by Laura Locke
Richard quickly leaned forward, setting his cup down on the table. “What do you mean? Is she ill? Has something happened?”
“Indeed, something has happened, but no, she is not ill. It happened yesterday afternoon. Are you acquainted with Alexander Horris?”
Richard nodded. “I have heard the name, but am not personally acquainted with him. Why?”
“If you remember, I told you there were several young bucks in the village who had their eye upon Eliza. You were not alone.”
Richard felt the misgiving rising in his stomach as he nodded. “Go on,” he encouraged her.
“Eliza had come into the village to do some shopping at her father’s shoppe. Their housekeeper was with her. As she was bound for her carriage, she was confronted by Alexander Horris. He is the son of an impoverished scoundrel, whom the king allowed to fall from favor. He put great hope in Alexander’s ability to recover the family reputation, and hoped that his son would marry Eliza, thereby at least accumulating some portion of wealth again.”
“I’m sorry, Sarah, but you are holding me in suspense. You know how I feel about Eliza. Please, tell me.”
“Yes, yes, I digress,” Sarah agreed, smoothing her skirts and taking another sip of her tea for strength. “Alexander approached Eliza, and words were exchanged. While there were onlookers, there are as many stories of what was said, but you and I both know that Eliza is an honorable, highly-principled young lady and would not have taken part in any conversation to suggest otherwise. That said, her housekeeper became upset and fell into the mud so once recovered, the two women and their driver left the village quickly. After that, Alexander Horris entered the pub and began bragging about his association with Eliza. Mortimer Wells, another young man who has been trying to attract Eliza’s attention, took umbrage with Alexander’s boasting and called him a liar. One thing led to another and within a few minutes, the two of them were in the street, back to back, according to the terms of a duel. Alexander Horris ended up dead and his father and family are crying foul.”
Richard shook his head in confusion. “I don’t understand? How could Eliza be involved in this?”
“Alexander’s family is spreading the sentiment that Eliza behaved in an unseemly fashion, thereby leading their son astray, which eventually resulted in his death. The Horris family, although impoverished, is not without friends and the great cry has gone out against the squire and his daughter. There are those who suggest that the squire did not competently raise his daughter alone, but should have remarried to bring in a woman’s influence. Of course, this is all rubbish, but there are those who were jealous of the squire, as well as of Eliza, and have made their intention to ruin the reputation.”
Richard gasped and sat back, his mind swirling with questions. “Sarah, can you tell me anything more? Where is the squire, and more importantly does Eliza know that her reputation is being sullied?”
Sarah shrugged and busied herself stirring her tea. “You might say I have seen the squire since then, but he has returned to their house. He is quite humiliated and flummoxed. Eliza remains at home. Oh, Richard, this is so upsetting. Eliza had a wondrous future ahead of her. Her father intended her to marry well, in fact, his own future was staked upon those plans. Now everything is ruined.”
“Surely not,” Richard responded. “Surely this will pass.”
Sarah nodded. “In a large town, perhaps. Here, however in Leister, these things tend to have a life of their own. No, I’m afraid she is quite ruined here and heaven only knows how long the word will take to circulate England. The squire is not always an admired man, if you understand me,” she commented, looking to Richard for agreement. He nodded. She continued, “It would be my guess that any family worth the squire’s attention has since turned away and not only has Eliza been affected, but the squire’s business dealings will likewise be affected. That is, sadly, what villages like this are like. Even my own situation, here at the inn which the squire owns, could be in jeopardy.”
“I am much aggrieved to hear this, Sarah. I will call upon you again quite soon to ensure your welfare.”
“Need I remind you, my dear Richard, that you, as well, are dependent upon the squire’s good reputation.”
Richard shook his head. “While his reputation may have been affected, his lands, tenants and livestock are not subject to social approval. I believe my situation is quite stable.” He stood to leave but not before Sarah brought up one last comment.
