Lord Glenwick was his grandfather, as well.
Everything in the house was just as it should be—or at least as close to that as it could be—so Meg forced herself to take a deep breath, pick up a book, and retire to a comfortable chair in the quiet of her own room. Nigel Webberly would be here tomorrow. He'd be back at his grandfather's estate, back in their village, and he'd be coming here to her home.
To see her.
Her heart twisted in her chest at the thought of it. How would it feel to see him again? Had he changed in these past years? Would he think she had changed very much? She'd been a fresh little miss when last he'd seen her. She was hardly so fresh now; would he notice? Would she care if he did?
She wasn't in love with him. That infatuation faded after he left, after he misled her then broke her silly, girlish heart to go marry another. It had been ages, in fact, since he'd even crossed her mind. She had no reason to fear their reunion would be anything but pleasant and friendly. At least, she hoped that it would be.
For Nigel, it would more likely be bittersweet, putting him in mind of a happier time. Since his last visit to Glenwick Downs, much had changed in his life. He'd lost his wife and his grandfather was gone. Perhaps being back here would prove difficult for him.
Indeed, she could imagine it would. Along with memories of happier times, his return would surely remind him of an unhappy time, too. His leaving had been sudden and his grandfather had not been very pleased with him over it. That was why he'd never been back in the seven years since. It was so sad. The old man had died never really reconciling with Nigel.
She would simply have to do her best to see that his return was as peaceful and amicable as possible. Not something that would be easy given Bartholomew's behavior. What would Nigel think when he saw the bird again? As she recalled, he'd not been particularly enamored of him in the past. No doubt time had not made his heart grow fonder.
At least he'd be relieved to find they'd taken that burden on for him and he was not stuck with the creature. He'd probably applaud their efforts at reforming him, even if it did mean they'd brought an unreferenced stranger into their home. She hoped he'd applaud them, at any rate, rather than wonder at Mr. Shirley's presence, especially since no improvement would be detected in Bartholomew and since Nigel—more than anyone else—knew all about Meg's weakness for smooth-talking gentlemen.
But she had no weakness for Mr. Shirley. Indeed, she was very proud of herself for the cool manner she'd maintained toward him, even after five days of facing his smiles and suffering his friendly conversation and unruffled demeanor. And the man's appearance... well, surely she should be highly commended for sustaining indifference when up against that. On his best day, even Nigel Webberly had never presented so well.
So deep in thought on the subject matter was she that the housekeeper had to knock at her door three times before she was aware the woman was trying to summon her.
"Excuse me, miss, but you've got a visitor to see you."
Good heavens, could Nigel have arrived a full day early?
"It's Mr. Perkins, miss."
Meg was suddenly unable to comprehend the simple words.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Cooper. Did you say Mr. Perkins?"
"Yes, from Glenwick Downs, of course."
Ah, that Mr. Perkins. Of course Meg knew him. He was the steward for the earl, he attended Papa's church regularly. Whatever could Mr. Perkins want, coming here unannounced? Gracious, could something have happened to Nigel as he was traveling?
She tidied herself and let Mrs. Cooper lead her down to the drawing room where Mr. Perkins had been deposited. He gave a friendly smile when she entered the room. Certainly he did not look like a man delivering dire news. She hoped his looks were not deceiving.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Perkins. How pleasant to see you. I'm sorry, but I'm not quite sure where my father is right now if you were hoping to see him."
"No, Miss Farrow, I actually came to see you."
"Me? Well, I'm happy to help you in any way I can. What is it you need?"
Mr. Perkins cleared his throat and glanced toward Mrs. Cooper who stood silently in the doorway. It was obvious he hesitated to state his business in her presence, although what on earth he could be so concerned about, she could only guess. Still, if he had business that was best discussed in private, Meg knew there was likely good reason.
"Thank you, Mrs. Cooper. If my father turns up to ask for me, you may tell him I am here. I'll call for you if there is anything we need."
