Authors: An Honorable Gentleman
T
revor’s next words only served to confuse Gwen further.
“And what do you know of Colonel Umbrey’s jewels?” he asked, watching her.
Had the world turned inside out, and she hadn’t noticed? “What jewels?”
He glanced at her father as if he expected corroboration of the story. “A fortune in gemstones the colonel smuggled home from India.”
Gwen snorted. “A fine story. But if Colonel Umbrey had had a fortune, why did he sell off the horses and carriage? Why didn’t he improve the mine? Why let Mr. Cord go when he’d been the colonel’s valet for ages?”
His broad shoulders slumped, as if she’d deprived him of his last hope. Waves of emotions crossed his face—disappointment, disgust, despair. He took a deep breath and turned away as if to keep her from
seeing more. “Go home, Gwen. We will discuss what to do about all this in the morning.”
Gwen refused to budge. She didn’t understand the change in him, and her heart felt slashed and bleeding, but she couldn’t leave her father. “But you sent Rob for Mr. Casperson. Surely you wouldn’t jail my father for one misstep.”
“One misstep?” He turned to meet her gaze once more, face so hard he looked like a different man entirely. “Drunk while on duty, stealing from his master, lying about the contents of the house to avoid being caught. I call that sufficient reason to send for the constable.”
“My father would never steal. Nor would he lie.”
His bearing was equally stiff. “Gwen, I do not want to talk to you about this. He is your father—of course you must defend him.”
“He is your steward. Why aren’t
you
defending him?”
A muscle was working in his strong jaw. “It’s hard to defend against what I’ve seen tonight. I found him in the butler’s pantry with the silver in his hands. Items from the withdrawing room were scattered about him, as if he’d been carrying them away as well when he fell. He offers no explanation. That’s incriminating evidence.”
She could see how it might be, for another man. “But you know you can trust him. He’s had months to steal from the house, and he never has.”
“And I have only your word for that. The solici
tor gave the inventory to the man who purchased the estate. My benefactor did not think to provide it to me before I came north. Blackcliff could have been filled with treasures before I arrived.”
She drew herself up. “So you don’t trust me, either?”
He closed his eyes as if he couldn’t bear to look at her. “I want to trust you, Gwen, more than you can know. But you love your father. He’s all you have. It’s possible you would lie to save him.”
She wanted to argue, but she knew he was right. “True.”
He opened his eyes as if surprised she’d agree so easily. “There’s more. Your father could have put that statue across the stairs so I’d fall. He could have been the person Dolly chased down the corridor.”
“Barking all the time?” Gwen challenged.
He shrugged. “Her barks could have been excitement for her master rather than determination to catch a stranger.”
He could be right there, as well. Dolly’s barks always boomed, but she had not growled in warning except for the moment when she’d first been surprised by the sound in the corridor. It was possible she’d known who was hiding there. Yet Gwen could not believe that person had been her father.
“True,” she allowed again, “but why would my father do such a thing? We wanted you here. You know that.”
“You wanted me here, Gwen. You thought Black
cliff could help the village. At first, your father advised me to leave. Then, when I started studying the statue’s movements, he told me the story about the jewels.”
“That’s what you’ve been doing,” Gwen realized. “You’ve been searching each room, trying to find those jewels.”
He nodded, a little shamefaced, she thought. “But now it appears there are no jewels, and your father merely used the story to throw me off the scent and keep me busy.”
Gwen put her hands on her hips. “Oh, certainly. Thieves love to keep their victims in the house they intend to rob.”
“You did attend the assembly with me tonight.”
She recoiled. “What? Is that why you asked me that question?”
Oh, he was definitely defensive. “Yes. You must see it is a logical assumption.”
“Are you blind?” When he blinked in obvious surprise, Gwen rounded on him. “You are the most handsome man I have ever met, and I have made no secret of the fact that I admire and respect you. Add that to the fact that I want you to think the best of the village. Of course the only reason I’d go to an assembly with you is for larcenous purposes.”
