We stopped long enough on the return trip for Oliver and Jericho to re-bury Arthur Tyne. His improvised grave went undiscovered for more than a week and was quite a mystery to the Brighthelmstone magistrates as was stated in the one paper we found that reported the incident. The man's murder was popularly blamed on smugglers or pirates, and in a way the conclusion was perfectly right. Certainly no one of us ever stepped forward with further information for the inquiry.
Oliver stayed on in Brighthelmstone and kept an ear open to all the news. When talk came of a woman's body found on the beach near the Seven Sisters, he went along with the rest of the curious for a look and, putting on a convincing show of surprised sorrow, proclaimed her to be his long missing cousin, feared lost at sea. Thus was he able to bring Clarinda back for internment in the family mausoleum. Her terrible head wound was dismissed as having been caused by a rough encounter with the rocks when she'd washed ashore. So far no one had connected her in any way to Arthur Tyne.
I was thankful also for Edmond's full recovery from his own dance with the Reaper.
He eventually got the full story of all that had happened from me-or most of it. There were certain aspects I chose not to include, like my extra-natural abilities and the exact manner of Clarinda's demise. I baldly perjured myself, saying she'd fallen and hit her head in the boat during the fight. He grunted, and asked no other questions. The official story given to the rest of the family was that Clarinda had run away from him and drowned at sea by misadventure-something just scandalous enough to put off deeper inquiry. Ed-mond, already in mourning for Aunt Fonteyn, didn't have to change much of his outward show of grief, only to extend its duration. I think he did grieve in his heart for his wayward wife. Apparently he had been happy with her, once.
I was also thankful for the end of all persecution from Ridley's Mohocks.
It was but small work to find Royce and Litton, his would-be avengers, as well as a few others who had been connected to him. Though the task of reforming the lot of them into good citizens seemed rather too overwhelming, I was willing to take it on, but upon discussing the prospect with Nora, I gladly adopted her suggestion. Rather than trying to convert them, I simply instilled in each an irresistible desire to take a grand tour of the Continent. Some were bound for France, others for Italy, and none was like to return anytime soon. They could have Europe and all the rest of the world if they'd but leave me and mine in the peace of England.
The only dark spot was Summerhill's escape.
Oliver was yet busy making diligent inquiries about him. It seemed the captain was from Brittany as he'd said, and had in the past engaged Edmond's services for certain legal mat- ters, none of it connected with smuggling, though. Edmond had little to add about the man, except to say that Clarinda had taken to him. As Clarinda had taken to quite a number of men, Edmond had paid no more attention to this particular indiscretion than the others. Since she had been adept at using, then discarding a man when another more useful one appeared, I wondered whom she might have had waiting when she'd finished with Summerhill or if he had indeed been her final aspiration.
It mattered not now, but I would keep my eyes open for the captain. He'd bear watching against future mischief, I thought.
But for now, all was peace. We'd moved back into Oliver's home in town, once more leaving Fonteyn House to the care of some trusted servants. The parlour fire roared with warm comfort for the body, while the excellent sermon we'd recently heard did the same for our souls.
Nora and Oliver were seated near the fire showing Richard how best to toast bread. Elizabeth was at her spinet, engaged in learning a new piece of music, an occupation that held her attention only until Jericho came in with a tray laden for tea. According to the others, supper was too long a wait for refreshment. Elizabeth played the hostess and served all but Nora and me. We thought it best not to indulge our own specific appetite in front of an actively curious four-year-old.
"I hear Jericho gives a good report of a certain French dancing master," Oliver said. "What do you say to sending for the fellow after the New Year, see if he suits?''
"Indeed?" I arched an eyebrow at Elizabeth, the obvious source of my cousin's information, since I'd imparted it to her only last night as but a distant possibility.
She shrugged prettily. "One can't start too soon in teaching a boy the finer points of gentlemanly behavior."
"He's very much the little gentleman now,'' I said in mild protest. "Though I might consider employing someone. In the not so near future, mind you.''
"Brother, you just don't want to share him with anyone else."
"A palpable hit," said Nora, correctly reading my expression. "Keep pressing, Elizabeth, he'll call for quarter in another minute."
"Let's play fox hunt," said Richard, his bright face covered with toast crumbs and butter.
"There's a perfect example of the need for someone to teach him proper manners." Elizabeth wiped at the boy's face with her handkerchief.
"Example? He just wants a game." I winked at him, a silent promise to steal him away at the first opportunity.
"Yes, but he must learn to say 'excuse me,' and 'may I please' when breaking into a conversation."
"Excuse-me-may-I-please play fox hunt," said her resolute nephew, his voice somewhat muffled by her efforts at cleaning.
"A quick learner, is he not?" I asked, and no one offered to disagree. "Come here, Richard, time to ride to the hounds."
He broke away from Elizabeth, leaping onto me like a monkey.
"Gently, Jonathan, not so much bouncing, he's just eaten."
I promised to be sedate, keeping my word for almost one whole circuit of the house. Richard's enthusiasm carried over to me, and I forgot about caution in the face of fun. We galloped as madly, as noisily, as joyfully as ever before, so much so that I paid scant mind to the outcry that followed when Jericho answered a knock at the front door.
Just as I cantered into the parlor by way of the servant's entrance, I saw Elizabeth and the others suddenly rushing out the main door into the entry hall. I stopped, hearing more exclamations and outcry, the happy kind. I felt myself kindling to a unique, near forgotten warmth at the sound of a voice, low and clear and very much loved.
Father. Father has come at last.
"Left your Mother at Fonteyn House with all the mourning," he was saying. "It's true then? She still wasn't believing it when I had the head groom take me here. This will be hard. At least Beldon's there to help. Yes, Beldon and his sister came along, quite the mixed blessing on the crossing...."
"What's wrong, Cousin Jon'th'n?" Richard tugged at one of my ears.
"Nothing, laddie. You're about to meet someone very special."
"Who?"
I swung him around so as to seat him on one arm, and with a flock of birds flapping around in my belly, walked toward the entry hall.
They were all gathered about Father, Elizabeth still holding tight to him as he shook hands for the first time with Oliver. Nora stood close by awaiting introduction; Jericho also hovered near, his face alight with genuine pleasure. The lot of them looked up and fell silent as Richard and I came in.
Father broke into a great smile at the sight of me and stepped forward, arms open to embrace... then he faltered. A most amazing expression possessed his face as he stared first at me, then at Richard, and perceived the exact resemblance between us. His mouth dropped open.
"Welcome back to England, Father." I lifted Richard up to get a better hold on him. "I-ah-I have a bit of news for you...."
The End
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P N Elrod - Barrett 4 - Dance of Death Page 35