Her days in this house were now numbered. Her days in the town she loved were coming to an end. Beaumont had a townhouse in Mayfair, a mansion in Yorkshire, rooms on the most exclusive street in Bath... not to mention Beaumont Castle. And those were only the residences she knew about.
She would return to Loxton as a visitor. Nothing more.
"Ah, here's our young rascal!" Her father's cheerful greeting broke through her thoughts. "Come into the drawing room, young man. Mr Floyd is occupied in the consultation room. Let me take a look at that arm. How has it been healing?"
Sam Digby's unmistakable embarrassed mumble answered him. Anna went through to greet him. She knew her father would be much relieved to hear that Sam and Holly were now engaged, and she did not trust the hapless boy to tell him.
"Miss Hawkins!" Sam beamed, giving her a respectful nod as Dr Hawkins turned his arm this way and that. "Pleasure to see you again, Miss!"
"Have you given my father your news?" asked Anna. Sam opened his mouth to speak, but a gasp of pain was all that emerged. Dr Hawkins frowned.
"It's still giving you trouble, then? Just as I suspected. You've taken off the sling too soon."
Sam began to protest about his chances of finding work as a farmhand with an arm in a sling, but Dr Hawkins shushed him at once.
"You'll have even less chance later if you lose the use of your arm for good. Let your parents take care of you until it's fully healed, and avoid falling into bad company in the meantime. Better to go hungry for a few weeks than hang for highway robbery."
Sam hung his head. "But I'll be needing my own money soon enough, Doctor. I'm to marry Holly Thatcher."
"Are you, now?" Dr Hawkins's craggy face broke into a smile. He glanced knowingly at Anna. "That's a fine idea. All the more important for you to keep yourself fit and healthy, and find an honest way to make a living."
"Yes, sir." Sam sighed heavily as Dr Hawkins began bandaging up his arm again.
A large open carriage drew Anna’s attention as it pulled up to the window. "My word," she said, half in anger and half in amusement. "Does Beaumont think we are a stately home, fit to entertain half the nobility in England?"
Robert Hartley, Earl of Scarcliffe, was descending from the carriage. After leaping to the ground, he turned to offer his hand to Isabella. Jemima turned up her nose at the offer of help, preferring to descend herself. Cecily jumped down next, followed by Beaumont himself. Even through the window, Anna could see that he was grinning broadly.
Sam Digby's mouth fell open as he followed Anna's gaze. "Do – do these lords and ladies call often, Dr Hawkins?"
"It's becoming an ever more commonplace occurrence," said the doctor ironically. "Anna, go and warn Mrs Pierce. She'll want to bring out the best china and put on another pot of tea."
Sam scrambled to his feet. "I'd best nip out the back, sir. I don't want to be caught here with the fine ladies..."
"Nonsense," said Dr Hawkins. "This is my house, and you've as much right to be here as they do. Stay where you are."
Anna went into the kitchen, where the news of the guests nearly gave Mrs Pierce a heart attack. She stayed a moment to help get out the best china and to soothe Mrs Pierce's nerves.
"Remember that Beaumont has stayed here once already," she said. "He was very impressed with your housekeeping. There is no reason to worry now."
"But Lord Scarcliffe!" Mrs Pierce repeated faintly. "Lady Cecily! Oh!"
"They are flesh and blood, just the same as you and I," said Anna stoutly. "And they eat their cake from a plate, with a fork, just as we do. Now, I am going back up to greet them. Have you got everything under control?"
"Oh, yes, Miss," said Mrs Pierce, though she was muttering to herself anxiously as Anna ascended the staircase.
She entered the drawing room again with a smile she could not contain. Despite what she had told Mrs Pierce, it was a great honour for Lord Scarcliffe and Lady Cecily to call upon her at home. This would be the final argument against Miss Clayton's prejudice.
The moment the door closed behind her, she realised that something was wrong. A dreadful silence had fallen upon the party. Cecily was in Lord Scarcliffe's arms, her face buried in his shoulder. Robert himself was in a murderous rage. Jemima and Isabella were huddled behind Beaumont, each squeezing the other's hand tightly.