“You know, young Richard, Eliza is in need of a strong man to protect her now. If ever there was an opportunity for you to find favor with her, now would be the time.”
Richard did not turn to face her, but nodded briefly as he left her parlor. He had much thinking to do.
Before he left the village, Richard stopped into the pub, anxious to overhear what the other villagers were saying. He knew he was in love with Eliza and would like nothing better than to capture her as his wife, but not at the price of a sullied reputation. While he did not care for the squire personally, he did respect the man’s business acumen and the way he managed his affairs fairly, if not humbly.
The talk was on no other topic than the death of Alexander Horris and how the squire had somehow come to be responsible for it. No one seemed anxious to bring up Eliza’s name; they respected her enough not to bandy her name about a drunken pub. The squire, however, was fair game and there was no end to the stories that surfaced against him. It seemed that almost everyone, at one point or another, had crossed him in a business deal and felt cheated. There was almost a holiday atmosphere as the squire was verbally roasted.
Richard downed his drink quickly, taking his leave rather than getting involved in the conversation. As he existed the pub, he spotted Dr. Burroughs, leaning against a building, a pipe in his hand. His expression was thoughtful.
“Doctor,” Richard acknowledged, coming close.
“Wellchester. How goes the wound?”
“Healed nicely, thanks to you. I wonder… do you know what has become of Eliza?”
The doctor tamped his pipe against his palm and regarded Richard with a solemn look. “Word travels quickly, I see.”
Richard nodded. “I am concerned for her. She did nothing to be included in this, from what I understand, but is suffering perhaps the most.”
“Indeed. Eliza is a kind and respectable young woman and certainly does not deserve to be included in this madness. The squire, on the other hand, is on his own. He has made many enemies over the years and they are overjoyed to have been given fodder for their malice.”
Richard could tell the doctor was not disposed to join in the conjecture and gossip that ran rampant through the village, so he nodded, tapped his finger to the brim of his hat and made his way back to his horse. He could still hear the accusative voices, rising higher in pitch, behind him as he left the village square.
Had Richard delayed a few minutes longer, he would have seen the squire enter the pub from a back door and take a seat in the corner shadows. He would have watched, as many did, as the squire ordered pitcher after pitcher, growing increasingly angry and defeated with each overheard conversation. He vowed revenge, but lacked a culprit. He could not see that the true culprit was his own aspirations and of his own making.
From time to time, Squire Barrington shouted a curse at a nearby conversation, retreating further and further into the dregs of the drink. The barkeep tried to encourage him to leave, but the squire would have no part in it. He was no coward. Nor was he a victim of anything other than his own greed—but that was enough. It was Eliza who was paying the heavier price.
Chapter 13
Sarah was holding court as usual in her parlor, surrounded by her china, chintz and charm. Richard was shown in, only to find the squire was just on his way out. His face was flushed, his clothing askew and his attitude rebellious. Richard passed him in the doorway, greeting him by name, but was ignored.
“Sarah, is anything amiss? I just passed the squire and he ign
ored me.”
“Consider yourself lucky, my dear. He was in no mood to be courteous, to be sure.” She was flustered as he could tell by the way she continued to brush at her skirts, as though restoring her person to rights. “You’re just in time. I was about to pour.”
Richard didn’t question that she had undoubtedly just finished tea, evidenced by the half-empty plate of biscuits on the table next to the teapot. It was obvious she was flustered and not wanting to be alone. Prolonging tea was one way to accomplish that.
“Why, I would like that, Sarah. Why not tell me a little more about the squire? I can see you are a bit upset.”
“You are sharp, that you are,” she held out his cup. “Yes, the squire is fit to be tied. Word has spread in the most unpleasant manner and the squire has been notified that the family to which he had planned to marry his daughter has made it clear they are no longer interested. Where a pox begins, it spreads, as they say.”
Richard frowned. “Would the squire stake everything on the future of his daughter? Does he not care whether she would be fond of the man to whom she is married?”
