Wendy Soliman

by Duty's Destiny

  She appeared taken aback but soon recovered herself. “By all means, Mr. Beaumont.” She smiled graciously, obviously no stranger to good manners, but Felix suspected she hadn’t seen any deployed in this house for quite some time.

  Felix settled Mrs. Rivers in her seat at the head of the table and then, at her request, took the place immediately to her right. He was pleasantly surprised to find that the meal exceeded his expectations. Although plain, and lacking the sophistication to which he was accustomed, it was nevertheless well-cooked and plentiful. The wines which accompanied each course were of surprisingly good vintage. Felix noticed that Fothergill ate little, but partook of a disproportionate amount of wine.

  At first glance, Fothergill appeared to be the only person at Riverside House, apart from Mrs. Eden herself, who could possibly be involved with Barker in any way. He clearly had an expensive habit to feed and, if Felix was any judge, wasn’t beyond selling any information he might glean or acting as a go-between, if it was to his fiscal advantage. A single man of supposedly independent means could move about freely, whereas a widow living in a small community would surely excite unwarranted attention. His father had been right in that respect.

  Felix would give much to know what was going on between Mrs. Eden and this popinjay, that she would risk exposing her precious twins to his dictatorial teaching methods. Surely there could be no intimacy between them? That was obviously the impression that Fothergill wished to create, but could she really be that desperate?

  He fielded the inevitable questions about his own background and his reasons for being in Swyre by adroitly turning the subject back to the concerns of his questioners. It was a ploy that had served him well in the past, and didn’t fail him today. He listened to the various conversations in an attempt to get to know his fellow guests a little better, but time and again he was distracted by Mrs. Eden’s demeanour. While endeavouring to appear not to do so, she minutely watched every course, ensuring that it was served properly. The ancient butler was in charge, but a young, backward-looking maid was assisting him; it was her actions Mrs. Eden appeared to scrutinize.

  Dinner table conversation was second nature to Felix, and he maintained a polite and amusing discourse with Mrs. Rivers and her neighbours, still closely observing everyone else. By the end of the meal he had discovered that the only person at the table who had eaten less than Cedric Fothergill was Mrs. Eden. Felix noticed Mrs. Rivers surreptitiously casting significant glances in the direction of her niece, as course after course was removed from in front of her, almost untouched.

  The meal came to an end, and the ladies made to withdraw. Felix was instantly on his feet, assisting Mrs. Rivers from her chair. The rest of the gentlemen looked rather taken aback, before belatedly struggling to their own feet. Once again, Felix could have sworn that a ghost of a smile graced Mrs. Eden’s lips. It was clear that gentlemanly behaviour didn’t come as naturally to his fellow guests. Reaching the door before the butler, Felix held it open for the ladies.

  “Thank you, Mr. Beaumont.” Mrs. Rivers chuckled. “I can see that I shall enjoy having you living beneath my roof.”

  Mrs. Eden was the last of the ladies to leave the room. She thanked Felix, but refused to meet his eye as she swept past him. She looked almost angry, and Felix would have given a very great deal to know what was passing through her mind at that particular moment.

  Returning to the table, Felix accepted the decanter. He was pleasantly surprised to find that the port was as good as the wine that had preceded it. He leaned back in his chair, content to listen to the gentlemen’s conversation, aware that with the ladies absent they would naturally become less circumspect. It didn’t surprise him to find the proceedings dominated by Fothergill, who was holding forth once again upon the importance of discipline in education. He felt as though Fothergill’s remarks were being directed specifically at him, as if he wanted to regain lost ground following their initial skirmish.

  “Those twins of Mrs. Eden’s are bright enough, but not nearly as dedicated to their studies as they should be. Mrs. Eden relies on my opinion to an astonishing degree, but she has a blind spot when it comes to her children. She’s far too lenient with them, but I will bring her ’round to my way of thinking eventually. Now, left to my own devises…”

  Felix endured Fothergill’s humdrum voice until he could stand it no more, and brought him back from his monologue by asking him at what school he had previously taught. Fothergill avoided a direct answer, and adroitly changed the subject, which instantly piqued Felix’s curiosity, making him all the more determined to elicit a response. When he could prevaricate no further, Fothergill admitted that he’d taught French and Latin at a minor public school in Northumberland, the name of which Felix vaguely recognized.

