The Marriage Ring

by Cathy Maxwell

  His father and uncle visited the same tailor and the same boot maker. They always wore dark colors—black, gray, brown—and had the uncanny habit of wearing the same colors on the same day. Richard knew it wasn’t planned in advance. Each just sensed what the other was thinking. And this extraordinary communication extended to other matters as well. They were hand-in-hand in most matters, although his uncle was often the more aggressive of the two.

  One of the other few differences was that his uncle had never married.

  Nor had he and Richard been close. It was presumed that Richard was his heir as well as his father’s…but Richard sensed his uncle saw him as competition. Certainly, Richard viewed him that way.

  “The two of you are up late,” he observed.

  “We are waiting for a shipping report,” his uncle said.

  It was not unusual for them to wait up if they thought a ship was coming in on the late tide. However, Richard didn’t know of any ship expected to come into port this night. “What is the ship’s name?”

  His father closed his eyes. His uncle answered. “The Willow.”

  “I’m not familiar with it,” Richard said.

  “It’s not ours. It’s one we are thinking of investing in,” his uncle explained.

  Richard could advise them not to do so right now. They were already heavily invested in their fleet. The time had come to turn their attention to other matters. However, he knew to save his breath with his uncle.

  “I’ve had a busy evening,” he said instead.

  “Really? Where have you been?” his father asked, opening his eyes as if appreciating the change of topic.

  “The theater.”

  “Oh?” his uncle replied without interest. His attention was on his twin. “Gregory, don’t you believe you have had enough?”

  His father set down the now empty glass. He shrugged an answer, reached for the decanter, and then let his hand fall on the desk blotter.

  He gave Richard a wan smile. “What did you see at the theater?” he asked, obviously making small talk.

  “Grace MacEachin.”

  If he had announced that he’d signed a pact with the devil, their reactions couldn’t have been more thunderstruck. His uncle turned so quickly to look at Richard, he almost knocked over the globe stand. His father stood and then sat, his face growing paler.

  “Whatever for?” his uncle demanded.

  “I want to help with this matter.” Richard leaned an arm on the desk toward his father as he said, “I can help.”

  His father shook his head, his mouth open as if he wanted to speak and yet had no words. His uncle crossed to the desk to stand beside his twin. “What do you know about our business?”

  “Father spoke to me this afternoon,” Richard answered.

  “Why, Gregory?” his uncle said under his breath.

  “I was worried,” his father explained. “I was weak. You weren’t here.”

  “But I was,” Richard said. “Don’t worry, Uncle. I’m here to help.”

  “And what sort of help is that? Going to see that disgraceful woman…what lies did she tell you?” his uncle said.

  “Nothing I believed. In fact, I’ve come up with a solution.”

  His father straightened. “What can be done?”

  “I’m going to Scotland to confront her father,” Richard said. “We leave on the morrow.”

  “Scotland?” his uncle repeated in disbelief.

  “Yes, Inverness, where her father lives. I shall expose the man and his story for the sham that they are.”

  “That cursed woman.” Richard’s father stood, picked up the glass he’d set aside and threw it with all his might at the wall. The sound of shattering glass and the sweet, thick smell of brandy filled the air.

  “Gregory,” his uncle said, the word a warning.

  Richard’s father turned to his twin. For a second, they faced each other…and then his father’s back straightened. He turned to Richard. “No. You will not go anywhere with her. Do you understand? You will stay here.”

  Richard had spent a lifetime obeying his father’s decrees. He’d done so out of duty and out of need for this man’s approval.

  And now, for the first time, he must disobey.

  Something inside of him insisted he had to make the trip. He must.

  “I’m sorry, Father. I must go.”

  Chapter Five

  His father’s head cocked to one side as if he wasn’t certain he’d heard Richard correctly. His uncle stood very still.

  Richard used his extraordinary height to his advantage as he attempted to explain himself.

