The Rake's Reflection

by Lesley-Anne McLeod

  "The prodigal returns?" his brother questioned acidly.

  The earl winced, but nodded and agreed. "An appropriate simile."

  "You look much, much older than when last I saw you."

  "And you, only a little. It is good to see you Charles. I have missed you." Torgreave extended his hand, and saw that it trembled. His brother must have seen it also, but he made no comment. For a moment Torgreave thought Charles would not countenance his presence. Then his hand was gripped, and not released as they embraced.

  "I told you I cared never to see you again. I was lying...I was wrong." The young rector had tears in his eyes when he stood away at last.

  Relief and something akin to joy surged through Torgreave. He had to clear his throat of an emotional obstruction before he could speak.

  "I am come for many reasons," he began.

  "Thank God you are come at all, Rupert." Still his brother did not loose his hand. "Come into the parlour."

  "I am accompanied. May I explain?"

  The rector released him and stepped back. Suspicion entered his smooth face.

  "I am come with regrets, to try and make amends," Torgreave spoke slowly. He was unwilling to tarnish the joy of their reunion. "I have been planning to do so these many weeks. My visit is made sooner however than I expected. I have a lady with me."

  The younger man burst into speech. "You have not changed then, and you must know I abhor the way you live."

  The earl flinched and lifted a long hand. "Hear me out. I said a lady. I meant it. It is a devilish complex matter, one for which I need your help. This lady may be a member of our family."

  "I do not pretend to understand, but you must bring her in then, out of the cold." His expression displayed the incomprehension he did not vocalize.

  "Thank you Charles, for your acceptance." Rupert smiled warmly at his younger brother. "I will endeavour that you will not regret it."

  ***

  When the earl emerged from the rectory, the groom opened the door of the coach. Delia, who had drawn down her veil, stepped out and crossed the forecourt hurriedly. She immediately sensed a change in Torgreave. The tension was gone. He was as ever restrained and urbane, but she perceived some new happiness. She felt she was growing to know him a little and was content for it to be so.

  He strode to her side, took her gloved hand, and said, "Come within. My brother is welcoming, though he harbors doubts. We have explanations to make."

  In the hall, the maidservant had returned and was ready to take their heavy wraps. Delia discarded hers gladly, and indicated that Morag Lochmaddy should do likewise. Delia retained her bonnet and veil. She preferred that some explanation should precede her revelation. Torgreave shrugged out of his greatcoat, and then they were ushered into the parlour.

  The rector waited within that comfortable room. The fire and the candles blazed. The night was drawing in, and the gold-coloured wool damask curtains were drawn to keep out pernicious drafts. The earl produced the necessary introductions and something by the way of explanation for his brother. From behind her veil, Delia studied the younger man avidly.

  As Torgreave had said days earlier, the Reverend Charles Manningford was not as like his older brother as she herself was. He was a fine-looking man in his own right, Delia recognized. But he had not his brother's strength and grace, or his definition of feature. Where the earl's hair was coal-black silk, the rector's was merely dark. The earl's eyes were identical in colour to her own startling sapphire; his brother's eyes were only blue. His brows had not the straight blackness of theirs, and his nose was not aquiline. Puzzlement drew his face awry as he listened to his older brother's interpretation of the events of the past week.

  "You will have to put back your veil."

  Delia suddenly realized the earl was speaking to her.

  "This makes little sense, unless my brother can see your face."

  "I wish I had not to do it," she said. Her voice was quiet and not without humour. She drew off her bonnet altogether and Morag took it from her hand.

  The earl's brother gasped. He sat down abruptly upon the nearest chair. "How can this be?" he said in a low, shocked tone. His gaze was fixed on her face.

  "That is what we hope to discover," Torgreave responded.

  "Miss Tyninghame is from Scotland, and we none of us had any knowledge of this? It is beyond belief!" the rector exclaimed.

  Delia wondered how he could say that, with two pairs of identical eyes regarding him seriously. She glanced at the earl and knew he shared her frivolous thought. She said, "It must be believed, Mr. Manningford, for the evidence is before you."

