‘Not a great deal, sir. He visits the Crown from time to time, but he has never been a paying guest.’
Caution radiated from the man.
‘Has he lived in the area a long time?’
Horwell’s gaze flicked to Vernon’s face and then away. He cleared his throat.
‘If it will make this easier, Horwell, you should know that I have never met Mr Mannington, but that I do seek information about him. I saw him here earlier in the company of an American gentleman, which is why I thought to ask you about him.’
A muscle leapt in Horwell’s jaw.
‘Your discretion does you credit, Horwell. I give you my word as a gentleman that anything you tell me will go no further.’
Other than to Thea.
‘There will be no repercussions. And I, in return, will be honest with you. Are you willing to help me?’
Horwell stared at Vernon, then nodded, releasing a pent-up breath.
‘I shall aid you to the best of my ability, sir, although I do not know a great deal about the gentleman other than he claims kinship to a duke and he is lying to one of my guests.’
* * *
Vernon had been gone an age. Still shivery with shock, Thea clambered under the eiderdown and curled in a ball, tugging the folds around her, trying to warm herself. Her brain appeared to be mired in quicksand—the more she tried to free a thought to follow it through and try to make sense of what she had heard and seen, the more she felt as though she was sinking. Her chest squeezed tight, making breathing a chore, and her limbs felt heavy, anchoring her to the bed. She had not managed to follow even one thought to a conclusion when she heard the door open.
‘Put the tray on the nightstand, if you please,’ Vernon was saying, in a loud voice. ‘As you see, my nephew is unwell.’
Thea kept her head buried as light footsteps neared the bed and then retreated. Finally, the door clicked shut and she fought her way out from the cocooning eiderdown, blinking her eyes against the brightness of the room. Strong hands clasped her upper arms and helped her to sit, propping her once more against the pillows leaning against the headboard. Her hand was taken and her fingers wrapped around a glass.
‘Sip at this,’ Vernon ordered. Then, ‘Steady. Do not gulp’, as she tilted the glass to her mouth.
She coughed and spluttered as the liquid scorched its way down her throat. She raised watering eyes to Vernon’s.
‘What is that?’
‘Brandy. I did say I would bring some. Have you never drunk it before?’
She shook her head. This was it. He would expect an explanation...and how could she admit the truth and own up to her culpability in the chain of events that had culminated in the loss of their fortune and had caused Papa’s stroke? But she must. If they were to find Daniel...she could not hamper the search because of her own guilt and shame.
She sipped again at the amber spirit and this time it warmed and it soothed as she swallowed. She sucked in a determined breath.
‘I scarce know where to start.’
Vernon eyed her approvingly and she realised he had expected more reluctance on her part to reveal her story.
‘Try the beginning,’ he said, sitting on the bed, then swivelling to face her. ‘You recognised the man calling himself Henry Mannington.’
‘That man...he is not your cousin?’
‘No.’
‘I am glad. He is...he is not a good man. And, yes, I know...knew him.’
She chewed at her lip. There was no dodging this. She must face the truth, incredible as it seemed. Perhaps talking of it would finally allow her to make sense of what she had heard and seen this afternoon. Her stomach still roiled with nerves and disbelief.
‘I told you I had been betrothed once, several years ago?’
‘You did and that you decided by mutual consent that you would not suit.’
‘That was not entirely true,’ Thea said. She rubbed her eyes, then her mouth. She bent her legs and clasped her arms around her knees, hugging them close to her chest, and sighed. ‘His name was Jasper Connor. We met at the assembly room in Bewdley and he asked me to dance. Over the following few weeks we met several times and he asked permission to call upon me at home. We began courting. I was flattered. He was charming, attentive, handsome...he was possessed of all the attributes to turn a young woman’s head.’
‘How old were you?’
