Glory and the Rake

by Deborah Simmons

  ‘May we speak to her?’ he asked.

  ‘Of course,’ Mr Longley said, getting to his feet as though relieved to end his own interview. He hurried from the room, leaving Glory to turn to Westfield in confusion.

  ‘Why didn’t Thad say anything to me?’ she asked. Her brother had been withdrawn and silent after their arrival in Philtwell, but he’d become more like his old self lately. And yet he had never mentioned Miss Longley more than any other young resident of the village.

  ‘And do you share all confidences?’ Westfield asked.

  Glory coloured, for she had said nothing to Thad of her own romantic feelings. But how could she? The object of her affections was a duke of the realm who had made his ‘obligations’ quite clear.

  Miss Longley, on the other hand, was a sweet girl who would make a fine match for Thad, her father notwithstanding. And she proved as much when she appeared in the doorway, greeting them shyly. Pretty and soft-spoken, she was well mannered and quick to blush, which she did at the very mention of Glory’s brother.

  ‘But I don’t understand,’ she said, thick lashes fluttering over pale blue eyes. ‘I haven’t seen Mr. Sutton since the Pump Room closed, so he has not confided in me any…plans.’

  ‘Your brother said your father might not approve of Mr Sutton,’ Westfield said, with embarrassing frankness, and Glory cringed.

  But instead of demurring, Miss Longley smiled. ‘Oh, he has some silly notions, but he’ll come around.’

  ‘Had he forbidden you from seeing Mr Sutton?’

  ‘No, but I do hope you will open the Pump Room again soon,’ Miss Longley said, with a beseeching glance towards Glory. ‘The public dances are few and far between, and my friends and I did so enjoying gathering there.’

  ‘And were there any others, young people in your circle perhaps, who did not approve of Mr Sutton?’ Westfield asked. Glory eyed him askance, for she could not imagine Thad as the victim of a jealous beau, and Miss Longley shook her head.

  But Westfield persisted. ‘One day Mr Sutton sported a bruise on his cheek—perhaps from some argument with a local resident?’

  ‘I don’t remember anything like that,’ Miss Longley said, with a puzzled expression. ‘Although there was one time when he didn’t seem pleased to see someone at the Pump Room. I didn’t recognise the man as anyone from the area, but Mr Sutton appeared to know him, and they left together.’

  ‘This stranger, can you describe him?’ Westfield asked.

  The young woman again shook her head. ‘I’m afraid that my attention was upon Mr. Sutton, so I just caught a glimpse of him from a distance.’

  When Miss Longley could provide no further information, they thanked her for her help and took their leave of the vicarage. Trying to understand all that she had learned, Glory followed mutely as Westfield led her to a shaded spot some distance away. There, in relative privacy, he turned to face her, his expression intent.

  ‘Just what sort of trouble did your brother get into in London?’ he asked. ‘Has it followed him here?’

  Glory blanched, for she had never even considered that possibility. And yet, it did not seem likely. She shook her head, and although she had spoken to no one of that difficult time, she answered as best she could.

  ‘Like so many other young men, he fell in with some unsavoury companions who led him into the usual mischief, mainly drinking and gambling. But I’m sure you know that such simple vices can lead to ruin when practised in excess or in certain…parts of town. It was those areas they frequented, so I cannot see them leaving London, especially for somewhere as remote as Philtwell. It is not an easy journey, with no enticements to be found at the end of it.’

  Westfield looked thoughtful, but before he could comment, Glory realised that a man was hurrying towards them. Stopping in front of the duke, he doffed his cap and bowed, and Glory held her breath.

  ‘He’s been found, your Grace.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  From Ned Bartlett’s grim expression, Oberon suspected that Thad was not in good shape. But the boy was alive, and Oberon didn’t realise just how very grateful he was for that news until he saw Miss Sutton’s shoulders sag with relief. If they had not been in public, he would have taken her in his arms. As it was, he had his hands full trying to keep her from running all the way back to Sutton House.