  “The only way we will contain these false allegations against the two of you is to confront them,” he insisted. “Once Miss MacEachin and her father realize we refuse to be blackmailed, they will cease to be a nuisance or a threat. I’ll be surprised if she doesn’t change her story halfway down the road when she sees what lengths we will go for the truth.”

  “I don’t want you involved in this,” his father said, his tone harsh.

  “I already am involved,” Richard said quietly. “I’ve worked to help build our family fortune, but it isn’t just about what’s in my pocket or my inheritance.” He wished his uncle wasn’t in the room. He wished this conversation was just between he and his father. “This afternoon, Father, you told me about this woman and that you were afraid of her. You are right to be so. You’ve worked hard for your reputation, especially in the face of extreme prejudice and misunderstanding. I know how you feel. I’ve been the victim of it myself, but you needn’t be afraid of her false accusations any longer. I shall expose her for the fraud she is.”

  His father shot a guilty look at his twin. He lowered his head. “I said I don’t want you involved, Richard. This is not your affair.”

  “On the contrary,” his uncle said, “I believe Richard should go.”

  Richard didn’t know who was more stunned by this statement: himself or his father.

  “He’s not a part of this,” his father said.

  “Of course, he is.” His uncle Stephen pulled his gaze away from his twin’s and said, “Your father was upset this afternoon, as any honest man would be to be accused of such a vile crime. You know how rumors travel in London.”

  “All the more reason to confront MacEachin,” Richard said, and his uncle nodded.

  “It’s a fool’s errand,” his father insisted. “They want money. We should just pay them. That will shut them up.”

  “And then the threat of their accusations will be hanging over our heads forever,” his uncle said. “Besides, the hour grows late. I don’t believe we’ll receive a report from the Willow. The ship might not have found port.” He said this pointedly, as if it meant something to his father. Richard wondered at the odd change of subject. Did they fear for their incomes?

  “There is plenty of money in the accounts,” Richard stated.

  “Yes, yes, we know that,” his uncle said. “Richard, you have been a paragon. You’ve made us two of the most wealthy men in England. We could offer money and not worry about this nonsense forever,” he said, addressing his father, “but why should we, when Richard, who is so able at other matters, has offered to take care of the situation?”

  His father still stared at his uncle as if uncertain…but then slowly seemed to understand. That look passed between them once again, leaving Richard out.

  “There isn’t another way?” his father asked.

  “I wish there were. But I’ve come to believe Richard is right. He is already involved through his relationship to us. And out of necessity, he must be. If Miss MacEachin carries on enough, she can do irreparable damage to our reputations. We’ve worked hard for them, Gregory. Very hard. And we have more than a few enemies who would only be too happy to see us ruined.”

  “It’s my family name at stake, too,” Richard pointed out, but his words were overridden by his father.

  “You’ve always underestimated him,” he said to his twin as
if Richard wasn’t in the room.

  “Yes, so you have accused me of doing several times over the years,” Uncle Stephen answered. “However, he has earned my respect, especially after confronting the tart tonight. Tell me, Richard, what did she say when she met you? You are a big man. I’m surprised your presence alone wasn’t enough to set her right.”

  “Miss MacEachin has more spirit than common sense,” Richard reported. “To give you an example of her tenacity, she was attacked twice this evening and whereas other women would have gone off in a swoon, she is still ready to do battle.”

  “Attacked?” his father asked, his voice cracking.

  “Yes,” Richard said. “I came upon a scene in her dressing room where a fellow with the theater, the stage manager, was attacking her. She fought with all she had. I quickly ended the fight by throwing the man out. Then later, he must have had some of his cronies attempt to waylay her by her door. They weren’t expecting to see me,” he said, unable to keep the pride from his voice.

  “Waylaid on the way home,” his uncle repeated. He looked to his twin. “This tart lives an adventurous life. Imagine, attacked twice in one night.”

  His uncle’s use of the word “tart,” while in principle correct, annoyed Richard so he made a point of using her name. “Miss MacEachin has the looks that make men…” He paused, suddenly at a loss for words. How to explain her without making her look like a “tart”?

