“Was that what you thought, Uncle?” Mayson said in a hoarse voice. “Certainly, you found enough subtle ways to make my death possible. From the school where you sent me, to the sautéed mushrooms. It was only my good fortune that I know Clitocybe rivulosa from Marasmius oreades. Foraging was one of the classes at that accursed school. There, you learned, or died. Did you know that, Uncle?”
“So, what, then? You were supposed to learn from it, toughen up. You made it through the war, came home, and you just took off. Left me with the estate to run, and only a few coppers in the house-keeping chest. I could not draw any money, for I was immediately under suspicion for murder. Do you know what it is like to run an estate largely on credit?”
Mayson jerked as if he had been struck, and his face set in anger. “And the mushrooms?”
“What mushrooms? Served when? We had them regularly, sent up from the gardens.” Leroy glowered at Mayson. “Anybody could have slipped a few of the wrong ones in.”
“Now, what I want to know,” Constable Morris put in, “Is how His Grace fits into all this.”
“Deviled if I know,” Leroy said belligerently.
“Mind your language,” the magistrate said mildly. “Your Grace, would you care to tell us?
“It was the advertisement in the handbill,” Darrius said. “News of Mayson Rutley, dead or alive. Mr. Bruce brought it to me, and he seemed to think that the condition of Mr. Mayson Rutley would be a matter of indifference to the person receiving him. Moreover, I felt that anyone living here under false pretenses must be up to no good.”
“What do you have to say about this, Mr. Leroy Rutley?” The magistrate asked.
“I printed up the handbills because I needed some kind of proof Mayson was dead. Or I needed him to come home and get on with the business of running Hillsworth. It certainly would not hurt to be reimbursed for the money I spent out of my personal fortune to keep it going. But I never meant for him to be harmed if he was actually found alive.”
“I see,” said the magistrate, skepticism coloring his voice. “I will ask a solicitor to go over your records. I trust you did keep records? We shall reconvene at a later date to consider these particulars. Now, then, Mr. Mayson Rutley, while it would seem that your uncle recognizes you, there is the small matter of proving your identity. Do you, indeed, have the crescent moon birthmark?”
Wordlessly, Mayson peeled off the thin leather gloves he wore at all times, revealing the red birthmark in the shape of a crescent moon.
“Very well,” said the magistrate. “A formal investiture will have to take place, but I believe we have established that you are Mayson Rutley, the missing heir. However, we have one small thing to take into account. Your Grace, did you order the series of misadventures that plagued Mr. Mayson Rutley?”
“I… yes, Your Worship. But none of them were intended to cause permanent harm. I meant to simply take him to Lord Hillsworth, that is, Mr. Leroy Rutley. I had no reason to think that he meant him harm.”
“Was that your only motivation?”
“I, uh, no, Your Worship. I was attracted to Mrs. Swinton, and had hopes of finding favor with her. The cook was becoming something of a rival.”
“It was not your intention, then, to set fire to his bed?”
“No! That could have harmed my mother and all her servants. I requested no such thing.”
“That’s right,” Mr. Bruce spoke out of turn. “Deny it all. Throw the flunky on the mercy of the court.”
“Why exactly did you cause injury to Mr. Rutley, Mr. Bruce?”
“The Duke told me to scare him. To make him go away, and most of all to make him stop sniffing around Mrs. Swinton. He said to do it in a way that he could be identified, an’ declared dead, or at least run out of the country, so’s we could get the reward. When that didn’t work, he said we would grab him out of his bedroom, and trade him for the reward.”
“Reward?” Mayson started to laugh, then broke into a burst of coughing. “There should have been quite a few coppers in the housekeeping account. I made sure of it by leaving my allowance behind. There would have been a quarterly allowance for running the estate. But clearly it was seriously mismanaged, because Uncle Leroy is so lacking in funds, he has been selling snakes to that naturalist fellow, Mr. Petersen. So it is highly unlikely that there was any money to pay a reward. When I learned how the estate was being mismanaged, I went to the magistrate to begin the process of showing that I am very much alive and reclaiming my inheritance, whatever might be left of it. The accidents began after that.”
“So what happened to turning him over to his uncle? Why did you not just tell Leroy Rutley about his nephew?”
Darrius closed his mouth, and looked sullen.
“It was the Lunnon constables!” Mr. Bruce burst out. “Molly Sue said…”
“Oh, no. No, no, no,” Molly Sue put in. “You are not going to drag me into this. The Duke of Tolware approached me, but when the accidents started, I was done.”
“It is an amazing thing that I am alive at all,” Mayson commented.
“Well!” exclaimed the magistrate, “You are clearly alive. It is your desire to take up your responsibilities?”
“Yes,” Mayson replied.
“So, Mr. Leroy Rutley, we are left with a pretty conundrum. It would be unkind to place the brunt of the blame on Mr. Bruce…”
“No, it would not!” Molly Sue spoke up. “He was tryin’ to toadeat the Duke by taking care of his little problem.” She put a sarcastic twist on the words. “Mr. Bruce is not near so nice when the house folk are not around. He tried to corner Betty twice, an’ her scarcely more’n a child. An’, I might add, the Duke tried his hand at Mrs. Swinton, so he ain’t so pure his own self.”
