‘Please don’t make a fuss.’ She took a deep breath and a little colour returned to her complexion. 'It is just that…well, Mr Covington decided we must return home because Italian gentlemen were paying a little too much attention to Lucy.’ She shook her head. ‘That reason never sat comfortably with me. Italian gentlemen make no secret of their appreciation of femininity but none attempted to take liberties with my charges.’
‘Then why—’
‘Little things. Small economies that have been made.’ She turned her full attention upon Spence. ‘I think Mr Covington finds himself in dun territory.’
‘I am sorry to hear it. A lot of people have made unwise investments over recent years. Many tried to profit from the war, with disastrous consequences. Whatever Covington did, I hope he soon recovers his position.’
‘I am sure he will. That is not what concerns me. It’s more a question of…well, a lot of people in the art world visited our lodgings whilst we were in Italy.’ She paused, swallowed and then spoke again. ‘I distinctly recall a man by the name of Bevan…’
‘What the devil!’ Spence cried.
‘I took him in instant dislike and couldn’t understand why Mr Covington would want to associate with such a person. He dressed, acted and behaved the part of the gentleman but there was something about his manner that made me feel as though he was playing a part.’ She plucked abstractedly at her lower lip with a gloved finger. ‘However, he called on several occasions and Mr Covington spent some time in private conversation with him.’
‘I would like to think it a coincidence,’ Spence responded, gently squeezing the hand he still held, ‘but I doubt either of us believe that it is.’
‘Oh no.’ She looked away from him. ‘It’s no coincidence. I thought I was mistaken but now I know I was not. You see, when we drove through Denton a few weeks ago I thought I saw him.’
‘Bevan?’ Spence sat a little straighter. ‘Where? With whom?’
‘He was standing in the shadows of a building that hid him from plain view. I would not have seen him but for the fact that our carriage stopped for a moment or two to wait for the road in front of us to clear. He looked up and I saw his face quite clearly.’
‘Was he alone?’
‘No.’ She fixed Spence with a wide-eyed look of incomprehension. ‘He was deep in conversation with your steward. Mr Porter.’
Chapter Six
Tobias Porter concealed himself in the lengthening shadows thrown across Pemberley’s gardens by a lowering sun. Loitering directly below the open doors to the drawing room, the sound of refined voices and muted laughter taunted him; an audible reminder that the society he aspired to be a part of was close enough to grasp and yet a million miles beyond his reach.
Tobias was starting to understand how his father must have felt, stuck in limbo somewhere between the position of servant and poor relation. Old Mr Darcy ought to have known better than to give his steward’s son a gentleman’s education, engendering unrealistic expectations that did not sit easily alongside the strict rules governing the country’s elite. Stewards and their offspring simply did not rub shoulders with landed gentry and were not made to feel welcome if they had the temerity to attempt it. Yet the moment Tobias had set foot on Pemberley land, albeit in the role as trainee steward, he felt as though he had come home.
Perhaps taking this position had been a mistake, he mused, but it had seemed like manna from heaven when Darcy gave him the opportunity. Since the alternative had been to remain a fugitive for the rest of his days, it had not been a difficult decision to make. But oh how he missed the cut and thrust, the pitting of his wits against the authorities and staying one step ahead of their bumbling attempts to apprehend him.
Now that he’d been granted an opportunity to redeem himself, to follow in his grandfather’s footsteps as steward of the most prestigious estate in the county, he felt as though his character was being gradually stifled. He sighed, reminding himself that routine was safe. He tried not to dwell upon the disconcerting feeling that something inside of him—the spark that drove him to defy convention and made him feel gloriously and dangerously alive—had been prematurely extinguished.
A couple strolled the length of the terrace, dragging Tobias’s thoughts back to the present. It was Spence and Miss Stoughton; he recognised their voices. They were so involved with one another that there was not the remotest possibility of their glancing down and noticing Tobias. Just as well since he shouldn’t be anywhere near the main part of the house when the family was entertaining. Darcy would make his displeasure apparent if he was seen loitering. Tobias had a lot of bridges still to mend with his employer and taking risks for no obvious reason was the height of folly. But then Tobias had never been one to obey the rules.
He waited in the hope of seeing Susie step outside to take the air. She had once told him that she disliked crowds and felt stifled by the continual press of bodies, so there was every possibility that she would appear. He called himself all sorts of a fool for allowing his growing admiration for the daughter of the house to overcome common sense. Once again he was reminded of the dangers of history repeating itself when he recalled that his father had tried to elope with Georgiana Darcy, but the circumstances bore few other similarities. Wickham had been motivated by financial necessity and the burning desire for revenge. Unlike Tobias, his feelings had not been engaged.
Susie was attracted to Tobias, he was absolutely convinced of it, and it wouldn’t be too hard for a man with his persuasive manner and experience to take matters further. Not that he ever would, but he sometimes consoled himself with the thought that he easily could. You see, Father, I am nothing like you.
Susie seemed fascinated by his chequered past and he was able to make her laugh at life’s absurdities. What else could he make her do? Darcy had been a trusting fool to engage his services and must be aware that he was playing with fire. Perhaps there were aspects of his history with Wickham that Tobias knew nothing about and the current master of Pemberley also had demons—a conscience—to appease.
