“Why should I?
A touch of steel glinted in Michael’s eyes and he said with deadly calm, “Because I asked nicely, that’s why.”
The meaning behind the words was not lost on Crane.
Crane’s eyes flitted over to Hope as if asking for help and she said, in no uncertain terms, “I would answer him, if I were you. You do not want him to ask you again.” Then she leaned in as if imparting a great secret and added, “He will not be nearly as nice the second time.”
With a visible gulp, Crane decided that Hope’s advice was worth taking. “I told the magistrate that I drove that De Berenger to Cochrane’s ‘ouse on Tuesday last… and that, er, ‘e was wearing a gre— ah, red…uniform.”
Michael looked at Hope to see if she caught the slip, as well. With a nod, she indicated that she had.
Skewering the smaller—and now very nervous—man with a look that broached no argument, Michael said, “And who told you to tell the officials that De Berenger was wearing red, not green?”
Paling greatly, the driver began looking around frantically as if hoping some means of escape would magically appear.
“I don’t know, ah, wot ye’r talking about, sir.”
“I think you do, Crane…”
“No, sir, I-I-I…”
Sighing, Michael raised his eyes to the heavens briefly before taking the driver and shoving him none too gently against a nearby tree; holding him there firmly with his forearm pushed up against the man’s throat.
“Now do you remember, Crane?” Michael asked.
Despite what she had said earlier, Hope was shocked by Michael’s actions. Never before had she seen him physically attack anyone. Thus far, all of their interviews had been downright peaceful. Even De Berenger hadn’t put up much of a fight. But this…this was…was…well, exhilarating, if she were being honest. Suddenly, Hope could see the soldier in Michael. Strong, forceful, a man that gets results…by whatever means necessary.
“Oh my,” Hope whispered under her breath, suddenly very glad for the cold breeze blowing around them so that she didn’t have to expose her wicked thoughts by fanning herself.
Neither Michael nor Crane heard her breathy exclamation, locked in their own battle of wills, as they were. It was a short-lived skirmish, though.
“All right, I’ll tell ye,” Crane rasped out irritably. “Just let me go already…”
Michael gave him one last push just for good measure, but then stepped away slowly, clearly prepared to trap him again if giving the slightest provocation to do so.
Coughing and rubbing his neck gingerly, Crane eyed Michael warily. “It was this gentleman, ye see. Ah, Stuckeley were ‘is name. An older, portly fellow. ‘E ‘ired me to drive De Berenger around a bit and to tell the little tale, ‘e did. I didn’t see any ‘arm in it. It were just a uniform, after all.”
Hope felt as if all the wind had been knocked out of her. She stood there numbly as Michael finished his interrogation.
Sighing, Michael said, “There will be others who will want to hear what you just told me, so expect some visitors soon. And if I hear that you are still spouting that same claptrap told to you by Stuckeley, I will not be held accountable for what I will do to you.”
Wide-eyed, Crane nodded copiously and scurried back to his hack, taking off at a highly dangerous speed.
“He better not get himself killed before he can set the record straight,” Michael muttered as he turned to talk to Hope. The moment Hope saw his face, she couldn’t help herself. She ran. As fast and as hard as she could. She did not run far. The tears in her eyes made it impossible to see anything just seconds into her escape; but she had had to get away. Her father…her father!…had not only invested in the scam, he had participated in the most heinous, unforgivable way. From the very beginning, he had been in on the planning and execution of the crime. He had lied to her…lied directly to her face.
Sinking down on a nearby boulder, Hope began to cry in earnest. She told herself she was being ridiculous. Hadn’t she already admitted to herself that her father was guilty? Hadn’t she made all these painful decisions for her future based on that belief, for goodness sake? Why should this new information be so disturbing? It was just added confirmation that her father was…was…
“… not the man I always thought he was,” Hope whispered, wiping the tears from her eyes.
But that was not quite true, really. If Hope were being truly honest with herself, she would remember all those times she “helped” her father with his gambling and his taxes and his investments. Every so often after aiding her father in some unexpected way, Hope would wonder fleetingly if a father should be relying on his daughter in such a manner. Involving her in things she should not know about.
It was one thing to get a gifted child’s help with balancing the household accounts or running a sum of figures or whatnot, but to rely upon that child for the continued financial security of the family, the estates? Even Hope had to admit that was not normal nor was it a particularly positive trait in a parent.
With a sigh, Hope wondered what she should do now. Clearly the authorities needed to be notified about her father’s part in all this, but really, nothing else had changed. She still needed to find a way to care for her family once her father was arrested, and she still needed to break things off with Michael. Now, more than ever.
It was at this point in Hope’s musings that Michael appeared.
Kneeling before her, he asked quietly, “Are you all right?”
Looking up at the man she loved more than even her own personal well-being, Hope replied, “Yes, Michael. I’m sorry for running off. I guess hearing that man say my father’s name came as a bit of a shock.”
“Of course it did, dear. I was rather shocked myself.”
Hope looked over her shoulder toward where they left the carriages. “Where is he now?”
“I suppose he went back to his hack. The authorities will know where to find him when they are ready.”
