The Merchant and the Clergyman (19 page)

James’s throat went dry. “Oh?”

What could have happened? He’d seen no sign
of Declan when he left the mill and had assumed Declan had quickly
struck off through the woods toward the hall. James would have to
tell them what he knew about Declan’s whereabouts the night before.
Worry chased off any concern that people might speculate why he and
Declan had met.

One of the guests, a friend of Kip whom James
did not recognize, drawled in a voice that carried over the buzz of
conversation around them, “Who cares about him? Get this over and
done with so we can start with the wedding breakfast. Toasts for
the bride!”

“Precisely! That’s a good plan,” Kip said. He
strode over and grabbed Emily’s arm.

“No, Mr. Darnley. I’m talking to Mr.
Fletcher.”

“Him? Bah.” His nostrils flared as if he
smelled something rotten. He tilted his head back. “Come along,
Emily.”

She went pale and pulled away. “You’re
hurting me.”

Kip gave one of those harsh laughs that used
to make James shiver with fear and desire. How on God’s green earth
that grating sound from a spoiled boy could have had any power to
move him, he could not begin to recall.

“Best get used to the ‘obey’ part of the
vows, kitten. No scratching.”

“Could he have already started toasting the
bride?” a male guest near James jeered to his mate.

Kip made another grab at Miss Parker. James
stepped in front of her, and, sure enough, a gust of Kip’s
brandy-scented breath washed over him.

“Come, Emily.” Kip directed his standard
glorious smile at Emily, though his eyes seemed to glitter with
more anger than humor. “Let us ignore my rude cousin’s absence. Our
wedding guests are waiting for us.”

The guests were more than waiting. People
who’d only just arrived lingered outside the church to watch the
altercation, while some from inside began to wander outdoors, eager
not to miss what might turn into the scandal of the century if they
were lucky.

Miss Parker put her hand on James’s shoulder
as if holding him still. “I think we need to find Mr. Shaw. He
could be in trouble.”

“Our wedding won’t take long. We don’t need
him there, and, if you insist, we’ll send servants out to find him
after.”

“No, Kip,” she said with more strength.
“No.”

“Emily. Come!” He could have been calling a
dog. James uncomfortably recalled hearing that tone used on him,
and in the past, James had always obeyed. Thank goodness Miss
Parker had more sense than he’d had.

“No,” she repeated.

Kip hissed out a breath and tried to get
around James to get to her. “Stop it,” James ordered.

Mr. Parker broke away from the squire, who’d
been desperately trying to distract him from the argument, to
stride over and pull Emily into his arms. She clutched him and
buried her face against her father’s shoulder.

Mr. Parker said, “She’s not yours yet,
Darnley. And if that’s how you’d treat my daughter, I’m not sure I
will give her over to your care. Ah-ah, sir. Come a step closer and
I’ll show you I’m not so old that I can’t beat a young fool like
you.”

The circle of fascinated onlookers clustered
closer around the shouting men. Those nearer the church door began
to drift over as well.

James wanted to cheer for Emily’s father’s
intercession but felt he must make peace. “We should discuss this,
and not in front of the entire community.” He spoke as quietly as
he could while still loudly enough to be heard above Kip’s raging.
“No other services are to be held until this evening. The vicar and
I can be at your disposal anytime today
after
we’ve located
Mr. Shaw and assured his safety.”

Lord, he wished Declan were here. They might
exchange glances, and just the sight of Declan’s careless, devilish
smile would turn the situation from horrible to humorous. James
took in a long breath and said, “I’m sure if we take a moment to
calm—”

“You’re another one! You are working against
me,” Kip moved closer to James, no longer paying attention to
anyone else. His face had flushed, and his eyes seemed almost
sapphire blue.

James had had enough. “Mr. Darnley, you’re
drunk.”

“You’re despicable, you nancy.” He licked his
lips; Kip was growing excited.

Nothing like answering desire stirred in
James, only pity and revulsion. As quietly as possible, he said,
“Kip, you must calm down. This is your wedding day. We need to find
your missing cousin. People are watching you, and not with
approval.”