Tobias had grown up believing every word his mother told him about his father’s ill-use at the Darcys’ hands. Her stories filled him with a youthful determination to exact revenge on behalf of a man he had never known. That need had turned him into a fugitive and if it hadn’t been for Darcy his luck would have run out eventually and he would have been obliged to keep an appointment with the hangman. Now Tobias was repaying him by entertaining inappropriate thoughts about his daughter.
Tobias was determined to turn himself into a gentleman with enough wealth that no one could afford to snub him and any female he set his sights upon would be delighted to receive him. He would be a landowner in his own right before he reached the age of thirty. That was the goal he had set for himself and the timescale he had allowed in which to achieve it. He had more funds than anyone knew about stashed away, earned during his years as an unlicensed banker and procured by other nefarious means, and he fully intended to add to them over the coming months. Doing so by breaking the law, he knew from experience, would be too dangerous. Skirting the edge of the law, on the other hand, using his wits and guile to turn situations to his advantage, was altogether another matter.
With a final glance at the terrace, he accepted that Susie was not about to emerge. He couldn’t wait any longer. He had an appointment to keep in Lambton, and the man he was due to meet with did not like to be kept waiting. Just as he turned to leave she appeared, leaned on the balustrade and looked down directly at his position, as though she knew he was there. Tobias threw caution to the wind, raised a hand and was on the point of calling out to her when Tyrell stepped out behind her. Cursing strongly enough to turn the air blue, Tobias scurried away.
ᴥᴥᴥ
James was accustomed to creating a bit of a stir whenever he showed his face in society. Tonight proved to be no exception. Much as he would have preferred to avoid the attention, he reminded himself that this gathering had been orch
estrated for his benefit. Mrs Darcy had gone to a lot of trouble and expense, effortlessly making it happen within two days. James would be an ungrateful rogue if he didn’t take advantage of it in order to quiz Sir Robert about his connection to Bevan.
And yet he struggled to concentrate upon the task in hand. He had been surrounded by ladies of all ages, eager to ingratiate themselves, and had yet to enjoy a serious conversation with Sir Robert. He must do so without further delay. The sooner he satisfied himself that the forger was not connected to anyone in Derbyshire, the quicker he would be able to return to London. But the prospect didn’t fill him with joy since if he did so he would no longer be able to avoid the question of Beatrice and their future together; always supposing they had one.
James glanced across the room at Miss Darcy, in conversation with an earnest young man whom James had not yet been introduced to but took in immediate dislike. The chit clearly wasn’t aware of the havoc she’d wreaked. It was Miss Darcy with her dancing eyes, intelligent questions, surprisingly thoughtful insights and restless spirit who was responsible, in part, for his doubts about Beatrice. Doubts he’d kept buried beneath the deep sense of duty he owed to his father…until now. Meeting a lady with Miss Darcy’s forthright character had forced him to examine those doubts. What he could do about them was less clear to him. His father’s career and reputation would suffer if he disappointed Beatrice. Fleming wielded considerable influence and was a man who knew how to bear a grudge.
Sighing inwardly, James returned his attention to the most determined of the young ladies surrounding him and gave a vague response to the question she asked him. He owed his father so much. More than he could ever hope to repay. The pater had achieved recognition through sacrifice and endeavour and now enjoyed helping those without the means or connections to make an impression on the artistic world. Could James live with himself if he brought it all crashing down because he was nervous about marrying the most sought after heiress in all of London? Could he really be that selfish simply because an opinionated romp had briefly distracted him from his familial obligations?
Secure in the knowledge that he could not, he felt vindicated in his decision to go in search of Miss Darcy and enjoy a half-hour of her lively conversation. He excused himself from those surrounding him and strode across the room to the position where he had last noticed her in conversation with her brother Spence, but she was no longer there. Glancing around, he caught sight of a flash of turquoise as she left the room through the French doors. James went after her and found her leaning her gloved hands on the balustrade, looking out over the grounds that were now in almost complete darkness but for the flambeaux lighting the long driveway. He thought he heard a strangled oath and the sound of rapidly retreating footfalls in the grounds beneath them. He glanced down but nothing moved and so he assumed some nocturnal creature must have been responsible.
‘Am I disturbing you?’ he asked, walking up behind Miss Darcy.
She didn’t turn to look at him. ‘If I said yes, would you leave me be?’
He chuckled. ‘That would be impolite.’
‘Then why ask if you expect the prescribed answer? You would be better advised to employ your time by entertaining your bevy of admirers in the drawing room.’ She finally turned to look at him. It was too dark to be sure, but it appeared to James as though she had been crying. His almost overwhelming desire to pull her into his arms and sooth away the hurt was as inappropriate as it was difficult to ignore. ‘Or better yet, do what my mother organised this party to enable you to do, and converse with Sir Robert.’
‘What is it?’ he asked, reaching out a hand to touch her shoulder. His fingers barely made contact before she shook it off. ‘You are distressed. If I have done something to overset you, then tell me what it is so I can put the matter right.’
