The Immovable Mr. Tanner

by Jennifer Joy

  Mrs. Chufton waved her fan and chuckled. “If only all husbands were as eager to please their wives as Mr. Darcy does you. My daughters should be so fortunate,” she said with a pointed look and a coquettish tap of her fan at Lord Lofton and (to his chagrin) Tanner.

  But the viscount was not done. Addressing Darcy, he said in a low, threatening tone, “It sounds as if you have gained a brother.”

  To his credit, Darcy was completely unaffected. With a cool nod and a hint of a smile, he said, “Quite. Everyone should be so fortunate.”

  Tanner’s heartbeat pounded between his ears, dulling the deafening chatter of the crowd as Lord Lofton’s sly smirk tied Tanner’s stomach into nauseating knots. He knew. He knew, and he would use it against Darcy and Georgiana if given the opportunity.

  Like the sick trick he pulled at the park, this was nothing more than a game to him — a game he was certain to win unless Tanner could find a way to best him.

  For the sake of his family and Arabella, Tanner had to win.

  Chapter 14

  Arabella stepped away from Lofton to read his face better. His charming smile was gone, replaced with a threatening smirk he aimed at her friends.

  It was clear to everyone except Mrs. Chufton (Lord be praised) that he knew much more about Mr. Darcy and Tanner’s connection … and the way he dangled his knowledge in front of them was startling and menacing. Had his constant association with Ambrose infected his integrity? Had he changed so much in the past few years, or had Arabella been as blind to his character as her parents had been to her brother’s?

  Fortunately, Mrs. Chufton’s presence prevented plain speech. Unfortunately, that meant Arabella could not demand an explanation for Lofton’s strange behavior nor insist on his silence. She could not even jab her elbow into his side without drawing too much attention to herself.

  Georgiana pursed her lips into a sly smile and looked around at each of them as if she had a great secret to tell. Everyone in their group leaned forward. Really, the young lady was an accomplished actress.

  “I heard Lady Templeton intends to introduce the Viennese Waltz during the course of the evening. I daresay it will be tastefully done under her guidance. What do you think of it, Mrs. Chufton?” she asked, expertly bringing up a topic which would be the talk of the season (and much more interesting than Tanner’s parentage to a gossip such as Mrs. Chufton). Arabella could have kissed Georgiana for her clever redirection.

  Mrs. Chufton fanned her face happily. “I fear a good many young ladies are not familiar with the steps. My daughters, of course, have been tutored by the finest instructors in Europe and shall do credit to the dance. But I fear for the rest. Of course, you, Miss Darcy, will provide an exemplary model along with my daughters … if your brother will allow it,” she added quickly, her fan working as fast as it could to counteract the blush rising in her face at the admission that her daughters were so well trained in a dance that many in society considered to be scandalous before ascertaining Mr. Darcy’s opinion.

  Mr. Darcy eased her concern, saying, “If done appropriately, the waltz can be both elegant and tasteful. I assure you, my sister would demand as much propriety from her dance partner with the waltz as she would with a cotillion.”

  His permission thus given, Mrs. Chufton sighed in relief, her flush now one of joy. With the way her eyes darted between Lofton and Tanner, it was plain she wished for them to claim sets with her daughters.

  Lofton said abruptly, “Excuse me, please, but the heat in the room is stifling.” He extended his arm to Arabella. “Would you like to take a turn in the garden, Miss Hardcastle?”

  She ought to have accepted out of politeness’ sake, but Arabella did not feel like being polite. “I am refreshed from the punch you were so kind as to fetch me. I will stay with Miss Darcy who, I am certain, is anxious to search through the crush for her friends.”

  Georgiana nodded, playing along and affirming Arabella’s assumption.

  Lofton locked eyes with her, and Arabella read the displeasure in his gaze, returning it with one of her own lest he think she approved of his conduct toward her friends. But there was no apology in his stare. No remorse.

  She needed distance from him. She needed to think objectively, an impossibility with him and the pleasant memories Lofton dredged up from the happier past. Arabella had liked Lofton then, as children, but she was beginning to think she did not like him now.

