“He must be in his sixties or seventies at least,” Harper sighed. “But he has already told the Cavendish brothers the story of when he and this Alice woman came together and admitted to having a child with her. If he didn’t want me to know he was my father, he could have just denied everything.”
“But would they have just accepted his word, or would they have gone after the proof themselves?”
Harper knew that Joseph was right. The Cavendish brothers would never have just acted on a man’s word. They first received the information from their aunt, who had wanted to clear the air before her death. Then they went to the solicitor ‘father’ for confirmation. If he had denied everything, the Cavendish brothers would have undoubtedly continued their hunt for the truth.
“The Cavendish brothers are not the kind of men to action something like this on a whim. They seemed convinced that they had the facts right when they accosted me but acknowledged they didn’t have proof.”
“Accosted you?” Joseph lifted his brows, clearly intrigued.
Harper rolled his eyes and told him what had happened when had first met the Cavendish brothers. Joseph was clutching his sides with laughter by the time Harper had finished.
“It’s not funny,” Harper drawled. “I still have the lump on my head.”
“You are right. Entitled men are arrogant fops who think that they are above the law most of the time,” Joseph sighed. “But this lot sound like a lively bunch.” He studied the floor beneath his boots for several long moments before he looked at Harper. “What makes you think that they weren’t trying to put you off?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, they could have arranged to meet you somewhere. Knocking you out cold and kidnapping you seems an extreme way of breaking such news to anyone. If Dominic Cavendish is friends with Sir Hugo, surely he would have felt that he could tell his friend and ask him to help arrange a meeting? It all seems rather odd, if you ask me, and that is before you even get here and things really do start to get strange.”
“I know. It all started when I got knocked on the head. Nothing has seemed the same ever since.”
“I cannot tell you what to do, Harper, but I think that because people use the spare set of keys to the church on a daily basis, and think nothing of having free access to the vicarage in the same way as they do with the church, you need to focus your efforts a bit more on finding that parish register. Forget the keys. Their disappearance could be just circumstance.”
“I suppose.”
“Look, nobody new can really stay in this village without people noticing them. We are not on a main through-road to a major town. Anyone who comes here does so for a reason, so you need to look further afield,” Joseph reasoned.
“You could be right. We got locked into the church at Moldton.”
“Arrabella knows the cleaning ladies and has been the verger there for several years,” Joseph added. “If anyone can ask around for you, she can. This is a parish register that has gone missing, not some personal papers. It is a vital piece of the church equipment that contains private details of a lot of people; most of whom are still in the area.”
“I know. It is also really heavy and not something you would tuck under your arm without attracting the attention of several people. He could have been noticed walking around with a heavy book.”
“So you can conclude that the person who is trying to stop you getting the information is not from Hambley Wood, is not Arrabella, or any of us. You need to look to Moldton. I think that there will have been a stranger sighted by someone, you just need to find out who he is and where he is.”
“I need Arrabella’s help, don’t I?”
Joseph nodded. “But remember that Moldton is just like Hambley Wood. Gossips rule, so if you don’t want to attract it; don’t do it.”
Harper also knew that if the person who had the register now was prepared to steal it, they would also be prepared to do whatever it took to keep it. Arrabella could be in significant danger. “God, what a mess,” he whispered.
“If you need me, you know where I am.”
Harper nodded and watched the dogs walk toward the door. They had clearly had enough of sitting beside the fire and were eager to get some work done. He knew that Joseph probably had a million jobs to do and so made his own way toward the door.
“Can I ask you if you were in the vicarage garden the night before last?”
“Pardon?” The blank look on Joseph’s face told Harper everything he needed to know and waved his brother goodbye.
As he left the farmyard, he thought about what Joseph had said. Although his brother could be right in that the disappearance of the keys could be mere circumstance, Harper had learned from his time with the Star Elite that it was ever wise to leave questions unanswered. Something about those keys plagued him, only he couldn’t quite figure out what it was. On the surface, it all seemed very innocent; someone had borrowed the keys to get into the church and had simply forgotten to return them. It was a reasonable enough explanation. But, there was something about the timing of the keys going missing at the same time as the register that he just couldn’t ignore.
CHAPTER NINE
Rather than head over to the vicarage Harper decided to go to Moldton to find out where travellers were able to stay instead. It didn’t take long before he established that there were only two taverns which rented their rooms out. They were at opposite ends of the main road, and were both well run, although small, establishments. He didn’t want to venture inside either tavern to take a closer look at the patrons for fear of tipping off their thief, and took a few moments to study the surrounding area just in case his quarry spotted him and decided to make a run for freedom.
Once back on the main road, he studied the church spire for several moments. He knew that the register wasn’t there, and the keys were hardly likely to be there either, but he found himself standing just inside the entrance hall ten minutes later anyway.
Suddenly, he sensed movement behind him but unfortunately far too late to avoid the heavy object that was swung at his head. He ducked, but the heavy brass candlestick caught him on his temple anyway. He blinked back the stars that danced before him and swung out with his fist in an attempt to catch his assailant. The grunt from his attacker was music to his ears and he gritted his teeth in an attempt to keep the swirling blackness at bay until he got his assailant out of the church.
