The Village Spinster (17 page)

Max reluctantly allowed himself to be drawn away, with many a backward glance and yap. But he was easily distracted, and soon trotted along again sniffing at each fascinating rock and tree along the way. Clarissa covered ground rather quickly, but the dog had no difficulty keeping up with her, and was usually a little ahead. They were about to pass a rider coming toward them, and Clarissa was relieved to see that it was no one she knew, when the rider drew in his horse, frowned and said, “That’s my dog.”

“I beg your pardon?” Clarissa replied. She’d never seen the fellow before. He looked a rather meek sort of person, and rode with no distinction whatsoever. And yet his eyes were keen enough and he spoke quite decidedly.

“That’s my dog,” he repeated.

“I can’t think how it could be,” she answered, and yet given a moment, perhaps she could. “Cairn terriers look very similar, you know.”

“Where did you get it? You haven’t had him long, have you?”

Clarissa hesitated. But there was nothing for it except to admit the truth. “I was given him, only two days ago, by William Kinsford.”

“Precisely!” the fellow ejaculated. “I might have known! They kidnapped him.”

It was Clarissa’s turn to frown. “If you would introduce yourself, sir, perhaps we could straighten out this matter,” she suggested, drawing the dog close to her. Max was paying absolutely no attention to the rider, though the rider’s horse seemed to intrigue him.

“I, madam, am Gerald Franklin, master at Oak Knoll, where William attends school. I am, in fact, on my way at this moment to Kinsford Hall to confront him with the stealing of my dog, Harding.”

Even at this name Max did not look up at the man. Clarissa, however, had no difficulty believing that he belonged to Mr. Franklin, given his further explanation.

“A companion of William’s has admitted that he was responsible for removing Harding from the school grounds and bringing him to William. I hold both boys responsible for the theft and intend to prosecute them to the fullest extent of the law.”

Lord, that’s just what we need now, Clarissa thought. It seemed likely to her that the master was more intent on inducing Lord Kinsford to part with some money, but that was the earl’s problem. She would only further irritate him, and rightly so, if she interfered in the matter.

She looked down at Max/Harding and sighed. Well, she hadn’t really wanted a dog to begin with, she reminded herself. “Shall I hand him up to you?” she asked.

The master glowered. It was obvious he hadn’t considered the possibility that he would have to cart the little dog around. “I suppose you’d best,” he replied. “Lord Kinsford just might not believe me if I don’t have the evidence. What’s your name, madam?”

“Clarissa Driscoll.” She reached down and lifted the curious dog, who licked her face. When she handed him up to the rider, Max cocked his head and barked. Without thanking her, Mr. Franklin rode off, awkwardly shifting the little dog on his lap, where Max squirmed and growled.

“Be still!” she heard the man say as he cuffed the little dog smartly. Clarissa shook her head, feeling all the beauty, safety and comfort of her walk disintegrate around her. Slowly, missing all the signs of spring now, she retraced her steps home.

Lord Kinsford did not return to Kinsford Hall until an hour after Mr. Franklin arrived. The school master had been shown into a waiting area off the main hall, a small room with a modicum of comforts which was not intended to inspire long waits or overly long conversations. Since Mr. Franklin had not vouchsafed to the staff what his purpose was in seeking out Lord Kinsford, other than to say that he was from William’s school, no one had thought it necessary to track down the earl, as he was due back in a short while.

Kinsford returned from a strenuous ride on Longbridge (occasioned by his extreme agitation concerning Miss Driscoll), only to be greeted with the news that someone awaited him. As he had ridden past the house, he’d remarked the stranger standing in the tall window where petitioners were placed against his return. There was nothing Kinsford wanted less than to see someone with a demand upon his time and good nature just then. Nor did he like the looks of the fellow, dressed almost entirely in black, a morbid vision at best.

So it was in less than the best temper that he presented himself in the waiting area, not bothering to change from his riding clothes. The first thing that struck him as strange was the presence of the dog.

And that it was a cairn terrier. Mr. Franklin wore a stern, unrelenting grimace, and an old-fashioned set of knee breeches and jacket so reminiscent of a clergyman that Kinsford had to remind himself that this man was from Oak Knoll, not a parish church.