‘Twenty, when we met.’ She raised her gaze to his. ‘He was most plausible. I have thought about it since then...oh, so many times I have gone over what happened. Should I have known? Were there clues I missed? But I can think of none. It was a leisurely courtship. There was no rush...no chivvying me into accepting a proposal...and when he did offer for me, it felt...oh, I do not know how to explain...it felt natural. As though it were the next logical step. Do you understand? How could any of us have known what would happen?’
She dipped her head, resting her forehead on her knees.
‘How long after you first met did he offer for you?’
‘Five months. To the day.’ She laughed mirthlessly. ‘He even spoke of it as the anniversary of the day we met and he said he hoped it would not be another five months before we could be wed.’
Vernon stroked her hair. ‘Tell me the rest, Thea. None of this reflects badly upon you.’
She raised her head and stared at him, reading nothing but concern on his handsome face. ‘Does it not? It was I who introduced him into the lives of my family. I who caused...who caused...’
Vernon took her hand, caressing her palm with his thumb. ‘Do not distress yourself. Do not talk of culpability. Tell me the facts. What happened after he proposed? You accepted him...and then...?’
She swallowed past the aching lump that had formed in her throat. ‘We set the date for our wedding. Papa...’ Her voice hitched and she coughed to clear the rasp. ‘Papa and Jasper agreed the marriage settlements...and then, and then...three days before the wedding Jasper came to Stourwell Court in such excitement...he had been given such an investment opportunity...it could not fail, he said...he would make a fortune. And he said he had thought of Papa and why should he not also benefit from such a wonderful opportunity? But it had to be quick. If Papa did not commit immediately, he would miss this chance of a lifetime...and Papa said, afterwards, that he should have known better...he did know better...but he trusted Jasper. We all did. Why should we not? And so they went into Stourbridge together, to Papa’s bank, and he withdrew his savings and handed them to Jasper and then he raised more by way of a loan secured against the manufactory and then...then...they went to Jasper’s solicitor in Birmingham. He handled all the paperwork...’
Vernon stirred and Thea paused.
‘Why did your father not use his own solicitor to validate the paperwork?’
‘There was no time, according to Jasper. Papa’s solicitor is in Kidderminster, but the deal had to be done in Birmingham and Papa trusted Jasper. He was like a son to him. He was part of our family.’
‘This Jasper...he absconded with the money?’
Her stomach clenched and then churned again as the events of the past unfolded in her memory. She shook her head. ‘That was the cruellest part, when I look back. No, he did not. Not immediately. He dined with us, as expected, the following day. He...he acted so normal. None of us suspected a thing when he said he would not see me again before the wedding, that there were various business matters he must attend to and that he would see us at the church in two days’ time. That was the last we saw of him.’
‘So you...you went to the church?’
Thea nodded, tears stinging, throat thick. Every moment of that dreadful day was etched into her soul. Her initial anxiety...had there been an unavoidable delay? An accident? Was Jasper ill? Her hurt and humiliation as the minutes passed and no word arrived from
the groom. Her heartache and despair when a messenger sent to Jasper’s lodgings returned with the news that he had packed his bags and left the minute he had returned after that final dinner at Stourwell Court.
‘He did not come.’
That was all Vernon needed to know. She had no words to describe the aftermath...the utter disbelief and the sheer panic of her father in particular as the implications slowly sank in... Jasper had gone. And the money...as hard as they tried to convince themselves there had been some dreadful mistake...a misunderstanding... Papa had the share certificates. Surely the investment was sound... Deep down inside Thea suspected they had all known the truth.
‘The next day...’ The day that should have been Thea’s first day as a married woman. ‘Papa and Daniel went to Birmingham to speak to Jasper’s solicitor. His office was locked and bare. They discovered the shares were not worth a single penny. The mining venture Papa had invested in did not exist.’
‘I am sorry, but what has Henry Mannington to do—?’
‘They returned home,’ Thea spoke over Vernon, gabbling slightly in her haste. She must tell him the whole now she had come thus far. ‘And, as Papa was telling Mama and me...confessing to us...telling us we were ruined...that is when he...he...’