“You won’t stop me,” he ground out. “I am going to get that register.” He wasn’t answered of course, but then he didn’t need to be.
Over his lifetime he had been in more than his fair share of fist fights and knew how to gauge his opponent’s abilities. This one knew how to duke it out, but was not familiar with the down and dirty fighting Harper had frequently been subjected to. His gaze was locked on the heavily disguised figure of the man as they traded blows, but it was impossible to identify any distinguishing features because of the large scarf that was draped around the lower part of the man’s face, and the large hood on the dark cloak that covered everything else but his eyes.
“I suggest you bring that bloody register back before I pound it out of you,” he snarled as he dodged another swinging fist. Harper knew that they could continue to trade blows all night and decided to drop his head and charge. Unfortunately, his intent must have been written on his face because the man suddenly turned and fled.
Harper tried to race after him but, as soon as he moved, the church began to swirl around him and the shadows around the edges of his vision began to cloud over. His stomach rolled sickeningly to the point that he knew that if he didn’t get outside he was going to be sick. Sure enough, by the time he got into the churchyard, his battered body objected to the demands he placed on it and he lost the contents of his stomach in the bushes. When he finished, he glanced down the lane and cursed at the sight of his assailant hurrying down the road at a rapid clip. Rather than give chase, Harper sat on the lawn and rested his elbows on his bent k
nees while he studied the direction the man had gone. He knew now that the thief was a man, and someone who could afford a few luxuries if the quality of the cloak he wore was anything to go by. Although he hadn’t said a word, the way the man fought suggested that he was more familiar with gentleman’s clubs than the work of the Star Elite.
It took quite some time before Harper felt strong enough to walk anywhere without staggering. As soon as he felt strong enough, he slowly made his way toward Hambley Wood.
“Mrs Able!” Arrabella shouted as soon as she opened the door and caught sight of Harper on the doorstep. “Good heavens, what has happened to you?”
Just the sound of her voice was a blessed relief to Harper who, by the time he reached the vicarage, was seriously struggling to keep his wits about him. He couldn’t remember one thing about the journey but, now that he was safe, he remembered that his brother, the doctor, had a house and a practice at Moldton: the village he had just left.
Before he could speak, he was led into the sitting room and settled before the fire. When Mrs Able appeared in the doorway, Arrabella swung into action.
“Go and send Billy Reynolds for the doctor.” She ordered and turned to Harper with a militant gleam in her eye. “Stay right where you are. Do you feel sick? Dizzy?”
When Harper didn’t immediately respond, she seemed to take his absent minded behaviour as illness and began to flutter around him with all of the determination of an avenging angel.
“Stay right where you are, I will be back in a moment.” She didn’t have the chance to give Mrs Able any more instructions; the woman had already left the house and was half-running, half-walking across the garden toward the village.
“Stay right there,” she snapped, and hurried to the kitchen where she hastily collected the items she would need and carried them all back to the sitting room. She found Harper resting his head against the back of the chair. His eyes were closed and, if it hadn’t been for the steady rise and fall of his chest she would really have panicked because his pale complexion was so stark against the crimson stain of blood that covered half of his face.
As soon as he had left the house last night she had bitterly regretted her outburst. Her behaviour had been wanton and, although she had over-reacted, she couldn’t really blame him for taking advantage of the situations that had been presented to him. She had hardly done anything to fight him off and so only had herself to blame for what had happened between them.
It all seemed to be of little importance at the moment though; the large cut on his temple was still oozing and, if the large red stain that covered the left side of his chest was anything to go by, had been for some time.
“Here, let me see if we can get this cleaned up a bit.” The sight of blood didn’t bother her one bit, although she had never seen it on someone she cared about before. The sight of Harper, who usually appeared to be a tower of strength, pale, covered in blood and struggling to focus on anything, was unnerving. She wanted to ask him how he had done it but knew from the dazed look in his eye that she was not likely to get any accurate details out of him.
When he didn’t appear to have heard her, she dipped several strips of cloth into the bowl of warm water and began to dab at his temple. As soon as she touched his skin, one hand shot up and captured her wrist in a hold that was firm but gentle. His bleary eyes opened and he glared up at her for a moment before the sinister threat vanished and was replaced with something warmer, and considerably friendlier. The change in him was so swift, so unnerving, that the hand that began to dab at his temple trembled slightly.
“Arrabella.”
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” she replied somewhat defensively and frowned at him. Which man was the real Harper Lawton? She kept seeing shadows of a much harder, more ruthless man, yet he was quickly covered by someone who was considerably more amenable.
“I am sorry, I am just wary. Have you locked the door?”
Arrabella shook her head. “Mrs Able is due back in a minute. She has gone to send a lad to fetch Angus.”
Harper bit back a curse and focused his attention on staying awake. Not that he would be much use if anyone did creep into the house for nefarious purposes, but he would hate to pass out on her and wake up to find that she had been hurt in some way while he had been unconscious. He was busy trying to get his thoughts into some semblance of order when the rattle of the front door heralded the arrival of Mrs Able, who was breathing heavily when she appeared in the doorway.
