Dorothy Elbury

by The Viscount's Secret

  ‘If you will but hear me out, I will try to explain,’ said Latimer, with as much patience as he could muster.

  Mansell nodded. ‘I think we ought to hear what he has to say, Nell,’ he urged her. ‘But perhaps we would be less conspicuous if we took a walk along the tow-path?’

  By the time that Latimer had concluded his narrative, the group had retraced their steps along the tow-path more than once and Latimer was uncomfortably aware of Mansell’s growing disapproval, not to mention Nell Cornwell’s barely suppressed indignation.

  ‘I cannot believe that after all you have done, you still expect us to aid you in this chicanery!’ she reproached him. ‘You have deceived my dearest friend and I cannot think of one good reason why I should assist you. What is more, if you seriously suppose that Gina will forgive such duplicity, you clearly do not know her at all!’

  ‘I give you my assurance that I did not set out to deliberately deceive anyone, Miss Cornwell,’ replied Latimer stiffly. ‘And I freely admit that it was foolish of me not to foresee the likely ramifications of such an impulsive charade, but surely I deserve at least one chance to rectify that folly?’

  He reached out and grasped her hand in his. ‘I beg of you, Miss Cornwell,’ he beseeched her, ‘if you hold Miss Cunningham to be your friend, surely you would not wish to deny her the same happiness that you have found?’

  Nell flushed and bit her lip and looked imploringly towards Mansell for some sort of guidance.

  ‘As long as you do not require us to actually lie on your behalf, Latimer, I cannot see a problem,’ replied the vicar slowly. ‘But your suggestion that Nell should pretend not to recognise you should you meet her in Miss Cunningham’s presence is one with which we must demur.’

  ‘I have considered that,’ came Latimer’s swift rejoinder. ‘However, as things stand, I believe that it is most unlikely that Miss Cornwell will find me in Miss Cunningham’s company during the next two days. Firstly, I have to find a way to persuade her to see me and then…’

  All at once his shoulders slumped and his expression became so bereft that a now contrite Nell placed her hand impulsively on his arm. ‘I have not forgotten your kindness to me in London, sir,’ she said shyly. ‘And I am well aware of the fact that it was only because you withdrew your suit that my father agreed to remove me from town. Had he not done so, I could not have found the courage to stand firm when we arrived home.’ She looked searchingly into his eyes. ‘Do you faithfully promise me that Gina returns your affection?’

  Latimer held her gaze, but swallowed and shook his head. ‘I can only promise you that, until a few days ago, that was my understanding,’ he replied ruefully. ‘But I fear that my behaviour since that time is likely to have caused her to take me in deep dislike.’

  ‘No, my friend,’ Mansell, with a broad smile on his face, was quick to reassure him. ‘I believe that I can vouch for the fact that Miss Cunningham still holds you in very high regard.’

  ‘She told you this herself?’ Latimer turned eagerly towards the vicar, who inclined his head. ‘You think, then, that she will agree to meet me?’

  ‘I believe that you have a very good chance of resolving that particular difficulty, Mr Latimer, but how Miss Cunningham will react to your extraordinary explanation is anyone’s guess, I’m afraid. As with so many things in life, it is all in the good Lord’s hands. I hope you succeed in your endeavours.’

  ‘My thanks to both of you,’ said Latimer, his heart suddenly lighter as he bowed to Nell and gratefully shook hands with Mansell. ‘I hold myself for ever in your debt.’

  The couple remained at the gateway, watching Latimer as he strode purposefully back up the tow-path towards the bridge.

  ‘Are you sure that we have done the right thing, John?’ Nell asked anxiously. ‘Gina will never forgive me if she finds out that we have interfered in her affairs.’

  Mansell squeezed her hand. ‘Latimer seems to be a most persuasive fellow and, if he succeeds, as I am sure he will, I think that Miss Cunningham will probably find it in her heart to forgive him anything, my love,’ he said, then, with a roguish twinkle in his eye, he added, ‘Although, had I known what a formidable contender for your affections I had in him, it would have caused me a far greater number of sleepless nights!’

