For the sake of love (The St Bernadette Files Book 2)

by Regina Darcy

  “I have been most anxious to speak with you ever since I got your note,” Charity heard Mr Fitzpatrick reply, the look of concern on his face evident even to her. “Whatever has happened, Martha?”

  Miss Hemsworth began to speak rapidly, as they walked slowly down the aisles, away from the door and towards the back of the shop. Relieved that Miss Hemsworth seemed quite at ease with the man, Charity pulled a small book from the shelf and opened it. She hoped that the general goods store owner Mr Tanner would not catch her out. He had a notorious dislike for people only entering his establishment to hang around partaking of his reading material for free. Either buy, hire or be on your way was his favourite saying.

  Although he was slightly more indulgent with the visit of girls from St Bernadette, Charity did not want to push her luck, so she made sure he was busy with a customer before she started reading through the book.

  The words on the page were a balm to her soul, describing a freedom she had yet to truly experience. Her heart swelled with emotion as she took in each sentence, desperate to read more yet longing to linger over each phrase. It was a way for her to escape, the only way she could forget the truths of the dire situation she currently found herself in.

  The door to the shop chimed again, forcing Charity’s attention away from the book she held in her hand. She had to keep a look out that there was no-one from Robert’ household following them. Carefully taking a few steps away from the shelf, she sought the figure who had just walked in – only to see a tall, dark-haired gentleman with slightly narrowed eyes looking towards Miss Hemsworth.

  Fear ripped through her. Was this gentleman working for Robert? If so, then was it already too late for Miss Hemsworth?

  Stepping back behind the bookshelf, Charity hurried her steps back towards Miss Hemsworth’s direction, only to hear Nathan call out in surprise, his voice filling the small shop.

  “Ah, my lord Cunningham! I had not expected to see you!”

  Relief had her sagging against the bookshelf, aware that the man Miss Hemsworth was meeting, evidently knew this gentleman and, as such, he did not pose a threat to either herself or Miss Hemsworth. It was obvious that this man, Cunningham, had not been sent to meet Mr Fitzpatrick, evident from the surprise in Mr Fitzpatrick’s voice, but Charity could only hope that perhaps this would turn out to be a good thing.

  She could not quite see the gentleman properly but was aware of his fine clothing and tall stature. He was clearly titled but evidently was not haughty in the least, given that he was now in conversation with Miss Hemsworth and Nathan, the former Bow Street Runner.

  Charity just wished she could hear what was being said. She found that the book of poetry she had been so transfixed by only a few minutes ago, no longer held so great an appeal. She was keener to see the new arrival’s face once more, as though the single glance she had been permitted was nowhere near enough. She wanted to drink in his features, peering around the corner of the bookshelf like some ninny.

  She managed to catch sight of him then, with Miss Hemsworth and Mr Fitzpatrick’s backs to her. He still had that narrowed gaze, looking down at Miss Hemsworth as though trying to work her out. That discomforted her somewhat, for it had taken a great deal of inner strength for Miss Hemsworth not only to write to her Bow Street Runner acquaintance but then to meet with him, knowing all the while that her uncle’s men might find her out and stop her. Charity hoped that Cunningham, whoever he was, did not doubt Miss Hemsworth’s sincerity since it appeared that Nathan was currently in the middle of citing everything Miss Hemsworth was going through.

  Tilting her head a little, she took in Cunningham’s features. There was a tightness to his jaw that told her he was still considering things carefully, the shrewd look in his hazel eyes that said he was not a man to make hasty judgements. His dark brown hair was pulled back into a tie at the base of his neck, and his clothes were perfectly styled.

  Charity could not help but think him one of the most handsome gentlemen she had ever had the chance to lay her eyes on, even if he continued to frown.

  “Please, my lord,” she heard Miss Hemsworth say. “I am entirely in earnest.”

