The Sergeant Major's Daughter (10 page)

The Earl heard him out in patience, then repeated inexorably, “How much all told, Uncle?”

Sir Peregrine quoted a sum which his nephew accepted
without blenching.

“You had best furnish my secretary with a list of the whole,” he said briefly.

“Oh, come now, Max! That’s taking generosity too far! No objection to your settling my gaming debts—cursed embarrassing owing
friends...”

“Quite so.”

“
...
but you don’t want to be troubling your head over the rest! I don’t, I assure you.”

The Earl pushed back his chair and stood up. “I pay all—or none, Uncle. The choice is yours. Now, shall we join the ladies?”

“As you will, dear boy,” said his uncle philosophically. “And what will you do about this Hardman business?”

“For the moment,” said the Earl, “nothing.”

7

In spite of the setback, Felicity was determined that the children should not be denied their Christmas concert. An appeal to Mr. Becket brought a hasty coat of paint to the walls and temporary seating.

The concert was a triumph. Lord Stayne put in a last-minute appearance, also Sir Peregrine, Amaryllis, and Jamie. Their presence put everyone on their mettle and the children behaved beautifully. She was proud of them and though she kept a wary eye on Jamie and Lanny Price, they both seemed overawed by the occasion.

Between Felicity and Ester, however, there was a distinct coolness. Ester had taken strong exception to having
her affairs divulged to the Earl without her permission
and no amount of persuasion would move her to seek his help.

Sir Peregrine stayed on for Christmas. There was quite a large house party, and with the prospect of some good shooting and congenial company, he was not hard to persuade. When the guests departed, he still showed little inclination to return to Town.

He liked to drive with Felicity in the gig. It was on one of these outings that they heard raised voices and came upon a knot of people milling around the boundary wall of Manor Court. The gate, with its grim warnings to trespassers, swung open. One or two women, hearing the gig, turned.

“’Tis Miss Vale!”

‘ Oh, miss—it don’t seem right! The lad don’t know no better nor to do as ’e
should..
.”

Felicity said sharply, “What lad?” She thought at once of Lanny. “Who is it?” she urged. “Who are you talking about?”

The woman who answered was big-eyed with her news. “It’s young Willie Graham! The Captain has ’im fast in
there
...
stealin’, he says.”

Thrusting the reins into Uncle Perry’s hands, Felicity sprang down and ran toward the gate, pushing her way through the onlookers.

Beyond the gate she stopped. There had been a light fall of snow, enough to cover the ground and powder the trees; it made an incongruously beautiful backdrop for a tableau assembled with the theatrical precision of high drama.

Captain Hardman, on his brute of a stallion, loomed above two small boys—Willie, passive and incurious under the hands of the head keeper, clutching to his chest a shining red ball; and, nearby, Geoffrey Hardman, stiff with outrage, yet with a suppressed air of gloating. Near the gate Ester was being restrained by a massive Negro and two other men watched the crowd for trouble.

Captain Hardman was addressing Ester in that light, expressionless voice and Felicity could tell that he was enjoying every minute.

“... you cannot deny the evidence of your own eyes, madam. The ball belongs to my son—your boy has it in his possession—indeed he is loath to surrender it.”

Felicity’s heart sank. She saw at once what must have happened. She had been working very hard with Willie for the past few weeks, endeavoring to find some way through that wall of silent apathy; she sensed that he had taken to her and had used that faint thread of interest, painstakingly going over and over one simple theme—circles—all kinds of circles, including a red ball! Until this moment she was unsure whether she had made any progress, yet here surely was the proof; even in the midst of her dismay she could not restrain a thrill of elation. She pressed forward until her way was barred.

“Let that child go this instant, Captain Hardman!”

He turned hard, pitiless eyes on her. “Ah, the school-marm! A propitious arrival. You are in time to witness the punishment of one of your charges. You should govern them better, ma’am!”

“How can you talk of punishment? You know this child is not responsible for his actions.”

