Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Bernard made himself dress for supper—informal, thank the duchess—and descended to the back terrace at the appointed hour. He wasn’t expecting Sorcha to ambush him as he emerged from the house.
She made a fetching picture in dark green velvet, an aubergine shawl about her shoulders. Her posture was militant, though, and Bernard thus offered her a bow rather than a less formal greeting.
“I’m sorry,” she said, speaking quietly. “You are trying to solve a problem that won’t go away just because I want to ignore it. I did not express myself as civilly as I ought, and I apologize for that.”
He had to repeat her words in his mind to make sure he had the sense of them. “You are apologizing? To me?”
“Don’t sound so surprised. I am never at my best in Dolforth territory. That is no excuse for sounding like my late husband, thinking like him, and acting like him.”
Bernard accompanied her to the balustrade. A few other guests were strolling the garden, though the terrace was blessedly deserted.
“What has his late lordship to do with the present difficulties?” Bernard asked.
“He’s like your mother, Bernard. He haunts me, but I can at least be aware of when his ghost walks.
He used to pretend to entertain a topic with me, when all the while, he was building his arguments against me, preparing little darts of ridicule or husbandly authority.
If those didn’t work, he’d resort to threats and shouting. ”
The prospect from the balustrade was lovely—the formal garden in neat parterres, the park lush with spring grass, the lake a placid feature in the distance. Lovely but tame. Completely devoid of the ancient wildness of the Dales, not so much as a hare daring to grab a bite of clover.
“You aren’t wrong,” Bernard said. “You know these people better than I ever care to, you do have to keep the peace with them, and you have managed to accomplish that without anybody’s help for some time.
You are also right that my mother is halfway around the world.
I am haunted by the notion that had I been willing to admit that my efforts to manage her were inadequate, had I sought allies, I might have been able to put her on that boat years earlier. ”
“You wanted to banish your own mother?”
He nodded. “The North Pole would have done nicely. Very un-vicarly of me. I would not face that truth until it was nearly too late.”
He expected Sorcha to pat his arm or maybe kiss his cheek, murmur a platitude or two, and walk away. She’d apologized for becoming heated at the mares’ pasture. She wasn’t relenting on the whole topic of the children’s safety or the need to hold responsible parties accountable.
“Bernard, you aren’t wrong either. You said Tallister might have doctored the children’s sweets at Sunday supper.
I dismissed that claim, but you should know Coraline expects her cook to run an organized kitchen.
The individual dessert servings are set out in advance, and you were correct that the smaller portions would have been clearly evident. ”
He risked a glance in her direction. Sorcha’s features were composed, though she looked a bit tired around the eyes. “You’ve been thinking about this.”
“I owed you a fair hearing, and what you got was an inquisition. I’ve been thinking about the incident with the pony too.”
“Annette has admitted to loosening the girth on Jordy’s saddle. She also admitted to smacking him on the head with the lid of the oat bin.”
Sorcha stared hard at the distant lake. “She admitted to intentionally harming my son?”
“Annette has promised to mend her ways, but, Sorcha, I do believe that, to some extent, Annette has also been a victim. She claims she had nothing to do with the boat sinking today, which means somebody else had a hand in matters.”
“You suspect Tallister. I’m listening.”
Bernard schooled himself to give as factual a recitation as he could. As more people emerged to enjoy the garden, he described a girl made terribly insecure by her mother’s criticisms and ambitions, a girl desperate for her father’s approval and easily goaded by his suggestions and flattery.
“You have advised sympathy where Annette is concerned,” he concluded. “I could not initially see your point, but having spoken with Annette and observed her at some length, I tend to agree with you.”
“I’m not feeling very sympathetic toward her now.”
Sorcha was sounding quite Scottish. Gratifyingly Scottish.
“She will apologize to Jordy when the moment is right, but please recall that she, too, was in that sinking boat. The lake is shallow enough that she was likely not at serious risk of harm—she told me she knows how to swim—though somebody thought it acceptable to mortify the girl before half the shire.”
Sorcha gathered her shawl about her shoulders. “You are suggesting Tallister is growing desperate.”
“Bold, certainly. He all but commanded Annette to take a boat out, knowing full well Eglantine would draw attention to the situation by refusing. Annette seized on Jordy to save face. To one who knows her well, that was her predictable next move.”
