by Cheryl Holt
Jane was thoroughly disgusted. “Oh, be silent, Huntly. You’re such a baby.”
“If you don’t stop crying,” Bobby warned, “I’ll smack you again.”
“You can’t just hit me!” Huntly moaned. “I’m Mistress Dunn’s favorite.”
“You might be her favorite,” Bobby replied, “but you’re not mine. I can’t abide you.” He turned to Jane. “Head inside, Jane. You don’t have to watch this spectacle.”
Jane glared down at Huntly with an enormous amount of disdain, then she sauntered into the main hall, looking regal and marvelous. Huntly was still writhing on the ground, and the other children gaped with astonishment.
Bobby scowled at them. “If any of you ever bothers Jane, you’ll get the same treatment. Do you understand me?”
They all vigorously nodded, then a man shouted from the stables, “You boys better not be fighting over there or I’ll tell Lord John. Then you’ll see some trouble!”
“Yes,” Huntly agreed, “then you’ll see trouble.”
“I’m not scared of Lord John or anyone,” Bobby said, “and when you find something in your pathetic life that actually makes you superior, then you can act as if you are. Until then, stay away from my sister.”
He stormed off and stomped down the trail to Dunn village. He was so angry he wished he could sprout wings and fly off into the sky. It was stupid to have punched Huntly. Why beat on a child who was younger than he was? What was wrong with him?
Despite how Huntly pretended, it was common knowledge that he was Melvina Dunn’s son, so Lord John was his uncle. The family wouldn’t take kindly to Bobby pummeling one of its own.
If he was evicted for the infraction, where would he go? How would he support himself? What would happen to Miss Watson and Jane if he wasn’t around to guard them?
He left the trail and walked over to the cliffs to stare at the mainland. The tide was sweeping out, so the sandy path that led to the shore was becoming visible as the water receded. He could have hiked down and headed over to England. He could have kept on until he located a spot where he was wanted, where he was needed.
Just once—just once!—he’d like to be esteemed and valued.
He stood on the promontory forever, but he didn’t run away. He couldn’t imagine worrying Miss Watson, and if he abandoned Jane, she’d never forgive him.
People were crossing over and back, carrying supplies and pushing carts. A big black dog suddenly rushed past all of them and raced out to the island. It was very determined, very set on its destination.
For a bit, it vanished from sight, then Bobby heard it barking. He spun, studying it as it loped directly toward him. He could assess details: the thick coat, the white paws, the silly tongue that hung out so the animal appeared to be smiling.
“Rex?” Bobby murmured. “Rex, is that you?”
In their cottage at Benton, Miss Watson had let them have a dog, and after significant deliberation, they’d named him Rex. But when they’d been kicked out, they’d had to leave him behind.
Rex was smart and loyal, and as they’d packed their bags, he’d realized a terrible calamity was occurring. He’d been desperate to accompany them, and he’d been so adamant that Miss Watson had finally locked him in a shed and had asked a footman to release him later after they were far away.
Bobby took off through the tall grass, and as he neared, he saw that, yes, it was really and truly Rex. Rex had followed them. Rex had traveled many miles on his own so he could be with Bobby once again.
Bobby fell to his knees as Rex bounded up, then they were rolling in the grass, the dog licking his face.
I found you! I found you! Rex seemed to say. Where have you been?
The poor beast was filthy and wounded in many places as if he’d been in numerous fights. His paws were raw and bleeding, and he was thinner too, as if he hadn’t had any food since he’d fled from Benton.
Eventually, Bobby climbed to his feet. “You’re a good boy, Rex, a very, very good boy. Everything will be fine now that we’re together.”
Yes, it will! Rex happily replied, his tail wagging.
“Let’s find, Jane. She could do with a surprise, and you are the perfect one.”
* * * *
“Hello, Miss Watson.”
“Hello.”
