The Imaginary Gentleman (29 page)

She knew not how to break the silence that fell again between them; both stared out at the sea.

Then he said, “Will you think me impertinent if I ask you to look at a letter in my possession?”

“A letter!”

“I want to know if you recognise the hand.”

She looked up at him, her amazement answer enough. He withdrew his pocket book from an inner recess of his coat, and opened it, while she watched every movement. He took out a letter and held it to her, folded to reveal the beginning.

“I do not recognise this hand.”

“It is not yours?”

“Certainly not! Nor do I recognise it.”

Not Elspeth's hand, either, she thought.

She handed it back. He turned the letter over and showed her the farewell.

“Someone has written to you, in my name!”

“Will you read it? I believe it may purchase some pardon for my silence.”

Laura only nodded and unfolded the letter, holding it firmly in the breeze that blew up from the sea.

“I did no such thing!” Laura said.

“This is all lies!” said Laura.

“I never imagined such a letter as this!” she said.

“You knew of it?”

“I first heard a story that I had supposedly written a letter to a gentleman, only on Wednesday. I knew not what to make of it.”

“Does this dispel the mystery?”

“I understand now why you left without communicating with me but not why someone wrote it.” Laura looked at him at last. “You believed the letter, when you received it?”

“Why should I not? Yet, I could not make up my mind to accept it at first. On the one hand, gallantry demanded that I accede to your request, yet on the other I wanted to be sure that you knew my intentions were serious.”

She laughed involuntarily. He blushed. “This is but our fourth meeting.”

“I do not laugh at
you
.”

“I wrote you a letter, intending to find some way to get it to you, without showing myself. I began to walk along the cliff path …”

“It was you!”

“Yes, indeed it was. I saw you in the distance, helping a crippled man to rise.”

“My brother!”

“I know that now. At the time I could not bear to meet you, but turned tail and quickly hid in the high gorse near the path. In less than a minute, I was out of sight.”

“You cannot know how Edward teased me.”

“I cursed myself for a fool when I saw the announcement of his marriage in the
Times
on Tuesday. You had even told me that you had a brother wounded at Trafalgar.”

Laura began to laugh, and he with her.

“And I thought you a clever man!” she said, with a teasing frown.

“At the time of your brother's return to England, I must have read something of his story. Yet Lord Nelson's death dominated the news, among other tales of heroism.”

“My brother's relations sometimes forget that he was not alone at Trafalgar.”

Mr. Templeton laughed. “On Tuesday, I saw the announcement of Captain Morrison's marriage, and the name seemed to leap from the page. I asked a friend who always recalls these things, and he told me how your brother lost his arm. At once I thought of the man whom I saw upon the cliff. Two such naval officers in your life seemed an unlikely coincidence, even without the sharing of the family name.”

There was a squeal of children's laughter, and they both turned to see a party of ladies and gentlemen, with several offspring approaching. Mr. Templeton indicated the path along the bay, and they walked in that direction.

“What thought you of the letter then?” said Laura, once they were alone.

“It was beyond belief that you would invent such a tale and take the risk of writing to me—just to be rid of me. It would be far better simply to refuse me. Incredible as it had seemed in September, I began to wonder if the letter was a forgery.”

Laura looked away at the sea, sparkling in the sun. She wondered if Elspeth had a part in this. No—she would not sink to forgery.

Mr. Templeton took her hand and briefly held it. “I came back to this place to seek an example of your handwriting.”

He drew her arm through his and they walked slowly along the path, both turning over the same question in their minds.

“Who of your acqu—”

“Why would anyone—”

They laughed. “Pray continue, Miss Morrison.”

“I cannot understand why anyone would want so much to part us. Who even knew of our friendship?” she said.

“For two days I have been speculating on the writer's motive for preventing us from ever communicating again,” he said.

“What could anyone have stood to gain?”

“Indeed I know not.”

They turned and strolled back towards the inn, where Laura spotted her cousin standing with Mrs. Bell, both looking around for her in some anxiety.

 

Mrs. Bell saw them first.

“Sir Richard, there she is, with the gentleman whom we saw just now!”

“They are coming this way. Let us hurry inside,” he said.

“Who is that gentleman?”

“Hush!” he said, putting his finger to his lips, and waggling his eyebrows. She looked up at him, curiosity mingled with delight at the intimacy of his gesture.