“On his way. He shouldn’t be long now.”
“Can you make some sweet tea?”
Mrs Able nodded and took a moment to drape a blanket over Harper’s knees before she added another log to the fire and hurried out.
Arrabella rinsed the cloths and continued to dab the blood away. Although the cut on his head wasn’t large, it had formed into a large goose egg that was starting to turn dark already.
“How long have you been like this?” She stood back to scowl down at him. “I mean, when did it happen?”
Harper frowned at that. “I went to see Joseph.”
“Joseph did this?” She demanded loudly. It seemed so unlike Joseph that she wondered if Harper had it right, and was relieved when Harper immediately began to shake his head only to wince and groan as his head screamed in protest and stars began to dance behind his eyelids again.
“I went to see Joseph,” he whispered. “Then went to the church in Moldton. Someone followed me there.”
“Moldton? What did you go to Moldton church for?”
She strongly suspected that Harper wasn’t a deeply religious person and, with the register still missing, she could see no reason for him to return there. Had he been planning to search the ante room again?
“I don’t know,” he mumbled.
Arrabella frowned and turned to Mrs Able, who returned with a tray of tea things. “He needs to lie down,” she announced flatly.
“If he sits there he is going to fall over, and that’s a fact. If he can stay awake long enough, let’s see if we can get him upstairs,” Mrs Able declared. She plonked the tray down on the table and rolled the sleeves of her apron up as though she was going to arm-wrestle him.
“Harper?”
“I heard,” Harper whispered. He wanted to object; to assure them that he was fine, but in reality he knew that he wasn’t. There was damned little he could do about the fierce pounding in his head, and he felt as weak as a newborn baby. With the ladies on either side of him, he launched out of his chair and felt the world swim alarmingly. It galled him to have the ladies help him up the stairs but there was little he could do except watch where he put his feet and try not to completely humiliate himself and fall flat on his face.
The softness of the bed seemed to embrace him and felt heavenly as he lay down. For the first time since his attacker had struck, Harper felt the world begin to settle.
“Arrabella? Keep the front door locked.” He included Mrs Able in his instruction and watched the question enter the older woman’s eyes, but she didn’t ask and disappeared out of the room with Arrabella in hot pursuit.
He wasn’t alone for long. His eyelids had started to droop when he became aware of the flurry of movement beside him. It took a lot of effort for him to turn his head and look at her and, when he did, he immediately wished he hadn’t because pain exploded again and made the world start to dim.
“I am sorry, Arrabella. I will get out of here the first chance I get, I promise.”
“I am glad that you managed to get here without ending up in a ditch, and you can stay as long as you need to. You are hardly in a fit state to go anywhere, now are you?”
He hated to admit it but he wasn’t, and felt himself drifting off to sleep while she continued to dab at the wound on his temple.
Angus arrived a short time later and took the stairs two at a time. He examined his brother and declared that he would have to remain in bed for at least a couple of days. The wound had been bandaged but Harper was li
kely to be in discomfort for a while. Throughout it all, Harper remained fast asleep and didn’t even appear to have noticed that Angus had arrived.
“I am sorry but I just don’t know what happened. He was mumbling a little and didn’t seem to know where he was,” Arrabella sighed as she led Angus back down the stairs toward the front door.
“I will stay as well, just in case the master takes ill in the night. I don’t want Arrabella to have to deal with him by herself,” Mrs Able assured him.
“Quite,” Angus replied. “I could arrange for him to be moved to Moldton, but it will take a couple of hours to muster the men to carry him.”
“No, it is alright, really. It would seem a little churlish for us to insist that he is removed from the vicarage while he is so poorly. Leave him where he is, I am sure that Mrs Able and I can look after him.” She offered Angus some tea but he declined citing the need to return to his surgery full of patients, whom he had just abandoned.
As she showed him to the door however, she had to ask. “Can you tell me, doctor, have you seen any strangers in the village of late?”
“Strangers? Why, no. I don’t believe that I have. Why do you ask?”
“Because someone has stolen a parish register that Harper needs. I don’t know if one of the villagers took it for something and didn’t tell us, or if it has actually been stolen but it is missing.”
“Good Lord. Now he has been hit on the head.”
Arrabella looked worriedly at the door. “He keeps telling me to lock the door.”
“Then it is best if you leave him where he is Arrabella. You need him here right now, especially if there is someone on the loose who doesn’t want him getting hold of that register,” Angus shook his head and gave her a warning look. “Good luck. He needs bed rest but, if I know my brother, once he sleeps this off he is going to be up and about in spite of the pain. I will make a few discrete enquiries to see if anyone has been acting strangely of late,” he sighed as he made his way toward the door. “If I find anything out I will let you know. In the meantime, please make sure that my brother doesn’t get up again for the rest of the day. You have my permission to tie him to the bed if you need to, but he needs to rest.” He included Mrs Able in the warning and nodded to the ladies before he left the house.
Lord Cavendish Returns Page 13