Beaumont was looking at Sam Digby with a tight, unreadable expression. When he heard Anna enter, he glanced up at her with an unbearable coldness in his eyes.
"Anna," he said heavily. "Tell me you did not know that this beast was under your father's roof?"
29
There was no use even asking the question. Beaumont knew the moment he set eyes on Anna that she knew everything.
"This boy is a patient of mine," Dr Hawkins was saying coolly, but Beaumont could not tear his gaze away from Anna. She was pale with shock. Unmoving. He wished she would say something.
The moment they entered the room, Cecily had recognised the man who had kidnapped her and threatened her life. The highwayman had worn a mask that night on the road, but his voice, his stature, and the location of his wound were undeniable evidence.
“This wretch is a highwayman!” Robert snarled.
“Perhaps,” said the doctor. “But you have made him pay for it once already, my lord.”
So he knew. The man Beaumont intended to call his father-in-law was a harbourer of murderers and thieves.
And Anna knew too. Why did she not speak? Beaumont was prepared to accept even a single word in her defence.
"My first shot went wide," Robert growled. "My second will hit the mark, I assure you!"
"Do not threaten violence under my roof, my lord," warned the doctor. Beaumont realised it was time for him to take control. Robert was a barrel of gunpowder liable to explode at any moment.
"Dr Hawkins, I must ask you to summon a constable," he said. "Scarcliffe, take the ladies outside. I will see to it that this criminal does not escape."
"I'm afraid I cannot allow that, Your Grace," said the doctor.
Beaumont was astonished. Few men ever dared to get in his way. He did not doubt that Dr Hawkins would regret becoming one of them. "This man held a pistol to Lady Cecily’s head!" he snapped.
"And he is sorry for it!” interrupted Anna. “Surely, now the mask is gone, you can see he is no more than a foolish boy?"
Beaumont closed his eyes in dismay. It was the last thing he wanted to hear from Anna’s lips.
She marched across the room and stood at the highwayman's side. "This is a young man from Loxton. He's had no work yet this year. He never had a chance to go to school, or receive an education. His family is poor. Poorer than any of you can imagine! What defence did he have against the older men who led him astray?"
"This does not become you, Miss Hawkins," interrupted Robert. "You are speaking of matters you clearly do not understand."
"Take the ladies outside, Scarcliffe!" Beaumont repeated sharply. "I insist!"
Robert’s arm jerked a little in surprise. He drew himself up to his full height, shot a bilious glare at Beaumont, and beckoned to Isabella and Jemima.
"Come with me," he said, pronouncing every syllable with an exaggerated precision that left no doubt that he resented following Beaumont's orders. "We will wait for His Grace in the carriage."
He steered Cecily towards the door with unfailing tenderness. Just before they left, Cecily raised her head. "Anna..."
"All will be well," Anna assured her calmly. "I'm sorry, my lady."
They were gone.
Beaumont was alone in the room with a confirmed highwayman and two of his accomplices. He wondered, half-madly, whether he had just done something very foolish indeed.
"Sam Digby is not an evil man," said Anna, putting her arm around the boy's shoulders. "He took bad advice and got carried away. If you have him thrown in jail, he will never recover from it."
"He does not deserve to recover!" Beaumont shouted. "Really, Anna, have you lost your sense
s? Cecily could have been killed!"
"But she is unharmed, and Sam was wounded. He has promised never to join the highwaymen again. Can't that be enough for you?"
"I was wounded, too," Beaumont pointed out, touching the barely-healed wound on his arm. The place Anna's hands had first touched him, driving the needle expertly through his skin. He would gladly have the wound torn open again rather than suffer through what he now endured. "Probably by this young blackguard, waving around a pistol he hardly knew how to use!"
Anna was steadfast. "Exactly. He hardly knew what he was doing. Beaumont, please, have pity on him. Surely you can see that his greatest crime was being foolish and poor?"
"The law would disagree with you there, my dear," interjected Dr Hawkins mildly. "Though, if I may, I might suggest that mercy is the proper course of action."
