‘If what I overheard doesn’t refer to this sorry business then Amelia is still our best source of information,’ Susie said, sounding as though she was still clinging to the possibility of Porter’s innocence. A strong shaft of jealousy pierced James at this evidence of her strong attachment to the cove. ‘They say eavesdroppers never hear anything to their advantage so I might have misinterpreted. Mr Porter could easily be caught up with something else entirely.’
‘It’s highly suspicious,’ James said with sympathy. ‘A steward meeting someone in a part of the grounds where he has no business being.’
‘Oh, I am aware of that, Mr Tyrell. It is just that Papa really wants Mr Porter to prove loyal and, well…’
Her words trailed off and she stared at a distant point, her expression remote. It took every vestige of James’s self-control not to comfort her in the manner that sprang spontaneously to mind. If Spence had not been there, he very likely would have given way to temptation. No female had ever invoked feelings of such fierce protectiveness in him. James felt impotent, frustrated, and angry at the restrictions that denied him the freedom of choice.
‘I agree with Susie,’ Spence said, breaking the awkward silence. ‘It’s better to be thorough.’
Thorough, certainly, but James wondered if Spence was also seeking an excuse to enjoy Miss Stoughton’s company.
‘In that case, I shall ride with you into Denton and meet you there again in an hour.’
Upon reaching the village a short time later, James waved the Darcys off, wishing he could go with them rather than keeping the appointment that fell to his lot. With a sigh of resignation, he turned Gladiator in the direction of the Frobisher’s estate.
He was greeted with politeness by Mrs Frobisher and with a petulant pout from Beatrice. As they took tea, Mrs Frobisher kept up a polite stream of conversation which required both he and Beatrice to make the appropriate responses. But tea could not be drawn out indefinitely and when it came to an end Mrs Frobisher, probably affected by the frosty atmosphere, looked pleased to find an excuse to leave them alone.
‘Why have you not called before now?’ Beatrice’s artificial smile evaporated before the door closed behind Mrs Frobisher and before James had resumed his seat.
‘I beg your pardon, Beatrice. I thought I made it plain to you that I do not have time for social calls. The business that has brought me to Derbyshire occupies all of my time. I also thought we had agreed that you would continue on your journey.’
‘How can I travel when you will not tell me why you are here?’
‘My activities are not your concern,’ he said coldly, aware that he was making matters worse by not appeasing her. But he was tired of her tantrums and no longer willing to pander to her every whim. Looking back upon their relationship, he was surprised that he had continued to do so for as long as he actually had.
‘How can you say such a thing?’ She changed tack and offered him her most bewitching smile. A smile that would once have persuaded him to walk over hot coals for her but which had lost its power to enthral. ‘Considering what we mean to one another.’
James shook his head as he stood and walked to the window, hands clasped behind his back. ‘I cannot place you in danger,’ he said through gritted teeth, realising when he heard her sharp intake of breath that he had said the wrong thing.
‘You are in danger?’
He heard a rustle of muslin and was almost overwhelmed by a strong waft of floral perfume as she too stood and walked up behind him. Susie didn’t feel the need to wear such a cloying scent, one that made James want to sneeze, he found himself thinking. Somehow he managed to dispel thoughts of Susie’s wan countenance as she admitted to the conversation she had overheard between Porter and his as yet unknown associate. He couldn’t afford to dwell upon her lively character, her intelligent observations and her spirited determination to make herself useful. She was, he now accepted, everything he had ever wanted in a woman. In a wife. He would spend hours trying to capture her image on canvas when this business was over, but would never be able to get the expression in her eyes exactly right.
It would be his only solace since he couldn’t have her—as a model, a muse or a wife.
Instead, the ravishing beauty standing at his shoulder, touching his arm and purring in his ear, was what he could look forward to. Such a lovely face would be easy to draw because, he realised, it possessed no flaws to give it character. Most would say he was the luckiest devil on earth but James began to understand how a condemned man must feel when there was no hope of a last minute reprieve.
