Cry of the Peacock (25 page)

“Katherine. You will leave it for me to tell him. You cannot betray me in this way.”

Katherine examined her a moment more then turned from her. “I don’t want to talk any more about it. I can’t bear it.

“Katherine!”

But Katherine could be prevailed upon to say no more. Too soon, the carriage was before the Crawfords’ door. Abbie alighted. Katherine gave the signal and the carriage drove off, leaving Abbie to enter the house alone.

*   *   *

James watched as Abbie, red of face and apparently out of sorts, entered the house and climbed the stairs to her room. He turned as he heard footsteps entering the hallway. David stopped at the foot of the staircase, glanced upward, and then offered James a curious look.

“What’s this, then?” David asked.

“I’ve no idea.”

“She was out with Katherine.”

“And she returns like this?”

David only shook his head in answer.

James furrowed his brow and reached for his coat.

“Where are you going?”

James did not answer right away, but put on his coat. “I’ve been thinking…”

“Oh, no.”

“You know I agree with you about…” and James tossed another glance upward, “and what she should or shouldn’t know.”

“Yes, but…? There must be a ‘but’.”

“It has occurred to me that a second opinion on the matter might be sought. If we were to consult with the sister…”

“I’m not certain, James, that that’s such a good idea. They’re likely to call the law upon you if you show up there again.”

James, however, was not listening.

“James!” David tried to stop him, but it was too late. The door shut, and he was gone.

To consult Miss Mariana… Was it wise? Would it be forgivable if they did not? But he did not have the time to consider these questions now. He would leave them in James’ hands, and trust he would use some discretion in the matter, though such had never been his strong-suit before.

David allowed himself another glance up the staircase and resigned himself to fate. He had no other choice at the moment. Lord Barnwell was expecting him, and he was not a man to be kept waiting.

“S
O YOU’VE COME, have you?” Lord Barnwell said upon receiving David into his study. It was all dark wood and heavily patterned wallpaper, and, like everything related to the Barnwell’s, evoked an air of recently manufactured splendor.

David took the seat offered him on the opposite side of an enormous walnut desk.

“With all this to-doing over your Miss Gray, I thought maybe you’d got distracted.”

“She’s not
my
Miss Gray, sir, as you well know, and I can most readily assure you there are no distractions. You know I don’t like to jump into anything without first looking.”

“You’re nearly five and twenty. I’d say you’ve had plenty of time to look about you.”

“It is not my marriage to which I was referring, sir. I simply meant that since being so suddenly, and unexpectedly, dismissed from my father’s employ, I’ve found myself a little disoriented.”

“Your father has always meant you for politics.”

“He’s mentioned it. I did not realize it was so fixed a purpose in his mind.”

“And is it in yours?”

David did not answer this.

“I see,” Lord Barnwell said and leaned back in his chair. The leather upholstery smelled of polish and the chair groaned beneath the weight of him. “You are more certain, I hope, of your plans for my daughter.”

“Yes. Of course.”

“You are not opposed to making the announcement in December?”

“No,” he answered. “Not at all.” He was conscious that he sounded uncertain, even still. Was he?

Lord Barnwell looked up from his desk and considered David very carefully for a moment. “Ruskin is dead set upon his purpose, is he?”

David hesitated. This was not a subject he was comfortable discussing with his future father-in-law. “Yes. I believe so.”

“It’s a pity, really.”

“Is it?”

“He might have chosen much better.”

And there it was. The veiled hint, so cleverly dropped. Yes, Ruskin might do better—at least as far as family and station were concerned—than Arabella Gray. That the alliance had not been formed between Ruskin and his own daughter was probably a point of resentment with him. Certainly Katherine could do far better, perhaps deserved better, than a second son of a baronet.

“Miss Gray has her charms, to be sure. I can hardly condemn the man, but I wonder… I’m not so certain she is a good influence on my Katherine.”

Was it unkind, or simply ironic that David had considered that Katherine was possibly a bad influence on Miss Gray? “How do you mean, sir?”

“My daughter has been in a sullen and petulant mood all day, and I’m willing to bet it has something to do with her new friend. I understand they went out together this morning?”

“I believe they did. Yes.”