“I didn’t mean…” he started, but Gwen was not about to stop. She advanced on him, and he retreated until he bumped against the paneled wall.
“You want evidence?” Gwen demanded, glar
ing up into his green eyes. “I’ll give you evidence. I forced my dearest friend to labor long nights for the perfect gown so I’d be a credit to you. I endangered my acquaintance with the entire village to make sure every last detail of that assembly would be to your liking. I even scrubbed the floors of the market hall! Do you know how long I had to soak my hands in my mother’s lotion afterward to soften them again?” She shook her gloved hands at him, and he flinched.
“All that,” Gwen concluded, “just so my father could steal a few pieces of silver he could have snatched at any time and you wouldn’t even have noticed!”
He gazed down at her, and one corner of his mouth turned up. “You provide an excellent defense.”
“And why? You claim to be a man who likes to solve puzzles. This is the best solution you could find?”
He sighed. One hand brushed her shoulder, and she realized he was stroking back a strand of hair that had fallen. “I’ve had few who would stand by me, Gwen. I’m not used to trusting people.”
Just as the squire had warned her. “London must be an awful place,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “You are well rid of it.”
He sighed. “Unfortunately, without those jewels, I have no choice but to return.”
Oh, but he was determined to plunge a knife in
her heart. She would not think about him leaving now, not with her father starting to snore on the chair.
“As you said, we can discuss that tomorrow,” she replied. “For now, I should collect my father and get him in bed. Does Mrs. Bentley have Dolly?”
He had been gazing at her father; now his look speared back to her. “Dolly?”
“Yes. She and my father’s lantern were both missing when I returned home. He takes them both on his rounds. Remember how you and I met?”
“I will never forget.” The soft cadence of his voice was like cool ointment on her heated emotions.
“But I haven’t seen Dolly,” he continued. “She wasn’t in the butler’s pantry. And Mrs. Bentley is apparently still helping at the assembly. I was lucky to catch Rob as he was returning.”
Gwen seized his hand. “That’s it, then! Don’t you see? Find what’s become of Dolly, and you may well solve this entire puzzle!”
Gwen’s passion for her subject was always Trevor’s undoing. He wanted to believe her. He couldn’t believe how much it had hurt to think that all her attentions had been nothing but a ruse to keep him from scrutinizing her father’s nefarious plans. She was obviously hurt he didn’t completely trust her.
How could he? Nearly everyone who should
have cared for him—his father, his mother, people who claimed to be friends—had proven false. He’d spent much of his adult life tracking down servants, spouses and relatives who had betrayed their loved ones for money. With such evidence before him of the depth to which humanity could sink, it was all too easy to believe the worst of Gwen and her father, even when a part of him cried out that she must be innocent.
He straightened off the wall, and she stepped back from him. “Very well,” he said. “Call Dolly.”
But it was not so simple. Gwen called “Dolly, come!” and “Dolly, here!” and no massive beast bounded through the door. Gwen hurried into the entryway and tried again, but no paws thundered down the stairs. She shouted out the front door, and no booming bark echoed in response.
She turned to Trevor, eyes wide. “Where can she be?”
He knew panic when he saw it. She was as worried about her dog as she had been about her father, but then he supposed Dolly had been more reliable of late than Horace Allbridge. And he could still remember the fear that had stabbed at him when he’d thought someone had made off with Icarus.
He put an arm about Gwen’s shoulders. “We’ll find her. Would she leave the estate?”
Gwen leaned against his chest, and Trevor fought the urge to gather her closer. “No. She’s trained to stay on the Blackcliff grounds unless she’s with one
of us. But she’s also trained to come when I call. Something’s wrong.”
Trevor had to agree. Someone had invaded Blackcliff Hall that night, topping tables and moving valuables as if to steal them. If not Horace Allbridge, then who?
Mrs. Bentley certainly needed the money, but he could not believe her such a talented actress that she could be any less devoted than she seemed. Dorie seemed just as innocent, and with no connections outside Blackcliff, neither of them could have sold the pilfered silver easily. Besides, both Mrs. Bentley and Rob Winslow had been at the assembly. The only person besides Trevor who had the run of the house, knew the value of its belongings and had been missing from the assembly was Gwen’s father, which put Trevor right back where he had started from.