“And will you tell them about my father?”
Michael hesitated. “I won’t, if you don’t want me to.”
Hope’s heart nearly burst with love when she realized that Michael was willing to forgo his own beliefs about right and wrong and not turn in a guilty man, all for her. All to protect her and her feelings.
Oh, I am a fool to let this man go, Hope thought miserably. But what other choice did she have? She could not bring her shame upon Michael. She just could not.
Reaching up to cup Michael’s cheek with her hand, Hope said, “Tell them, Michael, it’s all right. My father brought this upon himself. I can no longer deny the truth.”
“I am so sorry, Hope.”
“I know, but all there is left to do is to pick up the pieces. I have my stepmother and siblings to think about now. We will all be out on the street once news of this breaks.”
Michael straightened with a start.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You and your family will come live with me as soon as we are married.”
Reaching into his pocket, Michael pulled out a ring box.
Opening the small, velvet-lined box to reveal a truly beautiful diamond and sapphire ring, Michael said, “Hope Stuckeley, my dear, will you please marry me?”
Hope’s breath caught in her throat. She had been dreading this moment for days. She had begun to realize Michael’s feelings for her were growing into something very real. It probably wasn’t love, like she felt, but she suspected he felt responsible for her. It only stood to reason he would propose in earnest.
“No, Michael. I can’t. I can’t marry you.” Hope looked up at him with truly stricken eyes before leaping to her feet. “I’m so sorry…so very, very sorry.”
Then she turned and ran in the direction of the carriage.
…
Michael stayed on his knees, stunned by what had just happened. No? he thought numbly. Had Hope really just said no to his proposal? How was that even possible? He knew there was a distinct p
ossibility that she didn’t love him. Their relationship was not built on love and infatuation. It was built on logic and, friendship…but love had never been part of it. Although, even Michael could admit he had hoped for love in the future. Once they had settled into normal life. They had plenty of passion and respect. What better building blocks for a good marriage?
Why would she say no? Getting married was the most logical thing to do here. He could take care of her, for God’s sake. What else did she expect to do once her father was arrested? Get a job?
Well, he was damn sure going to find out. You can’t just say ‘no’ and ‘I’m sorry’ and then leave with no further explanation, Michael thought angrily.
Getting to his feet, he stomped purposefully back to his carriage and all but tore the door open, only to find…nothing. No Hope, no Olive, no nothing. Shutting the door, he asked his driver where the ladies went. Completely nonplussed, the servant told Michael that the two women had run over to the nearby stand and hired themselves a hack not one minute ago.
Swearing to himself, Michael ordered the driver to take him back to Lady Lancaster’s. Hope could not hide from him for long. He would have his explanation, by God, even if he had to break down the door to get it.
…
After dropping Olive off at Lady Lancaster’s, Hope arrived home feeling more depressed and tired than she ever had before.
Knowing that Lady Lancaster’s was the first place Michael would go after she left him in the park, and knowing that the duchess would certainly want to know why Hope had arrived back alone and clearly in a traumatized state, Hope made the difficult decision to return home. At least there, she could wallow in her misery in the comfort of her own room. Provided she could avoid her father, that is.
Informing Rivers that she was not to be disturbed, Hope made her way to the staircase, intending to go straight to her bedroom where she could cry in peace. Unfortunately, not three steps into her weary ascent, Hope heard the voice of the last person with which she wished to deal.
“Hope,” Mr. Stuckeley called out furiously. “Where have you been, girl?”
He grabbed his daughter by the arms and jerked her into a fierce hug.
Shocked by his behavior, Hope attempted to remove herself from his grip, but he tightened his hold.
“Father, you are hurting me.”
“I have been so worried, girl,” he replied, releasing her abruptly. “Come with me.”
Hope wasn’t even given a chance to obey. Her father all but dragged her into the closest room. Surrounded by the pianoforte, viola, and other various instruments of the music salon, Hope wondered briefly if her father had gone crazy. Hope wrenched her arm from her father’s grasp and said, “I’m fine, father. As you can see. Whatever is wrong with you?”
Mr. Stuckeley turned, locked the door of the room, and pocketed the key before he replied, “You are what’s wrong. You and your stupid investigation.” Gazing sadly at her, he said, “You never stopped looking into it, did you, gel? And then you reported your findings to the authorities. ”
Unable to hide the guilt on her face, Hope turned away and walked over to the window, looking out with unseeing eyes. “Yes, I did, father.”
Then before he could respond, she turned back around and demanded, “How could I not? Those men…you…committed a monstrous crime!”
Wringing his hands, he looked like a scared rabbit. “And what exactly did you tell them about me?”
“I, ah, have told them nothing about you, Father. Nothing at all.”
Her father halted his hand wrangling to look suspiciously at Hope. “Nothing? Why not?”
Swallowing nervously, Hope prayed she could keep her composure. She must not let her father know that Michael was involved and that she had already told him to turn Mr. Stuckeley’s name over to the Exchange committee.
Lowering her eyes in what she hoped was a contrite manner, Hope whispered, “You are my father. I could never…” She let her voice trail off meaningfully.
