“Amy, no!” her father yelled, reaching out to pull her aside himself. “Get out of the way!” He grabbed her by the elbows and sent her stumbling off to the side. Talbot, his face nearly purple with rage, no sooner saw her spin away than he landed a glancing blow against Mapleton’s nose and claret erupted.
Amelia, enraged, seized the closest thing to her, a broom that leaned against the wall in a corner. She came at Tony again, beating him about the shoulders and head with the heavy, stinging straw. Talbot raised his arms to protect his eyes. Mapleton struggled to pull the broomstick away from his daughter. And then a voice roared out above the commotion.
“Stop right now or I will fire!”
Amelia’s head jerked toward the voice and the broom fell from her grip and crashed to the floor. Mr. Talbot lowered his arms and swung around. What he saw drained the rage from his face and replaced it with shock. Lord Mapleton, his nose still pouring blood, inhaled stertorously at the pain in his ribs and grinned at the sight of Geordan, one of the duelling pistols pointed coolly at the three of them. At that moment the cave door opened and two panting puppies bounded in, followed by the countess and Lady Mapleton, both of whom froze on the threshold.
“This is my c-cave,” the earl declared coldly in a voice that seemed much too big for him. “You will n-not hurt each other in my c-cave. Or on any of my l-land, either! Or in any of my h-houses! I am the earl, and you m-must do what I say!”
“Geordie, honey,” whispered his mama, “put that thing down, dear. You are frightening everyone.”
“G-Good! I mean to f-frighten everyone!”
Lord Mapleton chuckled at that, immediately bringing himself to his wife’s attention. “Oh, Max,” she gasped, “you are bleeding!” She hurried quickly to him, and he put his arm around her shoulders. “I am alright, Kate. Just got my cork drawn and a rib cracked, I think. My lord earl,” he continued, giving Catherine’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “I do not believe you pistol is needed. Is it?”
“N-No,” replied Geordan. “I d-do not want to h-hurt anyone.”
“No, I knew you did not want to do that,” Max smiled as the two puppies wiggled unnoticed around the earl’s feet, eagerly attacking his ankles and dashing away.
“Geordan, what is going on?” demanded the countess angrily. “Explain yourself this moment, sir!”
“No, ma’am,” Tony said, as though suddenly awakening from a dream. “It is none of it to do with Geord. We did not even know he was here. The mill was between myself and Lord Mapleton.”
“And Amy,” added Max.
“Amelia?” the countess asked, her bright eyes coming to rest on that dishevelled young lady who returned her look, great green eyes glistening with tears. “Oh, darling, come here to me.” Amelia, glancing at her mother and receiving a nod, fled, weeping, into the countess’s open arms.
“We will finish this, Mapleton, at a more appropriate time,” Talbot muttered, turning on his heel and heading for the door.
“Finish what? Anthony,” declared the countess in stentorian accents, “if you have the audacity to push by Amelia and me and stalk out that door I shall… I shall…”
“You shall what, ma’am?” Talbot asked, drawing up before her where she held a pale Amelia in her arms.
“I shall send you away, cut you from my will, and make the Duchess of Richmond Geordan’s guardian,” the countess hissed.
Amelia trembled as pain, anger and pride covered Talbot’s face and flamed deep in his smouldering eyes. “As you please, ma’am,” he said hoarsely, and turning back he bent to retrieve his gloves, cracked them across Lord Mapleton’s cheek, and bowed to him. “Lord Bristol will support me. You may send your second to him to settle on the time, place and weapons.”
“No, Tony, I will not,” Mapleton replied. “I am not the man who killed your father and I’ll not be the man who kills his son.”
“Oh!” gasped Lady Mapleton, grasping Mr. Talbot’s arm. “Anthony, Max loved your father.”
“Then why, ma’am, was he present at my father’s death and told no one. Why did he draw my father into an ambush and walk away himself unharmed?”
“He never was!” Amelia exclaimed, shocked. “He never did! My father is not such a monster! It is you, Mr. Talbot, who are monstrous and… and despicable!”
“Amy, no,” sighed her father. “Do not call Tony names. He is correct. I was present when his father died. And Daniel did come at my request, was attacked, murdered, and I could do nothing to save him. And I did leave him, did disappear into the night and tell no one.”