Oak Knoll was a family tradition, a school chosen more for its proximity than its status. None of the Barringtons for the last few generations had been particularly academically inclined, and father to son there had been an understanding that the rigors of Eton were not to be borne by them, with its hazing and stifling regulation. Oak Knoll drew from the gentry in the western portion of Britain, and had nothing to apologize for in the education it handed down, but it was a little more lenient than some of the more prestigious schools. Which was an important factor, since most of the Barrington males had been of a wild and rambunctious nature.

Kinsford introduced himself and shook hands with the master, waving him to a straight-backed chair and taking another for himself. “I understand you’re from Oak Knoll,” he said, ignoring the dog, since he felt sure the master would get around to the terrier in his own good time.

“I have never, myself, had William as a student,” Mr. Franklin said, "though I understand he is not much of a scholar from masters who have. Oak Knoll, unfortunately, does not have the most rigorous academic standards for our students. There is a philosophy of almost indifference to such excellence, which is a great disappointment to those of us who cherish the caliber of student so popular at Eton and Harrow. Perhaps you yourself went to one of the more renowned schools.”

“I went to Oak Knoll, as my father did before me,” Kinsford replied.

‘‘I see.”

Max had had enough of his unaccustomed role as a quiet, retiring pet. The moment he sensed Franklin’s distraction, he leaped down from the master’s lap and jumped up into Kinsford’s, barking excitedly and attempting to lick the earl’s face. Kinsford, who felt this placed him in an undignified position, grasped the dog around the waist and lifted him to the floor. “Stay!” he commanded and, surprisingly, Max cocked his head at him, squatted down on his haunches, and stayed.

“It’s about the dog I’ve come,” Mr. Franklin said, frowning at the animal but making no attempt to issue his own ultimatum. “He was stolen from me by your brother, William.”

The thought that had been drifting through Kinsford’s mind for the past two days finally jelled. He could remember, quite clearly, Will’s story about absconding with the dog that snapped at the students as they hurried to classes. He was certain that the boys had returned the animal at the time.

“My brother was sent down two weeks ago. I don’t think he could possibly have had the dog hidden here for all that time.”

“William may not have actually taken the animal this time,” the master admitted, adding, “though he certainly did once before. But as you can clearly see, the animal is here and Miss Driscoll informed me that she had been given the dog by William.”

“How did you know Miss Driscoll had the dog?”

“I didn’t,” the master said, smirking. “I happened to see her walking the animal when I was riding here and I knew Harding at once, of course. I’ve had him for two years and I could tell him from a whole pack of cairn terriers, were the necessity to arise.”

This was issued as something of a challenge, Kinsford suspected, and he suspected also that, were he able to round up a few other cairn terriers, the master would not have the least idea which of them was his. It was a bluff which he would have loved to have called, but he couldn’t for the life of him think of another animal of the breed in the neighborhood. Probably Mr. Franklin surmised something of the sort, having seen only the farm dogs and hunting breeds most common to the area on his ride through.

“Since my brother hasn’t been away from the area since he was sent down, how could he have come by the animal?” Kinsford reiterated.

“I am convinced that this friend Upton brought the dog here to him. He had permission to go home overnight because of an ailing parent. Ha! These children think we’re stupid. As if we couldn’t figure out who had gone where, and why! He brought the dog here, of course. Miss Driscoll said she had only received the animal two days ago from William. Which proves my point!”

The man sat on his uncomfortable chair in splendid self-righteousness. Kinsford wished he could kick him out of the Hall and dismiss the matter, but of course that wasn’t possible. He sighed and admitted, “I imagine you’re correct in assuming that Mr. Upton brought the dog to William, and that my brother in turn gave the dog to Miss Driscoll, although it is not a certainty. Tell me, Mr. Franklin, can you think of a reason they would wish to take your dog away from you?”

The man flushed slightly, even as he waved aside the question. “It cannot possibly matter why they stole the animal. The fact is that they did, and that I am prepared to prosecute William to the fullest extent of the law. These young people cannot be allowed to steal and have the world dismiss it as a boy’s prank.”