A huge sob gathered in her chest and, try as she might, she could not suppress it. Vernon’s arms came around her and she leaned into him, grateful for his strength and his calm presence.
‘That is when he had the stroke?’
Thea nodded, sniffing. ‘It is all my fault! If I had not allowed myself to be flattered by Jasper, none of it would have happened. It is my fault Papa is bedridden and cannot speak properly—’
‘You are not to blame. Jasper Connor bears the blame. Nobody else. What happened next? Did you try to trace him?’
‘Daniel did. He spent weeks following leads but then, when he finally tracked him down, it was too late.’
Thea felt her pulse kick and gallop as she recalled the reason why she was telling all this to Vernon. The impossible...the unbelievable...
‘Go on.’
A gentle hand smoothed her hair. Comforting. Reassuring. Giving her the courage to say the words out loud.
‘Daniel finally caught up with Jasper at his funeral.’
She felt Vernon tense. She pulled away, staring up into his face. ‘He had been travelling ever since...that day. He had stopped overnight at an inn and there was a fire. Jasper died in that fire. Daniel watched as his coffin was placed in the ground.’
‘So...’ Vernon’s brows had drawn together in puzzlement. ‘What has this to do with Henry Mannington?’
‘Do you not see? Henry Mannington is Jasper Connor.’
Chapter Fourteen
Vernon had not seen it coming. He had been caught up in Thea’s tale, heart sore at the pain she had endured, furious at the dirty trick paid on her and her family. He stood up and paced the room as he sorted through the facts, then he returned to sit on the bed again. No wonder Thea had spoken of ghosts. No wonder she had been in such shock.
‘We must ensure he does not see you,’ he said.
Thea stiffened. ‘Is that all you have to say? Your only concern? That Jasper... Mannington, I mean, might recognise me?’
Vernon swept his hand through his hair. ‘No. Of course not. I was thinking aloud. It is one of my concerns...the others...’
He could barely order his thoughts. Every instinct he possessed screamed at him to chase after Mannington. Find him...and put his hands around his neck and squeeze the life from him. He had never known his own self-control so precarious. He rarely lost his temper. He was not a violent man. But something about this woman stirred some primeval force deep within him, a snarling beast that urged him to take action. To protect. To avenge.
He poured himself a glass of brandy and tossed it down his throat, then proffered the decanter to Thea. Wordlessly she held out her glass.
‘We need to discuss this in a calm manner,’ Vernon said. ‘We must try to work out how and why Jasper is still alive and how that ties in with my cousin and your brother.’
Thea sipped her brandy. He was pleased to see she had more colour in her cheeks now. She shuffled around on the bed until she was sitting facing him, cross-legged. If only she knew what she did to him...her shapely legs outlined by the breeches she wore... Vernon averted his eyes, concentrating on her face. The fact that she was completely unselfconscious about her appearance, and about being here, alone, with him in a bedchamber...never had he felt so overlooked as a man.
He cleared his throat and marshalled his thoughts.
‘I gleaned some information from Horwell when I went downstairs to order the brandy,’ he said. ‘It sounds as though Connor... Mannington, that is...is up to his old tricks. He lives at a place called Crackthorpe Manor, which is about four miles out of town on the road to Great Malvern and he has befriended an American businessman, Mr Samuel Temple—’
‘Was that the man we saw him with? I thought he had a strange accent.’
‘Yes. He is in Worcester on business and is staying here at the Crown. He is very wealthy and is accompanied by his daughter, Cordelia, who stands to inherit his entire fortune.’
Thea sucked in an audible breath. ‘An heiress?’ She swivelled around, lowering her feet to the floor. ‘We must warn her!’
Vernon grasped her arm, restraining her. ‘Steady. According to Horwell, Mannington’s plans are not going as smoothly as he would like. Mr Temple is set on snaring a nobleman for his daughter.’