Kip, who liked to be the center of attention,
seemed to come to his senses at that. He reeled away and bumped
into one of his friends, who began to laugh. That dark-haired
gangling friend seemed familiar, possibly one of Kip’s circle from
school. James found he couldn’t care that his past had arrived in
the village. He had to find out what had happened to Declan.

He turned to the two fathers now engaged in a
more restrained shouting match. Mr. Parker leaned toward the squire
aggressively. “I had my suspicions about that boy’s temperament,
and now they’ve been confirmed. I have more than half a mind to put
a stop to this wedding.”

“You and your daughter made a promise!”

Reverend Hollister emerged from the church at
long last and hurried over, his vestments flapping in a rising
breeze. James thought he might make peace between Mr. Parker and
Squire Darnley. Instead, he stopped to speak to several ladies
dressed in lace and elaborate hats, who gazed avidly at the row.
James didn’t hear Hollister’s words, but the ladies slowly walked
toward the path to the road.

“Please allow the families some privacy.” The
vicar moved between the groups of spectators, repeating these
words. The relatives and friends began to reluctantly disperse like
flies being waved away from a dead carcass.

James raised a hand to stop him. “Wait, wait.
Sir, we must find Declan Shaw, and some of these people might help
in the search.”

Then James hurried over to stop the two
fathers from coming to blows. “Mr. Parker! Squire Darnley! We stand
in front of the house of God. You must bring yourselves under
control, and we will discuss this in a peaceful manner.”

Mr. Parker gave him a dark look. “There is
nothing to discuss. Emily, we are returning home.”

Emily’s eyes went wide. “No, I want to help
Mr. Fletcher find Mr. Shaw.”

“This is not the time to show your face,
young lady. Furthermore, you will not tramp about the countryside
in that gown.”

Emily lifted her chin. “I have no reason to
be ashamed, and I shan’t tramp around. I would like to stay here
and…and…” She glanced around the remaining crowd. Many people had
buzzed away and then settled not far off after all. Emily
smiled.

James turned to see what amused the
bride.

Mary Darnley had picked up flowers from one
grave and was carefully dividing the bouquet. Dressed in a
sumptuous gray satin gown and a matching hat with feathers, Mrs.
Darnley ignored the dirt as she placed one flower on each of
several graves, kneeling every time. Her maid, unaware of her
mistress’s behavior, stood near the church’s side door, talking
excitedly with other servants.

Emily began to walk toward Mrs. Darnley, who
seemed more energetic than usual. “
I
will keep Mrs. Darnley
company,” she called back to her father.

“We’ll all settle down and go into the
church. Good plan, young man.” Squire Darnley smiled at James. “We
shall see reason, and then the wedding can take place at last.”

“First we must find Mr. Shaw,” James
began.

Squire Darnley had started to walk toward the
church. He turned back and beamed at James and the others standing
next to him. “No need to be so worried. He’s a restless fellow. No
doubt he departed suddenly last night and was too rude to say his
farewells. I’ll have the servants check, but I’m sure his things
are packed and he is gone.”

Why would the squire say that? A wisp of fear
curled through James.

“I recall seeing Mr. Shaw at the dance last
night,” Vicar Hollister said.

“I did too. He danced with Emily,” Mr. Parker
said.

James had to reveal some of the truth. “I
know he was fine last night. I was unable to sleep and took a
late-night walk, where I happened to meet him near the abandoned
mill. He expected to be attending the wedding this morning.”

“The abandoned mill? Nonsense. Why would he
be gallivanting about the countryside?” Squire Darnley shook his
head but moved back to them.

Kip had sidled up to the group. “Yes. Why
would
he go out in the middle of a dance to walk to a ruined
building? Why is that, Mr. Fletcher? Hmm? I’ll wager I know.”

His father whirled to face Kip and barked,
“Would you shut up? You have made enough of a fool of yourself
today. Go away, sirrah.”

Mr. Hollister waved his hands again as if
using them to erase marks on a slate. “Now, now, nerves are
stretched thin this morning. We’d do best to avoid high
emotion.”

The squire’s face had flushed red, and he
nodded several times vigorously. “Shall we retire to your office,
Mr. Hollister? Do you have any more of that excellent brandy I gave
you last Christmas?”