  More convinced than ever that Fothergill was the only person in the house who could link up with Barker or his agents without suspicion, Felix determined to find out more about him. Luc and Clarissa were currently on her estate in Northumberland. He would send word to Luc and see what he could find out about the circumstances surrounding Fothergill’s termination from the school.

  The gentlemen rejoined the ladies a short time later, but Felix deliberately hung back on the pretext of collecting something from his room. When he returned to the hall he was surprised to encounter Mrs. Eden herself wheeling the tea trolley into the drawing room. Felix insisted upon completing the task for her, and brushed aside her objections.

  “I was merely saving Betty a job,” she said, flustered out of her distant politeness.

  “A natural enough thing to do.”

  But all the same he wondered what prompted her to look so guilty when he chanced upon her doing this menial task — why she felt the need to offer any explanation, and why, in so doing, she sounded so defensive?

  Tea and coffee having been served, Mrs. Eden was called upon to play and seated herself at the piano. Fearing the worst, Felix was, then, truly astonished for the first time since entering the house. She played a well-known Bach sonata with expertise, her interpretation so fresh and full of passion as to move him greatly. She was a superb musician, and it was obvious to Felix that she lost herself completely in the music, allowing it to consume her and sweep her away to some private place as she played from the heart. Felix, like his father, appreciated good music, but had been obliged over the years to endure endless performances by young ladies keen to demonstrate what little talent they possessed, hopeful of attracting his interest. None had ever come close to doing so. But Mrs. Eden? Well, anyone who could play like that could almost be forgiven any other defects of character.

  Then Felix recalled his reasons for being at Riverside House and hardened his heart. Even so, at the conclusion of her performance, he congratulated her warmly.

  “I think you must be a great music lover, Mrs. Eden?”

  “Indeed, sir, I consider music to be one of the greatest consolations in life. Without it I know not where I would be.”

  “If one can play as passionately as you, then I can readily understand that sentiment.”

  “I don’t know about passion, Mr. Beaumont. I simply play what I feel.”

  “In that case, m’dear,” Felix said languidly, “you’re certainly no stranger to passion.” His eyes burned directly into hers, compelling her to open up to him, and for a moment she seemed unable to look away. She blushed, causing Felix to suppose that she wasn’t accustomed to flirting. His gentle, mocking smile took on a predatory edge. He might not like the woman, but some habits were difficult to break.

  Fothergill bustled up to them, spoiling the moment, and launched upon a long explanation as to why her performance hadn’t been quite up to the mark.

  “You play yourself then, do you, Fothergill?” Felix asked.

  “Well no, but that doesn’t mean that…”

  This time there could be no doubt that Mrs. Eden offered Felix the merest hint of a smile.

  Chapter Four

  LATER THAT SAME EVENIN
G, Felix sat on the settee in his chamber and threw the window open wide. The familiar sound of the waves crashing against the shore a short distance in front of him, repetitive and soothing, acted like a balm. Feeling strangely at one with nature, he gazed into the inky blackness, breathing deeply and tasting the salt driven on the sea breeze stinging his lips.

  Smoking a cigar, Felix considered all he’d seen since arriving at Riverside House. Grinning wryly, he made a mental note to tell Perkins that, in spite of his best efforts to dress him down, he was still by far the most elegantly attired man in the house. Perkins would be highly gratified. His amusement abated as he mulled over the characteristics of the people he’d met that evening, convinced now that if Mrs. Eden was communicating with her father, she could only do so with the help of an intermediary.

  If?

