15. Chapter 15 #3
The melancholy in her eyes choked William with emotion. He would have enquired about the cause of her sadness, but he could see their privacy was about to be shattered. Someone was walking through the archway at the far end of the clearing, along the original path down to the churchyard.
“Someone’s coming. Go. It would do your reputation no good to be seen alone with me in such a secluded spot.”
Kitty nodded and hurried through the broken doorway and down the steps to the track back to the house.
He strode toward the unknown person, hoping to block Kitty’s retreat from view, and found himself face to face with Mr Jenkin. The man looked as if he had been in a fight. A purple bruise adorned his left cheekbone, and another marked his chin.
William held out his hand, and after a long moment, the riding officer took it, a wary look in his eye. He was unsurprised at his reticence. It couldn’t have been easy watching Miss Barrington flirt with him, especially if he had been used to the lady’s favour.
“Did you fall out with someone?” he asked, nodding toward the man’s bruises as they returned to the church ruins together.
“It is the nature of my position. Those engaged in smuggling dislike having their goods intercepted.”
“Were you successful?”
“In part. My men fished the kegs out of the Fleet before the smugglers could retrieve them, but only the first cartload made it back to the storeroom. By the time we returned, we were outnumbered. I was set upon by a couple of batmen for trying to hoist another keg onto the cart, and received these for my efforts.”
“Were they local men? Did you recognise them?”
“Mr Merry, the smugglers are not stupid. They hide their identities. Attacking an officer is a capital offence, and they know it.”
“It sounds dangerous. Why do you do it? Aren’t there safer positions to be had?”
The man sneered. “Not all of us think only of ourselves. I served my country on the battlefield, and I continue to serve my country at home.”
Mr Jenkin’s words pricked William’s conscience, making him feel guilty. Was he being selfish?
He needed to get out of this place. It felt as if all the saints from years past were lined up, pointing their fingers at him, asking him to give an account of himself. And he couldn’t. He had been too inclined of late to shut out everything but his painting.
She was almost back at the garden gate when Kitty met Laura coming along the path toward her.
“Goodness! You scared me. I thought you’d be waiting for me in the Long Gallery by now.”
Kitty narrowed her eyes. “You weren’t looking for me?”
Her friend ignored her question. “Have you been visiting the church ruins? I think I’ll remind myself of the view before I come inside. You go on ahead back to the house.”
Laura must know who was waiting for her. Kitty’s heart squeezed. William hadn’t come in search of her after all. He hadn’t been moved by concern to learn how she fared after receiving Hugh’s proposal. A proposal he’d guessed was imminent.
No, William had expected to meet Miss Barrington in the old church. How disappointing. She had thought better of him.
Kitty refused to be dismissed so easily. Her duty was clear. She turned on her heel and headed back the way she’d come. “I’ll accompany you.”
Having made such a big deal of going to admire the view, Laura could not cry off and trailed behind her up the path to the ruins. William was no longer alone. He was talking to Mr Jenkin.
Had Kitty misjudged him? Had her friend planned to meet the riding officer instead?
Laura pushed past her and came to an abrupt halt in front of the two men. She raised a hand to her mouth and gasped. “What have you done to your face, Mr Jenkin?”
As Kitty joined her, she saw what had provoked her friend’s question. The man’s countenance was marred by several purple bruises.
“I had a tussle with some smugglers, Miss Barrington.”
Laura’s colour faded. “What dangerous work. You should take more care. Fortunately, it is my face Mr Merry is painting—not yours.”
He bowed his head. “Fortunate indeed. I was coming up to the house to see your father. Shall we go together?”
As they walked back along the path, Kitty considered Mr Jenkin’s injuries and how he said he’d gained them. She recalled someone else she had seen with a battered face just last night—Hugh’s butler, Blake.
In an instant, all her doubts returned. The riding officer could have been attacked by smugglers as he claimed, but what if his bruises had more to do with marriage than smuggling? Could Hugh have set Blake on Mr Jenkin for daring to visit Laura at night?
It was not the way she would have expected a magistrate to behave, but Kitty supposed he might have been pushed to such lengths to protect his daughter’s virtue.
If her suspicions were right, it cast him in a most unfavourable light. A man who resorted to violence when his will was thwarted would not make a kind husband.
But she must not jump to conclusions. It was a harsh judgement to pass on anyone, and until now, Hugh had given her no cause to suppose he would act like that.
It all came back to the person she had seen smoking in the garden at night. Was Mr Jenkin visiting Laura, or was there a lunatic in the basement?