The Marriage Bargain

by Blaise Kilgallen

  Gavin’s horse was soon returned to him wearing a new horseshoe. He mounted the gray and again galloped out on High Street toward the squire’s ramshackle manor in Lesser Bodem. As he trotted the horse onto the narrow dirt drive again, he saw no visitors on the drive. After dismounting and being allowed entry again, Gavin asked the housekeeper if the squire has additional company.

  “Not now, m’lord, but ’tis been very busy here today.”

  “You say the squire had several visitors earlier…” Gavin interrupted her. “I thought he never saw visitors. Who else was here?”

  “He don’t usually. But a big feller, nasty and rude, he was, arrived after lunch whilst the squire was nappin’.”

  Gavin interrupted her again. “Yes. Go on. Do you remember what he looked like?”

  “Aye. Rough-lookin’,” she said, glancing up at the earl. “Not nice to look at. And loud-mouthed, too, m’lord.” She winced. “I didn’t like him.”

  “Did he give you his name?”

  “Nay, sir.” The housekeeper went on. “He said ‘twas a surprise. Said he’d tell the squire hisself. A short time later, I saw a young lady and her friend drive up out front in a fancy carriage. She said she was the squire’s granddaughter.”

  The housekeeper’s brow wrinkled beneath her plain mobcap. “I never knew the squire had a granddaughter. Squire Morrow never mentioned one. Never spoke about his daughter neither, though I heard gossip about how he sent the gel away fer elopin’ against his wishes.”

  “Never mind that. I believe I know who his visitors were. Just take me to the squire.”

  “Aye, m’lord.” She bustled ahead of Leathem, speaking as they walked. “Far as I know, the squire’s alone. I brung the young miss into him while his other visitor was still with him. Then all three of his visitors drove off together in that fancy carriage.”

  Gavin halted in front of the squire’s door. “What did the squire have to say about the young woman claiming to be his granddaughter?”

  “I ain’t seen the squire nor spoke with him since before them visitors left, m’lord. That rude feller warned me quite positive-like that the squire had asked not to be disturbed. Takin’ another nap, he said. And then they left.” The housekeeper whispered an aside to Leathem. “The squire’s grumpy as a bear when he don’t have his afternoon nap. I dared not bother him till he yanks on the bell cord. An’ here ye are again, wantin’ to see him," the housekeeper muttered under her breath. “Oh Lordy! I hope he don’t chew off my head when I wakes him up.”

  Squire Morrow didn’t answer the housekeeper’s knock, so Gavin turned the doorknob and stuck his head over the threshold. What he saw shocked him. Hurriedly, he shoved the door wide, letting it bang against a wall as he rushed in to kneel in front of the old man.

  “Squire! It’s me! Leathem!”

  The man’s bleary eyes blinked. He looked dazed and frightened. He was breathing fast and hard as if unable to speak. The earl quickly reached over and undid the gag so that he could breathe better.

  “Squire, are you all right? Take it easy, sir, and tell me what happened.”

  The old man took a fit of coughing. His bony shoulders jerked spasmodically as he inhaled to draw more air into his lungs. Finally, he choked out, “Lea—them?” Blinking again, he fumbled in his lap for his spectacles. Even with his hands bound, he managed to set the wire-rimmed glasses on his nose. “W-why are y-ye here?”

  Gavin turned to the housekeeper. “Hurry, woman! Pour me a glass of spirits!”

  The earl untied Morrow’s wrists, rubbing them to get circulation going in the gnarled fingers. “Who did this to you?” Gavin asked.

  “D-Dancy,” the old man groaned. “Emptied m-my strongbox, he did. S-stole everything!”

  “T-then he took them two gels off with him.”

  “What girls? Do you mean Emily Dancy?”

  “Aye, the one what said I was her grandfather. D-Do you believe that?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid I do. And a lot more of what you told me already, Henry.”

  “If that be true, then ye’d best go find her, Leathem. If she is who she says, there’s no tellin’ what that scummy scoundrel will do to her.”

  “Your housekeeper said—”

  Just then, the housekeeper shoved a full glass of whiskey into Gavin’s hand. The earl gently held the rim against the old man’s lips. “Squire, drink this. It’s spirits. Take it slow, though. It will help you feel better.”

  “Thank-ee,” the squire muttered. He gulped down a few swallows of potent liquor, allowing it to warm his insides. “Ahhh…I needed that.”