  Mrs. Chufton, unable to secure dances for her daughters, soon departed for a group of gentlemen clustered around the refreshment table in her incessant and relentless search for potential sons-in-law.

  Arabella and Georgiana strolled about the rooms in search of acquaintances with whom to converse — anyone with whom they could casually mention Ambrose and Lofton. They stayed true to their promise to stay in the center of the rooms, avoiding alcoves and dark corners. Not that Arabella was tempted to walk down a quiet corridor and expose Georgiana to danger with a killer about.

  Tanner stayed close to Darcy, not having the advantage of friendship with London society.

  Georgiana nudged Arabella’s elbow. “There is Mr. Chufton walking toward the library. I suppose he means to hide in there with the other fathers until the evening comes to a close.”

  “How very like Mr. Bennet,” said Arabella.

  “If he is anything like Mr. Bennet, he values intelligent conversation,” Georgiana said suggestively, adding, “Do you not think it odd the ladies to whom we mention Lord Lofton are quick to speak of how handsome and charming he is while their fathers and husbands remain suspiciously silent? And we have found out nothing at all helpful about your brother.”

  Arabella had noticed. She felt the judgment of her former peers wondering why she would appear at a social occasion when she ought to be in mourning at the same time they frowned and blustered before her because they had nothing pleasant or comforting to say about Ambrose. Had they known how he had met his end, they would have thought worse of him. They would not have judged her lack of tears.

  “Let us intercept Mr. Chufton before he goes inside. Perhaps he will be more helpful than the others have been,” suggested Georgiana, charging ahead before Arabella could disagree with her.

  “Mr. Chufton,” called Georgiana.

  He turned, his alarm turning into a smile when he saw who spoke. “Ah, Miss Darcy. Mrs. Annesley. I thought you were Mrs. Chufton here to ensure I do not hide myself away in the library for the remainder of the ball. She has the energy of a squirrel while I must seek opportunities to nap in deep chairs in darkened rooms.”

  “We will not detain you from your much-needed rest for very long then,” smiled Georgiana. “We only have a question concerning which we hope you might enlighten us.”

  Mr. Chufton pulled out a pair of spectacles and a cloth with which he rubbed the lenses before perching them on the tip of his nose. “You have my full attention. It is a rare thing for a young lady to wish to be enlightened about anything, and so I will relish this opportunity to assist however I can.” He motioned to the library. “The lamps are lit. Shall we step inside for a moment?”

  Arabella surveyed the room. One father sat with his feet propped up on an ottoman by the fire. He would not hear them above his snores.

  Georgiana nodded at her to begin.

  Taking a deep breath, reminding herself she had nothing to lose, Arabella began, “As I am certain you are aware, Mr. Chufton, my family recently suffered the loss of my brother.”

  His frown deepened. “You have my heartfelt condolences, Mrs. Annesley. Young Hardcastle was often in the wrong company, but I always believed him to be a man of quality.”

  Arabella had not expected to hear that. “I have come to learn I did not know my brother.”

  Mr. Chufton shook his head slowly. “Nor did I — not very well. However, I am not merely speaking with the purpose to console when I tell you I truly believe he was a good man. He kept … certain gentlemen … away from my daughters when others would encourage
an attachment.”

  “Lord Lofton?” Arabella asked plainly.

  He raised his finger to his lips and looked about the room before whispering, “He is not a good man. If you seek information about him, you will be hard-pressed to find anyone to speak against him. I have already said too much.”

  Arabella felt as if the floor had been swept out from under her feet, but she was too close to answers to stop to gain her balance. “Is there anyone else to whom we can speak? Anyone who might offer some clarity about Ambrose? Mr. Chufton, his was not an accidental death as everyone has been led to suppose. He was murdered,” Arabella pleaded.

  Mr. Chufton reached out to the first available chair, supporting his weight against its backrest. “Nobody is safe these days. Not when everyone has a secret. My only saving grace is my dear wife, Lord love her loose tongue. For years, I resented it, but her inability to keep anything private has been my salvation. Because of her, I have no secrets and I have avoided exploitation.”