The housekeeper nodded and pulled the door shut behind her as she left them. Meg turned back to her guest.
"Now, whatever has brought you here, Mr. Perkins? Not any bad news, I hope."
"No, Miss Farrow. No bad news that I am aware of, but..."
"But what, Mr. Perkins?"
He seemed uncomfortable, as if he really did not wish to continue. She bit her lip and wasn't certain that she wanted him to. Whatever could he be about? If it wasn't bad news regarding Nigel's expected arrival, then what?
"I'm afraid you are unaware that the earl confided in me regarding... certain matters," he began.
"Certain matters?"
"Regarding Nigel Webberly. That is, I should say, the new Earl of Glenwick."
"And what did he tell you regarding him?"
Mr. Perkins hesitated, then continued.
"You know the old earl loved Mr. Webberly best of his grandsons."
No, she hadn't known this at all. "I only ever heard him speak very highly of both of them. He was devastated, of course, when the older one died in that accident aboard ship some years ago."
"Yes. The elder Mr. Webberly's loss was tragic, but the earl was secretly happy to know that Nigel would be left as his heir."
"I'm sure the earl was happy to have anyone left as his heir," she couldn't help but note. "First he lost his elder son, then Nigel's father, and then the elder of the grandsons perished. It's no wonder the poor old earl became such a recluse."
"His lordship had more than his share of sadness in life, yes. But of course he was never pleased with the elder grandson, going off to live in America when his mother remarried the way she did."
"Yes. I never got to meet that Webberly, he was out of the country by the time Papa and I came to Richington."
"Well, his choice to leave England was a great disappointment to his grandfather. Perhaps that was why they old earl had such especially high expectations for Mr. Nigel Webberly."
"I'm sure that he did."
"So you can understand how devastated he was when Nigel engaged in... well, when you and he..."
"When he and I what, Mr. Perkins?"
"The earl was aware Nigel may have given you reason to have certain expectations. I don't know if you're aware, but this caused a rift in their relationship."
"Yes, I must admit I had suspicions of that."
"So you informed the old earl what transpired between you and his grandson?"
"He was a dear friend. Nigel left us all so very suddenly, you must understand. I was confused so I went to the earl. He informed me of Nigel's engagement and, I admit, my astonishment at the time was probably evident."
"So this brings us to the matter I have come to see you regarding today."
"It does?"
"Yes. You must be aware of the rather, er, sensitive documents the earl had drawn up at that time."
"No, I can't say that I am."
"Well, the fact of it is, Miss Farrow, that he did. And now I regret to inform you, they have gone missing."
"But what does this have to do with me?"
"They pertain entirely to you, of course."
"Me? What sort of documents are they?"
He nervously cleared his throat. "They are documents of a legal nature."
"Legal documents?"
"You are completely unaware of this?"
"Completely, sir. I cannot possibly see what legal documents his lordship could have had that might in any way concern
me."
"He did not forward copies on to you? To your father perhaps?"
She was amazed at the very notion of such a thing. What could Mr. Perkins be talking about? She and Papa had been friends with the earl, but certainly there had never been anything of any legal nature between them.
"No, of course not. My father and I were never involved in any of his lordships legal affairs."
"Then he did not tell you of any certain hiding place he may have designated for such things?"
"No. What things? I'm very confused by this, Mr. Perkins."
"So... you are unaware of the arrangements he made?"
"Arrangements? If you are referring to Bartholomew, he merely asked us to look after the bird for him. There were no legal documents made for this, as far as I know."
"No, Miss Farrow. I'm afraid it is another, far more personal matter I refer to."
"What, then? I honestly cannot guess what you might mean, Mr. Perkins."
He was clearing his throat again, tugging at his neck cloth. It was all very confusing. She ran through any memory she might have of documents ever coming from Glenwick, or anything Papa had mentioned regarding such a thing. Nothing came to mind.
"The old earl," Mr. Perkins finally continued. "Made specific arrangement for funding to be set aside in the event of..."