  Frowning, Charity leaned slightly closer, only to step on her skirts and stumble against the bookshelf. Her book of poetry tumbled from her hands, landing on the floor with a quiet sound that seemed to reverb through the room. Cunningham’s eyes were searching her out at once, but Charity immediately stepped away from where she had been standing, rushing back up towards the door where she always should have remained. Heat infused her cheeks as she found herself a quiet spot with a good view of the door, leaving Miss Hemsworth, Mr Fitzpatrick and Lord Cunningham to talk.

  You are meant to be watching the door, Charity, not allowing yourself to become distracted by a single gentleman, she berated herself, putting her hands to her hot cheeks in an attempt to cool them. She settled her breathing, hoping that Miss Hemsworth’s conversations would go well.

  After only a few more minutes, she heard footsteps and saw Cunningham walk towards the door, stopping only to purchase a small book which he held in his hand. Charity frowned, seeing the dark look on his face as he handed some coins over to Mr Tanner. What had caused such a look?

  Her eyes fell on the book in his hand, her breath catching in her chest. He had evidently discovered the book of poetry she had dropped and had chosen to buy it for himself. Keeping her eyes on him, Charity watched him walk away, the door closing firmly behind him.

  Her heart pounding in her chest, her hands damp in her gloves, she smoothed down her skirt in an effort to compose herself. She took a deep breath.

  Had Esther or Abigail been here, they would have chastised me for losing my heart a glance of a gentleman.

  The sobering thought cooled her cheeks and brought her thoughts tumbling back into her harsh reality.

  It was time to talk to Miss Hemsworth.

  THREE

  “It is quite ridiculous.”

  David Alderton, who held the title of Viscount Cunningham, walked along the cobbled pavement of the village of Nettlefold with a deep frown on his face. He had travelled all the way to this remote countryside village on a whim at the request of Nathan Fitzpatrick, a man whom he knew to be trustworthy. His message had said it might be a matter of life and death, but having spoken to him just now, he doubted it very much.

  Sighing he swung his handkerchief in the air, trying without success to shoo away a suspicious-looking mutt that had started following him around the town square. This Miss Hemsworth had already got one man involved in her scheme and he certainly wasn’t about to be next.

  In truth, he had been quite surprised to see Nathan Fitzpatrick’s willingness to assist the lady, when it was apparent to him that she was nothing more than a flighty bluestocking.

  The woman knew too much already and her attempts to discuss the possibility of her uncle maybe defrauding her had to be nonsense. A gentleman would do no such thing!

  Clearly, this Miss Hemsworth simply was not happy about having her livelihood given to her uncle. She had gone from running the place to having to ask her uncle’s permission for every decision and, whilst he felt a twinge of sympathy for her, he certainly did not suspect any foul play.

  Shaking his head, he remembered the way Miss Hemsworth had shot daggers at him with her gaze the moment he’d refused, the way she’d turned her head and refused to look at him. Nathan had put a comforting hand on her shoulder but even now, David refused to feel any guilt over it. The woman was, most likely, using her feminine wiles to engender some sympathy for her cause, but he was not about to be taken in by her machinations.

  “What does she think I could do, anyway?” he muttered to himself, ignoring the look of surprise on the passer-by who overheard him. “It is not as though I could help her.”

  A twinge of guilt lanced his heart. That was entirely untrue, he knew that. A member of the aristocracy and a barrister to boot, David worked hard to ensure that the small firm he had in
London, with around fifteen clerks in his employ, ran smoothly as well as ensuring they had the best of reputations. Considering they currently worked for several magistrates, David was aware that he was in a very privileged situation and that, should he ask it, his clerks might be able to discover something about Miss Hemsworth’s uncle, through the contacts that the firm had already establish amongst high society. Moreover, he was on friendly terms with the local solicitor practice in the area run by Mr Arthur Sandiford. With his local connections, matters could move even swifter.

  Still, he was disinclined to help the woman.

  If there was one thing David Alderton avoided like the plague, it that was company. He had always found it somewhat difficult to navigate society’s tight coils, finding that he often said the wrong thing or didn’t say enough! He simply could not help it.