  “Was that what Ambrose did?” Arabella asked. She had expected to see Shadewood Manor in disrepair, but it was just as she had remembered it. Had Ambrose blackmailed gentlemen for money to cover his debts? Tanner had told her he appeared to have no debt, but she could not believe it.

  Bunching his cheeks up and sighing, Mr. Chufton’s eyes once again darted around the room before he continued in a whisper, “He has a great many enemies among the gentle class, as well as those who have amassed fortunes through trade. It could have been the work of any one of them to cause his death.”

  “And yet you defend his character? I do not understand, Mr. Chufton. Please, I wish to find who did this to my brother before he attempts to hurt me, my family, or my friends.”

  “I beg you not to insist I give you a name. I cannot have any secrets. If certain friends of your brother have already learned something they can hold against you, I fear you are already a target and nothing I say will change what is certain to happen. I am so sorry. I truly am.”

  “You refuse to help us?” Georgiana gasped.

  Spineless lout, thought Arabella as he backed away from them with his hands up. He looked defenseless and vulnerable, and had she not been so angry, Arabella might have pitied him.

  Without names, without facts, how could she find Ambrose’s killer? Her worst fear was unfolding before her, and she was helpless to stop it.

  Well, she would not stand idly by while the man everyone was too scared to name threatened those whom she held dear! She spun on her heel, leaving Mr. Chufton without so much as an adieu.

  “Where are we going?” asked Georgiana, hustling to keep up.

  “We are going to find Mr. Darcy, where I will leave you in his care while I find Lord Lofton. The conversation I wish to have with him is not fit for a lady’s ears,” hissed Arabella.

  “You must not confront him alone. Take Tanner. Look, there he is walking out to the balcony overlooking the gardens.”

  Georgiana’s frantic tone slowed Arabella’s steps. “You are right. The last thing I want is to be found in a compromising situation with him.” Her trust in Lofton was shaken. He was Ambrose’s closest friend! If he knew something, he should speak up — no matter how shameful it might be.

  She and Georgiana crossed the ballroom, making their way to the balcony flanked with Grecian columns and accented with rich, velvet curtains through which Tanner had disappeared.

  Arabella stopped suddenly, Georgiana smacking into her back and disrupting their balance beside the thick velvet panels.

  Tanner stood with his back like a wall between the group of gentlemen leaning against the balcony’s balustrade and the ballroom. He held his arms rigidly at his sides, his hands facing Arabella and Georgiana as if to detain anyone from passing.

  It worked. It had stopped Arabella cold.

  Grabbing Georgiana before they were seen, Arabella stepped behind the curtain, pulling Georgiana along with her.

  Tanner’s voice boomed in ire. “Explain yourself, sir. Why do you torment Mrs. Annesley and the Darcys?”

  Arabella heard the cruel humor in Lofton’s voice when he said, “What is it to you, Mr. Tanner? What do you care for them?”

  “Do not deny it was you who charged them in Hyde Park.”

  “Yes, I suppose you got a rather close look at my face. That was rather foolhardy of you to race at me as you did with that enormous black stallion. I only meant to have a little fun. Come now, you have never seen another man — not even the most experienced coachman — feather it as closely as I did. I bet the wheels brushed against you.”

  Arabella slapped her hand over her mouth when her sharp intake of breath sounded too loud in her own ears. Tanner had been right! And she had stubbornly defended a man undeserving of her loyalty. Stupid!

  The men behind Lofton cheered, praising his skill and feeding his ego.

  Tanner’s coat stretched over his wide shoulders as he crossed his arms over his chest. Arabella did not need to see his face to see how unimpressed he was. “You have a sick way of diverting yourself if you thought that was fun. You put a good family and a young lady you claim as an old friend at risk.”

  “Again, I ask, what is it to you? We both know who you really are. I am surprised a proud man such as you would stoop so low as to accept the charity of his wealthy … relatives.”

  The men around Lofton cackled and snorted like a bunch of pigs.

