The Merchant and the Clergyman (23 page)

“Shut your mouth, you foolish dolt,” Darnley
gritted between his teeth. “All this was your fault. If you’d
managed to keep yourself sober and quiet for just a few more
hours—”

“I
won’t
be quiet! Not any longer. Not
for you or anybody.” Kip swayed and slurred and shouted until one
of his friends came and put a chummy arm around him.

“Come along, old sod. Let’s take a stroll
around the garden,” Bucket said and led Kip away. The other
gentlemen shuffled along after them, whispering and exclaiming
about the drama.

“More entertaining than anything I’ve seen at
a Drury Lane theatre.” A voice drifted down the hall.

Declan took the opportunity to exchange a
quick look with James. This situation was almost beyond belief, the
sort of overwrought nonsense Declan despised being involved in.
Both his head and his body ached, and he’d like nothing better than
to crumple on a fainting couch like a woman with the vapors. It was
all just too much. But James’s wee smile set Declan’s unsettled
soul to rights, and he steeled himself to finish what he’d
begun.

“I won’t go to the constable,” he informed
Darnley. “What would be the point, as it would end up my word
against yours, and the county resides in your pocket?”

Not to mention any close investigation of the
crime might also bring up the fact that Declan and James had met at
the mill in the dead of night.

“But I do want people to know you for what
you are. Perhaps Mr. Parker could help with that.” Declan knew the
squire valued his reputation above all things. It was the only
deterrent he could think of to keep Darnley in check. Declan moved
closer and pierced the man with a stare. “
Or
he might be
persuaded to keep quiet about all he’s learned here today. As for
Kip’s friends, I’m certain he could convince them not to spread
stories that would hurt your family’s reputation.”

Darnley glared. “I won’t be accused of things
I know nothing about. This is all preposterous.”

Declan stepped closer and lowered his voice
so even Parker, standing nearby, couldn’t hear. “Shall I bring
Clark into this and truly cause some trouble for you? Simply give
your blessing on Mary’s visit to Ireland—for however long she
chooses to stay—and I’ll drop the subject. But you will make no
more demands on her, financially or otherwise, ever again.”

Darnley’s lips pressed so tight, they grew
pale and his nostrils flared in fury, but he bit back any further
arguments. “All right. Take her and good riddance. Let her sister
care for her to the end of her days if she wishes. I’ll be glad to
be relieved of the burden.”

Declan nodded, full of fury himself about the
attack on his person, but willing to suppress that anger for the
opportunity to free Mary from this prison. He’d had to put up with
plenty of awful, dissatisfied, difficult people in the business
world. It was important to deal with his uncle exactly the same way
he would a shifty supplier—for the good of the end result.

Now Declan turned to Mr. Parker. “I’ll see
how Emily is faring with my aunt’s packing and send her down to you
so you might confirm that she wishes to accompany us. We could
leave on today’s train or postpone till tomorrow if she requires
more time to prepare. Either way, I promise to send you a message
when we’ve delivered her safely to her great aunt’s home.”

Before he walked away, Declan cast one last
look at his uncle. “Darnley, you might consider offering Kip a
little respect for he is the best part of you.”
Though that
isn’t saying much
, he thought as he strode out of the room.

Chapter Eighteen

James felt as if he’d been tied to a
Catherine wheel and spun until he couldn’t see straight, sparks
shooting everywhere, the whole world on fire, and him helpless in
the center of it.

Nonsense
, he told himself.
You’ve
been through nothing compared to the upheaval in Declan’s
family
.

James tried to cling to that thought and not
feel overwhelmed, but one thing after another had happened since
the moment he’d entered the churchyard that morning, and he craved
a quiet moment of peace in which to breathe. And to pray. He needed
to center himself to deal with the jumble of thoughts and emotions
darting through him like so many pyrotechnical sparks.

The canceled wedding was a good thing, as was
Mary Darnley leaving her husband to be cared for by family. But her
departure also meant Declan’s. He would leave on a train and James
might never see him again. Panic sheared through him at the
thought.