  When a great number of people were around, then his usually focused mind became foggy, rolling words over another until he could not think clearly.

  Without even meaning to, his hand felt for the book of poetry in his pocket.

  It had been a little strange, seeing the book of poetry on the floor.

  Frowning, David recalled the strange sound from the end of the general store, and that when he had gone to investigate it, he had only found the small book of poetry on the floor. He had chosen to buy it on a whim, for his library was already filled with a great number of poetry books, but another one wouldn’t hurt. His frown deepened. When he had gone to look, there had been no sign of anyone else at the far end of the shop, but it was evident someone had been there.

  Had someone been listening to their conversation? And, if so, why?

  You don’t need to involve yourself in this, David, he told himself, firmly. You have a busy life as it is. You don’t believe her, remember?

  Try as he might, David could not rid himself of the growing sense of unease that came over him as he recalled the scene at the general goods store. At the time, he had dismissed the sound as nothing and had simply bought the book instead, but now that he had a few more minutes to consider it, something told him that he should, at the very least, be taking this more seriously. Furthermore, having travelled for days to get the Nettlefold, there was no point in not investigating thoroughly.

  Sighing heavily to himself, David spun on his heel and marched back towards the general goods store, hoping that Fitzpatrick would still be there. He would need to discover the name and location of Miss Hemsworth’s home if he was to visit.

  “Ah, Fitzpatrick!” he hailed, seeing the man walking through the town square towards him. “I was hoping to find you.”

  “I think you’ve done enough, Cunningham,” came the reply, as the man glowered at him from under his brows. “We may be friends but that will not stop me from telling you that I think your behaviour utterly disgraceful. Looking down your nose at her just because she is well taught! You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

  “Now, now,” David replied, attempting to cajole him. “I am back, am I not? I have changed my mind. Perhaps I will involve myself in this situation after all.”

  He watched as Nathan’s demeanour slowly changed, although the dark look did not disappear altogether. David and Nathan had been acquaintances – friends even, for some years, ever since Nathan had assisted one of the London magistrates with a big case. David and his firm had been involved, and the men had struck up a friendship of sorts. Of course, their difference in rank made that difficult at times, but David always made the effort to show Nathan that it did not matter to him.

  Nathan Fitzpatrick had suffered the cruel fate of being born illegitimate and unrecognised by his father, who was an earl. His upbringing was a notch or so below the upper classes but a sterling upbringing none the less. That much his father had conceded.

  “You are going to go visit her, then?”

  “I think I will,” David replied with a nod. “Not because I believe her, however, but because the situation merits another look, at the very least.”

  “You admit that your reluctance to get involved is due to Miss Hemsworth’s bluestocking tendencies, then?” Nathan challenged, still frowning. “I can tell these things about you, Cunningham. You do not have to say the words for me to know what is going on in your head.”

  Removing an invisible speck of dust from his coat David sighed. “Yes, I confess that the very fact she is so learned for a woman holds no appeal for me. I still consider her a woman who is only concerned with receiving back the control she once had and therefore her very motives are utterly selfish, but you are right.” Spreading his hands, David finally admitted aloud what had been going on in his head. “I should not have been so dismissive, each case merits its own initial investigation. I will visit her home and speak to her uncle.”

  Fitzpatrick lifted his chin and gave a half-smile. “I am glad to hear it.”

  “You think she is in earnest, then?”

  Fitzpatrick nodded at once.

  “I have known Miss Hemsworth for some time, Cunningham. She is not only an accomplished young lady but a truthful one. Her heart is filled with kindness and compassion for others.”

  David had to admit that, that certainly is what one might conclude from what he had observed so far – for what other ladies of his acquaintance would run a school for those unwanted by society, the bastard girls of rich and titled men? The ladies within, whilst receiving a good education he was sure, would never be able to truly enter society, and would never marry particularly well.