  Arabella thought she would burst. It was obvious Lofton had learned about old Mr. Darcy’s indiscretion, but she hated him for using it against Tanner. How had he discovered Tanner’s deepest secret?

  Secret.

  Arabella’s heart sank. What if Lofton was the name Mr. Chufton would not utter? What if he was the one who collected secrets and used them against men better than him?

  Lofton’s taunts continued. “Let me guess, Mr. Darcy footed the bill for his tailor so you would not embarrass him in front of his society friends? I wonder what they will think of him when they learn the truth about you? I wonder what Miss Darcy’s chances are of making a good match when his family’s indiscretions are aired publicly?”

  Georgiana stomped her foot and huffed, and Arabella gave her a warning look. They could not risk being seen. Not yet.

  Tanner’s voice was low and gravelly, but Arabella heard every word clearly. “If you come near my family again, you will regret it.”

  Lofton laughed again. “A weak threat from such a large man. I wonder if your fists are good for it.”

  One of Lofton’s friends exclaimed, “I wager one thousand pounds you could best Mr. Tanner in a pugilist match.”

  Shouts and taunts fueled by the prospect of a barbaric, bare-knuckled fight ensued.

  Lofton did not discourage them. “What say you, Mr. Tanner? Beat me in a fight, and I will leave your family alone.”

  Arabella held her breath, she and Georgiana clinging to each other.

  “Mrs. Annesley too. You will stay away from her and her family.”

  Arabella pulled the curtain away from the column carefully when Lofton didn’t agree immediately. She did not want to miss a word of this conversation.

  He took a step toward Mr. Tanner, a smirk covering his ugly face. “The innkeeper has fallen in love with the companion? Oh, that is rich! Just wait until I am done with you, Mr. Tanner. I have special plans for Miss Hardcastle, and I do not take kindly to interference.”

  She felt sick. His words smacked of the letter Mr. Darcy had summarized for them.

  Arabella went numb. Had Lofton killed Ambrose? A million “whys” swarmed in her mind, but it was Lofton’s next words that made her step out from behind the curtain and out to the balcony.

  Chapter 15

  Lord Lofton jeered, appealing to his brainless lackeys for support with raised hands as he said, “I will take great pleasure in ruining you. I will make the Darcys wish they had never met you. You are a plague, a bad omen, a black mark on their otherwise perfect name. You are no match for me.”

  The
y slapped him on the back and raised their fists like zealots at a political rally. And he played them to his advantage.

  Tanner clenched his fists, his jaw … his self-control. His own restraint surprised him, but his intense desire to smash the “gentleman” before him shook his limbs.

  A feminine voice that sent off every defensive alert in his possession said behind him, “There you are, Mr. Tanner. The waltz has begun, and you promised to dance it with me.”

  He needed to get Arabella out of there. He would have agreed to anything. Even the waltz.

  She held out her hand expectantly.

  Tanner turned to take it, hearing the snickers and jabs behind him.

  “Did he not trip all over the ballroom floor earlier?”

  “Nearly ran a lady over, I heard.”

  “… clumsy oaf. Come, gentlemen, let us divert ourselves. I bet a hundred pounds he will take out half of the dancers before the waltz ends.”

  “What a show! Let us see!”

  Arabella’s jaw jutted forward, her steps quick and stiff with determination as she practically dragged him to the dance floor where several couples glided in a large circle. Darcy and Elizabeth waltzed past, holding each other in an embrace that sent panic through Tanner.

  “We will show them,” Arabella huffed. “I heard the whole thing, Tanner, and I will not stand for it. He must be stopped.”

  “How is me making a fool of myself — again — going to prove anything?” Tanner pointed out.

  He looked at Arabella. Bella. She was beautiful in her fury. The gentlemen were right to taunt him. He would trip all over his feet, unable to concentrate on the proper moves with his hand wrapped around her tiny waist and the perfume in her hair scrambling his senses. Already, the fire in her eyes kindled the flames spreading through his chest. This lady was made of tougher stuff than he had given her credit for … and his admiration for her soared. He would gladly look the fool just for the opportunity to hold her in his arms.