“It is a long story,” he said. He ushered the puzzled lady through the door and up the stairs. He put his hand over hers, keeping it on his arm for one moment longer.

“Let us keep a secret, Mrs. Bell. It will be for only a moment.”

She looked up at him, and he smiled into her eyes in a manner that set her cheeks aflame.

They entered the sitting room to see a discontented Mrs. Evans sitting very upright, while the captain stood near her. From their rigid stance, it appeared that they had not made up their quarrel. The countess was calmly at work upon her embroidery.

“Where is my sister, Sir Richard?” demanded Elspeth. “I particularly wished you to attend to her safety.”

“She will be with us directly, I believe.”

Elspeth went to the window and looked down into the street, seeing her sister on the arm of a gentleman. All that she could see of him was the top of his hat. “Who is that man with her? At least he seems real enough.”

Sir Richard merely nodded, suppressing a smile. Footsteps were heard upon the stairs, Elspeth's hands flew to her hair to adjust her cap. The door opened and Laura entered, accompanied by the gentleman her sister had seen with her.

“Countess,” said Laura. “May I present Mr. Templeton?”

T
HERE WAS A MOMENT OF
bewildered silence. Laura watched her sister as she said the name, and noted the incredulity on Elspeth's face. She had turned to Edward, lips parted, and her eyes widened with an expression too amazed to be feigned on the instant. The captain looked first astonished, then wondering—his keen mind thrown into questioning at once. Even the self-possessed Lady Clarydon was put out of countenance; she took a moment to put her embroidery aside, before greeting the gentleman.

After the first business of introductions was over, Elspeth had to acknowledge to herself that Mr. Templeton was very much the gentleman and that he seemed to regard her sister with considerable respect and friendliness. He was just like Laura's description of him, matching all the particulars of height, colouring and pleasantness of countenance. The only aspect that Elspeth found difficult to forgive was the fact that he was no figment of her sister's imagination and that she, Elspeth, had spent some weeks in the wrong.

“I owe you an explanation, Mrs. Evans, for my failure to attend upon you in September,” said Mr. Templeton.

“You are here now, sir. What more can be required?”

“I humbly beg your pardon. I would have presented myself to you had I not been misled as to the welcome I might expect.”

“How could that be?” said Elspeth.

Mr. Templeton turned to Laura, a question in his eyes, and she answered.

“Elspeth, that letter, over which we have puzzled, is real. While it is full of falsehoods, it has procured Mr. Templeton's pardon in my eyes.”

“May I see it or do I intrude?” said Edward.

The letter was read aloud and passed from hand to hand. All were agreed that someone, perhaps unknown to them, had some benefit to gain from keeping Laura and Mr. Templeton apart. However, they were at a loss to understand what that benefit might be.

Elspeth said, “Until the person who wrote this letter comes forward to enlighten us, I suggest that we put this distasteful business from our minds.”

“No, indeed!” said Laura. “I have turned over this mystery in my mind these two months! You cannot know what strange fancies have occurred to me, Mr. Templeton.”

“Am I to hear them?” he asked, smiling.

She laughed, looking rueful.

“The first was that you had been waylaid by robbers,” she said. “It seems foolish now but I could not explain why the ostler here would deny you took a horse from the stables to ride to Charmouth. I thought he had been in league with the rogues.”

“It was my own horse, which I rode from Charmouth and back again—but I handed him over into the care of the fellow in charge here while I went in search of you.”

“So he did lie to me.”

“He was an insolent fellow,” said Edward.

“He has a sly look,” said Sir Richard.

“When did you see him, Richard?” asked Laura.

“The stableman, here at the Three Cups, sent for him to get his opinion on Betsy's leg.”

“There was no excuse for him to behave as insolently as he did!” said Laura. “I have never understood how he could have known about Mr. Templeton, let alone formed an opinion about him.”

“You forget the very great interest that the lower orders take in the lives of their betters,” said the countess. “I doubt not that every servant in the inn knew that the young lady staying with them had made an interesting acquaintance.”

“How very right you always are, my dear!” cried Elspeth. “Yet it was the oddest thing, for Laura spent all of two hours in Mrs. Gurdon's rooms, talking to her and Mr. Templeton.” She looked at the gentleman with the slightest hint of inquiry.

“That is true,” he said. “I enjoyed a long and fascinating conversation with your sister on the day that Mrs. Gurdon introduced us to one another.”