‘It might surprise you to learn that not everything in this world revolves around you.’
James was encouraged by the return of her lively spirit. ‘But your anger is directed towards me. I can sense it.’
‘No,’ she said, sighing expansively and staring off into the distance. ‘Since you insist upon knowing, and I suppose you should, Spence just told me something that upset me.’ She half turned to look at him through a fringe of thick lashes, wet with tears. ‘And as it impinges upon your reasons for being here, you might as well hear it from me.’
‘Come and sit down,’ he said, taking her arm in a firm grasp. ‘You look pale and most unwell.’
She allowed him to steer her towards a bench, waited for her to arrange her skirts to her satisfaction before swishing the tails of his coat aside and taking the seat beside her. ‘Tell me,’ he said softly. ‘It surely cannot be that bad.’
‘Have you ever given a person the benefit of the doubt, Mr Tyrell, even when all the evidence pointing to that person’s bad character tells a different story?’
‘Occasionally, depending upon the circumstances.’
‘My father is the most generous person on this earth and yet, once again, it seems he has been taken advantage of.’
James raised both brows. ‘This is about your father?’
‘Indirectly.’
‘Tell me,’ he said softly. ‘You said it concerned me.’
She took a deep, steadying breath and started to speak. A most remarkable story spilled from her lips, in disjointed bursts at first and then in a steady flow of words.
‘Let me see if I have got this straight,’ he said when her words spluttered to a halt. ‘You have a trainee steward employed here at Pemberley who once went out of his way to make trouble for you as a family. But your father gave him the benefit of the doubt and employed him in a position that his grandfather once held. You and this person are friends but you now suspect he has a connection with the forger.’
‘Well, he was seen meeting with Bevan, so he must know something. But it’s more complicated than that. There are unpalatable aspects of our family’s dealings with his father that I cannot share with you. But as far as your reasons for coming to Derbyshire are concerned, it seems Mr Porter knows something of the business.’ She laced her fingers together, then unlaced them and plucked at her skirts instead. ‘And I trusted him. Looked upon him as a friend.’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t know what to do about it. Spence plans to tell you and allow you to decide.’
‘You like this man Porter.’
Miss Darcy spread her hands. ‘Not in the manner you imply. That would never be permitted even if I did. But I enjoy his society and cannot bear to think that he is repaying my father’s generosity by using his position here as a cover for more dishonest activities.’ She expelled another heartfelt sigh. ‘But then again, he always has been a bit of a rogue, just like his father before him. Perhaps he can’t help himself.’
Despite her denials, James suspected that her affections were engaged, even if she didn’t realise it. He was surprised at the degree of his own disappointment. She was young, he reasoned, and young women routinely developed feelings for unsuitable men, especially those whom they encountered every day. Porter would have recognised her inquisitiveness and most likely played upon it. If even half of what Miss Darcy had told him was not a gross exaggeration, Porter was worldly and personable. A rough diamond with smooth edges who was bound to fascinate an inexperienced chit who led such a sheltered and protected life. Given the animosity she had referred to between her family and this steward’s perhaps the cove was bent upon revenge and saw Susie as an easy means through which to achieve it.
Not if I have any say in the matter.
‘Leaving aside the question of Porter for a moment, I am more concerned about the involvement of Covington,’ James said. ‘His avowed connection to the art world and the possibility of him being short of blunt makes him a much more likely candidate to collude with fraudsters than Sir Robert.’
‘I suppose it would.’ She lifted a slender shoulder. ‘I don’t know him well. I am much better acquainted with his wife and with Amelia Stoug
hton. My cousin Rosie recently married her half-brother, who is now Sir Henry Lyndon, and they are restoring his estate in Cornwall. Amelia chose to remain in her position as governess to Mrs Covington’s two girls instead of returning to Cornwall with Hal and Rosie.’
James took a moment to digest this information. ‘If Covington has been brought to the point of non plus and the girls are on the verge of making their debut into local society anyway, I should have thought that dispensing with a governess’s services would be an obvious economy to make.’
‘Mrs Covington and Amelia are close friends and I think Mrs Covington intends to retain Amelia’s services as a companion when the girls no longer have need of her.’ Miss Darcy canted her head in that appealing manner of hers as she thought the matter through. ‘Although why a relatively young matron with a husband and daughters all at home should feel the need for a companion, I cannot imagine.’ She sent James a speculative look. ‘I had not considered the situation in that light before now.’
‘Perhaps their marriage is not harmonious and Mrs Covington seeks a distraction from it.’
Miss Darcy’s eyes came alight with mischief. ‘You suppose Mr Covington has taken a mistress?’
He chuckled. ‘We are drifting from the point.’
She sent him a condemning look. ‘Which is precisely what I expected you to say.’
‘I would be happy to discuss Covington’s extra-marital affairs with you if I knew they existed. But speculation will achieve nothing.’
‘You must admit that it could be one reason why he is short of money, though. I expect mistresses make expensive demands.’
He shook his head, doing his best not to laugh at her naiveté. ‘Very likely.’
‘Well, it is obvious that Mr Covington is the person whom you should speak with regarding the forger.’
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