The Merchant and the Clergyman (10 page)

“He doesn’t seem particularly feminine. And,
cousin, really, how many times must I point out you shouldn’t
spread such gossip, or people will wonder how you came by that
knowledge.” Declan managed to keep his voice calm. He even produced
a smile.

Kip blushed and kicked at the carved lion leg
of the table, and the tassels draped from the sides quivered.

Declan couldn’t help himself. “You’re turning
quite red, Kip. I suspect you have firsthand experience with Mr.
Fletcher.”

Kip shrugged. “All boys do that sort of thing
at school. It doesn’t mean anything and ends when school days are
past.” He arranged a few balls on the felt and picked up his cue.
“He likes it. I can tell.” His mouth twitched into a brief smirk.
“But Fletcher enjoyed certain activities too much. He practically
begged for a beating, and if he had his ears boxed, he just grew
more fervent.”

The urge to pummel Kip made Declan clench his
fist, but he only asked, “Are you saying you would thrash him until
he brought you off?”

“He
liked
it, I’m telling you. But it
made him whimper like an animal and go eager when I…” As if aware
that he sounded overly excited, Kip trailed off. He cut a quick
glance at Declan before lifting his cue and leaning over the table
to make a shot. “I mean it was all boys’ fun, nothing more. All
that young energy. Silly nonsense.” Kip cleared his throat. He wore
a small smile, and Declan saw his cousin had aroused himself
remembering the abuse he’d inflicted on James.

He considered showing Kip what it was like to
be on the receiving end of a beating.

Yet, come to think of it, James had rejected
Kip quite decisively the other day, standing up for himself. Maybe
James had once craved Kip’s rough treatment, but he didn’t appear
to any longer. The kisses Declan and James had exchanged only an
hour or so earlier didn’t hold an edge of cruelty, only the taste
of desperation. Christ, those kisses… Desire poured through him,
but he wouldn’t entertain those thoughts at the moment.

He gave Kip a blank-faced look. “You sound as
if you were a cruel little monster to him.”

“Really, I don’t know why you’re so
determined to defend him. James Fletcher’s a poor specimen. He’s
got no more flavor than a blancmange. No fire.”

“He had plenty of fire when he kneed you in
the bollocks.”

Kip sniffed. “Boring man with no sense of
adventure.”

Declan once again imagined bashing Kip on the
nose—a rather too bold and bloody response, James might point
out—when he realized that Kip had seen a touch of truth but didn’t
see the bountiful blessings that lay under that truth. Sometimes a
lovely but subtle and soothing flavor was what one needed in life.
Adventure was for the reckless and unhappy. A man who could sit
still and listen and lay the balm of comfort on those who needed it
must be a rarity.

Declan moved to a window to escape his own
useless thoughts. He was turning into Kip with all this inner
reflection and no true action. That had never been his way before.
He was a man who accomplished goals. Now, he folded his arms and
tried to think of a simple yet delicate way to ask his aunt about
her accusations without setting off her fears.

From behind him, his uncle’s voice
interrupted his reverie as the man strode into the billiard room.
“What, you still here, you lazy fool? You need to get to your gel
and take her out for a stroll. Hup, hup, to it.”

Kip said, “Emily won’t change her mind about
me. We’re married in three days, gov’ner.”

“You’re not a filthy cockney. Stop using that
slang, you idiot. Pay attention, damn you, because you have but one
bloody use to me and the hall. No don’t scowl at me, you half-wit.
You might as well employ your skills as a rutting whore. Don’t
think I don’t know what you were up to in London, boy. I know
exactly who and what you bedded. Start that here, and we’ll lose
the gel. You’ll be nothing but a drag on the purse. So take that
tallywag of yours and put it to use where it’ll do the family some
good. ” The words were harsh enough, but the low growling tone made
each one a curse.

Squire Darnley must not have noticed Declan
over by the window. Declan hadn’t heard that tone of voice before
from his jolly old relative and suspected his uncle saved it for
his immediate family.

For once, Declan felt sorry for Kip, who
truly was suffering abuse rather than merely imagining it. He
stepped into the center of the room so his uncle could see him.
“Good afternoon, Uncle Darnley.”