  However, that was bound to be preferable than having no hope and no prospects for the future. Miss Hemsworth, if her motives were true, was doing something quite wonderful.

  “You think then that her uncle might have played her false? Might have falsified the documents that prove he has the right to take over her entire life?”

  Pondering for a moment, Fitzpatrick nodded. “I have to consider it a possibility, yes. There is more to that man than meets the eye, Cunningham, I am sure of it. Once you left, the lady almost broke down! What you did not hear is that this uncle intends to ‘sell off’ the older young ladies in the house.”

  “Sell them?” David repeated, confused. “I thought he was arranging marriages for them all.”

  “Not all of them,” Fitzpatrick replied, darkly. “Miss Hemsworth only has her suspicions with regards to the fate of the previous two young ladies he has sent away, but her uncle has stated that this next young lady, a Miss Charity Worthington, is to be sent to the colonies to marry an unknown man, all as payment of a debt!”

  A slow, sickening feeling crept over David, making his hands slowly curl into fists.

  “I trust your keen observational skills, Cunningham,” Fitzpatrick continued, fervently. “There are some things I can do behind the scenes, but I will never be admitted to the house. You, on the other hand…”

  “Quite,” David replied, firmly. “I shall visit first thing tomorrow, prior to making my way back to London. Either way, I shall discover whether Miss Hemsworth truly has something to be worried about and, if that is the case, then I promise you I shall do my best to assist in resolving the matter.”

  “Wonderful,” Fitzpatrick replied, holding out his hand for David to shake. “I am glad to have you on board, old chap.”

  FOUR

  Charity smiled to herself as she slowly approached Rex, one of the three small dogs that lived with them at the boarding school. Mr Savage had often made noises about removing them, but, as yet, he had not. Charity always attempted to ensure that they remained out of sight, shutting them away at mealtimes in particular so that they would not annoy Miss Hemsworth’s uncle.

  “Come now, Rex,” she murmured, softly, stretching out her hand towards him. “I know you are more than aware that I need to shut you away, but Mr Savage will throw you out on the street if you do not hide!” Her hand slowly brushed his fur until, finally, she was able to pick him up bodily and hold him in her arms.

  “There, you see?” she smiled, pressing a kiss
to his furry head. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  “Didn’t look like it to me,” came a sudden reply, making her start with surprise. Turning around, she saw the man who had been in the general store, the one who had refused to help Miss Hemsworth. Frowning, she dropped any semblance of a smile from her face.

  Miss Hemsworth had been distraught that this ‘Lord Cunningham’ had refused to even look into her uncle, although Mr Fitzpatrick had attempted to console her.

  Charity had gone from finding the man an incredibly handsome gentleman to thinking that he was possibly the most arrogant and self-righteous person she had ever seen, aside from Miss Hemsworth’s uncle.

  “Oh, it’s you, sir,” she said, dismissively. “Whatever are you doing here?”

  A look of confusion crossed his face.

  “We’ve met?”

  Colouring slightly, Charity lifted her chin.

  “Not in any formal manner, I admit. I chanced upon you speaking to Miss Hemsworth and Mr Fitzpatrick in the shop yesterday.”

  “Ah.” He had the decency to look uncomfortable, which Charity was more than delighted about. A tense silence settled between the two of them.

  He looked at her from crown to her slippered toes. Something shone in his eyes. Charity could not discern what but it made her even more uncomfortable.

  “I assume you are the young girl whose future is in peril?”

  “Yes,” Charity replied tartly. That one reply was loaded with all the pent-up emotions she had been keeping on a leash ever since her sisters disappeared.

  “Perhaps I was a little hasty there.”

  “Perhaps you were,” she replied, in a clipped voice. “I, for one, do not wish to be sent to the colonies as payment for some gentleman’s debt – although, perhaps you do not consider it such a bad thing for the likes of me?” She waited as he took in her words. Their barbs hitting with precision. Guilt seeped into his features, making him grimace slightly as he looked away from her.