A Deception at Thornecrest

by Ashley Weaver

  “Oh. Hello, Marena,” I said.

  “Oh, Mrs. Ames!” She flushed a little, and I realized that she was no doubt thinking about the last time I had seen her, at the inn during the altercation between her two suitors.

  “I … I wonder if I might speak to you for a moment?” She glanced around us, making it clear that she didn’t wish to be overheard.

  “Of course.” I handed the two blankets to the woman who was minding the stall. “I’ll be back for these in just a moment, if that’s all right?”

  Then I followed Marena to a little space between two of the tents. When she turned to face me, she didn’t meet my eyes. “I wanted to talk to you about … well, to apologize for what happened at the inn.”

  I had thought as much. Though it was really not my concern who she involved herself with, I was sure the altercation I had witnessed had been embarrassing for her. I also wondered if she was worried that I might mention something to the Busbys. I suspected she wouldn’t have told them about Darien. Though I had mentioned to them that Bertie had a rival, I had kept the fact it was Milo’s brother to myself.

  That was no guarantee, however, that they didn’t know. It was always amazing to me that anything could be kept quiet in a village of this size. But I supposed there were ways to keep secrets when they were important enough. No doubt there were a good many skeletons in the village cupboards that had yet to be discovered.

  Before I could say anything, she plunged ahead. “Bertie acted ridiculously. I’ve never been so angry. I broke things off with him a few weeks ago, but he doesn’t seem to understand that I meant it. He’s a nice boy, but it just wasn’t going to work between us. We want different things from life. And then Darien came along, and, well … I’m crazy about him. I’ve never met anyone like him.”

  I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to this, as I agreed that Darien was certainly unique, though my opinion of his particular brand of originality was clearly not as positive as hers.

  “I want to tell you that Milo and I don’t know Darien,” I said. “We didn’t know of his existence until a few days ago.”

  She nodded. “He told me that Mr. Ames didn’t know about him, that his arrival here was a surprise. He wanted me to know that he is … well, illegitimate. He said it would be best if I knew now rather than later. I told him, of course, that that doesn’t matter to me. It’s not his fault what his parents did, is it?”

  “No, it’s not. But what I mean to say is that we cannot vouch for him.”

  A slight frown flickered across her face, a cloud passing over the sunshine of her exuberance. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that we really know nothing of his background. And there is another matter…” I paused, weighing how much of it was none of my business and how much of it was my responsibility, as someone a bit older and wiser, to relate to her the dangers of involving oneself with a man one barely knew.

  “There’s the matter of another young woman with whom he was connected,” I said, deciding she needed to know. It wouldn’t do her any good to shield her from the truth. Indeed, the sooner she found everything out the better. On that score, Darien and I were in agreement.

  If I thought she would be shocked by this information, however, I was to be surprised. “Imogen, you mean.”

  So he had told her that much, had he?

  “He mentioned her to you?” I asked.

  “Yes, Darien has told me all about his past. He said that he and Imogen had talked of getting married but that he realized he wasn’t in love with her and couldn’t go through with it.”

  She spoke with calm authority on the matter, as though she were in Darien’s complete confidence. I found it difficult to believe he had told her the extent of his relationship with Imogen Prescott.

  “It seems he falls in and out of love rather easily.” I hoped this pointed remark would drive home the fact that she hadn’t known him nearly long enough to believe they were ideally matched, but she merely smiled serenely.

  “I think, when real love comes along, one knows it.”

  “You’ve only known him a week.”

  “I feel as though I’ve known him forever,” she said wistfully.

  I recognized that tone in her voice and felt that any influence I might have on her was negligible. Nevertheless, I pressed on. “That may be, but it’s difficult to think clearly when one’s feelings are so strong.”

  She smiled at me as though I had said something very silly. “I’ve always heard that you and Mr. Ames met and married quickly. Perhaps it runs in the family.”

  I had come up against one of the arguments that was most difficult to rebut. Inevitably, young women looked at Milo and assumed a whirlwind romance with a handsome and charming gentleman led to a life of bliss. This was not the case; there were a great many things I had not considered when pledging to spend the rest of my life with a man I barely knew.

  It was difficult to tell them this, however, when I was currently so happy and contented. I wouldn’t change my life with Milo, but the path to get here had certainly not been a bed of roses.

  Whatever the case, one look at Marena’s face told me it would be useless to argue the point with her at present. She was besotted, and I knew that nothing I could say about my own relationship—or about Darien—was going to dissuade her.

  “Is Darien here today?” I asked, glancing around as though he might suddenly appear.

  She shook her head. “I was with him this morning and told him that I would meet him later. He doesn’t care much for juvenile frivolities.”

  I mastered the urge to roll my eyes, but only just.

  “I saw Bertie talking to Mr. and Mrs. Busby a few minutes ago, so I suppose it’s just as well that Darien isn’t here to encounter him.”

  “Darien isn’t afraid of Bertie,” she said quickly, rising to her beloved’s defense. “Bertie caught him off guard. It wasn’t a fair fight. In fact, it was only at my urging that Darien decided to stay away from Bertie. He wanted to fight him to restore his honor.”