“I will never forget the sight of my son in a sinking boat, Bernard. Chanderton won’t believe a word of this, and he’s the only person with sufficient authority to put a stop to it.”
Sorcha was angry. She was also thinking strategically, bless her and her Highland temper.
“Chanderton might be the only single person who could hold Tallister accountable, but we have other options.”
“In Yorkshire,” Bernard said, “I made the mistake of thinking that Mama was my cross to bear, my problem to manage. She menaced the whole parish, but her mischief was never spoken of in public. Her victims were ashamed, everybody else too intimidated by the thought of the harm she could do. We all struggled along in silence until Lorne arrived and took a different tack.”
“I’ve avoided Tallister,” Sorcha said. “I wanted no grist for gossip, as charming as he can be. I simply didn’t trust him. But then…”
“You’ve trusted nobody, for reasons. Tallister has asked to meet me here at midnight.”
“You cannot possibly…” Sorcha turned her back to the garden so she and Bernard were nearly face-to-face. “You intend to oblige him.”
“I will meet with Tallister,” Bernard said, “though I will not oblige him. I was hoping you might give me the benefit of your thoughts on a few particulars.”
Sorcha rearranged her shawl again and managed to gently flap a length of silk tassels across Bernard’s forearm.
“Are you asking for my permission, Bernard?”
The question was fraught. To relegate Sorcha to the position of advisor would be to offer her disrespect, and yet, Bernard meant to confront Tallister, the sooner the better.
“I am asking for your help,” he said. “Asking you to allow me to try to rout the rascal, which I cannot do on my own. I need your help, Sorcha, and I am asking for it.”
A pair of footmen wheeled out a punchbowl on a tea cart. Another footman followed up with a tea cart full of glasses. Richard emerged onto the terrace, looking dapper and cheerful, as he greeted the footmen by name.
“You are right,” Sorcha said. “You cannot defeat Tallister on your own, just as I could get nowhere with Chanderton on my own. Nowhere with any of these self-important, sophisticated, ninnyhammers who compose most of polite society. What do you have in mind, Bernard?”
He could have kissed the nearest drainpipe. Instead, he gestured toward the steps. “Let’s admire the park, shall we? Perhaps Richard would like to stroll with us.”
“Anybody else?”
“That will be for you to say.”
He’d plucked the right answer from a dozen that might have had the opposite result. Sorcha took his arm and led him to the steps.
“I’m listening, Bernard. See that you listen to me as well.”
“Of course. I will always listen to you, on that you have my word. The challenge as I see it is to beat Tallister at his own game, a game at which I am a newly fledged tyro, but at which you excel…”
The full moon cast ribbons of silvery light on the lake, a nightingale sang his little birdie heart out in the home wood, and Tallister Greer congratulated himself on a successful day that was about to exceed all bounds.
Coraline would be in alt. Annette would be enormously relieved. The problem of Bernard Huxley would be resolved to Tallister’s satisfaction, and even Sorcha would get most of what she apparently wanted.
He sauntered over to the balustrade, where Huxley was pretending to admire the shadowy garden.
“Greer.” Huxley neither bowed nor nodded. “Good evening. What was of such moment that you had to summon me with a cryptic note?”
Good heavens, the fellow must be nervous or dyspeptic. “We’re not to indulge in chitchat? Huxley, you surprise me. I thought chitchat was an eleventh commandment for rural parsons.”
“The usual ten suffice, as best I recall.”
Arrogant bumpkin. He hadn’t so much as looked at Tallister. No bow, no handshake.
“Very well, plain speaking it shall be. Marry Annette, and I’ll let you become guardian of Sorcha’s heathens, provided you assist with dowries for the younger three.
You can have all the time and proximity to Sorcha you please.
Coraline will be delighted, and Chanderton can go about his business without having to do battle with Sorcha over every tutor or puppy. ”
A sensible proposition from every perspective. Then too, Huxley would treat Annette decently in the ways that mattered. Not a detail.
Huxley took out a gold watch and peered at its pale face.
“I am Chanderton’s preferred candidate for the post of guardian, I already enjoy a friendly welcome under Lady Barclay’s roof, and I do believe that Coraline’s earthly joy is more a matter for you to address than for me.
” He snapped the watch closed and returned it to its pocket.
“You should also be aware that Annette harbors no interest in becoming my wife.”