  "Indeed." The rector seemed at a loss for words. Then he managed to say, "What have you in mind to do? How can I be of help?"

  Delia was conscious of relief at those words from the younger man. His assistance could not but be of benefit. She was thankful, too, that he was of a type of man more familiar to her than his elder brother.

  The earl handed her to a chair near the fire, and sought one himself close by. Morag Lochmaddy moved to a straight-backed settle behind her mistress.

  "It seemed to me that Manningford Tower -- or even the servants or the tenants of the Tower -- might hold some answers to the questions raised by our resemblance. But we have no desire to spread this news abroad," Torgreave said.

  "No...indeed no. An unexplained sister? My position would be untenable!" The rector flushed as his brother grinned mockingly. He continued a little fiercely, "I have struggled to overcome your notoriety, to regain the respect in which our family once was held. I have attained some position in this community. I should not wish to lose it all."

  The earl's grin faded at mention of his past transgressions. "I can summon a little concern for your 'position', but I wish above all to protect Miss Tyninghame's reputation," he said. "As you say, I have none for which to be concerned."

  Delia felt a pang of sorrow for the brothers' pain as they stared at each across the comfortable room.

  The rector broke the awkward silence, saying gruffly, "If you desire it, you will stay here at the Rectory. There is space enough, and Miss Tyninghame's anonymity will be ensured. My servants are a few of ours of old from Manningford Tower. They will delight to see you. Those one or two that must know of Miss Tyninghame's presence will hold it to themselves."

  "This is very kind of you." Delia thanked him quietly and sincerely. "Our arrival must be a great shock for you, as mine was for the earl. The events of the past week are beyond imagining. My desire to travel and Mrs. Inniskip's wish to be of help to the earl have combined to create a disastrous situation."

  "Yet it is rightful we should know of each other's existence," the rector countered, observing her directly for the first time. "There can be no doubt that we share a common forebear." He transferred his gaze to his older brother. "My father's papers are still at Manningford Tower, locked in the cabinet secretary in the library. He must have known something of this."

  Torgreave achieved a sneer. "If my surmise is correct, he is the author of our situation."

  His brother coloured but said only, "I will try if Sir Thomas will allow you access to Manningford, Rupert."

  "Will allow?!" The earl had been lounging at his ease, but he straightened at that statement. He exuded aristocratic disdain for his tenant.

  "He abhors your character," his brother retorted plainly. "He has only rented Manningford Tower because you never were in the place as its master. He always tells me he feels that in some way he rents it from my father, not you. He has a young son, and three daughters. He has told me he would not wish them exposed to you."

  Delia listened to this interchange with fascination not unmixed with horror. She had discovered the earl to be a cultivated, cogitative, reserved gentleman. He was occasionally kind, frequently unsociable and had displayed once or twice a formidable anger. Everything she learned of him from others was to his detriment. She had little to say, and much to learn.

  Torgreave lashed out
with a white-hot temper that shocked Delia, who had experienced only his ice-cold fury. She shrank back in her chair.

  "Exposed to me!? I have not got the plague. Children and animals are safe with me. I am still a gentleman. You live on rumour here in Leicestershire. These people know nothing of what I am or am not. Sir Thomas sounds the sort of man that were I to dally with his daughter he would be busy about forcing me to marriage. He would not call me out. His disgust of me would be tempered by his avarice."

  Charles jumped to his feet. "These people are my friends. More friend to me than you have been these five years. I will not have them maligned. You have said it; your reputation is bad. Tell me that it is all lies!"

  The earl rose slowly. Delia observed pride and anguish, as well as the ashes of anger, in his fine-drawn face.

  "I will not excuse myself to you. I am what I am. There are many things in my past I regret, but I am not a monster. Shall we leave or stay?"

  Charles sagged, and stammered boyishly, "I...I...stay, please Rupert. I beg your pardon. You were a good brother always. Your differences with my father coloured my view too much. Hearing echoes of your actions and not seeing you did me no good. I am become too much the clergyman and not enough the brother."