  The room was deadly quiet until the old man suddenly lurched forward, clutching the chair’s armrests. He started to curse. “Dammit, Leathem! Dancy is a bloody, black hearted-devil and thief! A dammed rascal and rogue of the first water! If you won’t go after him, I’ll find someone who will if…’tis…the…last…breath…I take!”

  “Easy, squire.” Gavin grasped the man’s shaking shoulders as the squire fell into another coughing spasm. “Calm down, Henry, and just listen to me. Sir, do you have any idea where Eustace might take Emily? I believe she is Eustace’s ward.”

  “Blast it, Leathem!” the old man grumbled, somewhat recovered. “Listen to me now!” He sucked in a noisy breath. “Mebbe that gel is my granddaughter and mebbe she ain’t. But I heard Dancy say he was taking them gels to call on Percy Grafton in Tunbridge Wells.”

  Fear coiled like a snake in Gavin’s gut. He vowed silently he’d find and capture Eustace. Legal guardian or not, the rogue had kidnapped Emily.

  For a short time longer, Leathem remained with the old squire to calm him and keep him company. The old man gulped down the last of his whiskey when Gavin inquired, “If you know, Squire, tell me where I can locate Percy Grafton.”

  Morrow sighed, finally taking in a deep breath. “If he ain’t moved,” the squire rasped, “his office is in an alley off High Street on the north side of town.”

  “Is there a rear entrance?”

  “Don’t know. Ain’t been to the Wells for years.” The man’s faded eyes flickered sadly. “No reason to go there anymore.”

  “Who is magistrate there now?”

  “Don’t know that neither.” The squire hesitated. “But the lock-up should still be on High Street, near the Fallen Virgin Inn.” Morrow slumped back against his chair. If possible, the squire appeared to have aged a decade since Gavin met with him hours before.

  “Find the gel, Leathem,” the squire said wearily, his blue eyes silently begging him. “Mebbe she is my granddaughter.” Tears welled in Morrow’s eyes when he gazed up at the earl. “Damn and blast me,” he cursed, raggedly. “I was wrong about too many things for so many years. I was an obstinate, stubborn fool when I stopped my wife from seeking out our daughter, Gracie, again twenty years ago.” The squire choked on his last words. “Now I need to know the truth, Leathem, before I leave this world. If only I had made it up with my Mary,” he muttered. “She died too soon, Leathem. ’Twas all my fault. Grief stricken, she was…and I helped kill her. She loved our Gracie so. When I chased our daughter off, my Mary faded away like a dying flower and left me here all alone.” The old man swallowed painfully, his throat still raw from Eustace’s rough mauling. “Find the gel, Leathem, and bring her back here. Then I’ll tell you the rest of it.”

  Gavin squeezed the old man’s shoulder hard. “No fear, Squire, I’ll find her. And when I do, I’ll see that Dancy rots in gaol for a very long time.”

  Chapter 16

  EUSTACE had the Porters’ driver tie the reins of the rented horse to the rear of the carriage. The vehicle drove off with three occupants inside as it rumbled back to Tunbridge Wells. Betsy, crouched in one corner, whimpered softly. Emily glanced at the girl; her eyelids were squeezed shut, her lips trembling behind shaking fingers.

  Meanwhile, Eustace taunted Emily. “So, ye tho’t ta claim yer inheritance, did ye? Well, ye lied to me, bitch!
Ye must know yer born day or why else would ye be here?”

  Emily shook her head. “I don’t know it. My parents never told me. And I didn’t come here to see Mr. Grafton. I came to learn if I have any relatives left of my family. Other than you.” Emily sniffed.

  Eustace leaned in real close, his sour breath making her nose twitch.

  “I’m the only relative ye got, gel. I’m yer best uncle what took care of ye when them tight-fisted Dancy’s got kilt.” He sniggered. “If they gave me what I asked, they might still be breathin’.”

  “Y-you killed my parents?” Emily pulled herself as far away from Eustace on the carriage seat as possible, horrified by what she heard.

  “Course not! A carriage wheel come off when the axel broke. Besides, they was goin’ downhill too fast.” Slouched against the velvet squabs of Porters’ elegant vehicle, Eustace laughed snidely.

  “I don’t believe you, Uncle! I know you hurt my parents!” A painful gulp escaped Emily. She held back salty tears that pressed to escape, scarcely unable to speak until she blurted out, “And h-how did you get out of the Tower?”