He glanced up to find that lights were bobbing up the drive. The constable and Rob Winslow were on their way. Gwen must have seen them, as well, for she straightened away from him, leaving him chilled. “What will you do?”
He heard the worry in her voice. He’d made her doubt him even as he’d doubted her. Yet he had to think beyond the feelings she raised in him. He should err on the side of caution and put Horace Allbridge in jail, where he could neither steal nor injure himself or others in a drunken haze.
Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors.
The thought of the Bible verse came easily enough, but it wasn’t in his nature to forgive. Forgiveness wouldn’t earn him the respect of his peers. It didn’t win him a place in Society. It couldn’t pay for Blackcliff’s upkeep or put food on its table. Yet as Rob drew up to the house with Mr. Casperson in tow, Trevor knew what he must do. Despite what anyone thought of him, he must act like an honorable gentleman if that was what he hoped to be.
“Thank you for coming, Casperson,” he said, holding out his hand to the constable. The shopkeeper still wore his dark brown suit from the assembly, though his cravat was wilting, and the lower button on his striped waistcoat looked ready to pop off.
“Young Rob tells me you have a difficulty,” Casperson said, rocking back to look up into Trevor’s face.
“It seems someone broke into Blackcliff Hall while we were at your fine assembly,” Trevor explained. “Mr. Allbridge was apparently discomposed attempting to stop the thief.”
Casperson raised a bushy brow as if he could not believe the truth of that statement, but Rob Winslow was grinning at Trevor in approval. Better, Gwen gazed at him with worshipful eyes, a smile trembling on her lips. He felt as if the very air was fresher, warmer.
“Odd the miscreant decided on Blackcliff,” Casperson rumbled, hands splayed across his belly
as he eyed the house. “Not many would wish to take on Allbridge’s Dolly.”
“And that is part of the mystery, as well,” Trevor agreed. “The mastiff is missing.”
The constable pursed his fleshy lips and whistled. “Best I look around, then.” He heaved himself up the stairs for the door.
Trevor leaned closer to Gwen. “I’ll keep him busy. You and Rob take care of your father. As soon as we find Dolly, I’ll bring her to you.”
She clasped his hand, tears misting her eyes. “Thank you.”
Trevor nodded, straightening. He felt as if he’d done the right thing, but how could he be sure?
Lord?
The thought came unbidden, but Trevor forged ahead.
If You do listen to mere mortals, help me find out who’s responsible for this trouble. And if You want me to forgive, You’ll need to help me with that, too.
Feeling a little foolish for even asking, he followed the constable into the house.
W
hile Trevor took Mr. Casperson to the butler’s pantry, Gwen enlisted Rob’s help to get her father down to the gatehouse and into bed. She’d tried questioning her father about that night, but he was too far gone with gin to make any sense.
“And you saw nothing, heard nothing strange when you returned from the assembly?” she pressed Rob as she escorted him to the door of the gatehouse.
He shook his head. “Not a thing. But I’m glad you were able to change Sir Trevor’s mind about your father.” He paused by the door, feet shuffling against the stone floor. “Though I expect you could change any man’s mind, if you liked.”
“I just explained the truth,” Gwen protested. “Sir Trevor can be quite reasonable if you try.”
Rob glanced up at her, dark eyes sad. “He won’t stay, Gwen, you know that.”
Gwen swallowed. “I know no such thing.”
Rob’s face tightened. “He’s London-born—you can see that.” He waved a large hand. “This place, all of us, we’re nothing to him.”
“We could be a great deal more,” she insisted.
He dropped his hand. “I can see this ending one of two ways—he stays for your sake and comes to hate you because he’s imprisoned here, or you go with him and come to hate him for taking you away from Blackcliff.”
“Isn’t there a third ending?” Gwen begged. “Couldn’t we both stay and live happily ever after?”