The boy was staring at the ground as though he wished it would swallow him. It was a far cry from his bravado at midnight on the road. Beaumont had no doubt that it was a show put on for the Hawkins's benefit. An act which they had both swallowed.
"He has a sweetheart," Anna pleaded. "She is with child. If they do not marry, what will become of her?"
"That's her own lookout," said Beaumont. He spoke much more harshly than he truly wanted to. His pride was hurt, above all things. He despised himself for being such a slave to it, but it was true. He had wanted to prove to his friends that Anna was the worthy match he knew she was. Now, she had insulted them by allowing Sam Digby in her home. Beaumont was embarrassed, and angry, and confused, which he hated most of all. Anna's morals had always seemed impeccable. It was the thing he admired most about her.
Was she in the wrong now, or was he?
"My future wife cannot cavort with criminals," he said.
A visible shudder ran through Anna's body. She looked as though he had physically punched her. Only her grip on the villain Digby's arm kept her upright.
"So you do not understand, after all," she whispered. "No. How could you? You have never known poverty, or fear!"
"Anna," said her father warningly. "Do not say something you will regret."
Tears were running down her face. It was all Beaumont could do not to take her in his arms. If she had not been standing besides Sam Digby, he might have done it.
“Dr Hawkins, this sort of work is not suitable for a member of my family,” he said, willing them both to see reason. “Particularly when your patients are..." Beaumont hesitated as he ran his eyes over the trembling Sam Digby. He really was little more than a boy. Tall for his age, but with the ungainly limbs and childlike face of a fresh-grown youth. His plump, childish cheeks had been hidden by the highwayman's mask.
There was certainly nothing frightening about him now.
"I am proud to serve all who need my help, Your Grace," said Dr Hawkins evenly. Beaumont felt sick. Only the day before, the doctor had been merrily calling him Beaumont.
"I should leave," he said abruptly. “I think we are all in need of some time to think.”
No-one moved to stop him. Only Anna's gaze, bright with tears, seemed to catch at him. Beaumont’s beating heart seemed to still for a moment as he walked away.
If he had been less unhappy, nothing more would have happened. If he had not been distracted by the desire to fall to his knees and forgive her everything, that would have been the end of their argument.
He would have remembered his wound from that morning. He would have walked carefully. He would not have caught his leg at the wrong ankle, felt his knee buckle beneath him, and failed to stifle his groan of pain.
“Beaumont, you’re hurt!”
Anna ran to his side, clutching his arm, and he knew in that moment that everything would be beautiful again between them. Her anger was already dissolving; his, too. Whatever differences they had, they could overcome. He let her cling to him. He didn’t deserve her concern, he knew, but he might as well enjoy it while it was there.
“Your Grace!” cried Mr Floyd, who had come into the room at the sound of Anna’s cry. He ran to support Beaumont. “You should not be here – you need rest!”
“Has the duke been injured?” asked Dr Hawkins mildly. Floyd froze, instantly paralysed by guilt. Beaumont knew the honest young man would never be able to hide the truth from his mentor now.
“I came across Floyd on the road this morning,” he said. “He was good enough to patch up a little wound I sustained.”
“What were you doing?” asked Anna, leading him to a chair. “Beaumont, I swear I will never let you ride a horse again if you insist on falling so often!”
“I do not believe he was riding,” said Dr Hawkins, looking at Mr Floyd’s reddening cheeks. “Tell us, gentlemen. What have you been doing?”
Beaumont took Anna’s hand. “You must not be angry with me, my dear one. I’m afraid it was absolutely necessary.”
Anna’s hand trembled in his. “What was necessary?”
“I fought a duel,” said Beaumont. “With Mr Jackson. It was a matter of honour, and it is now settled. Neither of us was badly hurt, but I doubt he will dare speak out against you again.”
Anna tore her hand from his grasp. “You duelled with Gilbert?”
“Swords,” croaked Mr Floyd. “Not pistols.”