‘I am on my father’s business and can take care of myself,’ he said in a clipped tone, not turning to look at her. ‘But I cannot, will not, involve you in this affair. You must accept that and continue on your journey.’
‘But I want to help!’
She sounded like the spoiled, indulged child that she was. He would not have been surprised if she’d resorted to stamping her foot in exasperation.
‘If you want to help, then continue on your journey. Then I shall not have to worry about your welfare.’
‘I cannot go until I know why you are here.’
‘And I have not the least intention of telling you.’ Beatrice, he had good reason to know, couldn’t keep a secret if her life depended upon it.
‘Think carefully, very carefully, before you speak to me in that manner.’ The hard edge to her voice, one that he had seldom heard her employ before, caused James to turn and look at her. ‘It is all right for Miss Darcy to know your business. She is nothing to you and yet you confide in her.’
‘I cannot imagine why you would say such a thing,’
‘You spend a lot of time at Pemberley, I am told.’ Told by whom? ‘And seem to enjoy that mousy young lady’s society.’ She tossed her head and pouted at him. ‘What else am I supposed to think?’
‘Darcy is helping me conduct my business here. He wields considerable influence locally. Being thrown into company with his daughter is an inevitable consequence of our collaboration.’
‘And what of our collaboration?’ Frown lines invaded her forehead. Beatrice almost never frowned, presumably because she didn’t want to mar her countenance. The fact that she did so now was indicative of her annoyance. ‘I would advise against trying my patience, James. I am not accustomed to being ignored. You are behaving in a most ungentlemanly manner and my father will be angry if he learns of your neglect.’
James clenched his fists in response to the thinly-veiled threat. ‘Go on your way, Beatrice,’ he said with a weary sigh. ‘You claim that you want to make yourself useful. That is the only way you can do so. I anticipate returning to London within a sennight and I will be at my leisure to explain everything to you at that point.’
He took her hand and kissed the back of it, watching her lovely face as an array of emotions filtered across it. But she appeared pacified by his promise, probably assuming that he would propose to her at that point.
James was uncomfortably aware that he would have no choice but to do so.
ᴥᴥᴥ
‘You are overset to discover Porter’s duplicity,’ Spence said as he drove them towards the Covington’s estate.
‘Aren’t you?’ Susie raised a brow. ‘I was hoping I had got it wrong and that it wouldn’t come to this. Only imagine how upset Papa will be.’
Spence sighed. ‘Better that he finds out now, before Fenton retires and Porter officially takes over his position. There is still time for him to find someone else.’
‘We still don’t know for sure. Perhaps I drew the wrong conclusion,’ Susie said, more in hope than expectation.
‘I did warn—’
‘Don’t you dare, Spence!’ Susie stiffened and impatiently dashed at an errant tear. Aware that she had shouted, attracting the curious attention of several people in Denton’s main street as they drove through it, she lowered her voice. ‘Don’t tell me that you warned me because I don’t wish to hear it.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Spence said softly. ‘I know you look upon Porter as a friend but I think it’s safe to assume that he will only ever put himself first.’
‘He has ambitions?’
‘It looks that way. He is, after all, his father’s son.’
‘Yes well, here we are,’ Susie said as Spence drew the curricle to a halt at the entrance portico to the Covington’s residence.
They were admitted to the house only to be told that both master and mistress were not at home. Upon asking for Miss Stoughton however they were more successful and that lady soon joined them in the drawing room. Susie wondered at her ability to look so charming in a gown of rose damask when the colour ought to clash with her russet hair. But she carried it off with élan; a circumstance that clearly did not escape Spence’s notice.
‘This is an unexpected pleasure,’ Amelia said. ‘But unfortunately Mr and Mrs Covington both have engagements this morning.’
‘It is actually you we came to see,’ Susie told her.
‘Oh.’ Amelia looked surprised but recalled her duties and asked the butler to arrange refreshments. ‘How can I be of help to you?’