“And now Anthony, naturally, thinks you are his father’s murderer,” muttered Lady Mapleton with a frustrated stamp of her foot. “And you will not explain the truth of the matter, will you? Will you, Max?”
“I cannot, Kate. I gave my word.”
“Well, I did not give my word!” exclaimed that lady angrily.
“Kate, do not,” Max sighed wearily. “You have held your peace so long. Do not betray me now.”
“Men!” Lady Mapleton cried, stamping her foot again. “I do not understand what comes over you! I am not honour-bound, Max. I discovered your secret on my own and I did not give my word to keep it. Besides, you are over fifty, Maximillian Gerard Mapleton, and it is long past time for you to keep your promise and retire from the business. Max is an agent of the Crown,” she announced with her chin held high and a dangerous glitter in her emerald eyes. “It is his job to discover robbers and killers and kidnappers and seditionists and provide evidence against them to bring them to trial and prove them guilty. It was Max who saved King George from Colonel Despard’s hideous assassination plot and rescued Miss Badderly from her attackers and helped to form the Bow Street Runners and—”
“That is quite enough, Kate,” Lord Mapleton declared, gazing at the open-mouthed gazes confronting him. “When you empty your duffle, you do it all right and tight, don’t you, old girl?”
“Max,” the countess breathed, still hugging Amelia, “you were Daniel’s new associate? It was you who replaced Henry Cavaleigh?”
Lord Mapleton nodded.
“You are a government agent?” Mr. Talbot asked, his eyes betraying a desperate need to know the truth. “And Papa, Max?”
“There was an urgent need for some honourable means to enforce the law, Tony. And for the upholders to do so quietly, without bringing attention upon themselves. It was your father who first broached the idea to me, brought me into it.”
“And Cavaleigh? Who was he?”
“He was, he was a friend, Tony,” Max sighed. “H was the mail coachman who was shot driving into the Cornish Inn that… day you and Geordie…”
“Uncle H-Harry,” the earl whispered, and everyone in the room, having entirely forgotten his presence, turned toward the sound of his voice to find him sitting cross-legged on the floor with the puppies cradled in his lap. Behind him, her arms around his neck, Lydia Clinton knelt in an old pair of buckskin breeches, a cambric shirt, and one of the earl’s riding coats. “Papa took us to w-wait for Uncle Harry. He was a c-crack whip, he was. Handled the r-ribbons like a regular Jehu. You r-remember Uncle Harry, Tony?”
The countess, giving Miss Mapleton’s shoulders a squeeze, released that young lady, went to her elder son and sat down before him. She took the duelling pistol from between his legs and laid it back up in its box, then rested her hands upon his knees. “Do you remember what happened to Uncle Harry, dearest?” she asked. The auburn curls nodded, though he did not meet her gaze. “The m-mann t-top of the f-furrier’s warehouse shot, shot him. The b-bad man with the ugly n-nose.”
“You saw him shoot your Uncle Harry, Geordan?”
“Y-yes, and the team ran wild. I r-ran away, Mama. I thought Tony r-ran, too. But, but he did not. So I w-went back to f-fetch him. I p-promised that I would look after, after him for you.” The brilliant blue eyes looked up to meet hers. “I had to p-push him very hard out of the w-way. The c-coach was t-tipping and I did not w-want him t
o get s-squashed. D-Did he g-get hurt, Mama? I d-did not want to push him s-so very hard, b-but it was all I c-could think to do.”
Amelia, seeing all the colour drain from Tony’s face at his brother’s words, moved up beside him and took one of his trembling hands in hers.
“I am s-sorry, Mama,” the earl sobbed on a quickly caught breath, beginning to rock slowly back and forth. “P-Please do not be angry. I t-tried to l-look after him.”
“I am not angry, love,” said the countess in a hushed voice. She took his fidgeting hands from the puppies and held them in hers. Together she and Miss Clinton began to rock with him.
“Do not cry, Geordie,” Lydia whispered softly in his ear. “Tony is not hurt, and your mama is not the least bit angry.”
“She s-said, she s-said Tony should n-not be my g-g-guardian. It is b-because I was so d-dumb, and I h-hurt him.”
