by Claudy Conn
Sir Edward reached for Farley’s arm and dragged him to his knees. He then took the man’s coat and hefted him up with very little effort to his feet as he said, “Tell your men to throw away their guns.”
“Do as the flash says, lads…” Farley croaked.
“Easy, make certain they do it easy. I wouldn’t want my finger to slip while my gun is pointed at your head.”
“Here now guv…no need for that. Come on boys, you heard the flash…easy.”
“Aye, and remember me as well fer Oi wouldn’t mind shooting ye one by one and be done…” Websly added to the conversation.
The three men on horseback complied without another grumble as the coach’s driver appeared to have murderous intentions.
The guns dropped to the earth and Sir Edward said with deadly seriousness lacing each word. “Now you will remove the tree you so thoughtlessly left in our way.”
By this time, Websly had jumped from his seat, collected the guns and made each man dismount. He took their horses and neatly scattered them.
The three men loudly objected and he said, “Be happy if ye come out alive…ye may still be able to walk—so stop yer jawing and get to work to move that tree.”
Farley started toward the tree and Sir Edward pulled him back by his collar and pressed the muzzle of his gun to his forehead. “Not you.”
It didn’t take long before the tree was, with some grunting and huffing moved off the road and Farley’s men allowed to go on their way.
Websly waited till they were out of sight before climbing back onto his box, his gun still handy and Sir Edward pushed Farley toward the open door of his carriage.
“Look here, flash…no need to take me wit ye. Oi don’t mean ye no harm. We’ll call it square, we will, and all make our different ways.”
“I think not. You see, I mean to have a little talk with you and if you cooperate, then perhaps I won’t see fit to drop you off at the nearest guardhouse and have them haul you off to prison.” Sir Edward eyed him. “Or I could save myself a great deal of trouble and shoot you dead, right where you stand and mark me, it is quickly becoming the more attractive choice.”
Chapter Nineteen
STAR HELD HERSELF and shivered as she closed the library window and walked away. “Brrr…so cold this morning, unusually so,” she complained to her brother.
“Hmmm, is it?” He looked up absent-mindedly from the Chronicle he was perusing and then resumed reading once more.
“Yes, and it looks like rain, blast the weather. I need a ride,” she told him.
“Ah,” he responded not really paying attention.
“I was thinking of jumping into the pond with all my clothes on and turning into a sheet of ice,” she said looking directly at him.
“Hmmm,” he seemed to agree.
“Would you like that? To jump in with me, Vern?” she pursued the topic.
“Jump…jump in? Where?” he looked at her perplexed.
“Good, I now have your attention,” she said and plopped down beside him on the sofa. “Tell me, what do you think of Sir Edward?”
Startled his brows rose. “Sir Edward?” He shook his head, “Whatever do you mean?”
“Don’t you have an opinion about the man? I am curious,” she said and watched him closely.
“Well, I don’t really know him, do I?” He shrugged his shoulders, “Seems a knowing fellow and Jules says he is top sawyer.”
She sighed, “Oh Vern, he is so much more than that. He is…” she saw her brother’s eyes narrow as he looked at her. “He is such a gentleman,” she decided to say.
“Well, yes and I will tell you that I rather think he is up to every rig. A Corinthian, as well, anyone can see that and I would wager he practices in the ring…handy with his fives. I could tell by the way he carries himself.”
“Yes and his seat…he rides beautifully…” Star added. “And Vern…his eyes, he has such speaking eyes.”
Vern sat up straight, “Does he, by God! And have they been speaking to you?” He wagged a finger at her and before she could answer him, continued in an admonishing tone, “I’ll tell you what, m’girl, I don’t know him all that well, but I know that you are, for all your managing ways, just a green chit and not up to his rig! He’ll break your heart, and not even know he has done it.”
She contemplated her brother for a long moment and said, “Yes, I suppose you are right, except he would know because he is up to every rig as you have said. I suppose he would chalk it up to a conquest when he wins a woman’s heart.”