  Her eyes widened. ‘Oh, no, John, truly!’ she said in dismay. ‘I never gave him a moment’s thought. It is true that he was most kind and charming to me, but you must believe…’

  Laughing at the affronted expression that accompanied his fiancée’s words of protest, the Reverend Mansell placed his finger on her lips and, drawing her swiftly but firmly into the garden, he lost no time in taking her into his arms and kissing her soundly.

  One unruly group of urchins was still bent upon hurling missiles over the parapet when Latimer crossed the bridge to return to the village. To his consternation, he recognised Rupert Cunningham among the miscreants and then, in the very same instance, a possible solution to his current problem came to him.

  Hauling the boy away from the parapet by the scruff of his neck, he frogmarched him over the bridge and into the lane.

  ‘May I ask what you are doing here?’ he enquired sternly. ‘I cannot imagine that your mother would approve of your actions!’

  Rupert flushed. ‘Becky asked me to fetch her some baking-powder from the store,’ he answered defensively. ‘I was just watching the boats go by when Jimmy Porter’s gang came along. We weren’t doing any harm.’

  ‘You could easily have done someone a great deal of harm,’ Latimer pointed out. ‘And, didn’t you promise me that you would apply a little more thought to your skylarking after that incident with the dog-leads?’

  The boy hung his head. ‘I’m sorry, sir, I’m afraid I forgot,’ he said shamefacedly. ‘Jimmy thinks up such splendid larks and, in the excitement, everything else went out of my head.’

  ‘And did you also forget Becky’s errand?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Rupert’s lower lip began to tremble. ‘Please, sir, you won’t split on me, will you, sir? I promise I’ll go straight to the store this very minute.’

  ‘You certainly will, young man,’ said Latimer, barely managing to maintain his expression of pompous severity. ‘And, just to make sure that you do, I shall accompany you myself but first, tidy yourself up. I have no wish to be seen walking in broad daylight with a vagabond!’

  He turned away quickly, afraid that the boy would spot the beginnings of the smile on his face, but Rupert was already bent on obeying his command and was hurrying after him, endeavouring, at the same time, to brush himself down and straighten his dishevelled clothing.

  ‘You won’t tell Mama, will you, sir?’ he implored, rubbing a badly soiled handkerchief over his grubby face.

  ‘Hardly!’ replied Latimer, striding swiftly along the lane with the boy at his heels. ‘We chaps have to stick together, you know. However, although I’m all for a bit of fun, I have to say that what you were doing was a touch unsporting and I can’t approve of that!’

  Humbled, Rupert nodded his head. ‘I shan’t do it again, sir, I promise.’

  Latimer stopped suddenly in the middle of the lane, almost causing the boy to cannon right into him. ‘Promise, promises!’ he said sorrowfully, putting out a hand to steady the boy. ‘You really will have to mend your ways, young man. You are the man of the house now, you know and, as such, you must develop a greater sense of responsibility and, above all, you must always keep your word. How else will you hope to gain anyone’s respect?’

  He steeled himself as the glimmer of tears sprang into Rupert’s eyes. ‘Cut along now and fetch Becky’s baking-powder. I will wait for you by the church gate. Don’t let me down.’

  And, turning on his heel, he strode off towards the village church, hoping that his harsh manner had not totally crushed the boy’s independent spirit. As a matter of fact, he was more than a little ashamed of himself and of the way he had behaved towards the lad, especially in view of the fact that less than
a hour previously he himself had been laughing at the urchins’ selfsame actions. What a pretty pass he had brought himself to, using a small boy as a means to achieve his ends. He grimaced at the unpleasant thought, then shrugged it away, ruminating that a bit of discipline in Rupert’s disordered life would certainly do him no harm.

  He sat down on the wooden bench outside the church and, reaching into his pocket for the small drawing tablet that he always carried with him, deftly executed a sketch of the ancient stocks on the village green in front of him, adding, in minute characters in one corner, a brief plea for forgiveness along with an entreaty that Georgina should meet him at three o’clock the following afternoon. He turned the tiny triangle containing his message back on itself, creased the corner sharply, then folded the whole sketch into a small square, thereby concealing the words from prying eyes.

  He had just managed to complete this hasty activity when he became aware of Rupert dashing across the green towards the bench. Rising to his feet, he strode forward and greeted the boy with an encouraging smile.