And then another bolt of panic at the
opposite thought. Declan had invited him to come along, just up and
leave everything he knew and become…

Become what? A traveling companion? Secret
lover? Kept man? None of those labels seemed applicable to James
Phillip Fletcher, sedate and reasonable village curate. He was a
man who enjoyed the small things in life and who craved routine.
Steamboats, trains, hotel rooms, foreign countries—he’d never
desired any of these things. He
liked
knowing the people
around him, trading the same pleasantries with the same folks every
day. He needed to be needed. Serving his parishioners was all he
really wanted to do. It satisfied his soul.

Almost.

Now it seemed his soul had begun to crave
something, or someone, else. The notion that James would never see
Declan again—for why
would
the man have reason to return to
this place once he’d gotten his aunt free?—crushed his heart. It
was too painful to stand, knowing he’d encountered the one person
in the world who understood him and had allowed him to slip away.
That was untenable. If Declan asked again, James wouldn’t stop to
say yes, he’d just grab a valise and begin packing.

That thought left him breathless and spinning
once more. Could he really do that?

“Mr. Shaw might remain quiet, but I have no
reason to,” Mr. Parker said. “I don’t want my daughter to be the
talk of the village.”

James must cease thinking about his own
problems and address the troubles that could threaten the order of
the village. The way Squire Darnley raised his chin and drew back
his shoulders reminded James of a rooster squaring off for a
cockfight. Time to soothe the ruffled feathers.

Squawk, squawk
, James thought with
unaccustomed bitterness. Then he saw the way Mr. Parker’s mouth
trembled with emotion, and James immediately understood that his
rage could do him harm. Small matters indeed. The squire was a
nasty piece of work and bully, but Mr. Parker and Emily deserved
better.

Darnley opened his mouth, and James cut in
sharply, “Squire, if you would please not exacerbate the situation
with retorts.”

The two older men stared at him as if he’d
been a puppy who’d ripped into a senior dog, disbelieving and
offended. “Mr. Fletcher, this is hardly your business.”

“On the contrary, Squire. The good of the
village is my business, and if you should say an unkind word about
Miss Parker to anyone, be certain that I drop a word into Mrs.
Moore’s ear.” He turned to Mr. Parker, who looked rather smug now.
“And I beg your pardon, but I hope you might keep what happened
today private. Anyone who’s met Miss Parker will know she is a fine
and intelligent girl who was guided by her father to make a good
match.”

Mr. Parker looked anguished.

“It might have been a good one,” James said
quickly. “Kip can be charming, but he is a man not ready to marry,
too young, perhaps.”

“You’re too generous,” Mr. Parker said.

James had to agree, but not aloud. “There
will be a great deal of speculation about Kip already.”

“All deserved.”

“Perhaps, but he must eventually mature. And
recall, even if he left, he will not be able to flee the area
permanently—eventually he will take over the care of the hall. If
you burn all bridges with him, village life will run less smoothly.
I know that’s a small matter compared to the anger you feel at the
moment, but I beg you to consider allowing the talk to die down
rather than fanning the flames.”

Mr. Parker made a humming sound.

The squire glared at them both. “I will not
stay quiet to satisfy the likes of you, you nancyboy. Yes, I know
about your perversions, Mr. Fletcher.”

Before James could say a word, Mr. Parker
said, “Disgraceful, disgraceful.”

Emily’s father was joining in with the squire
to denounce him. At least the two of them had some common ground,
he thought with a sinking heart.

Then the man turned on Darnley. “You would
say such things about a man of God! About the best curate, the best
clergymen to bless this village.”

“Don’t you wonder why he was near the mill
last night to know where to search for Mr. Shaw?”

“No, I do not, and only a man as salacious
and morally crippled as yourself would imagine such things.”

James tried not to blush. Even the squire’s
imagination could probably not conjure what he and Declan had
done.

Mr. Parker’s voice rose. “I am ashamed of
you, Squire Darnley. Your own son is a wastrel, a fool who drinks
too much. And you’re so determined to direct disapproval from him
you would cast aspersions on the Fletchers’s boy?” Mr. Parker
whirled on James. “And would you allow this poor excuse of a
poltroon to say such things about you?”

