by Sara Bennett
“If you know who the Captain is, you’d better tell me,” Richard said with soft menace.
Evelyn’s lips trembled, and her eyes filled with tears. “R-richard? Do you think I would know the name of my husband’s murderer and say nothing? I know I hurt you terribly, but surely you can’t think such a dreadful thing of me?”
He felt ashamed, as she’d meant him to. He’d gone too far. Evelyn might be a greedy and unpleasant woman, but she wouldn’t protect the man who’d killed Anthony. “I’m sorry,” he said roughly. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
By now her tears had turned to sobs, and reluctantly he came to sit beside her and put his arms about her to comfort her. Immediately she turned into his chest, clinging to him, shaking with grief. She was enjoying it, but he couldn’t say that, and did he really know it for a fact? Perhaps it was time to set aside the ill feelings he had for her. Perhaps she was right, and in some corner of his heart he’d never forgiven her for throwing him aside because she preferred Anthony.
Evelyn raised her swimming gaze. “Richard, I am so alone,” she said with trembling lips. “Come home, please come home.”
He could have kissed her then. He could have taken her right here on the sofa, and he was fairly sure she would have let him. But Richard knew he would only be slaking his lust for Tina on Evelyn, and he couldn’t do that. Whatever he felt about Evelyn, he was a gentleman at heart.
He set her away from him and handed her his handkerchief.
“I will come home when I have brought Anthony’s murderer to justice,” he said. “And if there is anything more you know about him, then you must tell me. Now.”
Evelyn mopped her face, sending him pitiful little glances. “I don’t know any more. When I heard about the gentleman and the riots I knew there might be a connection, and I came to tell you.”
“I will write to Gregor.”
“He will only confirm what I have said, Richard.”
He watched her twisting the handkerchief in her fingers. “Did you really come all the way to London to tell me about the Captain, Evelyn?”
She took a breath and steadied herself. Her gaze was cool and clear, no tears and redness. Had she been crying at all, or was it all pretence with her? “Of course I did,” she said. “I want Anthony’s murderer caught just as much as you do, Richard. I know you will never forgive me until he is. And I want you to be happy. I want us both to be happy.”
“Evelyn—”
“No, don’t say anything. I know we can’t speak of it, not yet. But when this man, the Captain, has been caught and hanged, then you must come to me at Eversham Manor, Richard. I will be waiting.”
After she’d gone, Richard told himself it would have been cruel to tell her she could wait until hell froze over, that he would never trust her again with his heart, let alone love her. But the information she’d brought was valuable, and he sent off a letter immediately to Gregor to confirm it and discover anything more the land agent might know.
“Medium height, fair hair, and handsome,” he murmured to himself. It could be Gilfoyle. It could be Little. It could be a hundred other men. But he felt as if he was getting closer to the end of his journey. “Nearly there, Anthony old chap,” he said gently to his dead brother. “Nearly there.”
“This had better be good,” Lord Montague growled, as he sat down at the table. “I had to break an appointment at my club.”
Sir Henry glanced about and nodded. “All present, the meeting will come to order,” he announced, and turned at once to Richard. “Well, my boy, what was so important it couldn’t wait?”
Richard began to tell them about Evelyn’s visit and what Gregor had told her.
“Hearsay,” Montague muttered. “And from a woman, by God.”
“I believe her,” Richard retorted, “and Gregor is a trustworthy fellow.”
“The description could fit ten thousand men north of Kent,” Sir Henry mused, “but it is interesting that it fits our latest two candidates for the Captain.”
Will Jackson made some suggestions about following up the information, and notes were taken. Richard knew he would have to go to Kent, but first there was Sir Henry’s country weekend. Interesting to see what Gilfoyle and Little got up to there. Interesting and dangerous.
“If the Captain finds out we are getting closer—”
“Closer!” Montague sneered.
“—he might take action. As he did last time with my brother.”
Sir Henry nodded solemnly. “We are in a dangerous occupation, Richard. We take risks. But if not for us, then there would be anarchy. This man must be stopped, and if risks need to be taken, then they shall be.”
A vote was taken to continue the course they were on, and the meeting broke up. Will Jackson followed Richard out. “Are you going to be at this weekend party, Eversham? Sir Henry has invited me. Perhaps we could travel down together?”
Richard agreed, and they made their arrangements.
As he walked away, Richard was remembering Gilfoyle’s unpleasant smirk at the Smythe’s dinner table and wondered again whether he was the Captain. It would give him great pleasure to see Gilfoyle dragged away by the authorities, but he admitted to himself it would give him even more pleasure to punch him square on the nose.
Archie had told him about Maria’s admission. The Smythes were bankrupt, and Tina was marrying to save the family fortune and the family honor. If he could prove Gilfoyle was the Captain, he would save her from that fate. Although how that would help her family’s financial woes wasn’t exactly clear. Probably not, was the answer.
Well surely with Gilfoyle out of the way there could be someone more suitable found? Tina was a stunning girl, beautiful and clever. Richard was quite sure it would be a simple matter to find her a husband who could solve all her problems.