Mr. Stuckeley seemed to sag a bit in relief and after being quiet for a bit, he said, “Come along, child.”
“Come along where, exactly?” Hope asked warily.
“Oh don’t fret, dear,” her father said in a too jovial tone, “we are just going to your room.”
Hope frowned apprehensively, but she went along anyway. Her bedroom had been her original destination after all, but something didn’t feel right. Her father was much too content all of the sudden.
However, true to his word, Mr. Stuckeley led Hope upstairs to her bedroom. He opened the door for her and waved her inside. Hope entered the comfortable and familiar space gratefully. She turned around to ask her father what he was going to do now, but he was already shutting the door. Immediately, Hope heard the familiar click of the lock. She ran to the door and tried the knob, knowing full well what he had done, but she was still surprised for some reason, when the knob did not turn.
“Father! What are you doing?” she asked frantically, pounding on the door. “Let me out!”
“I can’t, Hope-dear,” came his muffled reply. “I have to figure out what to do about this mess you have gotten yourself into; and I can’t have you running around unsupervised while I do.”
“But Father—” Hope started weakly, but he was already walking away. She listened to his heavy footfalls for as long as she could, hoping in vain he would re-think his actions and return to release her. But he never did.
Hope flung herself on the bed and began weeping. She had lost her only love, her father, and her freedom all in one day. Somewhere, sometime, she must have done something truly horrible to deserve such a fate as this; and somehow she just knew that this was only the beginning of the troubles looming before her.
Chapter Twenty-one
We have been given the unique ability to learn from the experiences of others. How sad is it that so many are disinclined to do so?
~The Duke of Lancaster
Michael walked away from the Stuckeley mansion for the third time in as many days, feeling completely rebuffed and rejected. Again, Hope had refused to see him. Every day it was the same thing…turned away at the door without so much as a ‘how-d’-you-do’. He had even gone so far as to peek through the window of Hope’s study on the off chance he would find her there. But it was empty.
Looking up at the blank windows of the second floor, Michael realized he didn’t even know which one was Hope’s room. Not that there was any way to reach any of them. None of the trees on the property grew close enough to the house to aid him.
With a sigh, Michael wondered why he was even bothering. Hope had turned down his proposal, after all. Perhaps she didn’t really want him. He had initially chalked up her refusal to the stress of finding out—without a doubt—her father was a criminal. An answer born of shock, not actual want or desire; but now…three days of not even seeing him? No explanations?
Clearly this was more serious than a simple blind reaction.
Looking up at the empty windows one more time, Michael reluctantly turned away from the house and plodded miserably back to his carriage and left.
…
Hope sat up when she heard her door opening. Although she knew it wasn’t mealtime, she glanced at the clock instinctively. In the past three days, no one had entered her room except her father. Three times a day, always with a hefty tray of food and absolutely nothing to say.
Hope had finally stopped asking him when he was going to let her out, and after only one day, she gave up on her childish decision not to eat. She was only punishing herself by starving herself. Her father said as much to her when she finished her food as when she didn’t. Nothing.
So whatever the cause for the unexpected visit this morning, Hope couldn’t help but feel a trickle of dread run down her spine. Clearly, the man she thought she knew better than anyone else wasn’t the man she thought he was. And, it appeared his back was against some sort of wall if he was willing to go to such lengths to keep an eye o
n her. Perhaps he had finally decided what do with her. She had a feeling that whatever it was, she wasn’t going to like it.
Running through all these dark thoughts in an instant, Hope could not have been more surprised to see her stepmother slip into her room and softly close the door behind her.
“Abigail,” Hope gasped.
Hurrying over to Hope, Abigail pulled her into an embrace and squeezed her tight. “Are you all right?” she queried, stepping back to examine her fully.
Hope knew she didn’t look maltreated in any way, although there was a prominent bruise on her upper arm; but otherwise, she appeared well fed and relatively unscathed.
“Yes…No…Oh, I don’t know,” Hope finally cried, turning to pace the room. “He has locked me in here. Father! For three days now…”
“I know,” Abigail replied. “He hasn’t left the house once in all that time until now. I couldn’t risk coming up while he was here. Hope,” she continued, stopping the girl’s absent walking and taking her hands into her own, “what is going on?”
Hope almost laughed. Where should she start? Should she tell Abigail everything…all that was going on with her husband…what he had done to their family? Yes, Hope said to herself, she deserves to know the truth.
Hope drew her stepmother over to a couple of chairs placed in front of the large window of her bedroom. It was her favorite place to sit and think, as it overlooked the small, but beautiful garden her mother had planted in the back yard.
Sitting down, Hope indicated Abigail should sit as well. “Abigail, I have something to tell you. It’s about Father…”
Over the longest half hour of her life, Hope told Abigail all that had happened over the last week. She didn’t hold anything back. All her hopes and fears…and finally, her dismal plans for their precarious future.
Abigail sat in disbelief. Hope didn’t blame her. She had just learned that her husband had all but sent his entire family to the poor house, all for a chance to steal money they didn’t even need. For what purpose? “This is all my fault,” Abigail whispered.
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