ago.”

  This was enough to make Arrabella lift her brows and stare at him for a moment. He looked roughly one and thirty. Was the record his?

  She unlocked the huge wooden door and drew her shawl tighter around her shoulders as she walked into the chilled interior of the huge stone church. It never got warm inside the massive building but, whenever Arrabella mentioned it to her father, he always reminded her that it was God’s way of teaching the congregation that they should not take the Lord’s favour for granted, and a little discomfort once or twice a week was a small price to pay for the sins they undoubtedly committed in between services. Arrabella was always left to wonder whether frostbite was part and parcel of recompensing for sin, and could only hope so because right now she was struggling not to sniff inelegantly against the cold that had begun to bite her nose.

  “The records are usually kept in here but I don’t know if they go back that far.”

  It was on the tip of Harper’ tongue to tell her that one and thirty years were not all that long ago but wisely kept his mouth closed.

  Arrabella hurried across the ante room to the small, locked cupboard that housed the main bible and the records. She knelt before the cupboard and began to rifle through several large dusty tomes which were located at the bottom, but they only went back fifteen years.

  “I need to ask my father where the older ones are.”

  “Where do they usually go?” Harper asked quietly from his position on the floor beside her.

  She had removed the volumes, read the dates on the spines and he had placed them on the floor beside them. It seemed a menial, yet intimate thing to do and he tried to stretch the moment out a little longer than was necessary. While they were seated, he carefully handed the volumes back to her to return to the bureau.

  “They may have been moved to the vicarage to stop mice getting at them, or they may be in the cellar.”

  “Cellar?”

  Arrabella pointed downward. “There is a cellar beneath the church. Some say that there is also a tunnel that runs from the house to the church, but I have never seen any doorway.” She didn’t mention that she hated the cellar and only went down there when absolutely necessary, and only then with at least three other people in attendance.

  Harper nodded warily. He had no objection to the prospect of being able to wander around in the darkness with her, and would relish the opportunity of being able to guide her through her trauma with a lot of hand holding and whispered reassurance. Unfortunately though, it wouldn’t do much good for her reputation.

  “Do you know where they would be kept if they were in the vicarage?”

  Arrabella thought about it for a moment. She could feel his eyes wandering over the side of her face and wondered, not for the first time, what he saw that interested him so. She opened her mouth to speak to him when the appearance of her father in the doorway drew her attention.

  “Hello, Papa,” Arrabella called and shared a fond smile with her father, who nodded at Harper. Arrabella made introductions. “He needs to look at the records from one and thirty years ago but they aren’t in the cupboard. Do you have any idea where they might be?”

  “Oh, well now, I understand that they were removed from the church and taken over to Moldton after the great fire here five and twenty years ago now.”

  “Of course, I remember that,” Harper sighed. “I was a young boy at the time but can remember seeing the flames from the roof from my bedroom window.”

  “You are related to the Lawton brothers?” The vicar lifted his brows and didn’t seem surprised when Harper nodded.

  “Angus, Robert and Joseph are my brothers. I have been away at war,” he glanced at Arrabella and smiled when he found her watching him closely. “Now I work for the War Office.”

  “Excellent. Well, I am sure that Arrabella can help you search for the information you are after.
I don’t believe that the records came back here after the fire. I think they are still over in the crypt in Moldton.” He patted his pockets absently before he drew out a large bunch of keys and handed them to Arrabella. “For some reason nobody ever saw fit to return the parish records to this church and, to be honest with you, I have never given them a second thought. I hope you find what you are looking for.” With that, Reverend Farthing turned to the door with a frown on his face. Once in the doorway he stared at the ground beneath his feet absently for a moment before he turned toward Arrabella with a vague stare.

  “What is it Papa?” She urged him gently. She wondered if he was having another one of his ‘episodes’ and sighed when he didn’t even appear to have heard her.