Winnie pulled up short and stared at the man who’d greeted her. He was Freddie Townsend, John Dunn’s childhood friend and a guest in the castle as Winnie was. He wasn’t around much, so they hadn’t been introduced.
“I’m Freddie Townsend.”
“Yes, I know.”
“I don’t usually stand on form, so you may call me Freddie if you like.”
She never liked to be rude, but she couldn’t think of a single reason they should be on familiar terms. Plus. there had been appalling gossip about him, that he’d been responsible for Lord John’s troubles in the army. After she’d frolicked in the hot springs with him, she felt they were intimately connected, and she could never be cordial with someone who’d hurt him.
She couldn’t deduce why Lord John let Mr. Townsend tarry. It had to be a matter of lengthy acquaintance, but there were limits to any relationship. Surely Mr. Townsend had exceeded them. Lord John may have forgiven him for his sins, but Winnie didn’t intend to.
She smiled to tamp down the sting in her words. “If it’s all right with you, I’ll stick with Mr. Townsend.”
“It’s not all right with me, but I guess I’ll have to suffer through.”
He smiled too, but his expression wasn’t sincere, and she figured she’d made an enemy. Not that she cared. Freddie Townsend was the least of her worries.
“How are you settling in at Dunworthy?” he asked.
“It’s lovely,” she lied, “and we’re grateful to Lord John for providing us with shelter.”
“Yes, he can be generous—when it suits him.”
Was that sarcasm? Winnie’s devotion surged to the fore. “From the moment we arrived, he’s been kindness personified.”
He scoffed. “How long will you take advantage of that kindness?”
It was an impertinent question, and she bit down the caustic comment that was on the tip of her tongue. “We’ll remain as long as Lord John extends his hospitality to us. Jane is his niece after all.”
“Is she?” he snidely said. “I eavesdropped when Melvina and John were discussing her, and I’m not positive you should count on them agreeing with you.”
“If that’s the case, it sounds as if I should confer with Lord John again.”
“If he decides he doesn’t believe you, and he tosses you out—”
“Lord John won’t toss us out, and I wish you’d keep your derogatory opinions to yourself. He’s a fine man, and I won’t listen to any denigration.”
“How did you end up trotting across the country with Bobby and Jane? Wasn’t your father Sir Walford Watson?”
“Yes, he was.” She offered naught more. Her history was none of his business. “If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Townsend? I’m very busy this morning.”
She was on her way to clean Lord John’s office, and she planned to commandeer a few servants to assist her. She’d already gone to the kitchen to retrieve a mop and a bucket, and she was eager to roll up her sleeves and get to work.
If she was being honest, she’d admit she was hoping to bump into him there. Since she’d come down to breakfast, she hadn’t seen him, and after their exploits in the grotto, she was feeling happy and overwhelmed. Might he be feeling the same?
Mr. Townsend hadn’t received the hint that she needed to move on, so she shook the mop handle at him.
“What chaos are you planning today, Miss Watson?” he asked.
“I’m tidying Lord John’s office.”
He tsked, as if the notion was preposterous. “Have you sought Melvina’s permission?”
“No. I have Lord John’s.”
“You may suppose you can blith
ely comply with his requests, but if that’s what you assume, you don’t realize who really runs the castle.”
“It’s John Dunn,” she insisted. “I’m certain of it.”
“I’m simply warning you to be careful, Miss Watson. You shouldn’t wave a red scarf at a charging bull.”
He smirked and continued on, and she breathed a sigh of relief. There were many unlikeable people in the castle, and he was at the top of her list.
She marched to the main hall, and as she entered the large room, Melvina Dunn was in the corner talking animatedly to Jane. Jane looked miserable and was obviously anxious to escape, and Winnie went over to supply a rescue.
As she approached, Melvina Dunn said to Jane, “Your father was such an important fellow. Were you close to him?”
“No, Mistress Dunn.”
“You can’t be serious. You’re so pretty and charming. He must have doted on you. Don’t tell me he never gave you an allowance.”
“No, he never did.”