  Surprised at the unexpected turn his thoughts had taken, he sat a little straighter. Since when had he entertained any doubts as to her complicity? Mrs. Rivers, he was entirely certain, had nothing to do with her brother’s business. The birdlike Miss Willoughby could be dismissed also: she was afraid of her own shadow and completely harmless. Captain Fanshaw? He paused for a moment before dismissing him as well. If Felix was any judge, then he was exactly what he said he was, totally wrapped up in the history of seafaring and no threat to anyone. Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins were also absolved by Felix from having any involvement in wrong doing. They had only been at Riverside House for a month, and would be leaving again at the end of the summer.

  That just left Fothergill. Felix disliked the man and his arrogant air of self-aggrandizement, but was determined not to allow his personal feelings to sway his judgement. Still, there could be no question but that he was the most likely candidate. He’d been at Riverside House for almost as long as Miss Willoughby, and it seemed that he owed the favour of his residency here, unfortunately for the twins, to his willingness to educate them. If he’d held down a post at a decent school, why had he finished up in this backwater? Whatever Luc was able to discover about his history at Farmouth School could shed light on the matter.

  Finally, Felix turned his thoughts to Saskia Eden, conceding that he couldn’t make her out. That she had closely guarded secrets wasn’t in question. She was no stranger to prevarication, and had treated his mild enquiries about her circumstances in an evasive manner too polite to permit him to take exception. But she was wary of him, and would clearly prefer him not to be at Riverside House. The price she’d extracted from him for this room had been ridiculously high, and obviously intended to discourage.

  Felix could think of only two reasons why she wouldn’t want a stranger in the house. Either she was fearful that his presence would interfere with her communications with her father, or else she suspected him of being linked to the authorities. Felix grimaced.

  How right she was to be on her guard!

  Saskia breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief as another day finally drew to a conclusion. She climbed the stairs to the top of the house slowly, almost too tired to put one foot in front of the other, and opened the door to the twins’ room. She smiled at the sight of the two tousled heads, maternal pride temporarily overcoming all weariness. Amy’s hair had escaped its braid, much as her own always had at that age, and was spread all over the place beneath her. Josh, as usual, had pushed off his covers, and lay curled on his right-hand side, facing his sister’s bed, as though he’d fallen asleep whilst in mid-conversation with her. Amy, curled on her left side, thumb firmly fixed in her mouth, faced her brother. Hoskins, loyalties divided, was stretched on his back between the two beds, all four legs pointing heavenwards, snoring softly.

  Saskia adjusted her children’s covers, careful not to wake them as she enjoyed this most precious of moments. She drank in the sight of her twins, safely asleep, silent for once and mercifully still young enough not to have a care in the word. She kissed each head in turn and left the room, closing the door gently behind her.

  In her own tiny room, next door to the twins, Saskia climbed into her lonely bed, but for once didn’t fall immediately into an exhausted sleep. Instead she thought about their new guest and wondered what had brought him to Swyre. She noticed how easily he brushed aside their naturally curious questions; that, as much as anything else, set her on her guard. The fact that he’d paid so much for a room was also a worry. He must know that she grossly overcharged him, but he didn’t once query the fact. Why?

  There could be no doubt that Mr. Beaumont was going out of his way to be charming to them all, and Saskia could see that her aunt found him charming. She was used to good society, but it was a long time since she had been exposed to such punctilious attentions. If nothing else, Saskia was grateful that this man had brought some pleasure into her aunt’s humdrum existence. That he was ridiculously handsome didn’t harm matters either and, whatever his reason for being in Riverside House, Saskia couldn’t help being grateful for the way in which he had handled the insufferable Mr. Fothergill. She really must do something about him soon. He was taking more and more liberties, and blatantly ignoring her instructions in respect to the twins’ education.

  When Saskia finally fell into an exhausted sleep, it was interrupted by visions of compelling brown eyes set in a dangerously handsome face sporting a mockingly intimate smile…a smile which she’d steadfastly ignored for the whole evening, but which her subconscious seemed unwilling to disregard quite so readily.