“Yet the inn servants knew nothing of you,” said Elspeth.

Laura said, “Do you forget the noisy party of young men in the public rooms who occupied all of the servants' attention.”

“That's correct,” said Mr. Templeton. “I recall that Mrs. Gurdon had to send her own maid down to the kitchen to fetch our refreshments.”

“So,” said Edward. “We are left with only the ostler behaving in a knowing fashion towards my sister.”

Edward seized up the letter and turned it over. On the back the original direction had been blotted out clumsily, and “Charmouth Inn” written below.

“Mr. Templeton, was the letter delivered by a young man, perhaps an ostler?”

“No, he was a boy of eleven or so, a fisher-lad from the smell of him.”

Laura and Edward said together, “Tom!”

“I did not ask his name. I gave him a penny and he ran off a few paces, before turning to call out an impudent remark.”

“It is Tom, certainly,” said Laura.

“The poor little fellow who was injured?” said Elspeth.

“He was injured? How?” asked Mr. Templeton.

Laura felt a sick anxiety that twisted in her stomach and her cheeks paled.

The captain answered, “The boy Tom was badly beaten on the cliff path when returning from Charmouth.”

“By whom?”

“The surgeon informed me that he set the parish constable on the trail of the assailants when he saw the condition of the child. The constable found no trace of them and concluded they had fled the district.”

“When did you receive the letter, sir?”

“On the Wednesday—after I returned to Charmouth.”

“The tenth of September,” said Laura, her voice dull. She could not bear the notion that Tom's beating had something to do with her after all. She bit her lip.

Mr. Templeton rose and stood before Laura's chair. “Miss Morrison,” he said, gentle and serious in his manner.

“Yes?”

“You are not in any way to blame for what has happened to this child,” he said.

“No one would think Laura is to blame!” said Edward briskly. “I would like to speak to this boy Tom. Who will come with me?”

“I will, Edward,” said Laura. Sir Richard and Mr. Templeton had both risen and turned to her in surprise.

“No, my dear,” said Edward. “I meant who of the gentlemen.”

“But Edward …”

“Laura, I confess that at first, I did not pay you the respect of trusting your judgement.”

“That is done with,” said Laura.

“You have suffered unpleasantness, to which my sister ought never be exposed,” said Edward.

“I am determined to come.”

“Laura, remember who you are,” said Elspeth.

“Forgive me, Elspeth, if I do not consult your opinion just now.” Elspeth sniffed but Laura was long immune. She said, “I have the keenest concern for the boy's safety. He knows me and may be less alarmed in the presence of a lady.”

“I feel it unseemly.”

“I shall come, Edward, for this whole mystery has involved me in acute misery.”

Mr. Templeton smiled as the two faced each other, their assertive bearing identical, their striking green eyes reflecting determination.

He said, “Miss Morrison is so peculiarly concerned in the affair; and has the protection of three gentlemen. I feel she has a right to accompany us.”

“We must bow to the views of a man of the cloth,” said Elspeth, sarcastically.

“Well …” said Edward.

“Come, Cousin!” said Sir Richard. “'Tis a waste of Laura's good brain to leave her behind.”

“Very well, then.”

“Ought we consult the mayor, Captain, or the magistrate?” said Mr. Templeton.

“Let us see if we can find out who gave the letter to Tom, without unfolding the story to others.”

Laura led them directly to Tom's dwelling in Fish Lane. Through the crack in the doorway, they faced the same dirty creature whom Laura had described. In a flash, the woman tried to slam the door, but the captain had wedged his foot in the way. She leered at them, and pulled at her ragged cap, thrusting her greasy locks beneath it.

“Good mornin' to you, sirs,” she said. “And madam!” Sir Richard took Laura's arm and drew her behind her brother, whence she watched over his shoulder.

“We wish to speak to you,” said Edward.

“I'm a respectable widder.” Her insinuating tone produced a look of near revulsion on the captain's face.

“We can speak in the street, if you wish, but I suggest that you oblige us with a conversation with your son.”

“He ain't here.”

The production of Edward's purse was sufficient to purchase a degree of cooperation.

“What do you fear?” he said. “Your son will be in no further danger by telling us what he knows. I am the lady's brother.”

“You'll go away in your fine carriage and leave us poor folk to take our punishment.”

“So Tom's beating was in relation to the letter he delivered to Charmouth?”