“Do you know what might be the source of Katherine’s trouble?”

“I wish I did.”

“I can’t get a word out of her. Neither has her mother had any success. Perhaps you might try it for yourself?”

“I’d be happy to, were I to find the opportunity.”

“I’ll be sure to give you some time to yourselves this evening.”

“I would appreciate that, sir,” David answered. It was the first sincere thing he’d said since arriving.

“Well, well. It’s probably nothing anyway but a friendly spat.”

“No doubt you are right, sir.” But he wasn’t so sure. Abbie had clearly been distraught upon returning home. Had Katherine been the same, or had she been under the influence of another emotion entirely? And what had inspired these moods?

Lord Barnwell examined him again. “I’ve always thought you had enormous potential, you know, were you ever to take the initiative and strike out for yourself.”

David was astonished by this. “Have you, sir?”

“I have, and I do.” Lord Barnwell wagged a thoughtful finger at him. “We will make something of you, yet. I’m determined to do it. With such connections as you are soon to make, there’s no telling how far you might go. You can help me, David, and, so long as you take care of my Katherine, I will be sure to help you. Do we understand each other?”

“Yes. Of course, sir. I’m grateful to you.”

“Well, there’s no time to waste. Are you opposed to stepping out to my club for an hour or two?”

“Certainly not,” he said, and felt that of all the things he would have to learn, and learn well and soon, it would be how to become a proficient liar. It was proving a bitter struggle already.

*   *   *

James stood upon the steps of the unmarked house and waited for the door to open. He’d struck the knocker twice already and was just preparing to lay hold of it a third time, when the door of the neighboring house opened and a gentleman stepped out. The man looked at him, paused a moment, took a step or two down, and turned to look at him again.

James ignored him and struck the knocker once more.

“Is there something I can do for you?” the gentleman asked.

“Thank you, no.”

“Your business is with?”

James had little time to be dealing with busy-body neighbors. “I have a matter of urgent business to discuss with Miss Gray.”

“I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible.”

James, his irritation mounting, turned to the man. “You are acquainted with Miss Mariana Gray, I take it? And her aunt?”

“I am.”

“And are you used to speaking for them?”

“Quite.”

James stepped down and examined the man’s door—and the plate that was affixed beside it. “You are a lawyer, I see.” Suddenly he understood. “You are
the
lawyer!”

“
The
lawyer?”

“This meeting is providential. My name is—”

“I know who you are.”

“Yes. Yes, I suppose you do. The fact is, I’m in want of some legal advice.”

Mr. Meredith remained silent.

“My business concerns Miss Arabella Gray—and my brother’s less than altruistic matrimonial ambitions.”

A ripple crossed Mr. Meredith’s brow. He was suddenly all politeness. “Would you mind stepping this way, Mr. Crawford?”

James exited the yard of Mrs. Newhaven and her niece, and entered that of Mr. Meredith. The lawyer introduced himself, though James had read the name already from the plate on the door. Without any further delay, he was shown into the house, and then into a book-lined room that served as both legal office and receiving room.

“Now,” Mr. Meredith said once James had taken a seat. “Do tell me what it is you came to discuss. Can I get you anything? Some tea perhaps?”

“No. Thank you.”

“Brandy?”

“Yes. Just a little. If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

Mr. Meredith poured half a glass and handed it to him, then took a seat opposite. “Please Mr. Crawford. You have come about Miss Gray. Miss Arabella Gray.”

“Yes.”

“Nothing is wrong, I hope?”

“Well, I suppose that depends,” James said, and proceeded to tell him the whole; of her history as it involved his own family, the investments that had been set up for her, all the reasons, after all, that she was such an indispensable asset to his brother’s happiness. He left little out.

When he had done, Mr. Meredith, looking a little pale, sat back to contemplate the story.

“My purpose in coming is twofold,” James explained. “Firstly, my brother David feels—and I agree with him—that to tell Abbie what we know might mean further endangering her chances.”

“Endangering her? By telling her the truth? By telling her what it is her right to know?”

“At the moment she is reluctant to return my brother’s regard.”

“You mean Mr. Ruskin Crawford?”

“Yes,” James answered.

