Lord Cavendish Returns

by King, Rebecca

  CHAPTER TEN

  When he woke up later that night, Harper felt considerably better. His head still throbbed mercilessly but he was feeling much stronger and the world had stopped spinning. He yawned and winced when his stomach rumbled loudly. It was already dark outside but he had no idea if it was still the same day, the following day or the day after that. A quick glance around the room confirmed that he was in the vicarage. He could distinctly recall having a conversation with Arrabella, but couldn’t remember what was discussed. When his stomach rumbled again, he left the bed, and went in search of some food, and some answers to his questions, the first one being; just who the heck had taken his clothes off and dressed him in this awful nightgown?

  By the time he got to the kitchen he was feeling considerably more confident that his attacker had inflicted nothing more than a flesh wound.

  “Do you have some of that for me?” He drawled when he spotted Arrabella at the table, pouring some warm milk into a cup.

  She squealed and turned around. Her eyes widened at the sight of him standing wrapped in a blanket in the doorway behind her. Apart from the large white cloth that was wrapped around his head, he looked wonderfully fit and healthy. Even the colour had returned to his cheeks. Rather than answer she merely stared at him blankly for a moment before his words registered.

  “How do you feel?” It felt strangely intimate to have him so close and dressed in nothing but a nightgown and blanket.

  “Much better thank you, although I am hungry, and that milk smells wonderful.”

  “Why don’t you take a seat in the sitting room and I will bring it through?” Mrs Able suggested from behind him.

  Harper turned toward her with a slightly abashed look. “I am sorry for turning your life into chaos.” He waved a hand down his attire. “I take it that I have you to thank for this?” To his consternation, Mrs Able shook her head.

  “Your brother, Robert, dropped in with Joseph and they brought a few things over to you. They said that they would look after the horse and come back and see you in the morning. I must say that I am glad you are up and about. You must be starving. We did bring you some soup earlier but you were fast asleep and it seemed a shame to disturb you. Go and sit down now, both of you. I will bring you a tray in a thrice, Harper.”

  Arrabella knew that to argue with Mrs Able would get her nowhere. The housekeeper was nothing if not determined once she made her mind up about something. She threw the housekeeper a quick look at the sight of the unsteadiness in Harper’s gait as he walked toward the sitting room.

  “Food and rest,” Mrs Able murmured quietly.

  Arrabella nodded and hurried after Harper. It had been agreed that for the sake of Arrabella’s reputation, Mrs Able would remain at the vicarage while Harper was in residence. It was only a stone’s throw away from her own tiny cottage on the other side of the church anyway and the housekeeper had positively insisted that she help look after him. Arrabella suspected that Mrs Able was rather taken with Harper, and waited to see what she would rustle up for him to eat because people the housekeeper liked usually got spoiled rotten.

  “Do you remember what happened?”

  Harper took a moment to settle the blanket over his knees while he contemplated whether to tell her or not, but then decided that there was no point in keeping her in the dark. She knew practically all of it anyway, just not what had happened in Moldton earlier.

  “I remember everything.” He briefly recounted everything as far as he could remember.

  “Joseph is going to keep an eye on the grounds here for us. I don’t know if you are aware, but his fields run along the back of the garden. He has some sheep there and needs to feed, so will drop in when he is there. Your brother, Angus, also said that he is going to make a few enquiries to see if there are any strangers around Moldton at the moment. They said that they would drop in at some point and see you tomorrow.”

  “What about you, Arrabella? How are you?”

  “I am fine. I wanted to apologise for what happened the other night.”

  “It is entirely my fault. A lot has happened in a short space of time, and it is not all nice,” Harper sighed.

  “I know, but I was rather enjoying trying to find the register. It is a shame that it went missing before you had the chance to find the information you wanted.” She jerked and stared at him for a moment. “I was going to tell you –,” she rose and left the room only to reappear moments later with a bunch of keys.

  “Please don’t tell me that they are the spare set of keys to the church.” He groaned when Arrabella nodded slowly. “Where were they?”

  “Sitting in the middle of the desk in the study,” she placed them carefully on the table at his elbow. He didn’t reach out to pick them up, merely glared at them for a moment before he turned to look at her.

  “Was the door to the house locked when they reappeared?”

  Arrabella frowned and studied him. “No, I am afraid not. I lock the door when I am here, but then I am not the only one who uses the house.”

  Sensing Harper’s question, she called to Mrs Able.

  “Oh, no dear, I don’t bother locking the door when there is just me here. I don’t have the time to keep running to answer the door whenever someone calls by. Besides this is Hambley Wood, not Skipton,” the housekeeper declared firmly.

  Harper shared a look with Arrabella, who merely lifted her brows and sighed. She knew that the keys had been used by the person who had taken the register, but it was slightly odd in that the keys had been returned. Why would someone, especially a stranger in the area, take the risk of being seen returning keys they shouldn’t have? How would they have even known where to find the keys if they were a stranger? She fought the urge to scratch her head and sat back to study the fire while Harper enjoyed the huge array of wonderful foods Mrs Able deposited on his lap. Sure enough, Mrs Able had done herself proud in that there was everything there a man could want: freshly baked meat pie with lots of potatoes, a huge slice of fruit cake as well as an apple and a large goblet of her father’s best brandy. It was a feast befitting a king and Harper dug in with the enthusiasm of a starving man.