“'Tis you who ordered it—you or her.” She darted a snarling look over his shoulder.

“Why should I commit such an evil act?” he said.

“You didna want it known your sister was writing to the gen'leman—and 'im a parson too!—so my poor boy was a'beat up.”

“Did the ruffians make some reference to the letter?”

“Aye, they did. They said Tom must say there never were no gen'leman.”

The four looked at her, dumbfounded.

Laura stepped out from behind her brother. “Do you say, madam, that Tom was instructed to spread the story that the gentleman did not exist?”

The woman tried again to close the door.

“I niver said it!”

“I am the man to whom he gave the letter!” said Mr. Templeton. “I feel responsible for ensuring your son's safety.”

Her fear was obviously mounting.

“Pray don't fear us. We can offer you protection,” said Sir Richard.

“Let us help you—and your boy,” said Mr. Templeton. “I have satisfied myself that the letter was not written by Miss Morrison.”

“Don't tell such stories.”

“It is true,” said Edward. “The letter is a forgery, and it seems your son was cruelly beaten to force him to deny what he knew.”

“He won't go to prison?”

“Of course he will not. He has committed no crime.”

She gazed up at him wordlessly, her fear palpable.

Sir Richard said gently, “I see now that you have judged rightly in fearing further danger to the boy.”

She began to weep, silently and pitifully. “He be all I got!” She stepped back from the door and they entered.

A pace behind her, propped upon his crutches, was Tom. The leg must have still been weak but the splints were gone. Gone, too, was his impudent grin and eyes sparkling with mischief; fear seemed to have diminished his rebellion.

“Will they come for me, sirs?” he asked.

Sir Richard answered him. “I think it unlikely.” He turned to the mother. “But have you some place of refuge to which you might flee?”

“Where can we go—the likes of us?” said his mother.

“I can provide transport for you both, and a safe haven in Devonshire, until the criminals are brought to justice.”

“Devonshire! I ain't never been so far off.”

“You can depend upon Sir Richard's protection,” said Laura.

The fisherwoman scratched her head; then rubbed her nose, and at last, agreed that she could not stay where she was.

“Thank'ee, sir. I will go,” she said.

Mr. Templeton turned to Tom. “Your part is to tell us all that you know of the letter. Who gave it to you?”

“'Twas Silas Creeley—ostler at the Lion.”

“I knew it,” said Laura. “He was bound to be involved.”

“Shall I fetch a cart and driver?” said Mr. Templeton.

“Yes,” said Edward. “If you will make the necessary arrangements, I will stay here—this poor woman is frightened out of her wits.”

“I shall write at once to my steward, giving him instructions to find them a snug corner in a barn for a few days,” Sir Richard said.

Under the captain's protection, the mother and son packed up their possessions into two bundles. Laura returned with Sir Richard to the inn, where he would write his letter and instruct a servant to accompany the pair. Meanwhile Mr. Templeton procured a cart.

The two men watched as the cart drove away up the street, with Tom and his mother crouching down in a pile of straw.

“I hope we are overly cautious,” said Mr. Templeton.

“I could not answer to my sister if the boy received further harm at the hands of these ill-doers,” said Edward.

The gentlemen returned to the inn, where all were agreed that the discoveries in Fish Alley hardly provided the key to the mystery. Over an excellent dinner ordered by the countess, every aspect of the case was canvassed, without a plausible explanation coming to light.

“The gossip had the effect of driving us from the town,” said Mrs. Evans.

“How very unpleasant,” said Mr. Templeton.

“Did you depart the district when you received the letter, Mr. Templeton?” asked the countess.

“Yes—after seeing, on the cliff top, what I took to be confirmation of the letter, I hurried back to the inn and prepared for departure. I rode away from Charmouth within the half hour.”

“So they drove you from the district too. It seems likely to be the object.”

“Why spread the rumours though? What did this person think that Laura might do?” said Sir Richard.

“Or know,” said Mrs. Bell quietly.

Everyone stared at her and she coloured. “I am so sorry—a private matter.”

“What did you say, Mrs. Bell?” asked Laura.

“I'm excessively stupid.”

“Did you not say ‘or know'? Did you suggest that the deceiver was worried about what I might know, rather than do?”

“You speak nonsense, Mrs. Bell,” said Elspeth, her lip curling. “It is plain that my sister could know nothing of such immoral doings.”