  There, Oberon was glad to discover that Pearson had taken charge, so that Thad was cleaned up and tucked into bed. A whispered conference with his valet revealed the extent of the boy’s injuries, but he could not keep Miss Sutton from her brother’s side. And to her credit, she did not faint or wince at the sight of his bruised face and swollen eye, but greeted him with her usual briskness.

  ‘I’m sorry, sis,’ he mumbled.

  ‘Nonsense,’ she said. ‘It is I who am sorry for putting you—and all of us—in danger.’

  But Thad shook his head. ‘Not your doing,’ he muttered. Then he glanced towards Oberon. ‘I gave nearly as good as I got, your Grace, but there were two of them.’

  Oberon nodded. ‘Are you feeling well enough to tell me about it? Because I’d like to give them a go myself,’ he said, surprised at the truth of that statement.

  ‘Not your problem,’ Thad said. But, gradually, Oberon was able to coax the tale from the boy, which, as he had suspected, involved trouble from London.

  It began with Thad falling in with a pair of brothers, unsavoury sorts, he admitted, who encouraged him to spend his allowance more freely than had been his wont. Soon he was frequenting low taverns and the kind of hells where a green young man with money is easily fleeced. This uncharacteristic behaviour continued until one morning he arrived home, stumbling drunk, to find his sister waiting for him.

  As usual, Miss Sutton proved her worth. Instead of railing at the boy, she took measures to immediately remove him from the influence of the Fairmans, though that appeared to be a misnomer.

  ‘If that even is their real name,’ Westfield said, and Thad was still innocent enough to blink at the suggestion.

  But he was not so naïve as to think he could escape his gambling debts and had dutifully paid them. No doubt he would have lost everything, like so many other young men, if not for his sister. However, at the time he was not grateful for the intervention, which likely saved them all from ruin.

  Instead, upon arriving in Philtwell, he wrote to his former acquaintances, complaining about his situation. Unsurprisingly, at least to Oberon, he received no reply—until he mentioned the Queen’s Gift. Then the boy received a pointed query as to the legitimacy of the story and the whereabouts of the so-called treasure. But, by this time, Thad’s interest in his earlier compatriots had been usurped by something else.

  ‘The charms of a certain vicar’s daughter, perhaps?’ Oberon said.

  Thad looked startled at the words, but rather relieved that his secret was out, and he nodded. ‘She came into the Pump Room one day and it was like my heart stopped,’ he said, with a wry smile. His open admission struck Oberon with a pang of envy, for the boy had wrestled with no demons or duties.

  And Miss Longley had acted upon him in a way his sister had not. Faced with gaining her approval, Thad cut off communication with his old cohorts. He’d thought himself well rid of them until, much to his dismay, the younger Fairman appeared in Philtwell. And when Thad did not greet him with open arms, a scuffle ensued.

  ‘The two smelled a prize in the Queen’s Gift and came to see for themselves,’ Oberon said. ‘It’s just the sort of thing that would draw such scoundrels: a priceless heirloom, ready for the taking. The journey required little investment, with the potential to make much more than in years of skimming money from rigged card games and the like. And all the better, if you should find the gift for them.’

  Thad nodded, his expression sheepish. ‘I might have exaggerated the possibility of discovering it, too, just so they wouldn’t think I was buried in some backwater without hope of escape. But when Billy came, I told him that it was just an old
rumour, and even though he got the best of me, I figured he’d leave. What else could he do?’

  Thad shook his head, as if only now becoming aware of his miscalculation. ‘Once when I was out walking, I thought I caught a glimpse of him, but I convinced myself that it was just my imagination and that he was long gone. I didn’t realise they were both here, and I never even thought of them in connection with all that happened to Queen’s Well.’

  For all her devotion, Miss Sutton was not blind to her brother’s shortcomings and she slanted him a sharp glance. ‘So you weren’t trying to find the Queen’s Gift for them?’

  ‘No!’ Thad recoiled in disgust. ‘I was interested in finding it for us…er, myself…er, to impress someone.’

  ‘Reverend Longley?’ Oberon asked.

  Thad nodded reluctantly. ‘I know he doesn’t think much of the spa, though Miss Longley says he’ll come around, and I thought if I could make such a big discovery, that it would be…an accomplishment, what with the history and all.’ He paused, a bit shame-faced, before continuing. ‘And I hoped that if it really was valuable, then I could…get married.’