  While he ate he contemplated the latest news. “When were they found?”

  “They were on the desk when I got back last night. They just appeared, so I assume that someone in the village had them.”

  Harper frowned at that. He just didn’t see that anyone in the village would want to steal the register. He was fairly confident that it wasn’t Joseph and, apart from Angus, Robert and Arrabella, nobody knew that he even wanted the registers.

  “Tell me, Arrabella. Does Moldton church have the same key system going as here?”

  “Oh, no. There is nothing like that in Moldton. Mr Turner acts as verger. He opens the church in the morning and locks it at dusk. Nobody else has access to the keys, or the church out of hours apart from father and me. We have our own set of keys for both churches of course.”

  “Then why have spare keys for people to help themselves to here?” It sounded like a ridiculous way to go on as far as he was concerned and, if it was down to him, everyone would respect the fact that the vicarage is a home and people should not feel at liberty to help themselves to any part of it.

  “I don’t know really. It is something that happened when my father took over from the old vicar. It works well usually because when I am busy and my father is out, people can get access to the church. Some of the cleaning ladies sometimes go in early in the morning before father has had a chance to open the church up, so they just come in to the study, collect the keys and go and do what they need to do. We just allowed it to keep happening and have gotten used to people coming and going. Besides, my mother has always been here and likes to converse with the people who drop by. It stops her feeling so isolated.”

  “But this is a home, Arrabella. A private home. You wouldn’t feel at liberty to walk straight into Robert’s house, or the doctor’s house, now would you?”

/>   “Oh, no of course not,” she replied, aghast at the thought of such a thing.

  “Then why allow other people to take such liberties with you?” he asked gently.

  At first she wasn’t sure if he was talking about the liberties he had taken with her, but his steady gaze took any hint of chastisement out of the conversation.

  “I know, but some of the people in the village have been dropping into the vicarage for years. I really don’t see how we can stop it now.”

  “Keep your door locked and move the keys, Arrabella. It is as simple as that. The people will knock and, if you tell them it is because of the theft of the register and for safety reasons, they will understand. If they don’t, then that is something they will have to deal with.”

  Harper sighed. His stomach was now pleasantly full. He was nice and warm, and about as comfortable as it was possible for any man to get. For the first time in a long time he actually felt that he was truly relaxed, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had been like it. He glanced over at Arrabella, whose gentle features were bathed in the warm firelight glow. The lushness of her lips was like a siren’s call and he just wished that they were familiar enough with each other for him to sit beside her on the chaise and gather her into his arms.

  “Now, I think we need to go over everything we know so far,” Arrabella said as she stared into the flames. She felt him look at her but he didn’t speak. She held her hand up and began to count facts off with her fingers.

  “We were locked into the crypt at Moldton by an unknown person who kept us there for several hours, only for some reason only known to themselves, let us out again.”

  “Right.”

  “We found the register we needed here, but it was stolen from here before we got chance to take a look inside.”

  “Right.”

  “So someone knew we were looking for the register.”

  “Right.”

  “Someone must have been following us, or must have overheard one of our conversations and knew what we were doing.” She quickly blanked out the thought that Mrs Able might have something to do with it, but the niggling doubt wouldn’t go away.

  “Right. So far, you, me, Robert, Angus, Joseph know for definite why we need the registers. Everyone else knows that we just needed information out of them but not why.”

  “Right,” Arrabella sighed. “Whenever I have been out and about though, I haven’t noticed anyone following us. The only person I have seen a little more of lately is Joseph, and he cannot possibly be involved in this.”

  Harper shook his head. “He isn’t. I spoke to him first thing this morning on my way to Moldton. We had good long chat about a lot of things and he has offered to help if we need him. I am confident that he is not connected to this.”

  “So who could be? The men who told you about your parentage, what were they like?”

  “The Cavendish brothers? They have a sterling reputation for being fighters. They have served their time in the army and come away relatively unscathed. They went through a difficult period a few years ago. I heard something about one of them being sentenced to hang or something, and one of their relatives was imprisoned for attempting to kill one of them, but I don’t know the details. I do know, however, that they not averse to a little criminal activity to achieve their goals.” He briefly described the kidnap and the men’s determination to ensure that Harper listened to them.

  “I hate to say this, Harper,” Arrabella began hesitantly.

  “I know,” Harper nodded as though he had read her mind. He lifted is brows. “My father?” He watched her nod. “I have to admit that I have asked myself this question again and again. It could be him, I suppose. He may object to having his skeletons released from the closet, so to speak.”

  “Have you been to see him yourself?” Arrabella wondered what the man could look like. Harper was tall, devastatingly handsome and was as gentle as he could be harsh, yet she had never felt frightened by him; a little unnerved perhaps when he was really angry, but never frightened.