Susie and Spence had decided to tell her everything she did not already know about James’s reasons for coming to Derbyshire. She heard them out in silence, her frown deepening when she learned that they suspected Covington’s steward of colluding with Tobias.
‘We wondered if there are any secluded barns or cottages on this estate where the forger might be hidden away,’ Spence said.
Amelia shook her head. ‘Very possibly but I think it unlikely.’
‘You cannot bring yourself to believe that Mr Covington is involved,’ Susie said, ‘which is entirely understandable. In your position I should think the same way, I expect. The family have been kind to you and have earned your loyalty.’
‘That is undeniable.’ Amelia drew a deep breath. ‘Since we spoke at Pemberley the other evening, I have been taking a closer look at the household and fear I was right to assume that finances are pinched. Two maids have been dismissed, even though the others will be hard pressed to manage without them and the girls, my charges, have been told that they cannot have any new gowns this season.’ She flapped a hand. ‘As you can imagine, they are distraught.’
Susie smiled. ‘How awful for them.’
‘It might seem like not very much, but the lack of new apparel is an act of desperation, and not of Mrs Covington’s doing. She let slip that her husband has refused to release the funds for the clothing and that she is very angry with him because he won’t say why.’ Amelia shared a glance between them and sighed. ‘It implies that your supposition of Mr Covington’s involvement in this fraud is very likely right.’
‘I wish…’
Spence leaned towards her, his expression earnest, making Susie feel as though she ought to be somewhere else. Amelia looked vulnerable at that moment, and if Susie hadn’t been there it would be easy to imagine her finishing up in the comforting circle of Spence’s arms. She wondered if she ought to leave them alone, then recalled their reason for calling and abandoned the idea.
‘I don’t really see how we can investigate the vacant barns on this estate,’ Susie said pensively. Her voice caused Amelia and Spence to break their elongated gaze and turn their attention to her. ‘We should have thought about that before coming here, Spence,’ she added. ‘I mean, if Mr Covington’s steward…what is his name, Amelia?’
‘Bairstow.’
‘Right, if Bairstow is involved with Porter then he will notice us wandering around the estate and it will make him suspicious.’
‘Not if we were simply to take Miss Stoughton for a drive,’ Spence relied briskly.
‘No, Susie’s right,’ Amelia replied. ‘It would be better if I explored alone.’
‘Absolutely not!’ Spence exclaimed. ‘If you happened upon the forger’s lair, you would not be permitted to leave it.’
‘I don’t think it can be on this estate anyway,’ Susie said. ‘It’s too small for him to be assured of privacy. He has to be somewhere more isolated.’
‘Our best plan is for Tyrell and me to be at the location Susie overheard Porter mention,’ Spence said. ‘If we cannot catch the forger there, we will follow the person most likely to lead us to him.’
‘It sounds rather dangerous,’ Amelia said dubiously. ‘It’s difficult to follow people in the dead of night without being seen. You would be better advised to involve the constable.’
‘Thank you for your concern but we can take care of ourselves.’ Susie and Amelia shared a glance, probably both thinking that men were sometimes a little too keen for a fight. ‘Too many people would be noticed.’
‘Very well.’ Amelia stood, as did Spence and Susie. ‘But you must promise to let me know what happens,’ she said as she walked to the door with them. ‘I shall be a nervous wreck until I know you are all safe. Besides, I must know how Mr Covington is involved so that I can prepare Verity for the bad news.’
‘I shall call personally and let you know,’ Spence assured her as he kissed the back of her hand.
Susie heard a male voice in the distance and felt dread trickle down her spine. ‘Who is that speaking?’ she asked Amelia.
‘Bairstow,’ she replied. ‘Why do you ask? You have gone quite pale. Are you all right?’
Her hand shook as she raised it to her face. ‘That is the voice I heard this morning talking to Porter,’ she said.
Chapter Twelve
James and Dawlish met the Darcy brothers in the Sheep and Whistle at ten that evening. The taproom was filled to capacity.