“And yet, as a master at a boys’ school, I dare say you could recognize it as exactly that,” the earl mused. “The boys, dressed for chapel, wearing their long gowns, find themselves attacked by a small dog each day as they hurry by. In fact, the very same thing happened last night at Miss Driscoll’s house, I understand. My sister, who has suffered a concussion and cannot be moved, was asleep at Miss Driscoll’s house when the dog Max started barking and snapping at the maid in her night robe. It was a very upsetting occurrence for the four women, alone in the house with what they must have thought was a mad dog.” Kinsford nodded slowly. “Yes, I can quite see how anyone would become distressed with the small creature, and, of course, with his owner.”

Kinsford made certain not to look down at Max at this point, as the “mad" dog was gazing devotedly at him, as friendly and eager to please as a puppy. Mr. Franklin, however, was not moved by Kinsford’s revelation of the previous night’s incident nor by his logic.

“Harding may snap occasionally at an errant student. He is not a vicious dog, as the headmaster at Oak Knoll would tell you himself. In defense of his territory he can sound fierce. He is a particularly precious dog to me, and I feel that William must be held accountable for his actions.”

“What do you propose to do?”

“I will put my case before the local magistrate.” He looked inquiringly at Lord Kinsford for a name.

“Sir John Herbert.”

“These local magistrates are often tired of the shenanigans of the neighborhood boys and I’m sure he would see that William was properly punished.”

“Did you have in mind for him to be hung, or merely transported?” Kinsford inquired with bright-eyed interest.

“Hung?” Mr. Franklin stared at him. “Well, of course not. He should have to pay damages for his action. Though my dog has now been restored to me, I have suffered severely from his loss.”

“Were you planning to hold Mr. Upton responsible as well?”

Franklin shifted uneasily in his seat. “It’s no use bringing him up before a magistrate. He‘s incorrigible, and he’s on scholarship.”

“I see.” Kinsford had felt certain they were bargaining over money, but it was useful to have this confirmed. “You’ll find Sir John located just the other side of Pennwick, maybe a mile down the lane to Corston. On the right, a large house with an entry lane of larches. He’s accustomed to handling matters quickly, so he’ll probably arrange for a hearing on the issue within a few days."

“Days? I would have to insist that the matter be settled immediately, tomorrow at the latest. I have my responsibilities at school to attend to.”

Kinsford stroked his chin and mused, “He’ll want to have Will there. It would hardly be fair to hold a hearing without him being able to defend himself. I imagine Will would have something to say about the reasons for the dog’s abduction. Possibly even wish to hold his owner (yourself) responsible for endangering students and creating a disturbance of the peace. Yes, definitely William must have his say.”

Franklin looked less certain than he had previously. But he straightened his shoulders and rasped, “Our English magistrates have a reputation for integrity which I’m sure your Sir John will wish to uphold.”

Kinsford nodded. “Indeed. Sir John will be desirous of doing the right thing, especially as he is my brother’s godfather.” This was not
precisely
true. Sir John was actually Kinsford’s own godfather, but he and Lady Herbert frequently referred to themselves as godparents to all the fourth earl’s children. Who was to quibble with such a small distortion of the truth? He was obviously learning a few tricks from Clarissa Driscoll.

Defeated, Franklin turned acid. “That’s just like the aristocracy, to use their position to abuse the little fellow,” he hissed. “Well, I shall see that your brother is not invited back to Oak Knoll. I have that much power."

Kinsford doubted it, but it was not his intent to send the master off in a rage. “You misunderstand me,” he interjected smoothly. “I had intended to send William to you to see if you could not reach a suitable arrangement without the necessity of involving Sir John. Would that be satisfactory?”

His dignity somewhat restored, Franklin murmured a cursory agreement.

“Then I’ll send my brother to you,” Kinsford said as he rose. When Max attempted to follow him from the room, he ordered the dog to stay and, looking puzzled, the little animal did so.

In his study, he explained the situation to William. “I shall allow you to handle the matter, Will. He is obviously more interested in money than in the animal, and your sister is inordinately fond of the dog. Pay him something for the little beast and I’ll take it from your allowance.” As the boy prepared to leave he added, “And, Will, you should apologize, you know. Despite the fact that the man is obnoxious, you and your friend Upton have indeed harmed him.”