“Mrs. Swinton, did the Duke approach you with an offer?”
“Yes, Your Worship.”
The Duchess nearly exploded. “Darrius! How could you! You know my feelings on this. You know I turned off the previous companion for flirting with you. And besides, you are promised to Blanche.”
The magistrate glowered at both Mr. Bruce and the Duke. “What is it that I am supposed to do with you?” he growled. “You are not quite murderers, though it would seem not for lack of trying. I cannot let you run around the country to get up to more mischief. Next time you might succeed. Moreover, Duke, it appears that you are but a few short steps from debtor’s prison.”
Blanche stood up. “Give them to me,” she said.
“To you?” the magistrate asked incredulously.
“Darrius is my intended. As the Duchess pointed out, we were hand-fasted when we were still children. I think it might be time to move on into marriage. As his wife, I believe I might have a positive influence. As for Mr. Bruce, however misguided it might have been, I believe he has shown his loyalty to the Duke. With training and supervision, I think he might make an excellent bodyguard.”
“Very well,” said the magistrate. “What say you, Constable Morris?”
“I say that you are the magistrate, not I,” the constable said. “But I would rather not have such goings on in our area.”
“Then I sentence the Duke of Tolware and Mr. Bruce to make all reparations to injured parties, to pay all outstanding debts, and to be remanded into the loving care of Miss Notley, providing her father will stand surety for their behavior. But if either of you engage in such capers again, I shall see you in Old Bailey, see if I do not!”
The magistrate glowered around the room. “Now, as for you, Mr. Leroy Rutley, I have my doubts that you are as innocent as you would have us believe. Your nephew is known as a fine cook and a gentleman who behaves with honor, even without benefit of title or station. I believe that a few years in New South Wales would do you good, and keep you away from spreading your influence farther.” The magistrate looked as if he wanted a gavel to tap.
Mayson waved his handkerchief at him and tried to rise.
“Yes, Lord Hillsworth. Is there something more?”
“
Just one thing, Your Worship, I would like to announce that I have asked Mrs. Swinton to become my wife, and she has agreed.”
The magistrate blinked. “This is most irregular.”
Evelyn tugged at Mayson’s sleeve. “Mayson! You will need to wed someone rich and powerful.”
“Evelyn,” Mayson said, turning to her, “I have worked beside you in health. You stood by me in sickness. When I disappeared, you insisted that I be found, and moved the entire village to do it. You are rich in kindness, noble in spirit, and the only lady I wish to take to wife. Please, dear heart, just say yes.”
“Yes, Mayson. But…”
“As you all have witnessed here, I have asked and she has agreed. Let no man or woman try to put us asunder.”
“Hear, hear!” cried the Duchess, clapping her hands together. “Two weddings to plan.” As the room burst into applause, she leaned across the table and murmured, “Darrius, you and I are going to have a long, long, talk.”
“I would like to join you for that talk,” Blanche murmured equally softly.
Mayson put his arm around Evelyn, and she gently leaned into his warmth. “I told you I would make a lady of you,” he said quietly.
“So you did,” she replied. “And you, Mayson Rutley, are the most amazing gentleman in the world.”
Epilogue
Twelve Months Later
An odd assemblage of people sat on the stone terrace at Hillsworth, watching the mowers at work preparing the bowling green. A dozen youths were wielding scythes, while a gaggle of giggling maidens followed along behind them. The maidens were using wooden rakes to collect up the mown grass, depositing it in tall baskets.
“This does bring back old times,” the Dowager Duchess remarked. “Lord Hillsworth, I am so glad you decided to reinstate the custom of having the village maidens follow after the mowers.”
“I remember being one of the youths wielding a scythe, and how mortally embarrassed I was at all the teasing. As I recall, I was being punished for something,” Mayson commented. “Perhaps my uncle hoped I would be bitten by one of the snakes. That field has always had plenty of them.”
“Goodness, gracious!” the current Duchess of Tolware, formerly Miss Blanche Notley, exclaimed. “Whatever are they doing?”
The young men out on the green were whooping and dancing about, while the maidens were shrieking and backing away. One fleet-footed young lady kilted up her skirts and dashed back toward the house where she was met by the butler. The fellow solemnly handed over a pair of blacksmith tongs and a large canvas sack. The young lady dashed back to the youths, handing over the implements to one who came to meet her. In short order, the tongs were used to pluck a wiry, wriggling body out of the grass.
“Smooth snake,” the youth called out.
“Unusual,” remarked a tall, lanky fellow wearing the most unlikely costume. He was clad in a farmer’s tunic over sporty nankeens, had a straw boater on his head, and wore a pair of spectacles with lenses of amazing thickness. “Smooth snakes prefer dense heather or old logs.”