‘That, at least, is some protection for her. Mannington cannot conjure a title from nowhere no matter what other lies he tells,’ Thea muttered. ‘And with no title to turn her head, she will not be so foolish as to arrive at a church in the expectation of finding her betrothed waiting at the altar.’
‘Hey.’ Vernon pinched her chin. ‘You were not foolish. He is clearly an accomplished fraudster. Now, we must plan how to approach him when he returns—’
‘Returns? Why? Where—?’
‘You must have heard what they said...’
Vernon fell silent as Thea turned huge, bruised eyes on him.
‘I cannot recall. I did not...could not...’
He brushed the back of his fingers along her cheekbone, aching to take her in his arms again. But he resisted, not certain how she might react now those hurtful memories were in the open.
‘I’m a fool,’ he said. ‘Of course you did not take in what was being said. The gist of their exchange was that Mannington has gone away for a couple of days and Temple was inviting him to dine here with him and his daughter upon his return. So, we have that time to plan how we tackle him. And Thea, trust me...at this moment, there is nothing we can do other than try to make sense of all this.’
Thea was still looking up at him. ‘Tell me what else Horwell said.’
‘Well, he does not trust Mannington, that is for certain. He overheard him tell Temple that Crackthorpe Manor is his ancestral family home, but Horwell knows for a fact that he has only been living there a matter of weeks because he took on Horwell’s niece as a housemaid when he moved in. So he knows Mannington is lying to the Temples, but he hasn’t said anything to them because he does not want his niece to lose her job.’
‘But someone must warn this Mr Temple and his poor daughter.’
‘And we will.’ Vernon bit back a curse. ‘God knows how many people he has swindled, blackening the Beauchamp name into the bargain. Horwell told me he is still claiming to be a cousin to the Duke of Cheriton and not even a distant cousin at that.’
‘But he is not your cousin, is he? It is not that Henry Mannington is his real name and Jasper Connor was false?’
‘No. At least...we cannot say for sure that Jasper Connor was not a false name, but I do know without the slightest doubt that
he is not my cousin.’ Vernon scratched his jaw, frowning. ‘The fact that he is openly living as Henry... I hate to even think this, but it suggests, does it not, that he has no fear of being exposed as an imposter by the real Henry.’
Thea stirred and took his hand between hers. ‘I thought the same,’ she said. ‘I am sorry.’
She was offering him comfort even though her heart must be breaking. And they had not even touched on what this new revelation might mean about Daniel’s disappearance.
Vernon surged to his feet and paced to the window. For all his words to Thea, he did not want to sit idly, talking over problems and formulating plans. He longed to be out there...doing...taking action. He was a man...it’s what men did.
‘So will he be sorry when I get my hands on him,’ he growled, clenching his fists and leaning on the sill, gazing unseeingly through the glass. ‘Two days! It cannot pass quickly enough for me. I shall take great pleasure in exposing him for the charlatan he is.’
He heard the creak of the bed and the pad of her feet as she crossed the room to stand behind him. A small hand settled against his shoulder blade.
‘Let us plan. There are questions that need answering, and we must consider them in a logical fashion. We must not allow our emotions to sway our thinking.’ Her hand circled, soothing. Then patted. ‘I told you we made a good partnership. When one of us veers away on a tangent, the other is there to haul them back on the right road.’
He turned. She was so close, gazing up at him. Trusting. Open. How much courage did it take for her to set aside her emotions in order to comfort him? And his anger had been directed at Mannington for besmirching his family name; his distress was for a distant cousin he had not even thought of in years, whereas Thea had been jilted by that bastard and now her brother was missing. He forced a smile, and pushed an errant curl back from her forehead, resisting the urge to cup her cheeks. To lower his head. And to kiss those full, tempting lips.
‘You are right. We do make a good partnership.’
He sidestepped around her, but she grabbed at his hand, pulling him round.
Scandal and Miss Markham Page 14