“You are joking I take it, young Wellchester. To the squire, connections toward the crown that benefit his pocketbook are everything. Oh, I don’t doubt this will blow over, but Eliza will only be a fresh bloom for so long, if you catch my meaning. The squire has waited too long as it is. She cannot let two years pass and still be seen as a young maiden.”
“But she is barely eighteen, Sarah. Surely she is barely old enough to be wed.”
Sarah shook her head. “I know this is not your world, young Wellchester. You are not to be blamed for not understanding.” He saw Sarah slide a slim, silver flask from her skirt pocket; a thin stream of its contents found its way into her teacup. He pretended not to see.
“Will the squire keep the inn? Is your future secure, my dear friend?”
“Ah, not to worry about me. The squire and I have been friends a long time. He can well afford to give me the inn and a healthy stipend to boot. No, ‘tis yourself you should be thinking about. Eliza has fallen from favor.” She took another sip when a thought occurred to her. “Or have you lost interest in her now, as well?” she presented.
“Never,” Richard declared without hesitation.
“Good. Then move forward, young Wellchester, before the opportunity passes.”
Richard said nothing but inquired after Sarah’s portrait on the wall. She appreciated the change of subject and told him the entire story behind it. After a respectable amount of time, Richard stood to take his leave.
“One more thing,” Sarah’s voice stopped him in the doorway. “You should know that Dr. Burroughs cares not for whatever reputation Eliza enjoys at the moment. He will seize the moment. Do not waste time.”
Richard nodded, considering her words. He nodded once more and took his leave.
Chapter 14
Richard did not want his pursuit of Eliza to appear as though he pitied her, so he chanced some time before approaching the squire. His business had grown by leaps and bounds, despite the onset of winter. He had developed a reputation for fairness of price and quality of work.
That, in itself, was rare but Richard offered more. He had become the focus of every woman with an eligible daughter in three counties. There was hardly the morn when Richard didn’t find a basket of baked goods on his doorstep, a handwritten note included with an invitation to stop by for tea. Some mothers were less obvious, choosing instead to request that he stop by to check out their animals and then casually send the offered daughter to him with a mug of hot milk. Richard’s attention was polite, but his heart belonged elsewhere.
He was aware of Sarah’s warning not to procrastinate, however, and one wintry morning when the world seemed asleep, he saddled one of his horses and set off for town. He’d heard that the squire was frequenting the pub; sometimes to drown his sorrows and beleaguer the patrons, and at other times to seek solace. Richard suspected that fortunate men often sought the company of those less fortunate so that they may feel better or superior by comparison.
Richard found more than he had bargained for. He recognized the animals tied up outside the pub and sure enough, not only was the expected squire there, but the roving band of bandit friends—Rufus and his men. He focused on reaching the squire as Rufus gave him a quick frown when his eyes first became accustomed to the lack of light within. Rufus was giving him a message, to be sure.
He found the squire at a table to the rear; a position of advantage when one is waging a battle, no doubt. Richard nodded, but the squire did not invite him to sit down. That was indicative of his mood and Richard could immediately see that Sarah’s job of entertaining the squire was more difficult than he had realized. The stout squire was acquiring more weight than he normally carried. Richard surmised the man was replacing aspirations with over-indulgence; a fact that only complicated his misery.
Rufus and his men, on the other hand, were behaving loudly, uncharacteristic of them. Richard wondered whether they were overly-intoxicated, but that didn’t appear to be the case. Rufus was up to something else.
Richard had noticed that Rufus had taken a liking to him for some reason. Perhaps it was because Richard had not condemned him before the authorities, or perhaps it was because he suspected Rufus did not have a son of his own and he may be filling that void. Naturally, he and Rufus were absolutely nothing alike—and yet perhaps he was what Rufus wished he could have been, had he the opportunity to repeat his past.