"Yes?"
"In the event that..."
"Yes?"
"In the event that a child should be the result of your, er, acquaintance with his grandson."
Her mouth dropped open. A child? So, dear old Glenwick thought that she and Nigel... oh my! But she'd never given him any reason to suspect that. Good lord. He'd gone and put his suspicions in writing? Gracious, now that document was missing and was likely to turn up anywhere. After all, the old earl was dead and his steward, his solicitors, everyone was busily putting his house and his documents in order. Nigel would be here to take over and... oh, gracious. Whatever would Nigel think if he were to find those documents?
Oh, but he'd think she'd spoken all manner of ill things about him to his grandfather! He might think she'd gone straight to Glenwick, carrying horrible tales and accusations, perhaps even in an effort to extort from the man. He would blame her for the rift that ensued between them. Indeed, this was a disaster! Whatever could the old earl have been thinking?
"Oh, heavens, Mr. Perkins."
"Indeed. As you can see, I felt it imperative that I make you aware of this development."
"Yes, thank you, Mr. Perkins. But I must assure you that—"
"No need, Miss Farrow. It is obvious Glenwick's fears were unfounded and I assure you I will be the very picture of discretion."
"Thank you, Mr. Perkins. I... I simply do not even know what to say."
"Say nothing, Miss Farrow. This is a delicate matter, of course, and the less that is said by either of us, the better."
"But what will we do? You understand I cannot have such a thing bandied about."
"No, which is entirely why I came to you. As you surely have no expectation where the new earl is concerned, then you will undoubtedly want these documents located and disposed of as quietly as possible."
"Yes, certainly. But you said they are missing."
"Perhaps disposed of already by the previous earl; I don't know. I merely thought that perhaps you had some idea of them."
"No, none, sir. Lord Glenwick never once mentioned that he had done such a thing."
Mr. Perkins shrugged, but clearly was very relieved. "Well, then perhaps we are fretting for no good reason. Clearly old Glenwick was under some misapprehension regarding your relationship with his grandson, and clearly nothing further needs to be done with any legal matters he may have drawn up at the time."
"Other than we cannot have people hearing about this! Dear heavens, what will they think?"
"Indeed, I can well understand your concerns. Perhaps... perhaps you might like to take a look at the old earl's papers? You might notice some reference that I have overlooked. I'm sure you would wish to be certain all is contained."
Lord, but if old Glenwick had suspected such things of her, there was no telling what he might have mentioned in correspondence to family or friends. Mr. Perkins was a kind man to be concerned for her, of course, but it did stand to reason he might have overlooked something amongst the earl's papers. It was not his name that would be ruined, after all.
And Nigel—the new Earl of Glenwick—would be here tomorrow! It stood to reason the first thing he might do was go through his grandfather's papers. If anything existed there that might shine a dim light on her, she could never face him again. And Papa... oh heavens, what this scandal would do to him.
Papa's living depended on keeping favor with the earl. She couldn't stand it if her one youthful folly were to bring shame on her father after all this time. Yes, perhaps Mr. Perkins was right. Perhaps she might like to take a look at the old man's papers... before anyone else did.
"Yes, Mr. Perkins. I do wish it, beyond all."
Chapter 6
Max left Bartholomew to chew on his own digits for a while so that Max could steal down to the pantry in search of something—anything—that might distract the bird long enough to hear himself think. He crept down the stairs and his ears immediately perked at the sound of Miss Farrow's delightful voice from the drawing room. She'd avoided him for hours and he'd resented it. Who was she with now? It would be wrong to eavesdrop, of course, but no one could fault him for walking slowly as he passed the door, only slightly ajar.
When he detected a male voice from inside, his slow steps faltered. Miss Farrow was alone with a man! Indeed, how could he not pause with interest?
"Yes, Mr. Perkins. I do wish it, beyond all," he could hear her say.
Indeed, the breathless tone in her voice indicated that whatever it was that this Mr. Perkins had offered, her agreement was heartfelt. Max was enthralled.