“Ah, sir!” Squire Darnley wiped a hand across
his mouth and gave Declan a feeble smile. “How are you this fine
day?”

“Disturbed, to tell the truth. I wonder if
you speak to my aunt in such a manner? No wonder she is afraid
you’ll harm her.”

Good, a crack appeared in the amiable façade.
The perpetual smile vanished. “She is my wife, therefore my
business and none of yours.”

If he found out Darnley was mistreating his
aunt, he would certainly remove the lady from her husband and haul
her back to Ireland. That would teach his family to make him their
emissary in personal matters.

“I can make her my business,” Declan said.
“And pray, don’t forget that I excel at many forms of
negotiation.”

The squire took a verbal step back. “I’m
frustrated with m’son. That’s all. Nothing to concern yourself
over.” He turned to Kip and gave a pale imitation of his usual good
humor. “Well? What are you waiting for? Go take your dear Emily for
an outing.”

Kip scurried from the room like a dog
escaping captivity.

The squire’s smile was firmly in place as he
faced Declan alone. “And now I have a great many things to tend
to—”

“No, Darnley, I’m not done speaking with
you.”

“Sir, I am quite done speaking to
you
until you learn some manners. I am your uncle and your host and
demand you not address me as if I’m a servant.”

“I heard how you speak to your son. If I am
to take direction from you, apparently you would have me speak to
family in a far less cordial manner than I’m currently using.”

All traces of the smile vanished. His uncle’s
only motion consisted of short fast breathing, though his whole
body trembled. “What the hell do you want?”

That was more like it. The squire was against
the ropes, which was where Declan wanted him. “I have a list. Let
us start with you telling me what exactly are you feeding my
aunt?”

“Wholesome country fare. You’ve eaten our
food.”

“I mean medication. Do you offer something
other than your local quack’s remedy, or do you double the
dosage?”

“Of course not.” The answer came too
quickly.

Declan smiled. “Then you won’t mind if I go
and examine her medicine bottles?”

“You have the gall to barge into my house
and—”

“Yes. I do.”

His uncle sputtered for a moment or two but
stopped as Declan moved around the billiards table and stood only
an arm’s length away.

“You have long known about my family’s
reputation for ruthlessness. Our inability to trust and our ability
to take action is how we have made a great deal of money. You like
our money.”

“You are a hoodlum.”

“Only when necessary.”

His uncle tapped his fingers against his
mouth as if holding back the words he’d like to use. He made an
attempt to sound calm and mildly amused again. “Well, this is
entirely unnecessary, but if it eases your mind, you may see the
medicine my wife is using. You’ll find nothing amiss.”

Declan didn’t doubt that was true as his
uncle went away then came back with a medicine bottle. Declan
studied the bottle and realized simply seeing the medicine wouldn’t
help, unless he measured the level of the liquid every day to learn
if the dosage was too high. However, if there was some additional
drug being administered—one perhaps even Mary’s maid wasn’t aware
of—he might find it if he searched the house. As he wanted the
squire out of his way so he could poke around, he’d use more of
James’s diplomatic tactics.

“I’m sorry if I’ve been a bit…strident. You
can imagine how alarming it has been for me to see the changes in
my aunt.”

“Of course.” The squire even managed a tiny
smile. Oh, what polite gentlemen the pair of them were when the
gloves were put back on. “The changes in her have been alarming for
me as well, but trust me when I tell you she is well cared
for.”

“I do,” Declan lied. “Now, if you’ll excuse
me, I’ve had rather a long walk this morning and will go to my room
to take a rest.”

“And I have business of my own to attend,”
Darnley said. “A meeting with Mr. Parker, the bride’s father.”

He strode from the billiard room. Declan
pretended to walk in the direction of his bedroom, but lingered
downstairs until he saw Darnley ride away. Then he sought out the
butler and slipped him a guinea. “I’m going to look around the
house a bit, Wenger. Please come find me and let me know if my
uncle returns, hmm?”

He bribed some footmen with smaller amounts.
His uncle’s valet was slipped some coins to stay away from his
master’s quarters for a few hours. Declan would likely have a small
army of servants seeking him out when his uncle came in the door
again.