  “Act like dogs chasing a bitch in heat?” his uncle suggested.

  Richard didn’t like the comparison. It might apply to himself as well.

  His uncle read his silence correctly. “I beg pardon. That was earthy of me. I can be too blunt.”

  “But apt,” his father jumped in. “I’d wager a hundred guineas it is the truth. She’s in all the papers. They can’t seem to print enough ink about her. The ‘Scottish songbird.’” He rose from his desk and crossed to the liquor cabinet for another glass to pour himself another drink. “The Scottish songbird—how ridiculous!”

  His uncle sighed heavily and then said to Richard, “My brother takes his reputation seriously.”

  “Each of us does,” Richard answered. “And it is what I said to Miss MacEachin. She—” He paused, weighed what he was about to say and knew he must. Honesty forced him to speak in her defense. “It isn’t that she wishes to blackmail. She truly believes her father’s story, which is all the more reason for me to confront him. She even imagined the men who attacked her were hired by the two of you. I told her that didn’t make sense. I was with her. Why would they attack me, too?”

  “Exactly,” his uncle agreed. He shook his head. “This has gone on too far. Richard, I am glad you are taking this bull by the horns. Or should I say the cow by the bell?” He laughed at his small joke, then added soberly, “I haven’t been as supportive of you and your role in our businesses as I should have been. I felt you were too young. I know, I know, you are nine and twenty…but still, I am an uncle. It takes time for those closest to us to see the truth. But stepping forward for this…? My nephew, you are impressing me.

  His father gulped his newly poured drink, sitting silent behind his desk.

  “I want you to take my new coach to Scotland,” his uncle said with sudden decision. “It’s well-sprung and fast on the roads. You won’t find a better ride. Besides, Dawson is from the North. There is no better coachman for knowing the side paths and shortcuts.” Dawson was his uncle’s driver and one of the best whips in London. Many had attempted to hire the man away from Uncle Stephen and been rebuffed. His loyalty was well known.

  “Why, thank you,” Richard said. Realizing he might not have sounded as appreciative as he was, he explained, “I’ve longed for a ride in the new coach but knew better than to ask.”

  “Nonsense, it is the least I can do. Isn’t that right, Gregory?”

  Richard’s father lifted his gaze to his twins. Slowly, his shoulders straightened. He pushed the drink away. “That is right.” He turned to Richard. “Take Herbert with you, too. You must look your best when you meet MacEachin.” Herbert was the valet they shared. Miss MacEachin wasn’t the only frugal one. Richard’s father was notoriously tight and Richard prided himself on being of a frugal nature, too. Besides, he wasn’t a fussy man and didn’t require a valet’s continuous services.

  “Herbert is good with a gun,” his father continued. “He can ride up with Dawson. In fact, I imagine he would enjoy the trip. He’s been complaining about city life more than usual these last few weeks.”

  “That’s true,” Richard agreed.

  “Gregory, I’ll provide an extra coachman,” his uncle protested. “Your valet can stay home.

  His father frowned at his twin. “The valet is my contribution, brother. We both carry our equal weight. Always. Besides, I trust Herbert as you trust Dawson.”

  His uncle acted as if ready to argue and then, with a glance at his brother, must have thought differently, because he forced his lips into a smile. “As you say. Herbert and Dawson should be able to help you handle the tart—” He caught himself. “Miss MacEachin.”

  Richard was thankful Herbert would travel with him. His mind was having a hard time accepting this new, benevolent side to his uncle. The man came across as almost jovial, and that was suspicious considering the circumstances.

  “What time do you leave in the morning?” his uncle asked.

  “Early. Shortly before eight.”

  “I shall have Dawson and the team here at half past seven.”

  “Thank you,” Richard answered because he thought he must. He stood. “Well, then I need to find my bed. Father, do you need help?”