“As if that makes it any better!” Anna’s tears had stopped falling, replaced with blazing anger. “You condemned my father for treating Sam Digby the same day that you fought a duel? You could have been killed – or worse, hanged for murder!”
“I doubt it would come to that,” said Dr Hawkins. “A duke can only be tried by his peers. The risk was entirely on Mr Jackson’s side.”
Beaumont wished very deeply that the doctor had not seen fit to interject. It did nothing to soothe Anna’s anger at all.
“You know how I feel about these reckless games men play!” she said, wringing her hands wildly as though she could somehow tear the truth to pieces. “They are not games when someone could get hurt. And you were hurt!”
“In defence of you!”
“I never asked you to fight him!” she cried, lifting a trembling hand to her mouth. “You knew I would try to stop you – that’s why you didn’t tell me!”
“Anna –”
“No,” she said, stepping away as he reached for her. “Don’t speak to me. Don’t follow me. I can’t bear it!”
Beaumont was left with one hand still outstretched as the door slammed behind her. For a moment, they listened in silence to the sound of her feet running up the stairs.
Sam Digby was still in a corner, staring at the floor with his face flaming red. He had actually stuffed his fingers into his ears to avoid overhearing what he thought was not his business. Beaumont felt a wash of pity for the foolish young man.
“I will not go to the constable,” he said. It seemed that young Digby had not blocked his ears as efficiently as it appeared, for he removed his fingers with great speed. “I have much to think about, but I will not wreck this young man’s life on a whim. Besides, Mr Digby, I must now trust that you do not report me yourself for an illegal duel.”
“I am pleased to hear it, Your Grace,” said Dr Hawkins, as Digby stuttered and managed to squeak out a brief word of thanks. “Mr Floyd, why don’t you help the duke to his carriage?” The doctor’s eyes narrowed. “I will speak to you about your part in this later. At great length.”
Floyd winced in anticipation of the doctor’s anger and lent Beaumont his shoulder. Beaumont tested his leg as they walked, and was ready to stand alone by the time they reached the front door.
“I’m afraid I have landed you in some trouble,” he said, shaking Floyd’s hand. The young man squared his shoulders bravely.
“Oh, I’ll have a lecture or two ahead, but the old man is too fond of me to send me away. I don’t regret it for a moment, Your Grace.”
Robert and the ladies were waiting in silence in the carriage. Cecily opened her mouth to speak as Beaumont joined them, but his stony gaze silenced her.
; "Drive on," he called tersely.
"Wait!"
It was Isabella. Somehow managing to remain graceful as she hitched her skirts up in one hand, she stepped down from the carriage again. "You do not need a chaperone to ride in an open carriage. I am going in to see Anna. I'm sure Dr Hawkins will lend me his carriage to return to Loxwell Park. Take Cecily home."
It should have been Beaumont. He knew it, as the carriage pulled away and Isabella disappeared into Anna's house. He should have mastered his emotions. Should never have left in the first place. Should certainly never have raised his voice, lost his temper, or, worst of all, told the woman whose independence he adored what she could and could not do as his wife.
But he was not his own master, not in that moment, so he let Scarcliffe's carriage carry him further and further away from Anna, his temper cooling with every second that passed, leaving him heartsore and full of regrets.
30
"I must go and apologise to the lords and ladies," muttered Sam Digby, wringing his hands. He seemed quite unaware that Isabella Norman, Countess of Streatham, was one of the very ladies he was speaking of.
She honoured Sam with an elegant nod of her head. "I do not think that would be wise just now, Mr Digby."
"You have only just escaped arrest as it is," said Anna. Isabella glanced up to see her standing in the doorway, pale-faced and shaken. "If I were you, I'd stay far away from Scarcliffe Hall and Loxwell Park. They're no place for the likes of us, Sam," she added, unable to disguise her bitterness.
"You're perfectly safe now, lad," said Dr Hawkins soothingly. "Here, let me show you out of the back door. Best to avoid the main road for the time being, I think."
The Duke's Hidden Desire (Scandals of Scarcliffe Hall Book 2) Page 18