Amelia gave Tony’s arm a tug, and he gazed down at her in confusion. “Go hug hum and tell him he is mistaken in your mama’s meaning,” she urged softly. “And take him outside with you. He does not want to be crying in front of everyone. Lydia and your mama are not able to pull him up and whisk him outside. Please, Tony,” she begged, “he needs you.”
Tony, feeling as though his mind were somehow wrapped in cotton, his eyes burning, and his ears ringing with the screams of horror from his childhood, stepped forward. Bending at the waist, he lifted one puppy toward his mother and another toward Miss Clinton. Each let go their grip on the earl to take the dogs. Then Tony clutched his brother by both arms and pulled him to his feet in a great bear hug. “You are mistaken, rascal,” he sighed, holding Geordan tight against his chest. “I did not get hurt, and Mama does not mean to take me away from you. I shall be your guardian for always and always. You see if I am not!” Miss Mapleton having opened the little door, Mr. Talbot swept the earl out into the late afternoon light.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
MR. TALBOT held the earl in his arms for a long time saying nothing at all. His mind whirled with memories and suspicions, questions and doubts. Mouse, who had been wandering about the woods not far from the earl’s cave, came into the clearing and watched the two gravely. With a shake of his head, he approached the pair, and his long tongue came out to lick the earl’s curls. Getting no response, Mouse began to nibble on them. In the past that had always gotten his master’s attention. But the earl paid him no heed and kept his head buried in Tony’s shoulder. It was Tony who finally stopped the nibbling by giving the horse’s nose a push aside and muttering at him to try the bushes instead.
“He d-does not like the b-bushes,” the earl’s voice said on a sob into Tony’s neckcloth.
“He does not? Really?” Tony asked in a bantering tone.
“N-No. He l-likes my h-hair.”
“But you’ll be bald if you let him keep chewing it, Geord. And Miss Lydia will not like you half so well if you are bald.”
“I d-don’t c-care.”
“But you like Miss Lydia, don’t you?”
“N-No. I l-like Amelia,” sobbed the earl. “I love Lydie.”
“Oh,” said Talbot quietly, tightening his arms around his brother and planting a soft kiss on the top of his head. “I have gotten it wrong then.”
“You were supposed to l-love Amelia,” the earl sniffed, his fingers clutching Tony’s lapels. “And she was s-supposed to love you. That was my p-plan.”
“It was a very good plan,” Tony whispered.
“N-No, it wasn’t. You h-hurt Max, and now Amy will h-hate you. And she will n-not marry you if she h-hates you, will she?”
“No, I don’t suppose she will, not if she hates me.”
“N-No, I did not think so,” sobbed the earl quietly. “She h-hit you with a b-broom.”
“Indeed,” agreed Talbot, a smile twitching his lips.
“Y-Yes, and she stomped on your f-foot, too.”
“And you, sir, pointed a duelling pistol at me.”
“J-Just to make you stop hitting Max,” the earl said, looking up at his brother with red-rimmed eyes. “I m-made sure it was not l-loaded, Tony.”
“Thank you so much for such condescension,” Talbot grinned. “You are a reprehensible brat, you know, and quite beyond redemption. Did you know, Geord, that Papa was a spy?”
The earl shook his head and sniffed, wiping his sleeve across his nose. “I thought they were only in b-books. Was he a g-good spy, Tony?”
“I have no idea. We shall have to ask Max, shall we not?”
“Max w-will not w-want to t-talk to us anymore.”
“Oh, you are very wrong about that, young man,” Lord Mapleton proclaimed. He was standing only a few feet away from the brothers and had been standing there unnoticed for some time. “May I?” he asked, offering to take the earl into his own arms. Tony looked at him oddly, then nodded, and Max pulled the earl into a hug of his own. “You are an extremely remarkable gudgeon,” Mapleton murmured, the fingers of one hand playing with Geordan’s curls. “Can you remember for me about the man with the crooked nose, Geordie? Can you remember if you ever saw him again?”
“Not now, Max,” Tony protested.
“Now is the best time, Tony, because if Geordie can remember, I think I can tell you who it was who killed your father. Did you ever see him again, scamp? The man with the crooked nose? Did he come to Westerley, perhaps?”