He stopped in to visit his aunt, who seemed
livelier than she had since his arrival. Mary knew who he was and
behaved almost normally for a change. She was a diminished version
of her old self, yet she even talked about the wedding and the
lovely girl her Kip would marry—though she had apparently forgotten
Miss Parker’s name. She also forgot her fear and anger.

“Are you certain I said someone wanted to
hurt me?” She laughed. “Goodness gracious.”

She couldn’t recall how many doses of
medication she received a day, but yes, she did fall asleep often.
Just now for instance…my, wasn’t it nearly time for a nap?

As if to prove her point, she soon slumped in
her chair and began to snore softly. After his aunt dozed off,
Declan found her lady’s maid. She informed him that a glass of
medication appeared on Mrs. Darnley’s tray three times a day but
she was a maid, not a doctor or nanny, and had no notion what was
in the glass. “In fact, sir, I’m not even quite certain who puts
the glass on the tray. I didn’t bother to ask more’n what I must do
with the liquid. The footman who brought it round first time
explained how it was medicine.”

Three doses daily matched the doctor’s
instructions—although how much was
in
each dose remained in
question—so Declan dismissed the maid. She curtseyed and headed
down the stairs eagerly, no doubt in search of someone to share the
gossip about the mistress’s pushing and prying young relation.

He entered his uncle’s room, which was
surprisingly well decorated with simple but carefully made
furniture. Most of the furniture was antiquated, but that was to be
expected in a house like this. The rug and drapes seemed fresher
and in better order than the rest of the house. His uncle’s bedroom
and its adjoining dressing room appeared as orderly and neat as a
military man’s billet. Such tidiness made the rooms easier to
search, harder in which to hide evidence of activity.

He found unlabeled bottles with fluid in them
and went downstairs to fetch some small containers from the butler,
who gave him two empty and clean ink bottles.

Declan unstoppered and sniffed the bottles in
his uncle’s room. The largest smelled like bay rum—cologne. The
other had a strange bitter scent. He poured some into the empty
clean bottle and thrust a stopper into all. He wasn’t sure what
he’d do with the mysterious fluid or how he might get it analyzed,
but he felt as if he’d accomplished something.

The evening meal loomed, so now was not the
time to bother overworked and underpaid staff. Tomorrow he might go
about the house, jingling his purse as he spoke to servants,
especially the ones in the kitchen, indicating his willingness to
pay for information.

Chapter Ten

Another day finished. Another sun set. As the
cool evening air brushed the sun-warmed earth, mist rose to swirl
around the tombstones in the churchyard cemetery, ghosts of
ancestors whispering secrets about the lives they’d left behind.
James listened hard as he walked alone, fancying that someday he
might actually hear a spirit voice or see a specter, something to
prove that a grave wasn’t the end of it all. But only the quiet
cooing of doves settling into the church eaves for the night met
his seeking ears.

Twilight was the most melancholy time of day,
he thought, when one questioned if his existence really mattered to
the world.

“Buck up,” he muttered to himself. “Such
wringing of hands is self-indulgent.” In fact, he didn’t feel like
his usual positive self. A restless yearning for something just
beyond reach filled him tonight—and he knew exactly
who
that
thing was.

James wandered between the crooked rows of
markers stretching back for so many generations and considered what
he
had
done that day—helped a mourning family lay their
patriarch to rest and offered them what comfort he could. It was
the niche he filled in village life. It was a valuable, worthwhile
service.

And the other thing you did today?
Now
there
was a true haunting. All day, as he’d gone about his
duties and carried on a dozen conversations, his mind returned
again and again to what happened between him and Declan that
morning. The kiss, the unforgettable, unspeakable, body-trembling
kiss, which even now made his flesh burn and his cock rise in
yearning.

Oh, he must forget it.

Ah, he couldn’t. A bell once rung couldn’t be
unrung, and he feared that kiss was branded on him forever.

Too restless to settle in to read in his
little parlor that evening, James had chosen instead to walk in the
graveyard. The quiet stillness would calm him and bring him back to
the spiritual center that dispelled the earthier elements that
plagued him. He’d found this to be true in the past. Deep breathing
and silent contemplation could smooth even the most ruffled spirit.
If he’d stop indulging in melancholy, he might experience a touch
of the divine tonight in this peaceful place.