“She hesitates. This is a good thing. Her instincts serve her well.”

“Perhaps.”

“Perhaps?”

“Her reluctance, at least in part, is for an exaggerated fear of what others may think if she accepts him. But these fears are countered by an equally exaggerated sense of obligation to my family for all they have done and are attempting to do for her.”

“Better, then, to tell her that she has a right to claim her independence.”

“That’s just it. Does she? The will only says she must marry well, but my father, as the executor, has interpreted it to mean Ruskin. And there is no reason he shouldn’t. My grandfather suggested the very thing. The question remains, would it be possible for her to claim her portion of the inheritance without marrying my brother?”

“Ruskin Crawford?”

“Yes,” James answered, very nearly in a huff. Was the man not listening? “She is a proud woman. I would prefer it if she were able to make up her mind without the consideration of money or station or obligation.”

“That seems quite impossible under the circumstances. Money and station and obligation are already factors. If she had the facts to guide her…”

“Or, perhaps better yet, someone whom she trusts, someone who knew all and could guide her.”

Mr. Meredith considered this. “Possibly,” was his answer when at last he gave it.

“She has an ally in me, but I’m rarely at home. I believe she has one in my brother David, but she does not trust him.”

Mr. Meredith looked actually relieved to hear this.

“Which brings me to my second purpose. I wonder what you would think if I were to confide in Miss Mariana.”

Mr. Meredith drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair.

“Of course you might, just as easily, pass on the information I have given you. I would prefer, however, to be the one to tell her. It is my family I represent, for both good and ill.”

Mr. Meredith hesitated to answer.

“Well?”

“Have you the will?”

“I can get a copy.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Bring it.”

“You will help me?”

“I will gladly help the Misses Gray in any way I can.”

“And will you allow me to do my part? Will you arrange for me to speak with Miss Mariana?”

Mr. Meredith took in a deep breath, then let it out very slowly as he looked at James. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Tomorrow?”

“It is imperative, Mr. Crawford, that you respect Miss Gray’s privacy.”

“Of course.”

“You’ve been asked before not to come.”

“I had to, don’t you see?”

“You might have written.”

“I don’t think so. I am a man under a cloud of suspicion, if you remember. Which obstacle, I’m afraid, I have yet to overcome.”

“Possibly not,” Mr. Meredith said with a smile that was a trifle more sincere.

“No?”

“Miss Arabella, it seems, was able to get to the bottom of Miss Summerson’s story.”

“She has cleared me? I am no longer held responsible?”

Mr. Meredith laughed a little. “Well,” he said with a flick of his eyebrows, “I suppose there is responsible and there is responsible, if you know what I mean.”

“I most certainly do! Will she forgive me, then? Miss Mariana, I mean?”

“She will most likely forgive you for your part in Miss Summerson’s troubles, but the fact remains you have come, and will come again, tomorrow, contrary to her explicit instructions.”

“Certainly she’ll forgive me when I tell her my purpose.”

“Let us hope.”

“Tomorrow then?”

“Yes. Shall we say noon?”

“That should suit me very well, Mr. Meredith,” James answered. He put out his hand and bid the lawyer good day.

*   *   *

David had gone to the club, had shaken hands, had acquainted himself with others of Lord Barnwell’s political engine. He had smiled, had listened and nodded, had said little…and, at long last, had returned to the Barnwell home. Katherine was there to greet him, wearing a thin smile that, he supposed, was not entirely unlike the one he had so recently worn pasted upon his own lips. He was sincerely glad to see her, though.

“So you’ve returned, have you?” she said greeting him, and putting forward a cheek to be kissed.

He happily obliged her.

“I thought Papa might keep you to himself tonight. He has such great expectations for you. So do I, if you want to know.”

“Well, then. I shall do my utmost to live up to them.”

“And you will be quite happy working under my father?”

“I do hope so, Katherine,” he answered quite honestly.

She smiled and sighed. She was plainly displeased by something. Was it him? Or was it, rather, owing to Miss Gray?

“What is it?” he asked her.

“It’s nothing.”

“Are you quite certain? As Miss Gray returned from your trip in a similar mood, I assume she has something to do with it. Had you some kind of misunderstanding?”