  “Oh, yes, that was it. I came to tell you that I am off now to see the Bishop in York and will be back at the end of next week. Your mother is just about to set off to your aunts to take the sea air, so you are on your own for the next week and a bit.”

  Shocked, Arrabella opened her mouth to speak only for her father to interrupt. “I am sure you will manage perfectly well on your own. Ta ta, dearest.”

  Arrabella sighed and tried to decide what to do. It would be highly improper of her to hand Harper the keys and tell him to go to Moldton church alone, but the last thing she wanted to do was spend any more time alone with the man than she already had. He distracted her far too much for her peace of mind. Unfortunately, her father clearly wasn’t in a position to help the man and there really was nobody else, so it was left to her to help him.

  “Before we traipse over to Moldton, I will take a quick peek in the attics in the vicarage and check the boxes there. There were some trunks left over from when the old vicar moved out and I can distinctly recall that some of the contents were books of some kind. I am not sure if the parish records were brought back here and have merely been forgotten.”

  “I would like to go and see my brother, Joseph, this afternoon anyway,” Harper replied. “It has been some time since I have been back in the village you see and I have kind of lost touch with everyone.”

  “Have you already met with Robert and Doctor Lawton?”

  “Angus,” he replied gently. “Yes, I met with them earlier. I own the house that Angus uses – used - for his surgery in the village, and I am staying there for as long as I am in the village.”

  The words popped out before she could stop them. “How long will that be?”

  “I am not sure yet,” Harper replied huskily. “I only recently found out that I own the house and am not quite sure what my plans are. I need to get my work concluded first, before I decide what to do about anything.”

  “Your work finding the parish records?” It wasn’t really a question and Harper didn’t bother to answer. His work encompassed the parish records, the Star Elite, the War Office, and now his house. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of it all.

  He followed her out into the afternoon sunshine and waited patiently while she closed the church door. As they walked toward the vicarage, the sunlight captured the copper strands in her hair. It gave her a rather angelic glow that caught his imagination and refused to let go.

  “Thank you for your help in all of this,” he murmured quietly and waved a casual hand toward the church behind them.

  “You are welcome. I shall have a look for the records later, once I have seen to my other chores, and will let you know in the morning if I have found them.”

  “I should like to come with you to Moldton to look for them if it turns out that they are still there.”

  It was on the tip of Arrabella’s tongue to refuse his help but the thought of the dark and gloomy walls within the old stone crypt gave her the jitters, so she nodded instead.

  “I will call by after breakfast in the morning,” he promised. Although Arrabella nodded her agreement, he made no attempt to turn around and walk away. His feet seemed reluctant to take him away from her. It was rather ridiculous, really, to think that anyone could have the power to draw him in such a way. “I will bid you farewell,” he declared gently and sketched a bow. His eyes searched hers for several moments longer than was necessary. The urge to kiss the back of her hand, her cheek, her, was so strong that he hesitated for one brief moment before he gave himself a mental shake and smiled at her instead.

  Arrabella blinked owlishly at him and remained perfectly still while she watched him walk back toward the village and Doctor Lawton’s house.

  “Good Lord,” she whispered, and rubbed a trembling hand down the apron on her dress. She glanced down at herself and cried aloud in dismay at the smudged and soiled state of her. He had been far too polite to mention it, but he must have been aware that she looked as though she had been dragged through a hedge backward. A groan did escape her when she lifted a hand to the coiled knots that had been her hair and she closed her eyes as a wave of humiliation swept over her.

  “What is it girl? Whatever is the matter?” It was highly unlike Arrabella to have such a pained expression on her face and it caused Mavis Able, the vicarage housekeeper, considerable alarm to see her thus. Mrs Able frowned at the retreating back of the handsome man who was just turning out of the driveway, and studied the soiled dress Arrabella wore, and immediately understood the source of the young lady’s consternation. With a soft smile, she steered Arrabella toward the kitchen doorway.

  “Is your young man coming back, dear?”