“Then he must be made to learn that responsibility the hard way,
idiot
or no,” he sneered.

“If that is how you feel,” Felicity insisted desperately, “then take him before a magistrate.”

The thin mouth twisted. “Before Stayne? What kind of justice would that produce, I wonder? No, Miss Vale—this is an affair between children; I have a fancy to keep it that way.”

“The idiot stole my ball,” smirked Geoffrey. “My father is going to let me beat him!”

Felicity stared at Hardman in disbelief. “But that is obscene! Surely even you would not encourage such sadistic brutality in your own son?”

One glance assured her that he would. His contempt flayed her like a lash. “Have a care, schoolmarm! You are trespassing on my land for the second time. I might yet be tempted to treat you in similar fashion!”

She flushed scarlet. Her eyes found Ester; anger mingled with terror in her face. Her own anger mounting, Felicity swung around on the crowd.

“Are you going to stand there and let this happen?”

Without waiting for answer she delivered a well-aimed elbow to her captor’s midriff. Caught unawares, he doubled up in pain; she pushed him aside and ran to scoop Willie from the grasp of the momentarily disconcerted keeper.

Willie regarded her solemnly and slowly held out his hands. “Ball,” he said quite distinctly.

For a moment everything stood still except her heart, which leapt with pride. She hugged him.

“Yes, dear, ball,” she said. “But let us put it down now.”

She took it from his unresisting fingers and let it drop to the ground.

“Fools! Dolts!” Captain Hardman was nearly speechless with rage. “Seize her! Seize them both! Must I do everything myself?”

It was the first time Felicity had seen him off his horse—a vain strutting little man—but dangerous. She held the boy tighter as he advanced and from the
corner
of her eye saw the man she had winded and the keeper moving in from the other side.

There was an angry murmuring among the crowd. Above it came Sir Peregrine’s voice, devoid of its customary geniality.

“Hold where you are, sirrah! Call off your bruisers if you value your miserable hide.”

Felicity had completely forgotten him. She was never so glad to see anyone; her knees grew treacherously weak as he ranged himself alongside her, an elegant silver-mounted pistol held in a rock-steady hand.

Captain Hardman looked down its barrel—and up into Sir Peregrine’s coldly cherubic face. He signaled his men to stand back.

“Who the devil are you?” His voice grated.

Sir Peregrine looked him over with an hauteur his nephew could not have bettered.

“I have not the least desire to converse with you, my man. Release these good people, and go about your business.” With superb nonchalance he addressed Felicity. “Will you come, my dear ... is this the young lad’s mother? Come, ma’am.”

The Negro released Ester. Behind them the Captain relieved his feelings by cuffing his son, who was shrieking with hysterical disappointment.

Coming upon Captain Hardman three days later in Stapleforth’s Market Square, Lord Stayne dashed any hopes he might have entertained regarding the Graham cottage.

“There is a written agreement between Mrs. Graham and myself. In the event of her wishing to sell Ivy Cottage, I have first refusal.”

There was a petulance about the Captain’s wrath. “Very clever, my lord. But I am not deceived. I perceive only too clearly whose hand is behind this turn of events. That Vale woman will regret the day she crossed my path with her radical arrogance and mischief-making! I don’t tolerate it in my foundries—I certainly won’t tolerate it on my doorstep from a soldier’s upstart brat!”

“That will do, Captain!” The Earl’s voice held the steely ring of authority. “The agreement is between Mrs.
Graham and myself and no one else. Is that clear? Furthermore, I expect all pressures to cease forthwith!”

He saw the angry color creep up under the other man’s skin and added meaningfully, “I am sure we understand one another.”

When Felicity was summoned to the library she was uncertain what to expect. Lord Stayne had already expressed himself forcibly on the subject of the incident in Manor Court wood; she had only been prevented from taking issue with him by the intervention of Sir Peregrine.