The earl shook his head, then stopped shaking it and looked up. “He d-did come here,” he whispered, mystified. “He d-did, Max. He c-came to speak to Papa, and he m-made Papa very angry.”
“But you did not remember who he was then, did you, Geord? Because you did not remember about your Uncle Harry.”
“N-No, I did not r-remember about Uncle Harry until j-just when you and Mama s-spoke about him.”
“You’re a regular plum one, my lad,” growled Lord Mapleton with a smile. “As brave as they come, and up to every rig. Do you remember seeing that man again, Geordan? Think very hard now, for you would not be expecting to see him where I think you did.”
The earl closed his eyes and thought very hard. When he opened them again, they were as wide and as awed as Tony had ever seen them. “The m-man at the g-gathering,” he said with a touch of wonder. “The m-man with the deep voice who t-talked so much. The one Bear said everyone c-came to listen to.”
“He is the same man who shot your Uncle Harry, Geord?”
“Y-Yes. He is the b-bad man with the ugly n-nose.”
Max hugged Geordan so hard that the earl squeaked. “I knew it! I could never prove it was him but I knew it was so.”
“Zachariah Wolfe?” Talbot asked, his own eyes widening. “Zachariah Wolfe murdered our father?”
“Well, I don’t say we can prove it, Tony, unless Geordie can remember when it was he came to Westerley, but it is a certain enough thing that he shot Harry, for Geordan saw him do so, and my friends will get the rest out of him, believe me.”
“He c-came the day after you b-brought the p-painting for my cave,” Geordan announced proudly. “Papa c-could not come with me to h-hang it up because the m-man with the crooked nose was come to s-see him. Martin had to h-help me instead.”
“Excellent,” Mapleton nodded. “Tony, you must check your father’s journals. I brought the picture for Geord the same day we agreed to meet at the Hasslington Tollgate.”
“Then I must find Wolfe,” Tony growled, his eyes narrowing.
“No,” Max drawled. “Wolfe is already on his way to the gallows. He was arrested for sedition the night of Amy’s ball, and believe me Tony, there is more than enough evidence to see him convicted of it. He will hang before the end of summer. But now we may lay Harry’s murder at his feet as well, and your father’s once we discover how he twigged to our meeting place.”
The earl’s ankles were quite suddenly attacked by two little balls of fury, and he laughed charmingly down at them.
“Does that reasonably happy sound mean that we may come out now?” asked the countess from b
ehind the raspberry bush.
“I believe so,” answered Max, as the countess, Lady Mapleton, Amelia and Lydia trod into the clearing.
“Geordie,” his mother announced, taking his hand in her own, “you must sneak Miss Lydia back into the house, you know. She will not want others to see her dressed in your clothes. It would be most embarrassing for her.”
“You will n-not send Tony away from m-me?”
“No, dear. I said what I did not mean because I was so very angry with him. I have never done such a thing before, have I?”
“N-No, Mama. You always say exactly what you m-mean.”
“Yes, so you will not be confused, my love. And I am very sorry that I did not do so this time. I shall not forget again. And I do want you to sneak Miss Lydia back into Westerley.”
“R-Right!” said the earl. “C-Come on, Lydie.” He held out a hand to her, and she took it with a grateful smile at the countess. Geordan whistled to Mouse, and when the stallion came, he helped Lydia to swing into the saddle and swung up behind her. They started at a trot back down to the house.
“I definitely do not believe it,” Amelia said. “Lydia is holding the reins and doing it almost competently.”
“Yes,” Talbot laughed, “but Geord is telling Mouse what to do with his boot heels and the beast is paying no attention at all to the reins.”
“Still, it is remarkable, Mr. Talbot, that she should not be frightened out of her wits by the animal,” Amelia observed with her small, straight nose in the air.
“Talbot,” Lord Mapleton interrupted, “will you look to my daughter, please? I wish to speak privately to your mother and Kate. We will meet you at the house.”
Tony studied the older man’s face. His nose had stopped bleeding, though his eyes still seemed to reflect the pain in his ribs. “Are you sure you would not like to lean on me, Max? Or I could come back for you with the farm wagon.”
Amelia's Intrigue (Regency Idyll Book 1) Page 32