“Star, do not tell me you have already lost your heart to him?” Vern seemed genuinely worried.
“Well…never mind, I just think that he is quite…exceptional and yes, I have flirted outrageously with him and enjoyed it,” that was all she was telling Vern. How could she tell him she had already succumbed to the man’s charms and her desires?
“Stay away from him,” Vern told her sharply. “Jules is the man for you and have a notion he means to come up to scratch very soon.”
“Do you? I think he has had second thoughts and I think that is because his attention has shifted to Georgie. He quite stares at her at times,” Star said with a soft smile.
“And that pleases you?” her brother asked on a frown. “Georgie and I…”
“Will not make a match of it. She won’t have someone she thinks of as her brother, so do get over that…it is not about to happen.”
“Never mind, Georgie and me. This is about you,” he said.
“Oh no, it is not,” she laughed and started to get up from the sofa. He pulled her fingers and stayed her.
She eyed him and he said, “You know Miles wants to marry you…and I know you don’t think of him as a brother.”
“No, not quite a brother, but a dear, very dear and womanizing friend. I am not for him and he certainly is not for me,” she answered.
“You know, he has quite set a record he told me and has not kissed a maid for two weeks as he is planning on getting down on one knee for you,” her brother said and barked a laugh.
She giggled, “Absurd, isn’t it? Miles and me? He shall want Marcia next month and faith! I can’t even guess who will be next. He hasn’t lost his heart to me, but one day, he will lose it to someone…hard. One day he will meet his match and be thoroughly besotted.”
Vern laughed, “You know, I do think you are in the right of it there.”
Dilly appeared at the library doors in a mop cap and bright eyed. She seemed more than usually flustered to Star as she bobbed a quick curtsy and said, “Begging yer pardon, Miss and m’lord, but there be a man at the door who won’t go away. Oi told him ye wasn’t in, but he said he would wait.”
“Who is he, Dilly?” Vern asked with a puzzled expression.
“He says his name is Mr. Port and that he is from yer bank. Says it is urgent.”
“Does he?” Vern’s chin was up. He looked at Star, “We are in for it now, sis.” He turned back to Dilly, “You did quite correctly, Dilly, in attempting to put him off, but I am afraid, I shall have to see Mr. Port.”
Dilly sighed and turned to go, as Star touched her brother’s arm and said, “What do you think he wants?”
“Money, sis. ‘Tis time to pay the piper…and I am not sure how we may do that,” Vern answered.
“Will it be very awkward, do you think?” Star asked worriedly as she attempted to compose herself and smooth her hands over her faded soft green morning dress.
“If he has come out to us in the wet cold with the promise of heavy rain, I am afraid so,” Vern answered. “Star, you needn’t be here. Don’t subject yourself to this. Go on to the sewing room and busy yourself.”
Her brother was only just getting back his strength. Why did this have to happen now? She smiled at him and said, “You know I can’t sew to save my life. Mama tried and tried to teach me and I am all thumbs with the needle and thread. So I might as well bear you company, for I do have a head for business and might be able to h
elp you with anything he throws at you.”
“Yes, you do have a good head for business. You manage the stud fees beautifully, but I am afraid, this will be beyond our ability to handle. I tell you what, you being at my side…well, you are deuced good company and the best sister any man could ever hope to have. I only wished I had been better equipped to take care of you.”
“Stop, you are perfect just the way you are,” she answered and turned as Dilly had arrived and announced, “Mr. Thomas Port.”
Brother and sister looked around and found a small elderly man clothed the loose-fitting attire of a summer weight dark blue coat. His hair was white, thick and fell around his long face with great disorder when he removed his top hat. His eyes were blue and seemed to hold a gentle expression, Star thought as she met his gaze. His waistcoat was a pale shade of gray and his pantaloons were a darker shade of gray. He looked from Vern to Star as he went forward and said, “Miss Berkley, you won’t remember me, since the last time we met you only reached your father’s coattails. It is, however, for me, very nice to see you again.” He turned to her brother who had stood up and went forward to take the banker’s hand. “Ah, my lord, how tall and fine you have become.”