“He wouldn’t have left you without a penny.”
Jane smiled wanly, and Winnie stepped next to her and said, “Pardon me, Mistress Dunn, but Jane and I have some chores.”
“I’m not finished speaking to her, Miss Watson.”
“Sorry, but I’m afraid I have to fetch her away.”
“And I can’t imagine what chores you presume you’re undertaking. I was very clear that day in the kitchen. You are not to butt in where you don’t belong.”
Winnie nodded. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Good. I’m glad you’re learning to obey me.” Melvina pointed to the mop and bucket. “So whatever you were planning with those, you can just put them back.”
“Of course I will. Come, Jane.”
Jane visibly relaxed, and they hurried off, but Winnie wasn’t headed to the kitchen, and Melvina noticed she wasn’t.
“Miss Watson!” she snapped. “Where are you going?”
“I’ve been instructed to clean Lord John’s office.”
“By who?”
“By Lord John. Who would you suppose?”
Winnie urged Jane forward, and Melvina shouted, “Hold it right there! You will not clean it. Not unless I decide you can.”
“Please find Lord John then and discuss it with him, so he can apprise me as to what he’d like instead.”
There were a dozen people in the main hall, mostly malingerers who didn’t have jobs. On hearing Melvina’s shout, they froze and gaped at her. A shocked silence descended.
Winnie ignored the petty drama and proceeded to the office. Along the way, she grabbed a few servants and demanded they accompany her. When they arrived, she assigned tasks to everyone, as Jane loafed, watching them sweep and polish. Very quickly, they were all sneezing and sniffling from the dust, and Winnie opened a window to let in some fresh air.
“May I help, Miss Watson?” Jane inquired. “I don’t mind.”
“You know my opinion, Jane. You should be playing. Once our school lessons begin again, you’ll be busy and wishing you’d enjoyed this period of leisure.”
“I hate to play.”
“What a silly comment.” Winnie studied her, then scowled. “You’re upset. What’s wrong?”
Jane leaned in and whispered, “I don’t like Mistress Dunn.”
“I don’t either,” Winnie whispered in reply. “What were you talking about before I walked up?”
“She constantly pesters me about my father and Benton.”
“She doesn’t believe you’re her niece, so she’s probably trying to pry out details that prove we’re lying.”
“She asks if he left me any money.”
“You mean like a dowry or an inheritance?”
“Yes. She thinks I have a fortune stashed away somewhere, but I don’t, do I?”
“No, you don’t have any money.”
“If I did have some, I’d give it to you, and I certainly wouldn’t tell her about it.”
Winnie chuckled. “You’re a good girl, Jane. Why don’t you go outside?”
“Can’t I stay here with you?”
“Why would you want to?”
“That boy, Huntly? He picks on me, then the other children join in. He bosses me, but when I don’t listen, he gets angry.”
“I can scold him for you. I’ll make him leave you alone.”
“You don’t have to. Bobby punched him for me.”
Winnie’s jaw dropped in surprise. “He what?”
“Bobby punched him, so I doubt he’ll bother me in the future.”
“Is he injured?”
“Maybe. He had a bloody nose, and he was crying like a baby.”
Winnie’s spirits flagged. “This will stir a big controversy with Melvina Dunn, so I must speak with Bobby immediately to hear his version of the event.”
“She shouldn’t permit Huntly to be so horrid. He’s been terrible to us.”
“Yes, but this is her home, and we’re guests and strangers. We can’t antagonize her. She might convince Lord John to evict us over it.”
“She couldn’t convince him, could she?”
“I won’t try to guess, but find Bobby for me.”
“I will.” Jane marched off, but as she exited the room, she stopped and glanced back. “I’m sorry.”
“Why would you be sorry?”
“I never like to cause trouble, and you’ve always been so kind to me.”
“You haven’t caused any trouble. It’s those two boys who are the culprits. Now find Bobby—and hurry.”
