“That may have been the gist of what I was told,” the bishop said with a grudging nod. “And that you’ve been using your position as vicar to intrude upon matters that do not concern you. I might add that the person who made this complaint is a respected member of the community.”
Sophia had little trouble guessing he meant Peter Morgan. And it surprised her not a whit that the bishop thought him respected.
“My son has already explained this, Gussie,” said Pemberton, his leg crossed over his knee, perfectly at ease in what must be a difficult meeting for his son. Clearly he was not intimidated by the bishop. That much was obvious by the way he referred to him by what must have been a childhood nickname. “He and Miss Hastings are working together on a matter at the behest of Mainwaring. Whom you and I well know works for the Home Office. If he is able to fulfill his duties as a vicar, then I don’t see what the problem is.”
“I’m quite able to defend myself, sir,” Ben said to his father, who lifted his hands to indicate his son had the floor. “Though, your grace, I do not believe there is anything to defend here. As my father said, Miss Hastings and I are working together on something for Mainwaring. It involves art forgery and more than that I cannot say. But I can assure you that I have not neglected my duties, and having seen Miss Hastings’ paintings, I can assure you that they are far from what Morgan claims them to be.”
It was all perfectly true, but Sophia couldn’t help but feel a bit of frustration at his decision to omit the news of their betrothal. Wouldn’t that reassure the vicar about the time they spent together? While she did appreciate that the investigation for the Home Office was perhaps a stronger argument for their closeness, the betrothal would remove the appearance of impropriety at least. Or so she thought.
If anything, the bishop seemed to grow more annoyed. “What business has the Home Office to co-opt my clergymen to perform their nasty little tasks? I’ve a mind to pay a call on the Home Secretary himself to complain.”
None of the others responded to that, which Sophia assumed was a rhetorical question. And if it wasn’t, there was no response they could give that would assuage his pique.
“Morgan has done a great deal for this village, Benedick,” he continued in a scowl. “In fact, I believe his donations have made the living at Little Seaford one that is no longer the kind of pittance once seen here. You risk him reducing the amount of his tithe by going against him. And of him withdrawing some of his funding for your pet projects like caring for the village poor. Are you prepared to do that?”
Sophia watched as Ben’s jaw tightened. She could see that he was holding his temper on a tight leash, indeed.
“Are you suggesting that I cease investigating a matter at my country’s behest in order to appease a man who would use donations to the church as a means of getting what he wants?” his words were clipped and cold.
“I warned you about the politics of the church when you came to us, my boy,” said the bishop with a shrug. “It is part of the job, no matter how much you dislike it. Of course you must render unto Caesar when necessary, but do not forget what duty you owe to the church and your parish.”
He gave a pointed look at Sophia, who felt her back stiffen. “I notice you glossed over Morgan’s other accusations regarding Miss Hastings.” He did not elaborate, but it was clear from the way his eye roved over her what his meaning was. “Perhaps I should remind you as well that there are certain moral standards to which we expect you to adhere.”
At that both Ben and duke stood. “Now see here, Gussie. If you’re going to accuse my son of—”
“Don’t be tiresome, Pemberton. I’m not accusing him of anything. But there is the appearance of impropriety. And that, I think, is enough to cast doubt on the nature of his relationship with Miss Hastings.” The bishop had stood as well. “It might all be perfectly innocent, but it is what his parishioners think that matters. Once he has lost their confidence…”
“I doubt very much I’ve lost anyone’s confidence who knows me,” Ben said, his anger radiating off him. “And I will not have you cast aspersions of Miss Hastings’ good name without so much as a bye-your-leave. It might change your opinion to know that I have only today asked her to be my wife and she has accepted. So, I will ask that you moderate your manner of speaking about her or I will be forced to complain to the archbishop.”
At his announcement, Sophia struggled to her feet. “Benedick, you needn’t have told him about this now.”
She’d wanted him to announce their betrothal before, but now it felt like a play in a chess game. And she could see from the bishop’s high color and pursed lips that it hadn’t calmed his anger.
“I beg to differ, young lady,” the bishop said coldly. “Now is the perfect time, because it tells me that the rumors are true. It is of course, your choice whom you take as a wife, Lord Benedick. But if you choose this route, your career will not be an easy one. You have not shown yourself to be a political man when it comes to rising in the church, but know if you do this that your chances of rising will forever be dimmed.”
“Because Miss Hastings and I have been seen in one another’s company too frequently?” Ben asked with incredulity.
“Because Miss Hastings paints what more than one of your parishioners has complained to me is obscene. Dead prostitutes? Dying children?” The bishop made a noise of disgust. “It is unfit for a man to paint such scenes. Much less a lady.” He said the last word with a degree of skepticism that indicated he doubted her claim to the title.
Sophia clenched her fists in an effort to keep from striking the man. He was, of course, entitled to make judgments based on the content of her art, but to use them as a bludgeon against Ben was inexcusable. His career thus far with the church had been, so far as she knew, blameless. Was he to be censured solely based on the friendship of a few months’ duration? She knew of church elders who had carried on affairs of decades duration who had escaped punishment. That Ben would find himself in such a situation because of her was enough to make her want to howl at the unfairness of it.
