Chapter 21 #2
“Miriam, Daniel,” she said, “may I present his grace, the Duke of Ridgeway? My friends Miriam Booth and the Reverend Daniel Booth, your grace.”
The men both bowed. Miriam curtsied. They all exchanged curious glances.
“His grace has come to assure himself that I arrived home safely,” Fleur said. “Now that he has done so, he is about to leave.”
“He is about to do no such thing,” his grace said, clasping his hands behind him. “There was no grand reunion a moment ago. Do I take it that the three of you have met before, since Miss Bradshaw’s return?”
“We were here last evening,” the Reverend Booth said, stepping forward. “Miss Bradshaw is among those who care for her again, your grace. We will look after her. You need have no further concern about her.”
The duke inclined his head. “You will be pleased for her sake, then,” he said, “to know that Lord Brocklehurst will be making a public statement within the next few days to the effect that the death of his valet was accidental, with no question of murder at all, and that the whole alarm over the misplacement of certain jewels was a false alarm. There was, in fact, no theft at all.”
Fleur’s hands were in the tight clasp of her smiling friend.
“If the statement is not made,” the duke continued, “though I believe there is no realistic chance that it will not be, then there will be a trial in which Miss Bradshaw will most certainly be acquitted and numerous serious grounds for bringing Lord Brocklehurst himself to trial will arise.”
Miriam’s arms were about Fleur, and she was laughing. “I knew it,” she said. “I knew the whole thing was quite ridiculous. Isabella, my dear, you are like a block of ice.”
“I hope you are not raising Miss Bradshaw’s hopes without good cause, your grace,” the Reverend Booth said.
“I would not do anything so cruel,” the duke said.
Fleur looked at him. “I had a long talk with Brocklehurst and got enough of the truth out of him that he will not wish to pursue the course he was taking, I believe. And there was a witness to our talk, whose presence he was unaware of through most of it.”
“Matthew has admitted the truth?” Fleur said.
“To all intents and purposes,” his grace said. “I don’t believe you have anything more to fear from him, Fl … Miss Bradshaw.”
She put her hands up over her face and listened to Miriam’s bright laughter. She was aware of Daniel crossing the room to shake the duke by the hand.
“What a wonderful morning this is,” Miriam was saying. “I felt guilty about closing the school, but now I am very glad I did so.” Her voice seemed very far away.
“She needs to sit down,” another voice was saying, and strong hands were taking her by the arms and lowering her to a chair. And one of those hands cupped the back of her head and forced it down close to her knees. “It’s all over, Fleur. I told you you were safe.”
THE DUKE OF RIDGEWAY liked Miriam Booth. She appeared to be just the sort of friend Fleur needed. She was sensible, practical, cheerful, affectionate. Once Fleur had recovered from her partial fainting spell, Miriam took her off to her room for a while, despite her protests.
He was not so sure he liked Daniel Booth. The man was blond and handsome, quiet and gentle. Yes, all the qualities to make women fall in love with him. Combined with his clerical garb, they might well be irresistible to most women, his grace conceded.
And he cared about Fleur. As soon as the women had left the room, he asked detailed and perceptive questions until the whole story was told.
“Such a man ought not to be the social leader of a community,” he said. “He ought to be prosecuted. Unfortunately, to do so would be to cause Isabella further stress. One must accept the arrangement you have made as satisfactory, I suppose.”
“Those are my conclusions too,” his grace said. “Personally I would like to take the man apart limb from limb and bone from bone, but that, again, would not be in Miss Bradshaw’s best interests.”
The Reverend Booth looked at him with very direct eyes, which seemed to see through to his soul.
“Miss Bradshaw ought not to remain here,” the duke said, “though I am quite sure she is in no danger from her cousin. It would not be appropriate for a lady of her rank to return to my home as my daughter’s governess.
I plan to find Brocklehurst and persuade him to release a sizable allowance to her until she gains control of all her fortune at the age of twenty-five.
Failing that, I shall try to place her with an older lady as a companion. ”
Again those eyes looked into his soul and saw everything.
“I believe you have done more than an employer is called upon to do for those dependent upon him,” the Reverend Booth said.
“Isabella has been fortunate. But she is among friends again now. My sister and I have discussed plans for her future. Now that we know she will not be going to trial, we can present those plans to her for her approval.”
And one of those plans involved the curate’s marrying Fleur, his grace thought.
And perhaps she would marry him, too, if she could somehow get past a certain event that had taken place in her life in London.
And perhaps it would be the very best thing that could happen to her.
She had been going to marry the man before the death of Brocklehurst’s valet had changed everything.
She probably loved him, and he appeared to care for her.
The duke was not at all sure he liked Daniel Booth.
He should take his leave. There really was no further reason for staying, especially if her friends were willing to help her settle somewhere other than Heron House. He should wait until she reappeared, say a formal good-bye to her, and then begin his journey home.
He could be back at Willoughby less than a week after leaving. Back with Pamela. Back perhaps before Thomas left, in time to offer Sybil some sort of support in the agony she would suffer when he did so. Not that she would allow him near her, of course.
He should go back and try to begin the process of forgetting. It must be done soon. Why defer it?
And yet he accepted an invitation to luncheon and retold his story to an almost silent Fleur and a brightly curious Miss Booth.
Fleur looked not nearly as relieved or excited as she should have looked.
But of course, the stress of months had only just been lifted from her shoulders.
It must be difficult to adjust her mind to the knowledge that it was over, that she was free.
And of course it was not over. The scars would remain for a long time. And one fact would remain with her for a lifetime. He met her eyes across the table as Miriam talked, and saw doubt there and pain. And he wanted to reach out a hand to her and ask her what it was, how he might help her.