Of course, it would have to be someone of whom he approved.
What of Will Jackson? He’d considered him before, and he was intelligent and honest, with a good family and with a reasonable fortune. Surely he was the perfect choice?
But the more Richard considered Will Jackson, the more he seemed to discover things about the man he didn’t quite approve of. They were little things, but nevertheless Richard wanted perfection for Tina. There might be someone at Arlington Hall. Apart from himself, of course, because Richard had vowed not to marry, not until Anthony’s murderer was brought to justice, and even then . . . well Evelyn had dampened his desire for marriage.
There would be the perfect someone for Tina, he reassured himself. He just had to keep looking.
Chapter 17
Lady Carol had taken to her bed, and the household crept about like mice. The doctor was called to attend her. “She needs complete rest,” he informed Sir Thomas. “No excitement of any kind, or I won’t answer for the consequences.”
Tina had a fair idea of the nature of the excitement that had sent her mother to her bed, and so did Sir Thomas. When the day’s mail arrived and was carried in on the silver tray, they both pounced upon it as a way of diverting their thoughts.
Sir Thomas sifted through the letters, setting aside the bills, of which there were a great many, looking for anything to give his thoughts another direction. “Ah, here’s an invitation for a weekend at Sir Henry and Lady Isabelle Arlington’s country estate! Lovely spot. Right on the river and acres of woodland. Good hunting, as I recall.”
“That should cheer Mama up. She loves the countryside.”
He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Hmm. You and Charles are invited, too.”
Tina waited a moment, and then said softly. “Can we go, Father? I mean, is it possible for us to go just now, with things as they are?”
“Probably not,” he muttered, throwing down the invitation. “I’ve arranged to sell the coach. How will we get there? And your mother will want new clothes, and how will we manage that?”
But when she heard of the invitation, Lady Carol had other ideas.
“You certainly will go!
And Charles, too. Your father and I will make our excuses, but you and Charles must go.”
“Mama, we don’t need to, really, I understand that our circumstances have changed and—”
Lady Carol gave her a bleak look, and Tina’s voice faltered and stopped. “The wretched bailiffs will be coming next week. You and Charles don’t want to be here to see that, Tina.”
“Oh, Mama!”
With an effort her mother rallied. “Never mind,” she said, waving her hand as if to push the horror as far away as possible. “You must go, Tina. What if Horace chooses that weekend to propose to you? And I still have hopes for Charles and Anne although the Burgesses seem to have got wind of our dire circumstances and are warning her off him. Still if they aren’t thrown together, then how can we expect a happy ending?”
Inwardly Tina sighed. Horace was their last hope. She must persuade him, somehow, that he loved her and wanted to marry her. The conversation played out in her head:
“Please make me the happiest man in the world, Tina, and marry me. I realize I can’t live without you. How could I have been so blind all these years?”
“Yes, Horace, of course I will marry you.”
“That’s wonderful. Let’s not wait. We must marry immediately.”
“Yes, Horace, immediately. Uhm, by the way, my family are about to be turned out of their home onto the street. Can we borrow your fortune?”
Thankfully she never found out what Horace might have said in response, as her mother climbed from her bed with some of her old vigor.
“Ring for Maria, my dear! We must start planning your wardrobe. It was fortunate we had that new dress made for your visit to the theater, wasn’t it? And somehow we must manage one or two more. There will be a ball, the Arlingtons always have a ball. You need a ball dress, Tina, something truly striking. I think I have one or two pieces of jewelry I won’t miss too much, enough to pay the dressmaker at any rate.”
“Mama, please don’t—”
Lady Carol’s mouth firmed. “No arguments. Ring the bell, Tina.”
Tina went to ring the bell, trying not to let her mother see how her heart sank at the idea of wearing a dress that had been bought with her mother’s precious jewelry.
“You have your dark blue dress for traveling,” Lady Carol went on. “Does it still fit?”
“It is too short.”
“Never mind, we’ll manage. Perhaps a trim along the hem. At least we do not have to worry about your undergarments, even darned stockings will do at a pinch, no one will see them. Apart from the servants.”
“Servants gossip,” Tina reminded her wryly.
“Perhaps, but just remember that the next time they see you you will be Lady Tina Gilfoyle, and your underwear will be impeccable.”
Tina wished she was as positive of the outcome as her mother, but as there was little she could do but agree, she set about making the best of it. And the country weekend away would be nice if she could forget that her parents were selling family heirlooms to pay for it.
“Father says he’s arranged for the coach to be sold. How will we—?”
“We will hire one if necessary,” Lady Carol said resolutely. “Your father has some rather nice bottles of wine put down in the cellar. I think they will fetch a fair price.”
She gave a shudder as she said it, as if it was all too much to bear, then forced a ghastly smile. “Well, I’m sure it will all be worth it in the end, Tina. And I’m sure you will try your very best to secure Horace although I don’t want you to feel as if you have failed us if he doesn’t ask.”
Oh no, Tina thought with miserable irony, I mustn’t feel that.
“Should I tell him, Mama? About our troubles?”