  “No. The Cavendish brothers went to see him and he told them about the affair he had with their mother, Alice something or other. Anyway, he said that the house here has been mine all along and a good friend of his, Bartholomew Lawton, agreed to look after me in exchange for a large stipend every month, and use of the house to live in.”

  “Good Lord. Your brothers -” Arrabella sighed and wafted her hand around vaguely. “Do Robert, Angus and Joseph know all of this?”

  He nodded. “It just doesn’t fit that they would want to stop me finding out. I mean, the house is mine regardless of what’s in the register. They have nothing to either gain or lose.”

  “Except for you,” Arrabella replied gently. “You have been their brother, Harper, throughout your lives. Now, I am not suggesting for one second that any one of them is responsible, but they might not want to lose you.”

  “It is just not in their nature to do such a thing as steal something so vital to me.” He refused to consider it. “I mean, Joseph is busy with his farm. Angus wanted me back here urgently so he could hand over the house and get on with his own life and Robert, well, he is –” Harper frowned as he considered Robert for a moment, and tried to think of a word that would describe him.

  “Robert is a highly respected member of the community, Harper. People travel from miles around to see him. He has a good group of friends in the village and is always on hand to help out should anyone need him.” She shook her head. “No, I won’t consider for a moment that it could be Robert.”

  “Me either, if I am honest.”

  “So that leaves the man who said he is your father.” Arrabella watched a dark frown appear on Harper’s face and wondered what was going through his mind. It was bad enough to find out that the parents who raised you weren’t actually your parents, but to then have to consider that the person who was related didn’t want you having confirmation of the fact was shockingly awful.

  “What I don’t understand is why he hit you over the head? I mean, what were you looking for?” she murmured after several moments of companionable silence.

  “I don’t know really. I was just going to go back to the church to see if I had missed anything or if someone had seen the register sitting there and decided to move it for some reason.”

  “And?”

  Harper looked at her. “I didn’t get that far. I stood inside the church and the next thing I knew, someone came at me. The attacker knew how to fight, but not the down and dirty fighting I am used to.” He grinned at her unrepentantly and she found herself smiling back as she shook her head.

  He didn’t mention the shadowed figure who had been watching the house the other night because he didn’t want to frighten her, but was fairly certain now that he was the attacker in the church. Why had he been watching the vicarage though?

  “Can you tell me something, Arrabella?”

  “If I can.”

  “The first night that I was here,” he waited until she nodded. “Did you lock your doors that night?”

  Arrabella looked at him blankly for a moment before a ripple of unease swept through her. Goose bumps rippled her flesh and she stared at him in mute horror for a moment before she slowly, and very carefully, shook her head.

  “It is alright. I am just asking if you lock your doors at night when you went to bed, that’s all.”

  “Are you suggesting that someone entered the vicarage and got the keys while I was asleep?” She was horrified. Although she remained silent, her eyes begged him to refute the notion.

  “No,” he lied. “I am not suggesting that for a moment. I just wondered what usually happens in the village in the way of security, that’s all.”

  “So what now?” She hoped that he wouldn’t say that he was going to head off to London to talk to his father, and turned her attention to her fingers that lay entwined in her lap while she waited.

  The thought of Harper leaving filled her with dread, not just beca
use there was a menacing attacker lurking in the area. Just the thought that someone might have walked around her house in the middle of the night while she was asleep gave her the chills. Having Harper in the house was hugely reassuring and, although she didn’t wish ill on anyone, especially Harper, she wanted him to stay for several days.

  “There is one thing I know for definite,” he sighed. “It isn’t safe for you to be here alone right now. If the person who attacked me decides to stop us trying to find the register, I really think that we have to be prepared. First things first, we have to keep the doors locked whether we are here or not. Secondly, I need to remain here until we get that register.”

  “Do you think they will come here?” She whispered with wide, terrified eyes that made Harper immediately wish he hadn’t spoken.

  Still, he couldn’t lie to her. “To be honest with you, Arrabella, I would like to say no, but I really do not know.” His gaze, when he turned it on her, was full of ruthless determination that made her shiver even more.

  “Would you tell me something?”

  “If I can,” Harper murmured. He had to admit it, he was quite enjoying their intimate little chat, and couldn’t help but wonder if this is what married life would be like: sharing their evening before the fire while they talked about their day.

  “What did you do in London?” She couldn’t place someone like Harper. Although he dressed in expensive finery that must have cost hundreds of pounds, there wasn’t a snooty bone in him. He was down to earth, and fitted in well around Hambley Wood – well, sort of, if you ignored the fact that he was by far the most handsome man for miles around, even dressed in a nightgown, with a blanket over his knees and a thick bandage on his head.

  Harper knew that he had shaken her with his warning that she wasn’t to take any risks, and felt partly responsible for the fear that she couldn’t quite hide. After all, he had been the one who had engaged her help in finding the registers. He had been the one who had decided to spend some time with her and allow her to ‘help’ him. It was partly down to him being in her life, and bringing his problems with him, that had put her in this predicament. Yet she didn’t seem to hold him to account for any of it.