The Widow of Larkspur Inn (51 page)

Immediately she ruled out Mr. Durwin. True, he had seemed the most upset at the news, but she could not imagine him stooping to such behavior. And Mr. Clay … well, it was true that the actor could be quite playful during his good days, but she distinctly remembered that he’d suffered depression that whole weekend. And while Mrs. Kingston was able to coax him into daily walks even during the bouts of depression, she doubted that three boys could have persuaded him to dress up in a sheet and walk the lanes at midnight.

“Here we are, missus,” Fiona said, coming through the doorway again with a tray. “But I’m afraid Mr. Durwin met me on my way to the kitchen and insisted upon brewin’ you some of his herbal remedy. He says not to mind the bitterness. It’ll cure your headache almost right away.”

“What is it?” Julia asked as the cup and saucer were handed to her.

“I believe he said feverfew.” The housekeeper stood there with hands pressed together while Julia took a tentative sip.

“Oh, this is more than bitter,” Julia choked, making a face. “It’s vile.”

“I’m sorry,” Fiona said, bending to reach for the cup. “Here, I’ll just have to tell Mr. Durwin that you can’t drink it.”

Julia waved her hand away. “No, don’t do that. I suppose if he went to the trouble of brewing it, I should force it down.” She took it in a single unlady-like tip of the cup, holding her breath the whole time. “Thank you,” she croaked, handing the cup over.

Giving her a sympathetic look, Fiona reached into her apron pocket and produced two chocolate biscuits wrapped in a clean dish towel. “Mrs. Herrick took pity on you when she saw what Mr. Durwin was up to. She slipped this to me and said to tell you it would rid your mouth of the taste.”

It would take a dozen chocolate biscuits to get rid of the bitterness that lingered, Julia thought, but she broke one and popped a half piece into her mouth. “I’ll have to thank her at lunch,” she said after chewing and swallowing it. Recalling the matter that had brought on the headache, she motioned to the bench at her dressing table. “Fiona, would you mind sitting for a little while?”

“Of course not, missus,” the housekeeper replied and pulled the bench over to her chair.

Julia popped in another biscuit half. Indeed her taste buds were returning to normal. “Would you like this other one?”

“No, thank you.”

“Then, I’ll ask you something. Do you remember when Philip had Jeremiah and Ben here to stay over?”

Fiona smiled. “Judging from their faces the next morning, little sleeping was done.”

“Tell me, do you recall any sheet or blanket missing the next day? Or perhaps that turned up in the washing with anything unusual on it?”

“Unusual, missus?”

“Such as dirt?”

“Not that I can recall. Of course, Willa takes the washing over to Mrs. Moore. Would you like me to ask her?”

“I don’t know. It may not be necessary.” Julia’s thoughts were drawn like a magnet to Mr. Clay again. “Fiona, didn’t Mr. Clay arrive here with two trunks?”

“Yes, ma’am. One for his clothes and the other for his costumes.”

“His costumes?”

“You know … theatre costumes. That’s what he told Ruth when she offered to unpack the trunk. He said it didn’t need unpacking, that he would just push it against a wall.” Fiona eyed her curiously. “Is there something wrong?”

“I would say that,” Julia nodded. Strangely, her headache was beginning to abate just as her temper was rising. “But I would rather tell you later, Fiona. I want to talk with Mr. Clay as soon as possible.”

“I’m afraid he’s up in his room, ma’am. Mrs. Kingston says he’s having a bad day.”

Julia got up from her chair, swayed a bit from the effects of the herbal tea, and took a step toward the door. “Well, I believe his day is about to become a little worse.”

“Come in,” she heard from the other side of Mr. Clay’s door three minutes later. She eased the door open. He was seated in his chair facing the window and rose upon seeing that it was her. “Good morning, Mrs. Hollis.”

“Have you a few minutes to spare, Mr. Clay?” Julia asked. She had come to think of the actor as a tragic older brother but swallowed her sympathy and nodded toward his extra chair. “I believe we have something to discuss.”

“Am I behind with my rent?” he asked as he turned his chair to face hers, then waited until she had taken a seat.

“Not at all, Mr. Clay. And I don’t wish to offend you, but I must ask you a question you may find blunt.”

“Well, blunt away Mrs. Hollis,” he said with a humorless little smile.

Julia drew in a deep breath and thought,
Why can’t he be in one of his good moods today?
It would be much easier to accuse someone with a face not quite so long. “Did you dress up as a ghost to frighten the Sanders brothers three Saturday nights ago?”

“Dress up as a ghost?” His slate gray eyes widened for the fraction of a second. “I beg your pardon?”

You have it all wrong!
she told herself miserably.
And now you’ve insulted him.
With a voice gone flat, she said, “You’ve no idea what I’m talking about, have you?”

In spite of Mr. Clay’s dark mood, a corner of his mouth twitched.

“Actually, I have.”

“You have? Then, why …”

“It’s a technique called ‘stalling for time,’ Mrs. Hollis. You caught me unawares, and I wasn’t quite ready to admit my guilt, yet I couldn’t bring myself to lie to you. Hence, the manufactured look of surprise. It was childish of me, and I do apologize for it.”

It was frustrating to be furious with someone so
likable,
Julia thought. But she had a right to her anger and wouldn’t allow herself to be charmed out of it.

“Mr. Clay, you’ve spent most of the past fortnight up here in your room insulated from what’s going on outside these walls. Are you aware that the whole village believes Jake Pitt is taking tea with us during the day and stalking the roads by night?”