“That’s a tale for children, Gwen.” He took up her hand and pressed it. The touch only made her all the more anxious for him to leave.
“We’re not children anymore,” he murmured. “You know what I feel for you. I was thinking about it as I went for Mr. Casperson. Perhaps I don’t need to work at Blackcliff Hall. My father’s getting on. I could take over the smithy. It’s not a grand estate, but it’s steady work, enough for me to support a wife.”
She pulled her hand from his. “I’m glad for you, Rob. You’ll make some woman a wonderful husband.”
“But not you, eh?”
She shook her head, unable to say the words aloud that would wound him.
He nodded. “I thought that’s the way the wind
blew. I’ll not trouble you further. But know that if you need help, I’ll be waiting.”
“Thank you.” It was all she could say. He nodded again and closed the door behind him.
Oh, but he had to be wrong! She leaned her back against the door and wrapped her arms about her now thoroughly wrinkled gown. She didn’t understand why Trevor had blamed her father, why he hadn’t turned that clever mind of his to some other answer when faced with tonight’s puzzle. It hurt to think he had considered her part of some plot against Blackcliff.
Yet she still wanted him to stay. She still hoped he’d fallen in love with her. She still loved him.
Miracles happen, Father. Your Bible is proof of that. Work things out as only You can.
She wanted to return to the Hall to help Trevor and search for Dolly. But she couldn’t leave her father. Even in this state he’d been known to wake with the oddest notions.
So, instead of returning to Trevor’s side, she changed out of her finery. She carefully lay the dress between pieces of tissue in her clothes press, then donned one of her work gowns instead. Until Dolly was safely back in her kennel at the rear of the gatehouse, Gwen had no intention of climbing into bed.
Father, please protect them all—my father, Trevor, Dolly, Mr. Casperson, all who serve at
Blackcliff. Help us find the one who caused such trouble and bring him to justice.
Keeping one ear tuned for any movement upstairs, she went to the kitchen and began pulling down the herbs and tonics that went into her gin cure. Mrs. Billings at the George Inn had given her a recipe she used for guests who imbibed too much and were sick in the morning. Gwen had improved upon it. She was shaking the corked bottle to mix the ingredients when she heard a sound at the back door. Setting down the vial and wiping her hands on her apron, she hurried to answer.
Trevor stood on the doorstep, leash in his gloved hands. Dolly bounded through the door, tongue lolling, taking him with her. Before he could pull her up, she bumped against the worktable, shaking Gwen’s concoction.
“Sit!” Gwen commanded, and the mastiff plopped herself on her haunches and grinned.
Gwen bent to wrap her arms around Dolly’s neck and bury her face in the cool hair.
Thank You, Lord!
“She wasn’t hurt,” Trevor said.
Looking up, she found him watching her. His raven hair was ruffled as if the wind had wound through it, and his cheeks were pink with the cold.
She rose. “Thank you for bringing her home. Where did you find her?”
“Locked in the kitchen. Mrs. Bentley discovered her and your father’s lantern when she returned from the assembly. But there’s more.”
Gwen frowned. “What?”
“Casperson found blood at the outer door to the butler’s pantry, on the way to the kitchen.”
“Blood?” Gwen’s hand flew to her mouth. “Father!” She turned and ran for the stairs.
Her father was snoring, face up, on his bed when she dashed into the room. Gwen lit the lamp on the side table. He didn’t look pale, lying on the wide old bed. No telltale stains spread across the wool blankets he’d pulled up to his chin.
A movement by the door caught her eye, and she saw that Trevor had followed her and was glancing around the little room.
“I put Dolly in her kennel,” he said.
Gwen nodded, then bent over her father, fingers probing. He didn’t turn, didn’t jerk away as if she’d touched a tender spot. She pulled back the covers and glanced along his body.
“Nothing,” she said with a breath of thanksgiving.
“Check his head,” Trevor said. “The back to be precise.”
Gwen slid her hand between her father’s head and the thin pillow. His hair was matted with something thick and slimy, and a lump was rising at the back. He grunted in his sleep and turned away from her. She pulled away her hand and saw brick-red ooze on her fingers. “He hit his head!”