"I knew you would welcome my visit," the male voice replied smugly. "I knew I would not regret if I dared to come speak to you on this."
"I'm so glad that you did! But please, Papa cannot know of it."
"Of course. We shall certainly continue to keep the matter quiet."
“I… that is, I’m afraid I feel quite urgent about this. Do you think we might find time to get deeper into the matter yet today?”
“I should certainly think so.”
Max had to clamp his jaw shut to keep it from gaping open. Was he hearing what it seemed he was hearing? His blood pounded as Miss Farrow continued.
"We cannot proceed here, though. You understand, but Papa…"
"Of course. At the manor, then,” her gentleman replied quickly. “Will you meet me at the manor?"
"Yes, I can do that. This evening."
"Can you get away?”
“I will tell my father I am visiting Miss Bent. She’s been ill, so he will think nothing of it.”
Damn, but even Max was impressed at how easily the chit planned her lies. Well, well, well… he knew Miss Farrow was a still water running deep, but he had no idea just how deep she was! And how deep she was in it, apparently.
Just who was this most fortunate gentleman? Max didn’t recognize the voice, but that was hardly a surprise. He’d met precious few people since coming to Richington on this visit, and he could hardly be expected to recall acquaintances’ voices from all those years past when he spent summers here. It only seemed likely, though, that the manor to which the gentleman referred was the only manor home in the area Max was aware of: Glenwick Downs.
But this wasn't Nigel—even after these years, wouldn't Max know his voice? Besides, Mr. Farrow said they weren't expecting Nigel until tomorrow. No. It couldn't be him. This Mr. Perkins must be yet another man of the lady's very close acquaintance. Just how many men did this modest little spinster have?
And would she like another?
"Thank you, Miss Farrow. I will do my best to see that our, er, meeting this evening goes well," the man said earnestly.
"I appreciate that, Mr. Parker. A satisfactory conclusion to this will surely be a benefit to both of us."
Max firmly bit his cheek to keep from laughing aloud. Or snorting. My, but the chit was cool about her illicit assignations! Obviously she didn't yet know the man who could kindle a blaze beneath her frigid demeanor. At least, she didn't yet know him in the Biblical sense. Not that Max was one to boast, but he had no doubt he could teach the chilly miss a thing or two.
But who was this Perkins and what on earth could he mean to Miss Farrow? There was nothing in her tone that indicated he meant anything to her at all. So why was she planning to engage in scandalous activities if there was no real passion to drive her? Curiosity was driving Max to reckless abandon as he pressed his ear against the door.
"Indeed,” the gentleman said. “With luck, the new earl will know nothing of it when he arrives tomorrow."
"That is certainly my hope. I do wish to continue on friendly terms with him."
"I can understand. You would naturally wish that."
Max had to wonder what sort of simpering lout this Perkins fellow was. How could he sound so calm and unaffected? Even a fool could see the young lady was just dangling him along. Was this fool so very desperate he would arrange a secret tryst with her all the while knowing she cared more for another?
Then again, Richington was a small village. Choice material like Miss Farrow was not to be found around every corner. Apparently this Perkins was clever enough to realize that jealousy or posturing on his part would get him nowhere. He'd have to make himself content with what he could get. Still, Max could not reconcile any of this in his mind. What on earth was the woman up to?
"Very well," Mr. Perkins continued with unmanly calm. "I shall take my leave, waiting with impatience until you can meet me this evening."
"I'll be as prompt as I can," the young lady said.
Prompt? Who spoke of promptness when planning matters of passion? By God, the woman was an iceberg. She showed as much zeal as if she were scheduling a visit to the fish market. Max shook his head. What sort of tryst was this, these two unbesotted lovers so casual and indifferent? Why should they even bother to put themselves out for it? He could surely understand Miss Farrow’s lack of interest, but how was the Perkins fellow so even and cool? It was unnatural.
Miss Farrow's Feathers Page 5