“It would appear that you have the advantage of adult memories over us,” Vern said with a warm smile.
Mr. Port nodded, but as a sigh escaped him, Vern’s brows drew together and he said, “Come…do sit and be comfortable with us, I shall ring for coffee.”
“No, no refreshments, thank you. I have come on a serious matter. In fact, it quite breaks my heart and my spirit to be put in such a position.”
“Oh?” Vern said.
“Berkley Grange has fallen on sad times, but do you know, your father always managed to bring it around, and I feel that you shall too, my lord.”
“That is most kind of you, but please, I know that is not what you are here to tell us. My sister and I believe in frank speaking. Do be at ease, we are prepared to hear what you have to say,” Vern told him. Star felt so proud of him, thinking this had to be difficult for her brother.
Mr. Port had taken a seat in the old leather bound winged chair, placing his worn hide satchel beside his feet.
Vern sat once again with his sister on the sofa and brother and sister watched the flitting grim expressions pass over Mr. Port’s face. He said finally, “I am afraid I am here on some very grave and disturbing business. I am not certain how this came about, as apparently it took place in our Hastings Office…and the matter was completely out of my control.” He shook his head, “Not that I could have prevented it from going forward, you understand?”
“What sir, do you mean?” Star asked suddenly feeling a sick sensation in the pit of her stomach.
“As our letter indicated last month, my lord…Miss Berkley, that the mortgage your father took on the Grange just before his death…well, the payments on the mortgage had, as you know, fallen terribly behind. The main branch…in London demanded that we call in the mortgage, but we managed to stall them while his lordship here made a few payments. Our branch discovered that we could stall them no longer…and only found out when we received the London Edition of the Chronicle that Berkley Grange’s mortgage was available for purchase...”
“What?” both brother and sister screeched as one.
“And, it pains me to tell you that the mortgage for the Grange was indeed purchased yesterday. Our bank no longer holds or controls it.”
“And who does?”
“I don’t yet have the paperwork from our Hastings Branch, but I will send round that information as soon as I do. Your payments, their respective amounts and required collection will be totally in the hands of whoever now holds the mortgage.”
Chapter Twenty
A FEW MILES away, at the Stamford residence, Sir Edward’s mind worked frantically to solve the puzzles he had laid out for his own edification.
He had allowed the scoundrel Farley to live.
Had that decision been the wrong one? He had wanted to avoid a scandal which might have arisen had he killed the man in cold blood. Questions might have gone forward and an investigation might have exhumed truths that might have led to Star and her brother. He hadn’t wanted to chance that.
He hoped he wouldn’t regret his decision and yet, doubts clutched at his heart. He had to set things to rights for Star and her brother. This was a priority for him, and he had to make certain that the young Lord Berkley never engaged in such machinations ever again.
He sighed as he gazed at himself in his long mirror and adjusted his cravat. He looked like a libertine and he didn’t want to. He wanted to look as he felt, like a man hopelessly in love.
His ginger colored waves of hair, had been cut and combed in the windswept style and gave him a cavalier look. He didn’t want to appear cavalier, but sincere. He didn’t wish to look like a rogue out for a moment’s pleasure. He wanted to look serious, as serious as he felt.
A flash of memory jolted him. It was as though he could smell her fresh scent, feel her hands as she grabbed hold of his locks and pulled him to her.
He heard her voice as she told him how much she loved his long wild hair.
He smiled and turned away from the mirror and sighing heavily as he strode out of his bedchamber then made his way to Jules’ door and knocked.
Jules called out for him to enter and he did, closing the door at his back and standing for a moment. His friend was already up and sitting at his window table. He was still in his dark blue brocade dressing gown and idly stirring his coffee.
Edward’s gaze found Jules’ light blue eyes and he saw at once that his friend appeared troubled.
He frowned and was about to ask him what was wrong when Jules gave him a bright smile and remarked, “Certes, you are up early. What…can it be noon already?”