“If he had, the wound would more likely be on the front or one side,” Trevor said as she hurried for
the porcelain basin and pitcher on her father’s wash-stand. “This looks more as if someone hit him.”
Pitcher in her hand, Gwen sucked in a breath. “Who?” she demanded, glancing at Trevor.
In the dim light, his face looked guarded. “We don’t know. Casperson is still searching the estate.”
Gwen splashed water over her hand and into the basin, then seized up the hand towel and returned to her father’s side. “Do you think it was the same person who’s been moving the shepherd?” she asked, setting her tools on the table next to the lamp. The light sparkled on the water, blurring the image of the rose at the bottom of the basin.
“I think it highly likely.”
She wet the towel and set about sponging the blood off her father’s hair. He curled up tighter with a snort, but she wasn’t about to stop until she learned more about his wound. “Well, at least we know it wasn’t my father. He certainly didn’t strike himself over the back of his head.”
“No, but he might have had a compatriot who turned on him.”
Gwen rolled her eyes, wringing the towel in the basin and turning the water pink. “Your mind jumps in the oddest directions. My father doesn’t have many compatriots, you know.”
He leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms over his chest. The movement swept his coat wider, making his shoulders look ever broader. “And why is that?”
“For one thing, he’s the steward of Blackcliff. That puts a distance between him and others. For another, he’s been a melancholy mess since my mother died.” She wrung out the towel again.
“I would have thought the good people of Blackcliff would overlook such things.”
She parted the wet hair and examined her father’s skull. “Sarcasm does not become you, sir.”
“You mistake me. I have been told, by reliable sources, that the people of Blackcliff are paragons. It seems to me those sources may be right. Yet now you tell me that they could not forgive your father for mourning his wife, and I find that someone was willing to behead the poor fellow to steal from the Hall. You cannot have it both ways, Gwen.”
The wound was a jagged slash across the skin, but she didn’t think it went deeper. “I suppose I can’t,” she murmured. He already thought the worst of her father. What harm in telling him the truth? She turned to Trevor.
“It was the drinking. He made a nuisance of himself in the village, alienated every friend he had. He even showed up at services once and vomited on Mr. Newton. It was horrible.”
She shook herself to throw off the memory. “He blamed everyone for her loss—the colonel for refusing to give her a warmer place at the Hall when she was suffering, John Cord for not sneaking away more often to help us, Mr. Newton for not praying
hard enough. For a time I think he even blamed me for not giving her the proper cures.”
Trevor’s face sagged as if he felt the pain with her. “Didn’t he know you were grieving, too?”
Tears were starting, and she blinked them back. “He did, in time. He finally realized the damage he was causing when the colonel discharged him.”
He straightened. “Your father was let go?”
She nodded. “Right before the colonel died. He told my father to leave Blackcliff and never return. But the colonel wanted me here, to help him with his imagined illnesses. I told him I’d only stay if my father could remain. So he let us continue living in the gatehouse. He must not have noted my father’s discharge in the estate records, because when the solicitor came to look over the estate, he assumed my father was still steward.”
Those green eyes were disappointed. “And you let me assume the same.”
Guilt tugged at her. “Yes. But you needed him. No one else has his knowledge about Blackcliff.”
“You realize, Gwen,” he said with a sigh, “you’ve just given me another reason to suspect his hand in the mischief.”
Gwen rose. “Then let me clear his name. Let me help you search for this person who assaulted him.”
“No.” His look brooked no argument. “It isn’t safe.”
“But you can’t ask me to sit and watch the people I love get hurt.” She moved closer, intent on making
her case. “People here trust me. They’re more likely to answer my questions than yours.”
“That much is true,” he agreed, begrudgingly, she thought. “But what if you find your father is involved?”
“He isn’t,” Gwen promised. “And it will be better for everyone if we learn the truth.”
“Perhaps,” he said, turning away. “But in my experience, not everyone appreciates the truth.”