  “I got my ways, dearie. Your ole uncle is a very smart man, Emmie Dancy. Smarter than some folks might think.”

  “And don’t call me dearie!” Emily exploded, her voice tainted with venom as she lurched forward, spitting a rant of angry words aimed at her uncle. “I don’t wish to hear endearments from the likes of you!”

  “Mebbe ye don’t b’lieve me, bitch.” The caustic tone in Eustace’s voice only deepened. “But I’m tryin’ to be nice to ye. I’m tellin’ ye things ye niver guessed b’fore.”

  “I don’t want to hear them.”

  “Well, I’m tellin’ ye anyhow, an’ I ain’t lyin’.”

  “You never spoke one truth in your life!” Emily railed back at him. “You were always a bold-faced liar. A criminal and a thief all your days, Uncle!”

  “Mebbe so, mebbe so. An’ mebbe I woulda been better orf if yer granddaddy and grandmamma niver dragged me away from London to the stinkin’ hellhole of this English countryside!”

  Eustace’s laughter split the air in the coach’s interior.

  “With yer other grandpapa’s money linin’ my pockets, I’ll get more from Grafton an’ what’s comin’ ta me ’cause I deserve it. I’ll be rich. Somebody to fear on the streets of White Chapel again.” He paused, his mouth twisting into an ugly sneer. “And listen to this, slut. Ye got no claim to any inheritance! Why d’ye s’pose ye was niver tole where ye were born or on what day, hmm? B’cuz ye were birthed on the wrong side of the blanket! A bloody bastard jest like me!” His laugh was deadly cruel. “Ask the old man in Lesser Bodem if ye dare!”

  “You’re lying again!” Emily gasped, fingers flying to press hard against her lips.

  “I ain’t. And ye’d best listen to me and be on yer good behavior, Miss High and Mighty when we gets to Grafton’s. Keep yer damn trap shut about what I jest tole ye. Grafton’s gonna hand all that lovely blunt over t’me, see? I’ll be mighty glad to be done wiff ye when I get what’s due me! Ye niver was no real lady, Emily Dancy.”

  Eustace stuck his head out of the carriage’s open window and shouted directions to the driver to Grafton’s office in Tunbridge Wells. A score of pedestrians strolled up and down High Street as the Porters’ borrowed carriage turned into a narrow alleyway. Stopping in front of Grafton’s building, Eustace demanded Betsy remove her bonnet. Hands trembling, she gave it to him without argument.

  “Leave Betsy alone!” Emily demanded.

  The maid sucked in a loud gasp when Eustace pulled out a knife. But he simply cut the ribbons off of her bonnet.

  “Shet up and keep quiet!” Eustace scowled darkly as if to reach out and strike Emily. Instead, he grabbed Betsy and bound one length of ribbon around her wrists. The other he tied around her ankles. Then he grabbed her reticule and rummaged through it. Finding a square of cambric, he gagged the maid with it. Moaning softly behind the handkerchief, Betsy’s eyes were wide with terror, blinking rapidly.

  Emily leaned over to comfort the frightened girl. “Just do what he says, Betsy. And try not to worry. Everything will be all right, I promise.”

  The girl nodded slowly, but tears dribbled down her cheeks. Her terrified gaze locked on Emily’s concerned expression.

  “And ye best not try to get loose, gel! Jest stay where ye are!” Eustace warned the maid sternly. “Yer friend here and me got business inside with Grafton. Then I’ll be more than glad to be shed of the pair o’ ye. Troublesome bitches!” Grumbling under his breath, Eustace backed out of the carriage, holding Emily’s wrist in a firm grip. He yanked her against his side as they approached the brick building, hissing, “Behave and keep yer trap shut! I’ll do what talkin’ is needed.” Emily stumbled along next to her uncle. Eustace didn’t bother to knock on the door. He tucked the Malacca cane under his arm, turned the knob, and shoved open the door, dragging Emily into the building behind him.

  “We’re here to see Percy Grafton,” Dancy announced baldly, not bothering to announce his name or Emily’s to the lawyer’s skinny clerk wearing spectacles who jumped up to greet them.

  “Perhaps I can be of service?” the clerk asked politely, his glance flicking between Emily and Eustace.

  “Where’s Grafton?” Eustace snapped, his query more like a command. Meanwhile, he tapped the tip of his cane impatiently against the floorboards.

