Chapter 23 A Visit To White’s #2
Mannerdale laughed. “I can see why you might think that, but the original intention was to start a rumour that someone had ruined her, and then I would jilt her when I found out. That way, no one else would want her either. She would go home in disgrace and her farmer would step forward to scoop her up. But somehow the rumour got mangled, and I was blamed. I was not at all surprised you called me out, but did you have to be so damnably good with a blade? If you had just pinked me… but the grass was wet, I slipped and there we are. One Harry with a blade to the chest.”
“So much blood…” Denny said softly. “I cannot believe you survived.”
“No one could,” Tuffnell said. “The useless sawbones said he was done for, took his fee and rode off. You and Augustus were making your own escape before the constables got wind of it, and it was left to the coachman and me to get Harry into the coach. Have you any idea what a dead weight a grown man can be? Ha! Dead weight! What a good joke, eh? We had wrestled him half into the carriage when he informed us he was not quite dead by screaming fit to raise the dead. Ha! Raise the dead! Honestly, I would have laughed if it were not so terrifyingly awful. Old Thomas, the coachman, was trying to shush him, Harry was screaming his head off, and I kept dropping arms and legs because there was so much blood… such a nightmare. And then we had to drive like the devil to find a sawbones — a decent one, that is, to patch him up.”
“He did a good job,” Denny said.
“This arm will never be what it once was,” Mannerdale said, lifting his left arm a fraction so that even under his well-fitting coat, a deformity was visible.
“But I survived, recovering slowly over several months, first at Richmond, at the house of a discreet physician, then the Norfolk house and eventually with the cousins in Scotland. Where I met my wife,” he added, his voice softening, “so it ended well for me.”
“And Father never suspected a thing,” Tuffnell said smugly. “It was all set down to a curricle accident, and even now very few people know that it was a duel. But what of you, Julius? We know that Augustus got you off to the continent—”
“On the packet ship,” Lance put in.
“Indeed, we arrive at the packet ship,” Tuffnell said with a smile. “Your story now, Julius.”
“There is not much to tell,” Denny said.
“I boarded the packet ship, secured a cabin and was immediately latched onto by a smoky sort of fellow by the name of Denzil Pendleton. He said he was a valet, and offered to valet me if he could share my cabin. I suspect he was turned off by his previous employer, but he seemed respectable enough, and having a valet with me made me look less like a man avoiding the noose. He was ill on the ship, but even on land, he never picked up and at some God-forsaken little inn, he fell into a steep decline and expired on me.”
“Poor fellow!” Mannerdale said, shaking his head, as his brother passed round the brandy. “But was that his real name?”
“Oh, yes. He had papers on him, but he told me he was raised in an orphanage, so he had no family, and it was too good an opportunity for me,” Denny said.
“He was already wearing my nightshirt, so I left all my clothes and papers with him, took his and I became Denzil Pendleton, the valet. After paying for his funeral, I went on to Tuscany and settled in Florence where I eventually met Lance, and became his valet.”
“It was a very effective disguise,” Augustus Wyatt said with a rueful smile.
“When I got word that Harry was still alive, I set out to follow you, knowing something of the route you planned to take to avoid trouble. And so I came eventually to the God-forsaken little inn, and learnt that you rested in the graveyard there, having been given a full Papist funeral, no less.”
“Lord, I am sorry, brother,” Denny said. “That must have given you quite a shock.”
“For about an hour, until I talked to the priest, who described a man I knew very well was not you — a short man with long, black hair, and very emaciated. Having waved off a hale and healthy man of above average height and brown hair just a few weeks earlier, I did not think you could possibly have changed so much in so short a time. So then I talked to the doctor who had tended you, who had performed a thorough examination of the deceased, and read his report. Knowing all the scars and marks you had acquired over your adventurous life, I knew perfectly well it was not you. But no one could remember the name of the man you had arrived with, so I could follow your tracks no longer.”
“But you allowed us to think he was dead,” Mannerdale said indignantly. “You might have told me the truth, at least.”
“You were not here,” Augustus said. “Besides, by the time I returned to England, word had got back that Julius was dead, the family was in deep mourning and I was reluctant to raise anyone’s hopes.
Napoleon was getting frisky, the safe route was already closed and there was no knowing if any Englishman could survive for long.
And when we heard nothing for year after year, even I began to despair.
How did you survive the French unpleasantness, by the way? ”
“By claiming to be Scottish, and denouncing the scurvy English at every turn,” Denny said with a grin.
“It seemed to work. And, as a lowly valet, no one questioned me too hard. But when it was clear that Tuscany would fall wholly to the French, Lance and I made our way south and thence back to England, and here we stayed.”
“In town?” Mannerdale said.
“And in Surrey, or wherever my projects take me,” Lance said. “But mostly in town, and not hidden away. He walks round the shops, sits beside me when I drive my curricle and waits at table.”
“Then you have been within a stone’s throw of us for several years,” Augustus said wonderingly. “Any one of us could have walked slap into you at any time.”
“You would not have known me,” Denny said. “No one looks closely at a man in servants’ dress. I have seen any number of faces I recognised, who would certainly have known me if they had looked closely, but they never did. A servant is just part of the furniture.”
A footman came in just then to ask if they wanted to order dinner.
“Dinner!” Lance cried. “Heavens, look at the time! I must go, but you must stay, my friend.”
Denny laughed. “By no means. Someone has to wrestle you into your evening coat.”
Arrangements were made to meet the next day, and Lance and Denny hastened back to Mount Street.
“It was you, then, who broke into Mr Hammond’s cottage to look at your family tree?” Lance said.
“Correct. I had to know, my friend. I had to be sure that Dorothea had married in the end and not been left to decline into an embittered jilted spinster. But it seems I was quite misguided about all that. Even my challenge to Harry was unjustified, yet he never told me. He almost died — indeed I believed he had died — for a misunderstanding. But he was too honourable to withdraw.”
“He was a fat-headed fool, if you ask me, and so were you, to provoke a duel without even finding out the truth of the matter. But you have been well punished for your stupidity, so I will say no more on the subject. I suppose I shall have to find a new valet,” he added sadly. “And a new sparring partner.”
“Do you know,” Denny said slowly, “I think I like being a valet.”
“You ought to resume your place in society,” Lance said. “You are, as I have always suspected, a gentleman, and you should live like one.”
“My friend, I am the third son, with no estate or independent income of my own. My only means to live as a gentleman is by marrying an heiress or taking charity from my brother. Since neither option appeals to me at present, I respectfully request that I be allowed to continue in my present occupation, where I have a steady income, work to keep me busy, a good friend to fence with and no expectations on my shoulders. I am content with my life as it is. Are you content to let me continue in the same manner?”
“For as long as you wish, my friend,” Lance said.
“Forever, if that is your desire, but I also stand ready to release you at any moment, if ever you should want that. And if ever I run out of things to paint at Staineybank and we find ourselves permanently in town again, perhaps we could set up our own fencing school. That would be fun, would it not?”
Denny took up the idea with enthusiasm, and deep in discussion, they made their way back to Mount Street.