‘Is this number of bodies usual at this time of night?’ James asked, squeezing onto a bench beside Spence as Dawlish waited patiently for one of the two harried barmaids to serve him.
‘I’m not often this far afield at night,’ Marc replied. ‘If we venture out, it’s usually only as far as Lambton. Unless, of course, we’re in Denton to visit our aunt.’
‘Our cousin is married to the heir to the Enfield brewery.’ Spence raised his voice to be heard above the cacophony of noise. ‘Since reintroducing their ale at more reasonable prices to local taverns, trade has increased. But, I agree with you, Tyrell, this seems like an unusually boisterous crowd. Ross will be delighted that his ale is having such a beneficial effect upon local trade.’
James could see that the room that was mostly filled with farmworkers or labourers. Smoke billowed up to the blackened rafters from the fire and a dozen pipes. Laughter and coarse language fuelled the atmosphere. And something more fundamental. Anticipation. Yes, that was it. It was as though all these people were waiting for something to happen. Something they didn’t want James and his party to know anything about. He felt increasingly uncomfortable as more suspicious glances were sent their way.
‘Something’s afoot,’ he said, nodding his thanks to Dawlish when he finally joined them with four tankards of ale.
‘Aye,’ Dawlish replied, although the statement had not been specifically addressed to him. ‘I asked the barmaid but she pretended not to hear me.’
James chuckled. ‘You’re losing your touch.’
‘It can’t be anything to do with our reason for being here,’ Marc opined. ‘This lot can barely afford the price of a tankard of ale and know nothing about art.’
‘Have you noticed that no one’s playing cards, or dice,’ Spence said speculatively.
James hadn’t, but took Spence’s point. Those occupations were de rigueur for such establishments. ‘Perhaps there is to be cock fighting,’ he said, ‘and they’re saving their blunt to wager on the outcome.’
‘Possibly.’ Spence nodded. ‘Father discourages such activity in the area but cannot enforce its ban.’
‘And some of this lot most likely supply the combatants,’ Marc added. ‘It’s a traditional sport, if that’s the right description for it, and they are reluctant to let it die out. At the same time, a lot of them rely upon Pemberley in various ways for their l
ivelihoods and can’t afford to displease Father. It would explain why our presence here is proving rather unpopular.’
‘Whatever’s going on, these people definitely won’t be involved with art forgery,’ Spence said.
James nodded his agreement and they spoke sporadically of other things, all of them on edge. As they slowly consumed their ale, more people crowded into the taproom, some of them middle-classed, judging by their dress. James had gone from feeling suspicious to downright uncomfortable. He finished his ale and banged his tankard down.
‘I would suggest, gentlemen,’ he said, ‘that we take ourselves off to the location we are here to watch. We need to conceal ourselves and our horses before Porter and Bairstow arrive.’
Receiving no objections to that suggestion, the four of them stood, earning themselves more suspicious looks from those standing closest to them. One or two people nodded to the Darcys but no one spoke directly to them and James suspected that everyone in the taproom breathed a little more easily as the door closed behind them. As they mounted up and rode away from the Sheep and Whistle it occurred to James that he had not seen Porter anywhere in the tavern. Presumably the last minute change of venue left no free time for wetting his whistle. Either that or he had heard that his employer’s sons were in the tavern and deliberately avoided it.
Less than five minutes later, Spence signalled for them to stop. James drew rein and saw dim lights glowing in a barn a few hundred yards ahead of them. All four men dismounted and tied their horses behind a stand of trees away to their left. They were about to approach the barn when they heard the sound of voices and heavy footsteps ploughing through the trees. It sounded like a small army on the march.
‘What the devil…’
James and Dawlish exchanged a bewildered look but before they could decide what was happening, several men—gentlemen judging from their attire—rode straight up to the barn. A lad ran forward to take their horses. Those on foot came into view a few minutes later. When James recognised some of the crowd from the taproom, his laggardly brain finally made the connection and he realised what they were about to witness.
Susie Darcy's Tenacious Nature Page 16