“Let be,
m’dear,” he had counseled, drawing her away. “No sense brangling with Max when he’s in a miff. Cuts up pretty nasty, I can tell you!”

She could divine little now from the Earl’s expression. He frequently looked down his nose in that beetle
-
browed fashion.

When he had allowed her ample time to grow uneasy, he observed with cutting sarcasm, “Strange. You do not have the look of a young woman bent upon self-destruction.”

She stirred, frowning. “My lord?”

“I have warned you on more than one occasion, have I not, to refrain from antagonizing Captain Hardman?”

“Yes,
but
...
”

“
Permit me to finish, Miss Vale. Perhaps I have been at fault in allowing you free rein. It amused me to indulge you, and in many ways the experiment has proved beneficial. But you are too impetuous by far, ma’am. Your dealings with Hardman appear to border on the suicidal!”

“
That is unfair! At no time have I set out to antagonize Captain Hardman!”

“
Then it will astonish you to learn that he lays blame squarely at your door.”

“And you?”

The Earl appeared to weigh his words. “I think you have been unwise.”

“Because I interfered the other
day...”

“I have already spoken my mind on that head!”

“Ah yes! It was none of my business ... I should have passed by!” Felicity sprang to her feet and paced about the room. “Is that what you would have done, my lord?” When he didn’t answer, she finished bitterly, “Well, I thank God your uncle thought differently!”

The candlelight threw up shadows and brought the scar on Stayne’s cheekbone into sharp relief.

“Don’t attempt to turn the argument, Miss Vale. By interfering in a purely domestic dispute—a squabble between children upon private land—you placed yourself unquestionably in the wrong. Had Sir Peregrine not been on hand to intervene, you might have found yourself facing a very ugly situation.”

Felicity swung around to face him, grasping the back of a chair.

“Domestic dispute?” she cried, ignoring his censure. “Is that how you see the obscenity of setting one boy on to beat another?”

“Oh, come now! You are overdramatizing the whole thing. I doubt any lasting harm would have resulted.”

Felicity met his eyes steadily. “If that is what you truly believe, my lord, then I am sorry for you.”

The reproach disconcerted him. He said abruptly, “Sit down, Miss Vale.”

“I
than
k
you, sir, but, with your permission, I had far rather leave.”

Exasperation flared anew. “Oh, for God’s sake, girl
—
come down off your high ropes! Sit down. I have not done with you.”

Felicity glared—and sat. The Earl watched her with a curious expression.

“Why do
I
bear with you,
I
wonder?” he murmured at last.

She supposed the question to be purely rhetorical, yet a sudden quirk moved her to remark, “I understood that
you saw my refusal to be cowed as a challenge, my lord?”

“Did I say that? I must have been in my cups!” His look grew brooding. “If it is so, then I have served you a back-handed turn, I think
—
and must take some measure
of responsibility for your subsequent
hand
l
ing of Captain
Hardma
n
.”

“
No, sir,” she said firmly. “With respect, I cannot agree.
I’ll
not hide behind you or anyone else. I shall always oppose people like Captain Hardman who assume that they have a God-given right to make their own rules and trample all resistance underfoot!”

The Earl sighed. “I see that I am wasting my breath. You are clearly destined to meet an untimely end.”

Felicity smiled, uncertain of his mood.

“At least give me your word that you will stay out of Hardman’s path. I did not exaggerate when I said that he blames you for his misfortunes. I have warned him off, but it is by no means certain that he will comply. He is not, as you will have realized, a rational man.”

“No, indeed,” she agreed readily. “I will certainly engage not to provoke him. But neither will I be silent if I see a need to speak.”

Stayne grunted. “I suppose I must be satisfied with that.”

She stood up. “May I go now, my lord?”

“
Yes, Miss Vale—you may go,” he said with a strong touch of irony. He moved to open the door for her. As she passed him, he restrained her for a moment more.

“Pray, do have a care,” he urged in an odd sort of voice. “If anything were to happen to you, I have a curious notion that we should all be the worse for it.”