  I knew she meant this as an endorsement of Darien, but I found that Milo’s brother, despite our short acquaintance, was already growing very tiresome.

  “And, of course,” she went on, “Mother is here, and I haven’t told her about Darien yet.”

  That was one more reason to be grateful Milo’s brother was not making an appearance at the festival.

  I could only imagine what a meeting between Mrs. Hodges and Darien would be like. Mrs. Hodges was the grimmest woman I had ever come across, and I had encountered some grim figures in my day.

  “I haven’t told her that things are over between Bertie and me,” Marena said, drawing me away from my reverie. “I … I thought it was best for the time being.”

  Mrs. Hodges had always been opposed to Marena’s involvement with Bertie Phipps, so I was sure the news would have been welcome. That Bertie had been supplanted by a disreputable young stranger was probably the reason why Marena had yet to mention it to her mother.

  “Well, I’m sure everything will work itself out in time,” I said. I hoped that it was true.

  “Yes, I’m sure you’re right. Thank you for talking with me, Mrs. Ames. I feel much better about everything.”

  I only wished I did.

  I stepped out from the space between the two tents and found Milo standing there. I wondered how much he had overheard.

  “Oh, hello, Milo,” I said.

  “What were you and Marena talking about?”

  I glanced over my shoulder, surprised to see that Marena had disappeared. She must have gone off in another direction, hoping to avoid Milo and the topic of Darien, I supposed.

  “Oh, the fair and such.”

  He shot me a look that said he wasn’t fooled. “Amory, have you been involving yourself in things you shouldn’t?”

  I ignored the question and returned to the booth where I completed the purchase of the baby blankets.

  Then I turned back to Milo. “It wa
s Marena who wanted to speak to me,” I said. “But, in answer to your question, I do feel like Darien is our concern, whether or not you agree.”

  “Not for much longer. I’m going to make sure he leaves Allingcross.”

  “I don’t know that he’ll be easily persuaded.”

  “He will,” Milo said with a confidence I found difficult to doubt. He had always been extremely adept at getting his way, and I couldn’t help but feel this case wouldn’t be any different.

  I supposed Marena would be heartbroken were Darien to leave, but I couldn’t help but feel it would be the best thing for her. Indeed, it would likely be the best thing for all of us.

  “She’s infatuated with him,” I said. “I’m afraid it’s much worse than we thought.”

  He shrugged. “What of it?”

  “Milo, surely you see that he…”

  “Yes, darling,” he said, cutting me off with a dismissive wave of the hand. “But we needn’t worry about him today. He’s not here.”

  “Marena mentioned that he wasn’t coming because he thought the entire thing juvenile.”

  “I rather suspect it was because I told him not to come.”

  I turned to look at him. Though it was not at all surprising he had been in contact with his brother without telling me, I found I was a bit annoyed he had kept it a secret.

  “Why didn’t you mention you’d spoken to him?” I asked casually.

  Milo’s expression told me he wasn’t fooled by my show of indifference. “Don’t be angry, darling. You didn’t miss an emotional reunion between long-lost brothers. If such a thing is ever to occur, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

  I quelled my irritation and the impulse to make a sharp retort. While a part of me was a bit hurt that this had occurred without me, I understood that the matter really was a private one best settled between Milo and Darien.

  Though he lived life on a public scale, indifferent to the opinions of others, Milo was a maddeningly private person when it came to discussing his thoughts. It was a lucky thing I understood him as well as I did, for there had been very few occasions when he had confided his feelings to me.

  To be fair, I, too, had often found it difficult to discuss my emotions with him in the past. We were improving on that score, but this latest revelation made it clear we still had a ways to go. And just because I understood Milo’s instinctual desire to keep matters to himself didn’t mean I appreciated having been kept in the dark that it had happened.

  “When did this occur?” I asked.

  “I went to see him at the inn yesterday afternoon. We had a drink and discussed a few things.”

  He was being purposefully vague, and I didn’t intend to let it pass.

  “What did he say, Milo? The particulars, if you please.”

  He smiled. “There really isn’t much to tell, darling. We agreed that there was more to be discussed at a future date, and I told him it would be better for all concerned if he didn’t appear at the festival today. He’s going to come to Thornecrest the day after tomorrow. But let’s not discuss Darien any more today, shall we?” Milo said. “We’ve better things to do.”

  I let out a little sigh. He was right, I supposed. While I had a good many more questions, there was no reason to let the matter of Darien and his rampant love affairs spoil the festival. There would be plenty of time to think about it later.

  I tried to put the matter from my mind as Milo and I went to the livestock tent, more from my desire to look at the lambs, kids, and piglets than from any interest on Milo’s part. Aside from the horses, there had been no livestock to speak of at Thornecrest for many years. I, on the other hand, was keen to coo at the baby animals. It seemed the maternal spirit was strong within me.

  “Shall we add him to the menagerie?” Milo asked as I patted the head of an adorable little lamb.

  “I’m not sure Emile would take to him,” I said with a laugh. Emile was our pet monkey. Milo had acquired him in Paris in some sort of bet, the particulars of which I had yet to understand, and he had become a part of our household.