But he could not help her. He returned his eyes to his plate. When all the events of the past months had been sorted through, it would be obvious to her that he was the only person who had done her permanent harm. Perhaps the thought had already struck her.
He should take his leave immediately after luncheon.
“So you will take the cottage that used to be Miss Galen’s, Isabella?
” Miriam Booth was saying. “And help me at the school, as we originally planned? That will be splendid for a while, will it not? Until other arrangements can be made, that is. Perhaps under the circumstances Lord Brocklehurst can be persuaded to consent to …” She smiled.
“Well, perhaps he will not act quite the tyrant he has always been.”
“I will have to think, Miriam,” Fleur said. “Yes, I think that would be a good idea. I always did love Miss Galen’s cottage. All those roses!”
“Can’t you see that Isabella’s mind is in a spin, Miriam?” the Reverend Booth asked quietly. “She needs time to think about her future. I have to return to the village. This is my afternoon for visiting the sick. Are you coming with me?”
Miriam pushed her chair back and got to her feet. “Yes,” she said. “Unless you would like me to stay with you, Isabella?”
Fleur shook her head and smiled.
The Reverend Booth too got to his feet and looked inquiringly at the duke.
“I will begin my journey home this afternoon, then,” his grace said. “Would you care for a stroll in the garden first, Miss Bradshaw?”
“Yes,” she said without looking at him.
The Reverend Booth looked full at him, and the duke knew that he did not like the man at all.
“IT WAS GOOD OF YOU to come,” Fleur said, “and to do what you have done. Thank you, your grace.”
They were strolling side by side in the formal gardens, not touching. They had seen the Reverend Booth and Miriam on their way back to the village.
“You are not happy,” he said. “What is it?”
“Of course I am happy,” she said. “How could I not be? For several months I have lived with the conviction that I would hang sooner or later. It is not a pleasant prospect. One finds oneself wondering about all the morbid details. And I returned here yesterday to find everyone looking at me as if I were a murderer and a thief. It will be something to have my name cleared.”
“Yes,” he said, and walked beside her in silence for a while. “What is it?”
She did not answer for a long while. “I came here to try to come to terms with what happened,” she said finally, “or perhaps to look for some evidence to prove my innocence. It seems that I do not need that evidence any longer. But there are so many unanswered questions. And I have come up against a brick wall here.”
“Explain,” he said.
“My maid has gone to other employment,” she said. “She is the one who discovered the jewels. I wanted to know where the jewels were. Were they carefully hidden, or were they on top? If I were the thief, I would have to be dreadfully stupid to lay them on top, wouldn’t I?”
“Was your trunk locked?” he asked.
“No, of course not,” she said. “I was going only as far as the rectory.”
“And it was left in an untended gig outside the house?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, of course. I would have had to be very foolish to leave costly jewels in just such a way. I would surely have smuggled them out some other way or hidden them on my person. But I don’t know what the pieces were or how large they were.
Anyway, Annie is gone and I cannot ask her any questions. ”
“An annoyance,” he said. “I will have her found if it is important to you.”
“Mr. Houghton?” she said, smiling fleetingly. “No, that is not the main frustration. The worst thing is that I cannot find Hobson.”
“The valet?” he said. “He is not six feet beneath the churchyard?”
“He was taken to his own home for burial,” she said.
“But no one seems to know where that is. The groom who took the coffin there has since gone to Yorkshire, and the coachman who drove Matthew there is still with him. It was Yardley, the man now in Yorkshire, who helped Matthew lay out the body and seal it in the coffin.”
“Was it, indeed?” he said.
“Somehow it is important to me to see his grave,” she said.
“You see, I did not murder him, but I did kill him. Had I not been hysterical and pushed him, he would not have fallen and he would not have died. I killed him. I was the instrument of his death. Somehow I have to learn to live with that on my conscience. I have to come to terms with it. I have to see his grave.”
“You cannot shift the burden from your shoulders by telling yourself that the man brought his fate on himself and that your cousin was also responsible?” he said. “You cannot tell yourself that you were in no way to blame at all?”
“Yes,” she said. “With my head I can. But the knowledge that I pushed him and that he died will always be with me. I know it is foolish. I will not detain you, your grace. You must be eager to be on your way and have as much daylight as possible for your journey.”
“There must be someone who knows where the valet came from,” his grace said. “Did he have friends among the servants? In the village?”
“I don’t know,” she said.
“Then we must find out,” he said. “I must try to emulate my secretary and discover all there is to be discovered. I shall ask around in the village. Will you question the servants again?”
“I have spoken with most of them already,” she said. “They know nothing, and it has to be remembered that they are Matthew’s servants, not mine. Besides, this is none of your concern, your grace. You wish to be on your way.”
“Do I?” he said, stopping on the graveled path and taking both her hands in his. “I want to see you happy, Fleur, and completely free. I can’t leave you until I know that you are both.”
“But why?” she asked, looking wide-eyed into his eyes.
“You know very well why,” he said fiercely, squeezing her hands until they hurt before turning to stride in the direction of the stables.
She ran to catch up to him. “Because of what you did to me?” she said. “But I was standing outside the theater for that very purpose. If it had not been you, it would have been someone else. Perhaps not that night. But the night after.”
He stopped suddenly and took her hands once again. “Thank God it was me,” he said, his eyes burning into hers. “If it had to be anyone, then thank God it was me.” He released her hands. “I shall return early in the morning,” he said. “I hope I will be able to bring you some information.”
He strode away again, and this time she did not follow. She stood looking after him.
And there was one thought uppermost in her mind. There was to be a reprieve of one day. Tomorrow he would say good-bye and would be gone forever. But not today. Not quite yet.
Tomorrow.