  ‘Well done,’ he congratulated him. ‘You were very quick.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about what you said, sir,’ the boy said shyly. ‘Will you walk home with me?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Although this had been Latimer’s intention all along, he was glad that the boy himself had made the suggestion for he was not at all comfortable with the idea of trying to browbeat the youngster into carrying out his request.

  As they made their way along the little lane towards Westcotes, Latimer soon perceived that the boy was struggling with some sort of inner turmoil. He had intended to keep the conversation at a mundane and cheerful level and was in the middle of regaling the youngster with an amusing tale of his own youthful misdeeds when he glanced down and noticed that the boy’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. He slackened his pace, then stopped and turned to place a hand on the boy’s shoulders.

  ‘What is it, Rupert?’ he asked gently. ‘I would have thought you had more pluck than to take umbrage at a mere dressing-down!’

  Rupert flushed and looked up in shocked indignation. ‘It isn’t that at all, sir,’ he bristled. ‘It’s just that you remind me so much of Harry—he used to tell me such stories when he was at home. He used to show me all his favourite haunts and knew the very best places to find sticklebacks and newts. He taught me to use a bow and arrow and how to make the most amazing catapult…’

  His voice tailed off as his shoulders started to heave. ‘I miss him so very much,’ he choked.

  Latimer dropped down on to one knee and, placing his hand under the boy’s chin, he raised it up and looked deep into the youngster’s wet eyes.

  ‘We are all scamps and tearaways when we are young, Rupert,’ he said, in what he hoped was a rallying tone. ‘And your brother sounds like a fellow after my own heart, but in the end he had to learn, as I’m afraid we all do, to face up to his responsibilities. He must have been very brave and courageous, for he gave up his life for his King and country, my lad, and you must never forget that!’

  ‘Oh, I never shall, sir!’ vowed Rupert fervently. ‘It’s my ambition to be just like him when I grow up.’

  ‘And do you imagine that Harry would approve of the way you have been behaving lately?’ Latimer asked gently.

  The boy hung his head. ‘No, sir, I don’t think he would.’

  ‘Does that not bother you?’

  Rupert stared down at his boots. ‘Everything went wrong after he died,’ he said, his voice filled with misery. ‘I was packed off to Rugby even before his funeral and then, when I came home, Papa refused to have his name spoken in the house and then he took ill and died and I was brought home from school, but—well, I never found out what happened to Harry and—worse than that—they all seem to have forgotten about him completely. They never mention him to me, at any rate.’ He shrugged and stared at Latimer defiantly. ‘Anyway, what’s the use of talking to girls about it, for they haven’t the slightest idea how a fellow feels! All I ever get from them is “do this” and “don’t do that”!’

  Latimer laughed and got to his feet. ‘Well, I’m afraid that growing up usually involves one having to do things one would rather not do!’

  ‘I don’t see why! Grown-ups never have to do things they don’t want to,’ grumbled Rupert.

  ‘If only!’ retorted Latimer. ‘The world would be a pretty wild place if we all did just as we liked, don’t you think?’

  ‘S’pose so.’ The boy sounded unconvinced.

  ‘Anyway, didn’t I hear that you have a brand new uncle to confide in now? I’m sure he would be happy to answer any man-to-man questions you may have.’

  ‘Oh, him!’ said Rupert disparagingly. ‘He’s only interested in how well I’m doing at school and having me fitted up with new suits and suchlike.’

  ‘Well, what about Mr Radley? He’ll be part of your family soon. He’s a pretty good-natured fellow and not the sort to pester you about your schoolwork, if I’m any judge.’

  ‘Too busy mooning over Kate,’ the boy answered glumly. ‘Besides, he won’t know anything about how Harry died and I can’t ask Mama in case it upsets her.’

  Latimer hesitated, wondering if he was wise to get himself so heavily involved. ‘I believe I still have a few contacts in the War Office,’ he said slowly. ‘Would you like me to see if I can find out how Harry met his death?’

  The boy’s face cleared immediately and he looked up at Latimer in eager anticipation. ‘Can you do that, sir? You were in the army, too, weren’t you?’