  “He’d probably ride the thing across the drawing room the moment our backs were turned,” Milo agreed.

  I laughed at the mental image, but it halted as I looked across the tent and spotted Imogen standing near the edge of the crowd at one of the booths outside. She looked very pretty in a dress of pale green that complemented her fair coloring, but her unexpected presence at the festival was a bit jarring somehow. Truth be told, I had rather hoped that, after learning Darien had used a false identity to woo her, she would go back to London and forget all about him. It seemed, however, this was not the case. Even from this distance I could detect the forlorn aura that hung about her.

  I wondered why she was still here in Allingcross. Did she seek to reconcile with Darien? I hoped not. From what I had seen, his involvement with Marena Hodges had gone too far, and, in all honesty, I suspected it would be difficult for Imogen to compete with Marena for his affections. Imogen was a lovely girl with her blond hair and clear blue eyes, but she lacked Marena’s vibrant energy, the vitality that flashed in her eyes. I could see how Darien would be drawn to the dark-haired village beauty.

  Besides, even on the off chance that he was to take Imogen back, I foresaw a future full of heartache and strife if she were to link herself to him. No, it was better for all concerned that the marriage had not been legal.

  Not for the first time that day, I felt incredibly cross with Darien. It was wretched enough that he had abandoned Imogen after promising to marry her; now he was cavorting about with Marena Hodges when Imogen was still in the village. Had Imogen seen them together? It seemed likely enough. I pitied the poor girl and wished there was something I could do to help her. The very least I could do was advise her to go home and try to put the past behind her.

  Milo’s voice pulled me from my reverie. “I’m going to speak to Mr. Yates there for a moment,” he said, catching sight of the farmer.

  “All right.” As he walked away, I reluctantly surrendered the lamb back to its mother and, exiting the livestock tent, started toward the place I had seen Imogen. A voice caught my attention before I could reach her.

  “Hello, Mrs. Ames.”

  I turned to see Mrs. Hodges, Marena’s mother. She had set up a booth to sell her honey, it seemed. She stood behind a table covered in a white cloth and arrayed with jars of all sizes, each glowing a warm golden brown in the sunlight.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Hodges,” I said. “How are you?”

  “Well enough, I suppose.” Her eyes ran over me. “You look as though you’ve had better days.”

  I put a hand on my stomach. “It won’t be long now.”

  “So I see.”

  From another woman, this might have been a pleasant conversation starter. From Mrs. Hodges, it was more of a criticism. I supposed she didn’t approve of my parading my stomach for all to see.

  Marena’s mother was a thoroughly unpleasant woman. She had none of her daughter’s warmth, nor her beauty. Indeed, I had heard people comment that it seemed impossible that she might be the mother to so beautiful a girl. While the sentiment was not exactly kind, it was true that there was no resemblance between the strong-featured, hard-eyed woman and the vivacious girl who often drew appreciative glances from the men in the village.

  For today’s festive occasion, Mrs. Hodges was dressed all in somber gray, and it seemed her mood matched her ensemble. Her mouth was drawn into a grim line; it was apparent that she was not enjoying herself.

  “I’d like very much to buy some honey from you,” I said, feeling, for some unaccountable reason, the urge to appease her. Perhaps it was that I relished a challenge.

  Whatever the case, my words did not seem to cheer her as I had hoped. “If you like. I’ve several varieties. The lavender honey is the most popular.”

  She nodded toward one of the jars. I had had Mrs. Hodges’s lavender honey before and had to admit that it was delicious.

&n
bsp; “All right, I…”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Imogen hurrying out of a tent, her face very pale, and disappearing behind it. I wondered what all of that was about.

  “I’ll take a jar of the lavender,” I said. “Perhaps I may come back and pick it up later? I’d rather not carry it.”

  “I suppose that would be all right,” Mrs. Hodges grudgingly agreed.

  I paid her for the jar and then went to the tent Imogen had vacated. It was the fortune-telling tent, a sign proclaiming it to be the domain of “The Great Griselda.” A young woman stood outside dressed in colorful garb, a scarf tied around her head, with large hooped earrings and bangles at her wrists that jingled when she moved. It was Mabel, one of the village girls, but I played along and pretended not to know her.

  “May I tell your fortune, mistress?” she asked in an accent of no discernible origin.

  I wasn’t normally one who ventured to look too far into the unknown, but it was all in good fun and would add a few more pence to the coffers of the Springtide Festival Committee. Besides, I was curious why Imogen had left the tent in such haste.

  She led me into the tent, which had been draped with colorful fabrics. Two chairs sat at a table covered in a gold cloth, a crystal ball resting in the center. The Great Griselda motioned me to one seat and moved to the other.

  She looked into the ball, squinting her eyes as though my future were clouded in mystery. At last she nodded and then spoke. “There will be a change to come in your life, my lady. One for the better.”

  “Indeed?” I encouraged her.

  She nodded. “A small thing that will become very important.” She sat back in her chair, looking pleased with herself.

  With my bulging midsection, the glimpse into my future wasn’t exactly revelatory, but it was sweet of her to give me such a pleasant fortune.