Like powerful men before him, the bishop also liked to have the last word, apparently, because once he’d said his peace, he swept from the room.
Leaving a pregnant silence behind him.
Chapter 20
“Gussie always was an egotistical fool,” said the duke into the silence that fell in the wake of the bishop’s departure. Then, turning to Sophia, he offered her his hand. “My dear Miss Hastings, I am very pleased to hear of your betrothal to my son. His mother and I had given up hope that he’d ever choose a bride.”
Ben tried to shake off the pall of the bishop’s words on him. His anger over the man’s criticism of Sophia was foremost in his mind, especially when she herself had been forced to listen to his nonsense. He knew well enough that the church wished its clergymen would marry bland, selfless women who would make good helpmeets and be seen and not heard. But he’d long known that wasn’t the kind of match he wanted. And certainly after meeting Sophia and seeing her determination to right societal wrongs with her work—something that spoke to his own sympathy for those who by accident of birth were stuck in the lower class—he’d known that she was what he wanted.
That his father, after only a few moments with her, was welcoming her to the family said more than any of the bishop’s dismissive speeches.
“Thank you, your grace,” Sophia said, though Ben could hear the note of falseness in her voice. “I wonder if you wouldn’t mind giving me a few moments alone with your son? We have much to discuss, I think.”
Though he was focused on Sophia, Ben couldn’t mistake the look of warning his father sent him. He was all too aware of the danger, there, however.
“Certainly, my dear,” the duke said with a smile. “I’m in need of a rest after all of Gussie’s bombast. I do hope we’ll see one another again before I travel on to visit Cam down the coast.”
He kissed her on the cheek before bidding Ben a quick goodbye, and
then he too was gone.
Leaving Ben and an obviously overset Sophia alone.
He knew something was seriously wrong when he moved to take Sophia’s hand and she pulled away.
“Come now,” he said in a cajoling tone. “You aren’t taking what the bishop said to heart, are you? My father obviously approves, and his opinion is far more important to me than the bishop’s is.”
She turned from where she’d been facing out the window and he saw that her face was white. “Yes, I do take it to heart when the man who holds the future of your career in the church in his hands claims that a match with me will ruin you. While I am, of course, pleased to have your father’s blessing, I cannot help but be troubled by the bishop’s censure.”
Ah. She was worried for him. “I told you before that I am not dependent upon the church’s funding. And unlike the Roman church there isn’t really a way for him to defrock me. The worst he can do is scold. Which he has done.” He moved closer, reaching out to touch her arm. He was relieved when she didn’t pull away.
He ran his hand down her arm until he’d taken her hand in his. “I’m sorry that I waited until that precise moment to reveal our betrothal, however. It made it look as if I was inventing it on the spot in order to escape his chastisement.”
“I doubt it would have made a difference,” she said, moving closer to let him hold her against him. “He had already made up his mind about me before he came to Little Seaford. Morgan must have placed a great deal of money in the hands of the right people to get the bishop himself to come to deliver a set down in person.”
Relieved that she wasn’t angry at him so much as the situation, he took a moment to enjoy the feel of her against him. To smell the fresh lemony fragrance of her hair, and the warmth of her skin.
“I have no doubt that Morgan is quite skilled at the business of paying off those he thinks will be of use to him at some point,” he said, stroking a comforting hand over her back. “He is a businessman with a businessman’s conviction that money will buy whatever he wants—including the silencing of a critic.”
At his words, she stiffened and pulled away. “You don’t suppose he contacted the bishop because of what happened with Framingham?”
Ben frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Just that someone must have been worried to silence Framingham permanently,” she said with a pointed look. “What if Morgan knew that he’d contacted you before he died? If it was indeed Framingham.”
He considered it. He’d wanted—because of the man’s behavior with Sophia—the culprit to be Ryder, but it was entirely possible that the murderer was someone else. Someone with more at stake than an itinerant artist did.
Someone who stood to lose an empire if his scheme was uncovered.
“We need to find that note from Lady Celeste,” he said with a sense of urgency. If Morgan had either killed Framingham or had him killed, then his next target might be the people who were trying to bring him down. He wasn’t worried for his own safety. But if it had been Morgan who sent the bishop information about Sophia, then he just might see Sophia as a threat as well as Ben.
And he would let Peter Morgan harm Sophia over his dead body.
Taking Sophia’s hand, he led her upstairs to search for the clue that would lead them to the truth.
* * *
In the studio again, Sophia made immediately for the ornate Jacobean cabinet in the corner, where she’d first discovered a collection of documents and diaries relating to Lady Celeste’s art dealings. She had given her works as gifts and kept a journal with the title of each painting and the name of the person she’d gifted it to.
As if by agreement, she took a seat and Ben handed her stack after stack of loose pages and other ephemera from the late artist’s collection.
“I don’t understand why her art papers are so disorganized when the rest of her papers were so very tidy,” Sophia said as she opened a letter that seemed to be from an art dealer in Brighton. “Though given the breadth of her interest, I suppose she couldn’t do it all.”