  After a substantial breakfast the following morning, at which neither Mrs. Eden nor her aunt put in an appearance, Felix set about exploring his new environment. Swyre was indeed as small as he’d been given to understand. A rocky path led from the gardens of Riverside House to a small, shingle-covered bay, which this morning was totally deserted. A steep climb from the other end of the cove led to a coastal path, and half-a-mile further on lay the village itself. It sported the inn that Mrs. Eden had already warned him to expect, the livery stable which had charge of Felix’s hired cattle, a general store, and not much else.

  In the mood for exercise, Felix strode out of the village and, rejoining the coastal path, made his way towards Burton Bradstock. He discovered it to be an attractive village, with pretty thatched cottages clustered around the fifteenth-century church. Perkins’s new residence, The Dove Inn, occupied a central position, but the most unusual aspect of the village was the two water mills, built to swingle and spin flax. Felix took an interest in them, and was treated to a lecture as to their purpose by an elderly villager, who appeared both proud of the structures and pleased to be able to pass the time of day with an interested visitor.

  Felix was aware of several eyebrows raised in curiosity as he sauntered the main street in Burton Bradstock. He was a stranger, and was clearly exciting interest amongst the locals, especially when he rushed to the assistance of two ladies leaving the circulating library, arms loaded with books. He made an elegant leg and held the door for them. Knowing he could do no more without first being introduced, he nevertheless made the most of the opportunity. His gentlemanly conduct had made an impression upon the women, and doubtless Barker would know of his presence in the village before the end of the day, just as Felix intended that he should.

  Felix met up with Perkins a little later and learned that he was comfortably ensconced in the inn. He was already making contacts amongst the clientele, not to mention a favourable impression upon an attractive young barmaid.

  “Just remember why we’re here, Perkins. I don’t want you distracted from your purpose.”

  “Naturally, my lord. But if I’m to gain the trust of these people, then I can’t afford to ignore any opportunities, can I, now?” Perkins’s apparent dedication to duty would have been quite convincing if Felix hadn’t been well aware of his predilection for the fairer sex, and had his statement not been accompanied by a devilish grin.

  Felix chuckled. “Just take care, Perkins.”

  “Of course. But this gal seems to know everything and everyone, and you know how women like to run on.”


  “When they’re on their backs you mean?”

  “My lord!” Perkins affected an injured expression.

  “Meet me at the same time tomorrow, Perkins, but this time on the dunes. In the meantime, arrange for this letter to be sent to the Earl of Newbury.”

  “At once, my lord.”

  Returning to Riverside House with a half-hour to spare before luncheon, Felix strolled through the French doors leading from the drawing room to an attractive honey-coloured stone terrace. At liberty now to take a closer interest in his surroundings, he was surprised to observe that weeds were growing between the terrace slabs and the benches and stone urns were covered with green lichen. The lawns, which sloped gently down towards the sea, were overdue for cutting and the flower borders, although artfully arranged to resemble a wild country garden, were in fact overgrown and in need of urgent pruning. Grass encroached upon the paths in places, and the entrance to one walk was completely obscured by brambles.

  Felix wondered why this should be. He was adding it to the list of anomalies he’d already noted at Riverside House, when an explosion of noise alerted him to the presence of the twins, with Hoskins leaping about and making as much noise as either of them.

  “Hello, Mr. Beaumont, we’ve just finished our lessons for the morning — ”

  “Thank goodness!”

  “Mr. Fothergill is beastly to us — ”

  “But we have several hours off now — ”

  “He likes to walk into Swyre before luncheon — ”

  “And when he comes back his breath smells funny.”

  “Yes,” Amy added sombrely, “but at least we don’t have to do many lessons in the afternoons — ”

  “Sometimes he slurs his words or falls asleep — ”

  “Hope he does today and then we won’t have to — ”

  “Oh no, I’d forgotten about that.”

  Felix smiled at them, glad of their company. So, Fothergill was unable to get past luncheon without first calling at Swyre Inn. Interesting. Before he could decide how important that might be, Amy’s voice, resonant with indignation, brought him back to the present.