Jane flitted out, and Winnie sagged against the wall, wondering what catastrophe was suddenly winging toward her. Melvina pretended she wasn’t Huntly’s mother, but she was, and she’d be incensed over his being pummeled. What would she do about it? More importantly, what would John do?
Winnie couldn’t imagine, but she had to be braced for any dire conclusion.
* * * *
“Who would like to start?”
John barked the question to the large group surrounding him, but only Bobby Prescott was brave enough to step forward.
“I will, Lord John.”
“What would you like to tell me?”
“I assaulted Huntly Dunn. I admit it, and I shouldn’t have, so I’m ready to accept whatever penalty you feel is warranted.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Yes, sir. Please don’t blame my sister or Miss Watson. They weren’t involved, and it was totally my fault for losing my temper when I shouldn’t have.”
“Thank you for being honest with me. I appreciate it.”
Bobby was handsome, smart, and clever and would grow to be quite the gentleman. John liked how he’d taken responsibility, how he yearned to protect Jane and Winnie.
John stared at the assembled crowd. Jane looked stricken, and Winnie morose and alarmed. Melvina was spitting mad and out for blood. Huntly stood in front of her. His nose was swollen, his eyes black and blue. His injuries had to hurt like the very devil, so Bobby had given him a thorough walloping.
Poor Huntly was chubby, ugly, and had few redeeming qualities. John tried to picture the life he’d have at Dunworthy, and it wasn’t pretty.
Melvina pointed a condemning finger at Bobby. “This fiend should be whipped, then locked in the dungeon for a month.”
“That’s rather harsh,” John told her.
“I demand it as Huntly’s…ah…cousin.”
People snickered, and John silenced them with a glare.
“It was just boys fighting,” he said. “It’s not the end of the world.”
But she wouldn’t be placated. “I demand it as Mistress of Dunworthy. A violent criminal can’t be allowed to attack one of our own. He has to learn there are consequences for his brutal behavior.”
“He understands, and he’s agreed to be punished.”
“Yes, but you must choose a castigation that will teach him the right lesson
.”
John wished Melvina had approached him privately about the brawl, but he’d been out all day, and when he’d strolled into the castle unaware, he’d been immediately seized and hustled to the main hall to pass judgment on the two miscreants.
Without knowing any of the facts, he figured Huntly had probably deserved a punch in the nose, but too many of his cousins were watching, and they’d close ranks around Melvina.
“Huntly, Bobby,” he said, “come with me to my office.”
“I’m joining you!” Melvina announced, and she pointed at Bobby again. “You will not meet with this reprobate unless I’m there too.”
Bobby had a big black dog next to him, one that John hadn’t seen before, and at Melvina’s sharp tone, the animal growled at her. She blanched and whirled on Bobby.
“Pets are not permitted in here!” she fumed. “Get that mutt out of my hall!”
Bobby was regal as a prince. He ignored Melvina and spoke to John. “He’s my dog from Benton, Lord John. He followed us all the way—on his own—and he’s only just arrived. He’s been worried about me, and I don’t believe I could persuade him to wait outside.”
“It’s fine,” John said. Melvina was about to explode, and he added, “For now. Bring him along. Huntly, you come too. Melvina, Miss Watson, you’ll stay here, and when I return, you better not have been quarreling.”
Winnie was offended, and Melvina was livid.
“I have no intention of quarreling with Mistress Dunn,” Winnie said, as Melvina said, “If she utters a single word to me, I can’t predict how I’ll react.”
This was precisely the type of household problem he shouldn’t have to manage. He glowered furiously at Melvina. “If you can’t promise to shut up while I’m talking to the boys, then go to your room and remain there until I’m finished.”
Apparently, Melvina couldn’t imagine reining in her notorious temper. She stomped off and headed for the stairs, then John spun and marched in the other direction. Bobby walked with him, matching him stride for stride, as if they were equals. Huntly lumbered after them, Bobby’s dog too, as if he wasn’t about to let Bobby out of his sight.