  The door opened and Delia, who had her back to it, started.

  The maid called Jane beamed at the two men still standing in confrontation. "The mutton is ready my lord," she said. She glanced at Delia, and showed only mild surprise that she displayed a marked resemblance to the gentlemen. In the interval, the earl and the rector swung apart in relief.

  The younger man struggled to produce a normal response. "Our guests will be staying for a few days Jane. Miss Tyninghame is a...a cousin, who wishes to keep her presence private. Will you show her and her companion to chambers please? We will dine within the hour."

  Torgreave crossed to Delia's side, and drew her to her feet. His exquisite voice was low, for her ears only. "I regret you have to witness these dramas. Our family history is long, and not altogether pleasant. We will manage better, I am certain. Advise me if you have not everything you need above stairs."

  Delia looked across the room, to see Charles contemplating them. She flushed a faint pink, and said quietly to them both, "I will return to you shortly." She withdrew, followed by Mrs. Lochmaddy.

  Delia felt disinclined to talk to Morag. She was unnerved by the strong emotions experienced and expressed by the two gentlemen. There was a long, most welcome, silence when they reached her chamber. She slowly withdrew the combs from her hair, and allowed Morag to brush out the tangled length.

  "At least the rector is a good man, as I expected," the Scotswoman said at last, after dressing Delia's hair once more.

  "He is," Delia agreed, washing her hands and her face in the china bowl provided near the fire. She accepted a fresh tucker of lace from Morag for her violet kerseymere gown. She changed her silver eardrops to ones of amethyst. They matched a delicate locket about her slim neck. "I cannot fathom completely the earl's nature. It is most contradictory. The rector will be more easily understood. Their emotions run strongly at present, and they have much to discuss. I shall withdraw soon after dinner, and leave them to talk."

  Dinner was a quiet affair; the food was simple, but well prepared. The rector often gazed from his brother to Delia in silent, puzzled astonishment. They spoke, however, of innocuous topics -- the weather, Delia's journey and Manningford's concerns. Immediately the meal was concluded, Delia made her excuses and retired.

  The earl held the dining room door open for her. He murmured as she passed through, "Thank you for your tact."

  Her blue eyes flew to his and dropped at the warmth she found there. A disconcerting sense of more than physical familiarity coursed through her.

  "Good night," was all she managed, in a strangled tone.

  ***

  When the earl turned back, he discovered his brother had risen. With the decanter of port in one hand and two glasses in the other, he was advancing to the door.

  "The parlour is warmer. We may be snug and private there," Charles said. He led the way across the hall.

  When they were both settled before the fire, booted feet outstretched, Torgreave was first to speak. "I have worried that you were not comfortable; I am glad to see you have been."

  His younger brother flushed. "I thank you for your concern. My material wants have been supplied, but oh, I have been lonely. I missed my father..."

  Rupert uttered a sardonic laugh.

  "Oh, I know you did not. Nevertheless I did. And I missed you, after I recovered from my anger and grief. Why did you leave Manningford Tower ten years ago?"

  "My father wished an exact replica of himself. He wished me to be that replica. I was not. He knew it from my earliest years. He attempted to force me into his mold, and I rejected that at every turn. You know the results. You lived through the turmoil. I thank God he allowed you to be your own man. In the end I rejected everything he was and loved, even the Tower itself."

  "And now?" Charles drank deeply of his port, but the earl scarcely sipped his.

  "Now I must sort the coil presented by Miss Tyninghame."

  "She is very beautiful, and very like you. My father always said you were too handsome." Charles grinned at his brother with some glimmer of past youthful jokes.

  Rupert responded with his own grimmer smile. "He told me so many times did he not? I understand it better now I see Delia. Her beauty is a formidable distraction."

  Charles lifted a brow at the familiarity.