  ‘But, Thad,’ his sister began, and Oberon hoped she did not intend to try to talk him out of his infatuation. The boy was young and in love, and any interference would only make him more determined. But Oberon should have known that Miss Sutton would make no such mistake. Instead she reached for her brother’s hand.

  ‘You can get married at any time,’ she assured him. ‘Half of the family fortune is yours. I only kept control of the monies for your own sake, so that you would not fall prey to anyone like the Fairmans before reaching maturity.’

  Thad had the good grace to blush at this statement, indicating that he might finally appreciate his sister’s foresight.

  ‘In fact, if you want to remain here, you can even have Queen’s Well,’ Miss Sutton said. ‘It is as much yours as mine.’

  Her offer, tendered without any hesitation, stunned Oberon. Hadn’t she claimed to love the spa above all else? He turned towards her, trying to gauge her mood, but to all appearances, she was willing to give over her life’s work, the object of her devotion, at one word from Thad.

  ‘But, first, we must take care of the Fairmans,’ she added, turning towards Oberon with an expectant expression. ‘What do you think?’

  Oberon didn’t know what to think, with the latest revelations ringing in his ears and his tenure as magistrate likely coming to an end. But the Suttons were waiting for his reply, so he could only tell them what they wanted to hear.

  ‘Perhaps we have our villains.’

  Pearson insisted that Oberon change clothes in case a brawl ensued. He shook out an older coat that he deemed less fashionable and, thus, more dispensable, having already forced Oberon into a pair of breeches that had seen better days.

  ‘I do not plan to land in the dirt,’ Oberon replied.

  ‘Nor do I, but one never knows with these low types. They do not play by the rules.’ He turned, holding out the coat for Oberon, a grim smile upon his face. ‘I almost feel sorry for them. They have no idea whom they are dealing with.’

  ‘And why should they?’ Oberon said. ‘Like any London criminal, they think themselves far too clever for the rural population, let alone a village of this size and location.’

  Pearson laughed. ‘Yet, by this time, you’ve got more men stationed in the area than the whole of Bow Street.’

  ‘Not quite,’ Oberon said, though he had definitely gone beyond the bounds of the usual magistrate, allying himself with many of the villagers, from boys to aged grandfathers who could keep an eye out without drawing attention. And they were in addition to Pearson, himself, his grooms and the men who had arrived from London. It was all a bit heavy-handed for a couple of petty knaves like the Fairmans.

  ‘So why don’t you let some of these fellows, who are well paid for their services, deal with the riff-raff?’ Pearson said. ‘These two ought to be far below your notice.’

  Although Oberon rarely came in contact with the criminal order, especially such characters as these, that didn’t mean he couldn’t handle them. And he intended to. ‘I want to question them myself.’

  ‘Personal interest leads to mistakes,’ Pearson reminded him.

  Although that was true enough, Oberon didn’t plan on making any mistakes with two minor thieves, even if they turned out to be complete blackguards. ‘I don’t trust anyone else to get the truth,’ Oberon said, shooting his cuffs.

  Pearson’s voice, behind him, was dry. ‘And here I suspected you just wanted to give them a bruising.’

  ‘That, too,’ Oberon admitted, turning to face his valet. ‘I only wish Thad could have a go at them himself.’

  ‘Why did they give him such a punishing?’

  ‘They were only going to rough him up a bit more than before,’ Oberon said. ‘But Thad’s new boxing skills turned the scuffle into a mêlée.’

  Pearson frowned. ‘Do you have your pistol? Your knives?’

  ‘Yes,’ Oberon said. ‘And you?’

  Despite his grim nod, there was a certain anticipation in Pearson’s expression. And Oberon wondered whether the man would be content strictly with brushing coats and polishing boots in the future. He shook his head.

  ‘Jones and Thomas will be nearby, should we require any assistance,’ Oberon said. ‘They’re at the Boar’s Head right now keeping an eye on our prey and will haul them off to gaol once I’ve had my chat with them.’

  ‘Right,’ Pearson said. ‘And your own feelings for…the Suttons won’t affect that conversation at all.’