“Angry responses to accusations are not going
to make peace,” James observed. “I wish for that above all
else.”

“See? A man of God.” Mr. Parker swept a hand
up and down as if showing James off as a prize head of livestock.
“Turning the other cheek.”

“Bah,” the squire said, but he seemed
discouraged. His one weapon had discharged with no good results.
James supposed Darnley’s accusations and rumors might rise
again—but with no Declan in the village, James wouldn’t be caught
out in sin.

No one else could make him forget himself
like that again. He knew suddenly that this was not like his
memories of Kip, which had always made him writhe with
mortification even in the midst of his passionate days when he’d
thought what they’d had was love. He’d never feel ashamed of his
attachment to Declan. He supposed he’d eventually bless the moment
they’d met and all the moments they’d had together. Loving could
not be a mistake, even when it ended.

A small tap sounded at the door, and Miss
Parker entered and closed the door quietly. The squire gave her an
ingratiating smile. “M’dear, may I say how sorry I am that you and
Kip had a dustup. I’m sure that you and he will be laughing about
this together in the years to come.”

Mr. Parker looked about to speak, but caught
James’s eye and shrugged.

“Squire Darnley, perhaps you’re right and we
shall laugh together, but it won’t be as husband and wife.” Emily’s
voice grew stronger. “I will not marry Kip. I will never marry him.
Might I speak to my father alone?”

“Here, now, in my own house—” the squire
began.

James walked to the door, opened it again,
and gave the squire an austere stare, imitating the vicar. “We’re
not needed,” he said.

The squire produced an inarticulate noise
that might have been a curse, but he walked out of the room. James
was about to follow when Miss Parker called out, “Please stay, Mr.
Fletcher.”

Closing the door behind the squire was a
sweet moment of relief for James. He’d had more than enough of Kip
and his family and their jeering contempt for everyone around
them.

Miss Parker faced her father, hands folded at
her waist. “I believe you wished to know if I’m serious about my
desire to visit Aunt Constance in London. Yes, I am.” She glanced
at James. “I am sad, Father. So terribly bereft. My dreams have
come to an end.” Emily gave a long sniff and shook out her train,
reminding them that she wore a wedding dress. “I wish… I wish I
could travel with a wise advisor. Someone to help me understand and
guide me.”

“It’s nearly harvest time, my love;
otherwise, you know I’d be at your side. You might wait. I would go
with you to London if that was your desire.”

James liked Mr. Parker more and more.

Emily shook her head. “No, no. I feel as if
being useful to Mrs. Darnley and Aunt Constance will help ease my
heart.”

She didn’t usually sound quite so…affected.
Dramatic and exuberant, yes, but this girl wasn’t like the Miss
Parker he’d come to know. Her words seemed too measured. Perhaps
her grief and anger had turned her into a stiff creature? He hoped
not.

Her eyes widened, and she swept a hand at
James, and he was reminded of her father’s gesture. “Mr. Fletcher.
Perhaps…you? I know you’re a busy man, but surely you would come
along to offer spiritual comfort to both Mrs. Darnley and myself?
Mr. Shaw is a good man, but I would feel far more comfortable with
someone familiar in our company.”

James blinked. As the boys he taught might
say, what sort of skilamalink nonsense was she pitching?

Mr. Parker sniffed, pursed his lips, and gave
a sharp nod. “Whatever you feel would make you easier in your mind,
m’dear. I’d pay your expenses, of course, Mr. Fletcher.”

James felt he must protest. “But without any
notice, Reverend Hollister will have to find someone to take my
place.”

“The vicar is far too dependent on you. Best
he discover how much you do for the village.”

“I agree,” Miss Parker said and actually
smiled. “No one could take your place, Mr. Fletcher.”

The decision to travel with Declan had been
removed from James’s hands.

James returned home to change out of his
stained clothes. Soon after that, Miss Parker came to call on him
after she and her father had visited the vicar on his behalf.

“I can’t stay more than a moment. Papa is
waiting, but I wanted you to know Mr. Shaw has agreed to take the
early morning train.” Miss Parker seemed more herself, but without
the exuberant happiness that she’d held during the weeks she’d been
formally engaged.