Sir Edward grinned at him ruefully, “I have not been such a late sleeper for years now…and Jules, we have to talk.”
Jules regarded him thoughtfully and Edward wondered what was in his friend’s head. They had not seen one another since the previous morning. Jules said, “Of course, Edward…do sit. I can send for another pot and cup for you.”
“No, thank you, I have already had my coffee,” Edward said taking the opposite chair at the small round table. “Jules…I have a great deal to say.”
“Right then, ‘ole friend, say it,” Jules encouraged.
“I was held up last night on my return trip from Hastings…”
“What?” Jules exclaimed and interrupted him. “By God, man! Were you hurt? Are they still alive or did you send them to their maker as you have in the past?” He was bright with his sudden excitement.
“Websly and I could have put all four in the ground. I chose not to this time,” he said slowly.
“Why?” Jules studied his face.
“Ah. I followed my instincts, my old friend as I am going to do now.” He then said grimly, “There is something else on my mind, something you and I must talk about, right now.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“Star. I want to talk about Star.”
* * *
“Eh there, Farley, come on then,” the bartender at the Mermaid Inn said. It was early morning and Farley lay sprawled in his chair, his cheek flat on the round table before him. Two of his men were in similar positions.
Two more were under the table, flat out, their mouths open. The table was covered with empty tankards. The bartender was weary after a long hard night, and what he wanted was his bed, so he shoved Farley’s shoulder hard and repeated, “Come on, then, up wit ye, man!”
Farley groaned and shifted. He opened one eye and stared at the large man growling at him. Where the hell was he? Ah, yes, the Mermaid. Spent a fine round on drinks he had…
The bartender pushed him again and Farley groaned, “Ah, for the love of…stubble it! Whot be the matter wit ye man? Just leave me in peace.”
“Devil wit ye!” shouted the bartender. “Oi wants me bed, Oi do, so O
i’m off. Ye’ll have to answer to Mrs. Bukes when she comes in, and that, Oi promise ye, won’t be pretty.”
Mrs. Bukes was never without her pistol and she had been known to use it on more than one occasion. Farley moaned and said, “Mrs. Bukes is it?” He tried straightening and moaned again as every muscle in his body ached, and his head, lord, he thought, it must be twice its original size!
He kicked the chubby man beside him and said, “Up wit ye…” thus he managed to get up from the table and stretched. Moodily he kicked one of the men beneath the table and told him, “Ye too…up.”
Between snorts, groans and curses his men began to rouse themselves. One man yawned loudly and Farley poked him in the head and said, “Ally, up wit ye…come on ye tallow-faced swine, up with all of ye!”
The first discernible complete sentence that came to mind as he looked around at his men’s faces and saw their bloodshot eyes was Damn Sir Edward’s soul!
He had spent a hellish night in spite of the fact that he had imbibed more than his usual quota of alcohol and all because of that flash covey. He looked outdoors and saw that it was a bleak day, raining in fact, and he cursed the fates.
If he had blunt to spare, he would take a room at the Inn and just sleep it off, but because of the flash, he was near out of funds. Their luck had apparently run out—may the flash covey rot in hell. If he could do Sir Edward an injury, he would, he damn well would, just for the pleasure of it.
A tricky business that. He had quickly come to the conclusion that this particular flash cove, was not cut in the ordinary style.
His day had been plagued by the man. First, Sir Edward had interrupted his designs for Star Berkley. Then, who should be in the coach they held up, but the same devil. Who has luck like that? No one, which meant, from now on, he would have to tread carefully, for he took it as a sign.
Sir Edward was no one to fiddle with. He could still remember the sound of the man’s voice in his ear last night in the dark and the memory struck him with a terror he rarely experienced. Sir Edward had told him in a voice that belonged to the devil himself, “You will take your crew and yourself and find new hunting ground. Do you understand me? Because the next time I come across you in Rye, I shall not hesitate to first injure you from your head to your crotch before putting you out of your misery. Understood?”