  Grafton’s clerk asked, “Do you have an appointment with Mr. Grafton?”

  Eustace never bothered to answer. “We’re here to see him, not ye. Go find him.”

  “If you will take a seat and wait a few moments, sir, I’ll see if Mr. Grafton is available.”

  “He’d better be available. There’s business b’tween him and me that needs ta be taken care of and done wiff here an’ now.”

  The clerk’s curious glance swung back to Emily. Addressing her, he offered, “Kindly take a seat, Miss. And you as well…err…Mr…”

  “Dancy,” was all the information Eustace gave him.

  The clerk nodded to two straight-backed chairs sitting against a wall of the anteroom. He turned on his heels then and walked to a closed door at the back of the room. Knocking first, he pushed the door open and disappeared behind it without another word.

  *

  Emily lowered herself slowly onto one of the chairs. Her nerves screamed with tension. To cease her hands from trembling, she clasped them tight together in her lap, but it didn’t really help. Throwing a slow, furtive glance around the room, her mind flickered from one thing to another in search of a solution to her dilemma. She felt trapped, like a frightened bird desperate to escape her cage while begging silently for help.

  At first blush, she thought to hurl herself into the arms of the clerk. But Eustace had an iron grip on her wrist. And besides, her uncle was twice the size of the scrawny clerk. How could he help her? She knew Eustace carried a knife, because she saw him cut the ribbons on Betsy’s bonnet. And, good heavens, with his temper he might use the weapon on the clerk. She didn’t want the poor man injured or killed because of her. She had to come up with a better solution.

  Meanwhile, Eustace paced the anteroom between her and the front entrance, back and forth, his cane tapping on the uncarpeted floor.

  * * * *

  Gavin’s gray stallion was young, muscular, and with plenty bottom, so Gavin didn’t worry about galloping him again, hard and fast, toward Tunbridge Wells. He reined the horse down to a slow pace only when he entered High Street. Seated on the animal, he peered into side streets that looked more like alleyways. Wondering how to approach his problem, he spotted a saddled horse tied to a parked carriage on a side street. A crest was painted on the vehicle’s door. Were the Porters in Tunbridge Wells, too? Then, he recalled what Morrow’s housekeeper told him. It had to be Emily who had been in Harry’s vehicle, seeking her lost relatives.

  Leathem rode by Porter’s carriage in the alleyway and t
urned toward the rear of the brick building. Dismounting, Gavin tethered his horse, leapt up the few steps to the building’s back door, and knocked. The door was opened by a well-dressed, portly, middle-aged man. Blocking the doorway, his whiskered countenance looked mildly perplexed.

  “I’m Gavin Fielding, Earl Leathem,” the earl announced. “Are you Grafton?”

  When the man nodded, Gavin demanded, “Then let me in. I have important information for you concerning Emily Dancy and her guardian, Eustace Dancy.”

  Percy Grafton didn’t move or reply at first, stunned to see an earl standing on his rear doorstep. The earl spoke more forcefully. “Hurry up, man! The two are probably in your anteroom now awaiting your attention. Step lively and I’ll tell you everything once we are inside.” The earl brushed swiftly past Grafton.

  “I say, sirrah…!”

  “Never mind. Just listen to what I have to say…”

  Blustering, Grafton shut the rear door. Inside, Gavin lifted a broad palm and stopped the lawyer’s jabbering. Another door opened just then, and a spindly clerk ducked inside from the anteroom. For a few seconds, the three men stared at one another.

  The clerk was the first who spoke. “Begging your pardon, Mr. Grafton, you have two new customers outside—”

  “Who are they?” Gavin asked bluntly.

  The clerk blinked, his anxious gaze whipping toward his employer.

  “It’s all right, Bromley,” Grafton said, “Tell us who is waiting in the outer office.”

  “Uh…uh, a Miss Dancy…and…uh…uh, a Mr. Dancy. A rather crude fellow, I must say.”

  Gavin interrupted Bromley with explicit orders for him before Grafton could do so. “Bromley, go back out there and tell them to wait. Apologize profusely and explain Grafton is with an important client but will be with them shortly.” Gavin’s next command was whispered, edgy with urgency, as he warned the clerk he didn’t want those out front to hear. “Do exactly what I say, Bromley,” he repeated. “And do it now.”

  The clerk’s eyes flew to Grafton’s face for permission. The lawyer nodded, although his expression still showed a stunned look.