Richard heard Malik use Alexander Horris’ name in an overly loud voice. It sounded as if he was deliberately taunting the squire—to anger him, if not at least to get his attention.
Rufus rose to his feet, emptied his mug and pounded it on the table. He was imposing enough to capture everyone’s attention, if Malik hadn’t already accomplished that. He swaggered slowly to the bar and asked in a loud voice, “Barkeep. What is the wealthiest shoppe in the village?”
The barkeep’s eyes went instantly to the squire as he was caught in the middle between two dangerous men. The squire stood, faced Rufus as best he could, given that he was swaying on his feet and asked, “Here now, why do you ask?”
Rufus had his script memorized. “I do not recall asking ye, ye fat buzzard,” at which the squire’s face turned a bright shade and his lips began to blubber as his hand went for the pocket pistol he was known to carry.
“You know who I am!” he shouted, pushed beyond all imaginable patience. Now, here he stood, confronted with a single, ignorant individual who displayed a lack of respect and recognition he had spent his life earning. “You stay out of the mercantile, do you hear?”
“And what if I choose to rob it?” Rufus returned, gesturing to the table full of men who accompanied him. “Think ye that ye can stop us with that pea shooter?” he challenged.
Richard came to his feet, puzzled at Rufus’ behavior but he instantly saw a glint in the giant man’s eyes when he intervened. “See here,” he said, giving nothing away. “This is Squire Barrington, a man of considerable wealth and position and it is his mercantile to which you refer.” Richard took a few steps toward Rufus, unsure what the big man was up to, but having a suspicion. “The squire is a gentleman and gentlemen do not resort to strong-arming their way. They do it with manners and a code of chivalry. It is obvious that you and your men outnumber him at the moment, but I can assure you that every citizen of this county will take arm and rise against you should you attempt to rob him. The squire is not without backing, do not mistake that.”
Richard’s speech was honorable, but hardly enough to scare off a band of rabble rousers such as Rufus and his men. Nevertheless, Rufus took a step backwards and let his shoulders slump as though intimidated by Richard’s gallant warning. He growled, running his hand through his beard as if considering the facts and then jerked his head at his men, indicating they should follow. To a man, they stood and backed out of the pub, leaving the squire and a flushed Richard with a distinct s
ense of relief.
“Well, my boy, that was a brave thing you just did,” the squire remarked, relieved that he would not be called to action himself. Richard had voiced precisely the reassurance the demons of the Horris encounter had stolen from him. “Here, allow me to buy you a brew in thanks,” he blustered, patting Richard on the shoulder and indicating he should take a seat at the squire’s own table. He gestured to the barkeep, who immediately rounded the bar with a mug of ale.
Richard realized then that once again, Rufus had been the playwright of a scheme that had raised Richard in the squire’s estimation. Rufus was the consummate mischievous villain—a master of manipulation.
“Thank you, sir, but I did nothing the others would not do.”
“Indeed. I am not so sure, young Wellchester. You continue to surprise me with your maturity and competence, young man.”
Richard knew the timing was right. Rufus had set the stage and now it was up to him to capitalize upon it. Had he the heart?
Chapter 15
Richard seized the moment, knowing it could never present itself again with such luster and color.
“I appreciate your kind words, Squire, but I only did what any local citizen would do on your behalf.”
“I am not sure that is so, Richard,” he responded, using Richard’s Christian name for the first time in memory. Surely that is not a bad sign, Richard thought. He decided there was no time like the present to find out.
“Squire, I wonder if I might have a word with you on a matter of some consequence. It was, as a matter-of-fact, the reason I came to the pub in the first place. I was hoping to find you here.”
The squire looked up, giving him his full attention. “What matter is that?”
“To be quite frank, sir, I would like to formally request your permission to court your daughter, Eliza. I am pleased to understand that you were able to see beyond my lowly birthright, enough so as to possibly appreciate the happiness I might bring to your daughter’s life.” Richard held his breath, waiting for a response.