  ‘I was,’ replied Latimer, motioning the boy forward. ‘But we can’t all be heroes, you know. Some of us have to content ourselves with the more mundane stuff, such as plotting and planning the warfare and so on.’ Glancing down at the youngster, he asked, ‘Do you think you might like a career in the military, Rupert?’

  ‘Oh, above all, sir!’ said the boy with a huge grin on his face and, squaring his shoulders and sticking out his chest, he then proceeded to march smartly alongside his laughing companion.

  When they arrived at the Cunningham residence, Rupert begged Latimer to come in and take some sort of refreshment. ‘I’m sure Mama and the girls would be happy to see you again,’ he said, opening the gate. ‘They’re all in the deepest of mopes because Papa’s books were taken away this morning and Gina has been as crotchety as an old bear since Sunday. Do say you’ll come in—everyone seems to cheer up when you’re around.’

  Latimer thanked him and shook his head. ‘Some of us have work to do, my lad. And you mustn’t forget how long Becky has been waiting for her baking-powder.’ Then, almost as an afterthought, he thrust his hand into his jacket pocket, pulled out the folded note and passed it to the boy. ‘By the way, I meant to give this sketch to Georgina,’ he said, with all the nonchalance he could muster. ‘You’ll make sure she gets it, won’t you?’

  Rupert took the note and thrust it into his own pocket. ‘No problem, sir,’ he vowed then, with a swift look at Latimer, he added anxiously, ‘You won’t forget about Harry, will you, sir?’

  Latimer smiled, executed a smart salute and replied briskly, ‘I’ll attend to the matter straight away, Cap’n!’ before strolling off in the direction of his own cottage.

  Now, he thought distractedly, all he could do was wait and hope that his note did not end up in the wrong hands and that its recipient would grant him his wish. After that, everything would depend upon his ability to persuade Georgina that he was not, in fact, the despicable bounder that she very likely took him for.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘Where in Heaven’s name has that dratted boy got to?’

  Up to her elbows in flour, Becky glared out of the kitchen window. As if she hadn’t had enough to do, what with getting all those blessed books ready for the packers, as well as having to feed the two hulking great Pickford’s men enormous helpings of cold pie and beer before they journeyed back to London with their loaded wagon. Then there had
been the clearing up of all the mess they had left behind—bits of straw all over the rugs and dust everywhere; Miss Sophie weeping and wailing fit to burst—even though she’d got to keep her precious pyramid book. And Miss Georgina! Well! What had got into the girl lately she couldn’t imagine. Likely something to do with that artist fellow down at Blanchard’s—she’d seen where that was heading and had told Dan that no good would come of it, if she was any judge!

  Dinner was going to be late and that was a certainty, especially now that that young scamp Rupert had failed to bring back the baking-powder for the steak and kidney crust. She drummed her fingers on the kitchen table, glancing at the clock again. Where could he have got to? If he couldn’t be trusted to run up to the village store on a simple little errand, it was clear that he needed a firm hand or, more probably, a good whipping! Becky just hoped that Sir Arthur would provide the discipline that the boy was so badly lacking.

  Sighing with frustration, she was just about to consign the unfinished contents of her pastry bowl to the waste bucket when Rupert shot into the kitchen bearing the missing ingredient.

  ‘Oh, Becky, I’m so sorry,’ he blurted out. ‘I met Jimmy Porter and forgot the time—do say you forgive me!’

  He put his arms around her plump form and buried his head in her ample chest.

  She disentangled herself from his embrace and glared at him crossly. ‘Now, Master Rupert! You know as well as I do that you’re not supposed to mix with those boys from Bag End,’ she said, tipping a good measure of the baking-powder into her waiting bowl and vigorously applying her wooden spoon to the mixture. ‘Now get yourself upstairs and clean yourself up before your mama sees you! You’re a disgrace to the family, and that’s a fact!’

  ‘No, I’m not, Becky,’ answered the boy contritely. ‘At least, I don’t intend to be any more and that’s a fact, too, I promise you!’

  Taken aback at the youngster’s earnest expression, Becky looked at him suspiciously. ‘You’ve been up to your tricks again, haven’t you?’ she demanded, as she pummelled the suet crust into shape and laid it on top of the dish of meat. ‘Are we to have the sheriff’s men at the door this time?’