“Emily said Mr. Shaw wasn’t feeling well,”
Mr. Parker said. “Said he didn’t want to go into supper. Wasn’t up
for eating.”

James had a fleeting vision of Declan lapping
wine from his belly. He pressed his lips tight.

Kip made a noise but didn’t speak.

“Come share a glass with me. We’ll find a way
to patch this up,” Squire Darnley offered to Mr. Parker. The two of
them started back toward the church.

James watched them leave. “We must still look
for Mr. Shaw.” He felt like a parrot, repeating the same words over
and over and being ignored.

“Wandering the countryside is a young man’s
business.” Mr. Hollister raised a hand as if about to bless Kip’s
friends, who looked as if they hoped to be invited to taste the
excellent brandy. “You might consider changing your clothes before
you take a nice tramp through the woods,” the vicar called to them
before turning to usher the older men inside.

James expected the groom’s party to return to
the hall, but the idea of a hunt obviously appealed to them—and
changing clothes didn’t.

Even Kip seemed interested. “The old mill,
eh?” he muttered.

“Yes,” James said and, uninterested in
exchanging another word with Kip, strode away on the gravel path
toward the woods.

James didn’t own a pair of dress shoes and
had polished his old brogans. He made his way easily to the
woods.

Behind him came the whooping and laughing
young gentlemen in their best finery, sliding on grass made
slippery with an early morning rainfall.

He flat-out ran to the mill, jumping over
obstacles on the dirt path through the woods. The loud shouts and
laughter from group of men behind him faded. Panting, he raced
through the mill, calling Declan’s name.

He hunted around the room where they’d made
love, looking for signs of their passion and also something that
might tell him if Declan had returned. He found no sign of
either.

By the time he made it back outside, the
gentlemen had arrived and were wandering the site and tossing
pebbles into what had been the stream.

“He’s not here,” James called to them, and
only Kip looked up. “We need to find him.”

“When you saw him, which direction did he
walk away from here?” For once, Kip didn’t sound sneering or
unpleasant.

James didn’t know the answer. He’d stayed in
the little space he and Declan had made together, cleaning up. He
hadn’t wanted to watch Declan walking—no, running—away from him.
He’d tried to concentrate on the glorious moments when he’d known
passion, and had clung to a very recent past, trying hard not to
think about anything else.

“It was dark. I don’t know,” he said.

“We can explore the paths in the area,” Kip
said without enthusiasm. “But not all day. I wish to be married,
after all.”

“We must make certain your cousin didn’t fall
down drunk and pass out like Bucket did last night,” the freckled
gentleman with ginger hair called out.

“Here now, I was not so squiffed as all
that,” the offended Bucket, who had a prominent nose but little
chin, grumbled. “I wish I was that far gone this very moment.
Rummiest wedding party I’ve ever attended.”

“Over there.” Kip pointed at the drop that
had once been the waterfalls after the mill. “That’s dangerous. Why
the hell you two felt you should skulk around here in the dark…” He
stopped, looked back at his friends, who weren’t paying attention
to him. When his gaze returned to James, he looked as bleak as
James suddenly felt. Not at Kip’s words but his implication.

Horror froze James’s words in his throat. A
tumble in the dark, Declan’s neck broken—he hadn’t had time to come
up with that horrible scenario until just that moment.

“We’ll look until we find him,” James said at
last.

“Yes,” Kip agreed, and for nearly the first
time since James had known him, he detected that honest emotions
such as worry and fear for his cousin’s life lay behind the words.
He wasn’t a completely despicable person. James had always guessed
that, which perhaps explained why he’d put up with so much.

“Come on, you idiots,” Kip yelled at his
London friends, who seemed ready to concede the fight against
nature and return to the hall and the wedding breakfast. “Don’t
just stand there. Look around.”

James didn’t waste another moment looking to
see if they obeyed. He plunged down the steep embankment to explore
the tangle of weeds that had once been a streambed. Other calls of
“Shaw! Declan Shaw!” rang out from all around him. Apparently Kip’s
friends were good for something after all. He trudged steadily
along, calling and searching for a black form that would stand out
against all the green. But the growth of brambles, grasses, and
blackberry vines was almost waist-deep. Someone could lie only feet
from him, and James might not see.