  ‘Of course not, Pearson,’ Oberon said, lifting a brow. ‘You know that I am a professional and do not subscribe to unnecessary violence.’

  Pearson returned his wry smile with a nod. ‘Well, then, let’s hope they do something to make it necessary.’

  Having completed her morning calls, Letitia returned to Sutton House to find the rooms deserted. Even the library was empty except for Randolph, who was tucked in a comfortable chair by a window, bent over a book.

  ‘Where is everyone?’ Letitia asked, only to see the man start, his reading material falling to the floor with a thud. ‘I can see you are hard at work,’ she said, bending to retrieve the fallen volume.

  ‘I was simply resting my eyes,’ Randolph replied, with a dignified air.

  Letitia read the title with some amusement. ‘And yet I can see how one might doze over A Compleate History of the Queen’s Court, in the original text, no less.’

  ‘It is a nod,’ Randolph agreed, ‘but I do what I can to help the cause.’

  ‘And whose cause is that?’ Letitia asked, lifting a brow. ‘It seems you have abandoned mine.’

  ‘Never, your Grace,’ he said, bowing his head formally.

  ‘Oh, cease your toadying, for no one would believe it anyway,’ Letitia said, taking a seat nearby. ‘Where is everyone?’

  ‘Ah,’ he said, smiling coyly. ‘Although I am not privy to all that has happened, I can tell you the whereabouts of some and surmise the whereabouts of others.’

  ‘What happened? What have I missed?’ Letitia asked, irritated by Randolph’s mysterious manner and his smug expression.

  Obviously in his element, he leaned back as if to present the most delicious gossip and Letitia tried not to hope that her son had compromised Miss Sutton. After all, a mother shouldn’t wish for such an occurrence, though it certainly would spur things along…

  ‘The reason we breakfasted alone is because your son and Miss Sutton had already gone out looking for Mr Sutton, who had vanished from the premises.’

  ‘What? Why were we not informed?’

  Randolph shrugged. ‘Perhaps they were keeping it quiet or they were in a hurry, but Thad has been recovered and now lies in his bed, a bit bruised after an altercation with ruffians.’

  Letitia gasped. ‘Who in Philtwell would do such a thing?’

  ‘A pair of nasty characters from town who learned about the Queen’s G
ift from Thad and thought to snatch it for themselves. Since your son and his valet are nowhere to be found, I suspect that they are off to apprehend the culprits, as we speak.’

  ‘Oberon? Why would he chase after them? And with his valet?’

  ‘He is the magistrate, is he not?’ Randolph said. ‘And thankfully so, for I fear after this is all over, I will resign the post.’

  ‘But he might be hurt,’ Letitia said. Although most young bucks dabbled in fencing and boxing for their own amusement, a gentleman was hardly equipped to deal with hardened criminals. ‘Surely he can send others in his stead, who can better handle these thugs.’

  ‘I’m not so sure,’ Randolph said. He had taken to making such cryptic remarks lately, without any explanation, and Letitia was growing weary of it. She would have told him so, too, if she was not struck by an alarming thought.

  ‘But if these fellows are responsible for all that has plagued Queen’s Well, then Oberon has no reason to remain here any longer.’ Letitia’s hands tightened upon the arms of her chair, as if the force of her grip could keep everything from slipping through her fingers. ‘What of our hopes for a betrothal? What of my grandchildren?’

  ‘Future grandchildren,’ Randolph said.

  ‘Don’t mock me,’ Letitia said. ‘I have wagered all on this and have no more hands to play. Do you think I shall ever see Oberon again once he has returned to London?’

  Throughout all of her correspondence and conversations with Randolph, Letitia had maintained a light tone, persuading him to join her in a bit of matchmaking. Never had she let him see just how much it meant to her. Nor had she revealed her desperate hope that a wedding would return to her the son she had once known, who greeted her with warmth, not civility, and visited because of desire, not duty.

  ‘Hold on, Letty,’ Randolph said, reaching out to pat her arm. ‘All is not yet lost.’

  ‘How do you know?’ Letitia said, cursing the quaver in her voice.