  His father had been pushing his brandy glass along the desk’s leather blotter, his manner preoccupied. “No, I shall be fine.” He glanced up at Richard. “I’m not as deep into my cups as Stephen thinks.”

  His twin snorted his opinion.

  “Do leave a note for your mother,” his father instructed. Richard’s mother spent a good deal of time in bed. She suffered from melancholy and had a taste for laudanum. They both knew she wouldn’t be up before noon on the morrow, and even if she was, Richard doubted if she’d care about his leaving.

  “I shall do so.” Richard moved to the door. “Well, then, good night.”

  “Enjoy your adventure,” his uncle said.

  “I will,” Richard answered. At the door, he paused. “By the way, Father, Uncle, this MacEachin, Miss MacEachin’s father—did you know him?” His father had claimed to be unaware of him this afternoon, but the lawyer in Richard needed to ask one more time with his uncle present.

  “I never laid eyes on the man,” his father quickly said. “Never been to Scotland even.”

  “I was in Scotland,” his uncle answered. “Up around Inverness on a fishing trip. That was ten, maybe even twelve years ago.”

  “The crime MacEachin is accusing you of would have happened around that time, wouldn’t it?”

  “Dear God, Richard, are you accusing your uncle?”

  “No, Father. But I have to know the facts to expose the lies in MacEachin’s story.”

  “He’s right, Gregory,” his uncle said. “Actually, I believe it would have had to happen a decade ago. After all, MacEachin was transported.”

  “And how do you know that?” Richard asked.

  “Because Miss MacEachin told us in her letter,” his uncle said. “Would you like to read it?”

  “Yes, I would,” Richard said.

  “He’s a good legal mind,” his uncle said to his father. “We are fortunate for that. Give him the letter.”

  Richard didn’t know why he was delving deeper. Perhaps because his uncle was too buoyant, too accommodating about the situation.

  Or perhaps his extra suspicions were because Miss MacEachin was too beautiful and he wanted to believe the best of her.

  His father pulled the letter from a desk drawer and offered it to Richard, who scanned it quickly. Miss MacEachin’s forthright manner was very much in evide
nce. She stated her accusations and her reasons. She thought her father should receive some sort of compensation for what he’d suffered because of the twins and was bold enough to suggest a price of twenty-five thousand pounds.

  “She believes his story,” Richard said.

  “It’s unfortunate,” his uncle agreed. “She could not know her father well. He’s lying and it may go badly for her.”

  His father didn’t say anything.

  “She says she wants the truth,” Richard answered. “That’s what I shall offer her. Good night.”

  He left the room, but he didn’t leave the hallway.

  Instead, he lingered not far from the library door, pretending to go through some mail on a table should his father, uncle, or a passing servant come this way. It was a habit he’d developed over the years, allowing him to eavesdrop. It was in this fashion he’d learned he was to be shipped off to school, of Holburn’s father’s death, of everything of importance in the family and his life.

  “I feel good Dawson will be with him,” his uncle said as if his father had asked a question.

  “It is a pity everything couldn’t have been laid to rest this night.”

  “But Richard’s taking her to Scotland is even better. It removes her from town. From us.”

  There is silence. “He’s my son.”

  His uncle made an impatient sound. “And my heir. Dawson will know how to handle everything. Will Herbert work with him?”

  “Of course.”

  “Now come, let’s see you to bed. You don’t have a head for spirits.”

  Richard moved quickly down the hall and climbed the stairs to his room. The twins hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary…so why did he feel unsettled?

  Herbert usually attended his father at night, so Richard set about throwing some clothes in a bag in anticipation of the trip. He planned on traveling light and didn’t really want the burden of a valet but understood his father wished Herbert to keep an eye on him. He wondered when his father would finally trust him, or what he’d have to do to prove his loyalty and devotion to his sire.

  A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Thinking it must be Herbert come to help him pack, Richard said, “I’m almost done packing, Herbert. See to yourself. I don’t need your services tonight.”