  Arrabella jerked and stared at Mrs Able. “He is not my young man,” she declared firmly. “Yes, he will be back tomorrow,” she added with a sigh.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The following morning Harper rode alongside Arrabella on the curricle he had borrowed from Robert. His brother’s amusement at Harper’s request to borrow a suitable conveyance to take a lady to Moldton had only dimmed a little when Harper had reported that it had nothing to do with any personal interest in Arrabella Farthing, but was to satisfy his curiosity about his birth parents.

  In spite of the reason for their journey, it was good to be out in the morning sunshine with a pretty lady like Arrabella seated beside him. She looked positively radiant today, and even more beautiful than yesterday. He studied her closely and noted the sparkle of joy that shone in her eyes that had grown considerably when she had caught sight of the curricle he had brought for her to travel in. Her enthusiasm for the trip was evident from the infectious smile that curved her sensual lips, and the faint tinge of pink that coloured her cheeks. The tight bun at the back of her neck did little to confine her wayward curls, and he watched several silken strands slither free of the tight confines and bob gently against her face. His fingers itched to tuck one of them behind her ear but he daren’t touch her. Instead, he turned his attention back to the road and studied the spire of Moldton church in the distance.

  “Tell me, Arrabella, do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  “No, there is only me I am afraid. I should have liked a brother or a sister, but my mother took ill not long after I was born and didn’t have any more children.”

  It was on the tip of his tongue to confide in her about his own familial problems, but something held him back. He wasn’t sure what it was, but his gut instinct warned him that he had to protect her.

  “I envy you,” he sighed.

  “Envy me? Why?”

  “I think that you were very lucky not to have spent your childhood dragging your siblings out of various scrapes.”

  “It sounds like a lot of fun.” If she was honest, although she knew she was loved by her parents, she had always wanted someone of her own age whom she could talk to and confide in. As the daughter of the vicar, she had always had difficulties getting anyone to see her as a real person and longed for someone who she could laugh and have fun with.

  She sighed and glanced at the rolling hills on either side of the cart track. It really was a pleasure to ride in the curricle. It bounced and swayed around the country lanes but Harper never took the horses above a steady walk. It was strangely comfort
ing to simply rumble along without a care in the world.

  “Are you alright?” He heard her sigh and glanced over at her, only to find himself grinning back at her when she smiled at him.

  “I am absolutely fine. I cannot remember the last time I took a moment to simply enjoy the day.”

  Over in the distance, a church spiral protruded from the cluster of rooftops that formed Moldton. He calculated that they would have twenty minutes together before they were in the churchyard. Of course they would have the journey home later, but their time together didn’t seem to be long enough and he began to wonder if they could take a slight detour.

  When he realised what he was doing he bit back a curse and shook his head in disbelief. Not for the first time he wondered just what the hell the country air had done to him. He was a soldier; a fighter, someone who lived and worked in the shadows, yet all it seemed to take was one sight of this pretty lady and his mind turned to mush.

  “I think that I should tell you that I haven’t been entirely honest with you.” He had no idea where that had come from. He slid a sideways glance at her to gauge her reaction and found her studying him.

  “The records you want are about you,” she said gently.

  “I want you to promise me that you will keep this between us. My brothers know, of course, but I have recently had cause to believe that my parents were not the people who raised me.”

  “I wasn’t part of the village when you were here as a young boy, so I never actually met your parents, you understand. When you mentioned that you wanted a birth record from one and thirty years ago, I wondered if it was yours but didn’t want to pry into something personal.” The smile she gave him had no hint of censure in it. If she was honest, she was glad that he felt able to confide in her.

  “Well, I have been born in Hambley Wood, I know that much,” Harper frowned off into the distance. His voice lowered. “Well, I think I was.”

  Arrabella couldn’t help but feel sympathetic to his plight when she read the confusion on his face. Of all of the things she felt she had missed out on in life, she had at least always lived with the security of knowing who her parents were and where she came from. She couldn’t understand what he might be going through and resolved right there and then to do whatever she could to help him.