  Rupert found himself explaining, for despite Charles was the younger, he had always been the conscience of the pair. "She and I agreed that there was no point in false formality. We must be related...perhaps even siblings. Delia and I have reckoned that the weakness of her mother and my father must be the explanation. I can scarcely credit it of my father." Rupert regretted the distress he saw in his younger brother's face.

  The rector said thoughtfully, "Nor can I, and it may not be true. Leaving it aside though, tell me all the details of your meeting. Why and how did Miss Tyninghame come from Scotland?"

  "From Edinburgh to be precise." Rupert turned his glass in his fingers, watched the candlelight shatter over its cut surface. He did not drink from it. "Inniskip invited her, in the mistaken impression that a surprise might reform me."

  Charles laughed outright at that.

  "Have some respect for your elders! I am the earl." Rupert mocked his own dignity, in quite their old joking manner. He continued more seriously, "Before Inniskip interfered I had already decided to make changes in my life."

  "Have you been ill?" his brother questioned. "I...you are much altered...very thin and...and haggard."

  Torgreave betrayed his astonishment with a glance, then he laughed bitterly. "That, my dear, is the result of drink. Bowland would tell you I have been drinking myself to death. It interferes with appetite and sleep. I shall be better now that I have resolved against it." He waved a long hand dismissively. "To continue regarding Inniskip's interference...the surprise has been for us all. I for one wish to know the facts behind it."

  "I am not certain I wish to. It can only reflect badly on our family," Charles said slowly. "I must tell you, I am wishing to be wed."

  Torgreave almost dropped his glass, and shot a glance at his brother. "Do you say so?" He added more calmly. "Who is the fortunate lady?"

  "Miss Susannah Slimbridge. And her father does not think her fortunate. He is Sir Thomas, the same who rents Manningford Tower." He looked away from his brother's even gaze. "He will not hear of his family being allied with ours. It is you that stand in the way of it." He said the last without anger or recrimination.

  The earl set down his goblet carefully, and rose, to present his back to his younger brother. He said nothing for long minutes. The rector poured himself another glass of port.

  "One forgets, when one goes to the devil, that one does not go alone," said Rupert. He turned and shocked Charles wit
h his ravaged face. "Can you forgive me?"

  "When you argued with my father as he lay dying and you swore you would never come to Manningford Tower again, I thought I could never forgive you. And I told you so, didn't I? But I was wrong. I told you also that I hated you. That was not true. I could never hate you. I have gained wisdom and compassion over the years, I hope, and some understanding through my work here. We both have much to forgive."

  "I will make it right."

  "You always said that, whenever we were caught in mischief," Charles said. "And you always did, no matter the cost to yourself."

  The earl seated himself again. He covered his face with his long hands.

  "Rupert, do not distress yourself so. It will come right, as you say."

  "It will. We will change the opinion of this Sir Thomas," Torgreave vowed. He straightened slowly. "But I cannot see where Delia fits, and I must. I shall want all of my father's papers from Manningford Tower. Did he not keep a journal?"

  "He did. It is here, in several volumes, in my study. You do believe that this -- that Delia -- is Father's doing?"

  "I believe nothing yet, but I must start somewhere. 'Tis impossible we share a mother, therefore it must be a father. Tyninghame is unlikely to be my father, but our father may be hers."

  Charles nodded thoughtfully. "Come, I will show you the journals."

  ***

  Delia saw no one until the next midday. She took breakfast in her chamber, and dealt as best she could with the speculations and theories that chased around her brain. She wrote letters and unpacked her needlework. Morag Lochmaddy preserved her customary reticence, and saw to her mistress' needs.

  When Delia descended the stairs, with her workbox in her hand, the rectory was quiet. She discovered Charles in the parlour, writing. He rose quickly. It seemed to her that he recoiled a little at the sight of her face.

  She said, "It is disconcerting is it not? At least you have not the same look as we two, for that would be too much to bear."

  He looked relieved by her candour. "You are two very handsome people. I remember I once envied my brother his appearance. Then I realized it seemed the root of much of his troubles. To see you together delights the eye, but raises so many unanswered questions."