“Even so, Mr. Petersen,” the Duke of Tolware put in, “It is no less marvelous than your handbills requesting snakes should have inspired Mr. Rutley to advertise for his nephew, Mayson Rutley, thus setting in motion quite a chain of events.”
“A chain of events,” the Duchess put in tartly, “That were injudiciously acted upon, nearly ending Lord Hillsworth’s life. I still do not understand what you were thinking, Darrius.”
“I wanted a new carriage?” the Duke said in a small voice. “He was offering a generous reward, you know.”
“A reward which he had no expectation of being called upon to pay,” Mayson commented. “Uncle Leroy was using the reward money from the snakes to purchase his Blue Ruin.”
“To have such things going on here,” the Duchess sighed. “George and I always thought it to be such a model estate.”
“It is fortunate that Father made some excellent investments,” Mayson remarked. “Even so, we owe a great deal to Evelyn’s business acumen. Her experience as a shopkeeper and her frugal housekeeping has been valuable in getting everything turned around.”
“You give yourself too little credit,” Evelyn said, leaning awkwardly over her rounding stomach to lay her hand over Mayson’s. “You are an excellent manager.”
“When is your lying in?” Blanche, who was now Duchess of Tolware, inquired.
“Not for a few more weeks, according to Dr. Alton. But I think this little person is doing its best to kick its way out. Mrs. Henshaw is of the opinion that the next heir of Hillsworth could put in an appearance any day now.”
“I should give you some sort of gift for your effort,” Mayson said, taking up her left hand in his.
Evelyn treated him to a winsome smile. “You have given me the best gift possible,” she said, turning the plain gold ring with her thumb. “Not in my wildest dreams did I truly believe that you would marry me until we stood before the vicar, and said our vows.”
“You thought me as poor-spirited as that?” Mayson teased her.
“Not poor spirited, just dedicated to doing the right thing. Which, in the eyes of the world, would have been seeking a lady of power and wealth to become your bride.”
“I have a lady of power and wealth,” Mayson said firmly. “Did I not mention this before? The riches you bring to our marriage are not to be found in the finest drawing rooms of London, or the finest palaces.”
“Love can be found in unlikely places,” Darrius declared, turning a fond glance toward Blanche. “I am a far better person for it.”
“Indeed it can,” his wife replied. “How glad I am that we did not give up on each other.”
Just then a shabby carriage drawn by a pair of dapple-gray horses rumbled up the drive.
“My parents have arrived,” Blanche noted, starting to rise.
“No, no, stay where you are,” Darrius said. “I will go to meet them. You need not stir.” He strode away toward the drive.
“Does this mean…?” Evelyn asked delicately.
“It does!” Blanche replied. “We feared that after my illness, I might not be able… but all is well.”
“That is splendid,” the Dowager Duchess put in. “I shall ask Mrs. Henshaw to ferret out all the baby clothes, especially the christening gown. And we shall bring down the cradle and have it refurbished.”
Evelyn and Mayson exchanged a fond glance, remembering a glorious afternoon and how much they had enjoyed rummaging through Hillsworth’s attics, bringing down the carved wooden cradle previously occupied by many little Rutleys, and rummaging through trunks until they found the store of baby clothes.
Some of them had been in sad shape, fit only to use as patterns. But their baby would not lack for clothing. Evelyn’s clever way with a needle had seen to that. She had also spun lamb’s wool into the finest yarn, and knitted a tall stack of sweaters, hats, and booties.
“I will be glad to help with that,” Evelyn said. “Just let me know when.”
“Of course, my dear,” the Dowager Duchess said. “It would be like old times, except that I would not ask you to take a letter. Thank you for sending your sister to me. She is not you, but she is still a marvelous companion.”
One of the youths came up to Mayson just then. “Bowling green mowed and cleared of snakes, My Lord. Shall I bring out the bowls?”
“Please do,” Mayson said. Then he looked around the table at the other people seated there. “Anyone care for a game?”
Blanche, Darrius, Lord and Lady Carletane, and Mr. Petersen all strolled down the newly mown bowling green to enjoy a game or two, leaving Evelyn sitting with the Dowager Duchess.
“Are you happy, my dear?” the Dowager Duchess asked.
“Extremely happy, Your Grace,” Evelyn replied. “Mayson is everything I ever dreamed of, and more besides. I will always remember John with love and respect, but what we had is as a candle to the sun. How are things with you? How is Darrius faring?”
The Dowager Duchess sighed. “Things with me are as they have been for a long time. I am too old to seek another husband, but I am glad for you, Evelyn. As for Darrius, Blanche seems to have a firm hand upon him, and he is happier than I believe I have ever seen him. I thought my George had gone completely astray in planning this match, but I believe it will be the making of my son.”
“That is good to know, Your Grace.”
“Indeed it is, Lady Hillsworth.”
Evelyn laughed. “How strange that sounds. I keep looking around for the grand lady who has such a title.”
“You are every inch a gracious lady,” the Dowager Duchess assured Evelyn, “More so than some who were born to the title. If Mayson had not claimed you, I think you might have captured my son’s heart.”
Before I Was Yours, My Earl: A Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 28