He looked genuinely perplexed. “They do?”

“Have you any concept of how difficult it is for all of us to have to endure such a reputation? Why, Sarah had to be talked out of handing in her notice yesterday. She’s convinced that Jake Pitt has been scratching on the garret windows while she’s sleeping.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, hanging his head like a chastised schoolboy. “If it’s any consolation at all, Mrs. Hollis, I regretted the stunt as soon as I pulled it.”

But Julia was not to be appeased so easily. “You’re an adult, Mr. Clay. Adults are supposed to set examples for children, not slip out of the house with them to do mischief.”

“You know about—”

“That the boys were with you? Well, I know that for
sure
now, don’t I?”

He winced. “Please don’t blame them. It was my idea.”

“Oh, I’ve enough blame to hand out four ways, Mr. Clay.” The misery on his face was beginning to soften her anger in spite of her defenses. Sighing, she said, “I admire that all of you wanted to help the Keegans. But this was an extreme way to go about it. Why, it’s fortunate that the boy’s foot was only broken and not severed.”

Mr. Clay straightened in his chair. “Broken?”

“Didn’t you know?”

“Why, no. True, the building fell on him, but then he managed to run away with admirable speed.”

“Well, it’s broken. In two places.”

“Terrible,” the actor mumbled. “I had no idea!” He gave a pleading look to Julia. “I’ll have to call on the boy right away and apologize. And the doctor’s fee. Do you know—?”

“How much?” Julia shook her head. “I’m sure Dr. Rhodes would be happy to tell you. But I must ask that you delay your call until Philip is home from school. He will want to accompany you.”

To her surprise, the schoolboy expression vanished from Mr. Clay’s face. “Mrs. Hollis, that is not a good idea. I’m the one who frightened those boys.”

“And what was Philip’s part in this?”

“Basically, he sat in a tree and watched.”

“I suspect there’s more to it than that.”

“Very little more. As you pointed out, Mrs. Hollis, I’m the adult. I’ll bear the responsibility.”

Julia didn’t know how to respond to this. It was so difficult making decisions on her own that could affect the childrens’ lives forever. If she didn’t insist that Philip apologize, would he take for granted that there were no consequences to be paid for any of his actions? Was that how anarchists and hedonists started out? Before she could muster a reply, Mr. Clay shook his head firmly.

“Women grow up sheltered, Mrs. Hollis. You’ve no idea how difficult it is for a young boy to be tormented by bullies. There is no guarantee that the Sanders will be forgiving, and I’ll simply not put Philip in that situation.”

During the long silence that followed, Julia thought of the rumors she had heard about the Sanders brothers’ bullying. The thought of her son being battered was more than she could bear. Finally she asked, “Are you sure this is the right thing to do?”

“Your son did nothing at all to the Sanders boys. If you want to punish him for slipping out, you’ve every right as a parent.” He gave her a little smile, though the gray eyes were serious. “But let’s not throw him to the wolves, shall we?”

“I wish to remind the students in the sixth standard of the importance of listening to instructions,” Captain Powell said as he returned papers to the seven students involved.

Philip smiled at this, holding out his hand for his scored grammar examination. During the almost two weeks since the “ghost” prank, he had allowed himself to put the matter out of his mind … save the stabs of guilt over his lying whenever his mother prayed with him at night. Ben’s report that the Keegans had come home last Sunday afternoon to find their shed upright for the third week in a row had helped a great deal. Why, Mother would likely be proud of him for participating in such a benevolent effort, he told himself.

And so as his rationalizations took effect on his conscience, his desire to win the “top student” trophy returned in full force. Which was why when he looked down at the score of seventy-three at the top of his page, he clinched both sides of the paper so tightly that he almost tore it. Never in his life had he made such a poor mark! He glared at the
Listen to instructions before beginning
comment Captain Powell had penned under the score. He
had
listened, he thought, and most attentively. Actually, he was writing the answer to the first question as the instructions were explained … but that had never hindered him
before
.

A glance at the desk beside Philip told him that even Jeremiah, who had no pretensions of being a scholar, had scored an eighty-five! And of course, Laurel Phelps had turned in a perfect paper, receiving Captain Powell’s congratulations.

He was determined not to look over at the high and mighty Miss Phelps. Why give her the satisfaction of seeing the disappointment on his face? But then some inexplicable impulse took over—such as the one that would compel him to curl his big toe in his shoe, despite the pain, for days after he’d jammed it on the bedpost—and he dragged his eyes over to her side of the room. She was staring down at her examination paper with an infuriating little smile on her face.

Why, she knows I’m looking at her!
he realized, jerking his head to the front again. He fumed, clinching his hands together on top of the wretched paper. It would have been better had she scowled at him, then he could have scowled back. But to sit there with a pleased-as-punch-but-too-modest-to-gloat expression, knowing full well that he was looking, was almost more than he could bear.
Why did she have to move here?
Philip thought. While he rather liked Vicar Phelps and especially appreciated the advice about catching perch—which happened to work very nicely—weren’t there other villages in need of ministers?

He passed up an after-school cricket match, brushing off Ben and Jeremiah with an “I’m not in the mood to play.” As he slunk home ahead of his sisters, he wondered why he’d even bothered to get out of bed this morning. This day couldn’t possibly get any worse.

His melancholy fog accompanied him to the kitchen door. When he opened it, he discovered his mother sitting alone at the table. There was no refreshment or cup of tea in front of her—in fact, it seemed as if she were waiting just for him, for she got to her feet right away.