Ben turned from pulling out a bound journal from the cabinet. “You don’t suppose someone has already searched this collection? And that’s why it’s in such disarray.”
The possibility hadn’t occurred to her and Sophia thought it over for a moment. Could someone have sneaked into the studio and rifled through Lady Celeste’s papers without her knowing about it? It was true there were a couple of months between the lady’s death and the arrival of the heiresses. Serena had been here, of course, but she wouldn’t have done such a thing.
Then, a thought occurred to her. Someone else in the house might have decided to conceal a letter for her from Lady Celeste. Someone who might think he was protecting her from danger.
“I think I might know who has the letter Lady Celeste left for me,” she said with a sigh. If she was right, he would be mortified at being caught out. But there was no time for that now. A man was dead and they needed every bit of information they could gather.
“Who?” Ben asked, his brows drawn.
“Ring the bell pull and we’ll find out if I’m right.” Sophia said rubbing the spot between her eyes that was beginning to throb.
She hoped she was correct. If she wasn’t, then she wasn’t sure where they’d be able to search next.
Chapter 21
Greaves himself arrived in answer to the bell, and Ben was struck by the realization that the butler seemed to have a soft spot for Sophia.
It wasn’t all that unusual for a butler to respond to a bell from a member of the family, but it did seem that Greaves was, more often than not, the one who came running when Sophia called.
“Miss Hastings,” the older man said, offering her a slight bow. Then, turning to offer another to Ben. “How may I be of assistance?”
He seemed to take the presence of Ben in the room as unexceptional, though as an upper servant, Greaves was skilled at keeping his opinions to himself.
“Mr. Greaves,” Sophia said from her perch on a high-backed chair near the cabinet they’d been searching, “is there something you’d like to tell me? Perhaps something relating to a note Lady Celeste left with express instructions for me?”
Ben watched fascinated as the man’s upright posture sagged a little. Folding his arms over his chest, he leaned back against the cabinet to watch the interaction between Sophia and the major-domo.
“Miss Hastings,” Greaves began with a tight-lipped frown, “you must understand it was for your own protection. I cannot imagine Lady Celeste would have wished you to put yourself in the sort of danger both Miss Ivy—that is, the Marchioness of Kerr—and the Duchess of Maitland found themselves in when they followed my late mistress’s directives. I know it was not my place, but I … that is to say, my affection…”
Before he could say more, Sophia stopped him, raising a hand. “Mr. Greaves, how could you?” she asked, looking both disappointed and touched. “You know it’s not your place to make decisions like that. Not only has your decision to hold back Lady Celeste’s letter or note, or whatever it was, put me in more danger, but it may very well have got Mr. Framingham killed.”
At that, the butler flinched. “Of course I never intended to do anything that would harm anyone, Miss Hastings. I was only trying to keep you safe.”
“I know that,” she said with a sigh. “And I know you have a soft spot for me. But you must always know that more information is better in these situations than less. If I don’t know all the facts then how am I to make a rational decision about how to approach this situation? Lady Celeste’s letter might contain information that would keep both me and Lord Benedick safe from harm rather than endangering us.”
Looking abashed, Greaves nodded. “I only thought to do what would keep you out of danger, Miss Hastings. I knew at the time I was breaking every tenet of my profession. But after what happened to the others, I couldn’t stomach the idea of such a thing happening to you.” He looked up, his eyes bright with emoti
on. “I will submit my letter of resignation to Lady Serena in the morning. I only hope you’ll give me time to gather my things and search for a new position.”
Sophia, Ben could see, was moved by the butler’s confession. It was obvious that she held him in just as much affection as he held her. “I don’t think that’s necessary,” she said briskly. “You were acting out of concern—rather like a father—and as my own father is not here, I cannot help but think that he would heartily approve of your actions. I must warn you, however, that you must, in future, resist the impulse to hide things from the ladies of this house. You are perhaps of a generation that sees ladies as less capable of handling danger or difficulties. But I cannot stress enough that such a notion is wrong-headed.”
Greaves closed his eyes for the barest second, letting relief show in the set of his shoulders. Then, before Ben’s eyes he pulled himself together and stood up straight and proud. “You are far more generous than I deserve, Miss Hastings,” he said stiffly. “I will not make this mistake again. My apologies for allowing my emotions to cloud what I knew to be my duty as a servant.”
“And now,” Sophia said firmly, “you must bring me the letter or note, or whatever it was, that Lady Celeste left for me. It is imperative that Lord Benedick and I are able to find out just who it is we are looking for. And who killed Mr. Framingham.”
With a nod, Greaves bowed again and excused himself to go get the note.
When he was gone, Ben turned to Sophia, who was looking a bit rueful. “I suppose it was obvious the man thinks of you as his special charge,” he said gently. “But how did you know he’d taken the letter?”
Shaking her head, Sophia said, “I wasn’t positive. But it suddenly occurred to me that there was one person in the house who would wish more than anyone else to keep me from harm’s way. And when I recalled his response to my ankle, I realized that it could be no one else.”
Wallflower Most Wanted Page 19