Lady Carol eyes widened. “Good heavens, no! You must not say a word, not until he asks you and you say yes, and even then . . . No, leave all that to your father and me. We will broach it, very delicately, when the time is right. I’m sure Horace will be understanding. He is almost one of the family, after all, and Charles is his dearest friend. How could he not want to help?”
Tina could think of lots of reasons why Horace might be quite cross about the whole thing, but she wisely kept them to herself.
“I wonder who else will be there?” her mother was saying. “Lady Isabelle likes to play the gracious lady of the manor so there are sure to be lots of guests, some of them quite exotic, as well as more familiar faces. Mr. Little, perhaps? But I suppose it’s no use thinking of him, not now that Margaret has her hooks in him. I do wish you would choose your friends more wisely, Tina,” she added irritably.
“I don’t think Mr. Little and I would have suited, Mama,” Tina replied soothingly.
“A pity.” Her expression hardened. “I hope that dreadful scoundrel Richard Eversham won’t be there. Sir Henry has some very odd friends. I’m still not sure why he foisted him upon us, but I certainly don’t want you in his company without me there to keep an eye on him. You will take care, won’t you, Tina?”
Of course she would, she reassured her mother, and Mr. Eversham was unlikely to be there; surely he had better things to do? But in her heart she was hoping very much he would be there. At least that would give her one bright thing to look forward to among the shadows of worry and anxiety, and Horace.
Hunting Horace, capturing him, securing him. She’d already made one blunder. How was she to manage this time? And his proposing to her was only the beginning.
“You must take Maria, of course,” Lady Carol was saying. “I will manage very well without her. I will have to manage, won’t I? I doubt we will be able to afford more than one or two servants when we leave this-this house.”
Her lip wobbled, and she bit down on it hard.
“Where is Maria?” she went on querulously. “Go and find her, Tina. I have so much to do.”
Tina hesitated, but she could see that her mother didn’t want her there while she indulged in her misery, so she went out quietly and closed the door.
She found Maria on the stairs. Her dark eyes widened when Tina explained about the weekend at the Arlington’s country estate and Lady Carol’s sudden ascension from her sickbed.
“She’s asking for you,” Tina said, as she continued down the stairs, leaving Maria to hurry up them. “I wonder if Mr. Eversham and Archie will be there,” she added mischievously, over her shoulder.
“Hush, Miss Tina!” Maria whispered, glancing about her, but there was no one to overhear.
Maria wished Tina would understand the dangers of the game she was playing, or at least not pretend it was all a game. Did she really feel like that? Maria thought that she was probably playing a part, hiding her fears and doubts, while determined to do what was right for her family.
Miss Tina was like that, she always had been. If she wasn’t very careful, she was going to end up being a martyr, and as far as Maria could recall from her childhood church attendance, they weren’t a very happy lot. Marrying Horace might be her parents’ answer to their problems, but Maria thought it a very bad idea for Tina.
Lady Carol would ask Maria to keep a watch on her daughter, and Maria would promise to do so, but there were forces at work that Lady Carol knew nothing about.
Mr. Eversham worried her. Just what was he up to? There might come a time when she would have to tell Tina what Archie had said although she’d prefer to wait until she knew the whole story herself. Would Archie be at the Arlington’s country house with his master? If Maria was a woman who liked a wager, then she’d say yes.
Over the next week Tina found herself unable to do a thing without her mother by her side. There were fittings for the ball dress and such other items of clothing that Lady Carol deemed necessary, and as well as all that there was packing that needed to be done in preparation for the closing of the house. Although more was being sold than packed. There was a horrible incident when some burly looking bailiffs arrived and banged on the door and threatened them with eviction, but Sir Thomas went to speak to them and somehow man
aged to gain them another month.
“However did you do it?” Lady Carol demanded, trembling hands clasped to her bosom.
“I gave them your long case clock,” he said shortly.
“With the paintings of the moon and stars?” she wailed.
“Yes.”
“That belonged to my mother,” his wife’s eyes filled with tears.
“It was either the clock or us out on the street, my dear.”
Tina held her breath as her mother struggled between her emotional attachment to the clock and her common sense. The latter won. She gave a brisk nod, before climbing the stairs again to her room, slowly, like an old woman.
Preparations for the weekend were now well under way. Charles was taking a valet, which was a tremendous expense but one Lady Carol felt could not be forgone. Often gentlemen visiting away used each others’ valets or any available servants in the house they were staying in, but to do that seemed too penny-pinching and Lady Carol could not bear it.
“I don’t know how we are going to afford this,” she confided to Tina, as they sat in the parlor one morning, sipping tea from leaves which had been reused several times. It was barely tea now, more like hot water and milk.
The parlor looked quite bare. Most of the “good stuff,” as Sir Thomas called it, had gone. Lady Carol still preferred to sit in here however and take her morning tea, with the view through the sash windows of the kitchen garden, now sadly neglected.
“Who will care for everything when we’re gone?” she worried.
Charles blundering into the room was almost a relief. “Morning Mama, Tina.” He blinked and looked about, as if suddenly realizing how many things were missing. “Had a clean out, Mama?”