Page 31 of The Book of Lost Stories

Always the Villain

‘Papa,’ Drusilla said earnestly, while she sponged the sufferer’s brow and rendered all the other small services that a loving heart can offer to an afflicted parent, ‘I feel that there is something – some momentous secret! – that you are keeping from me. Would you not rest more easily if you shared the burden?’

Death or Dishonour by ORLANDO brOWNE

When the hired hack drew up outside the offices of the Minerva Press in Leadenhall Street, Thomas Grimshaw jumped down and assisted Alys to descend.

‘Are you quite sure about this, Miss Weston?’ he asked anxiously. ‘Would it not be better to keep your anonymity after all?’

‘I will keep it secret, except to my publishers, for I perceive that my novels sell better under a man’s name, but they must put it about that that impostor Daniel Coalport is not their author,’ she said with a fiery glint in her eyes, and marched in briskly, the bulky parcel of manuscript under her arm.

Jarvis, paying off his own hack, rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then commandeered a passing urchin to carry a note to Lord Rayven.

*

When Alys emerged some time later with Mr Lane in attentive attendance, it was to find Lord Rayven awaiting her, while his groom stood at the horse’s heads.

‘Ah, there you are, Miss Weston,’ he said blandly. ‘Had you been much longer I would have had to walk the horses.’

‘Lord R-Rayven?’ Alys stammered. ‘What are you … I mean, why are you … were you waiting for me?’ She cast a look behind her, but Mr Lane had vanished and the door to the Minerva office was firmly closed.

‘Certainly … or perhaps for Mr Orlando Browne?’ His dark brows raised, he observed her discomfiture. ‘Unless, of course, your companion is this mysterious Mr Browne?’

She gathered her wits and, putting up her chin, said, ‘I see that you know very well he is not. This is Mr Thomas Grimshaw, Miss Grimshaw’s nephew. Thomas, this is Lord Rayven, who can have no possible interest in my affairs other than vulgar curiosity.’

‘Vulgar, would you say, Miss Weston? But I believe this is not the place to discuss such matters. Perhaps you would do me the honour of taking a turn in the park to see the spring flowers?’

She stared at him, frowning, for if he had somehow guessed her secret then she must try to discover whether he meant to broadcast the information. ‘Very well,’ she decided.

‘Miss Weston, are you sure you would not rather I called a hack to return you to Mrs Rivers’ house?’ asked Mr Grimshaw in a low voice.

‘No, I will be quite safe with his lordship, I assure you, Thomas. He cannot have much to say to me, but it were best said in private.’

He handed her up into the carriage and watched her drive off, his concern increased by the fact that Lord Rayven had dismissed his groom.

But then he smiled wryly to himself. Rayven might look as resolute a warrior as any former soldier, but if he thought to gain an advantage over Miss Weston, then he might well have met his match!

In the carriage there was silence as Rayven guided his high-spirited horses through the busy streets, but once they had entered the park Alys turned a wrathful face towards him, her eyes blazing.

‘You have been spying on me! That man, the one in the frieze coat that you nodded to as we drove away – he has been watching me! I knew he looked familiar.’

Rayven looked a little self-conscious. ‘Jarvis. He is merely a former soldier servant of mine, for whom I wished to find some employment.’

‘Well, you can tell him to desist spying on me, now that you know my secret.’

‘Miss Weston, you can have no notion how difficult it is for an old soldier to get work, especially one wounded as this poor fellow is. He is blind in one eye, you know, and has lost the use of an arm.’

‘Then find him a job to do on your estate. You must surely be able to do that?’

‘And so I mean to do eventually. I will take him back north with me next time I go, for he might help the bailiff.’

‘We seem to have strayed from the subject in hand,’ she said coldly. ‘Pray tell me, sir, how you came to discover my authorship and, perhaps more importantly, what you mean to do with the information?’

‘I believe my suspicions were first aroused when it was drawn to my attention how closely the villain in The Travails of Lady Malvina resembled me: too closely for coincidence. It made me recall a certain letter of yours, one that you dropped at Knaresborough on the occasion of our unfortunate misunderstanding.’

‘A letter?’

‘It was addressed to your companion, Miss Grimshaw, I think. The seal was broken in our … struggle,’ he said, with a slight smile of reminiscence, which maddened her.

‘You read my letter? That was hardly the action of a gentleman, although I suppose it might be expected of one who had just so grossly insulted me!’

‘I expect I deserved that, but I did afterwards send the letter on for you.’

‘Yes, after you read it!’ She only wished she could recall what she had said in it, but rather thought it had been a description of their first meeting and some very unflattering comments.

‘Have you never read a letter you were not meant to, Miss Weston?’ he said, turning his head.

‘No, of course—’ Then she broke off, flushing, for indeed she had on several occasions read Lady Crayling’s letters to Lady Basset. ‘That is beside the point: you must have known it was not meant for your eyes.’

‘Perhaps not, but although I have forgotten much of it, some of the lines are burned on to my memory for ever. Indeed, had that letter not made it so plain that you had taken me in unalterable dislike, then I believe that I must have sought you out on my return from London in order to abjectly seek your forgiveness for my behaviour.’

She felt her cheeks grow hot. ‘It is as well you did not, for my father would not have let you through the door. Not only did he have a profound dislike of my meeting young men, but he had already warned me before my departure for Harrogate to have nothing to do with you, should we meet.’

‘But why should he think that our paths would cross? It was pure chance that we met at all,’ he said, surprised.

‘We had heard that you had inherited Priory Chase, and Papa insisted that your father had been the means to ruining him.’

‘My father ruined him? Come, are you sure we are not straying into the convoluted plots of one of your novels, Miss Weston?’

‘No, we are not!’ she snapped. ‘I do not know all the circumstances, but I believe they served in the army together and were both great gamblers, and your father won Papa’s estate, by cheating, he said.’

Rayven frowned in an effort of memory. ‘I do seem to remember hearing something of that … but my father’s cousin, the last Lord Rayven, paid for my schooling after my mother died, so I never got to hear the ins and outs of it.

But if he had any such winnings, then he lost them again almost immediately, for he never had a feather to fly with. ’

‘Yes, so Papa said,’ she sighed. ‘And I dare say had Papa not lost the estate to your father at cards, it would have been to someone else.’

‘And it can hardly be held to be my fault, do you think?’ he pointed out gently.

‘I suppose not.’

‘And had I not been discouraged by your letter, I would have sought you out to apologize.’

‘So you say, but it still does not excuse your behaviour to me in Knaresborough.’

‘I was wrong, most grievously wrong. But tell me, Miss Weston, must I always be the villain of the piece?’

Looking up, she saw that he had turned his head again and was looking at her with a very serious expression in his dark blue eyes.

‘N-no, I have come to perceive that people in real life are never as black and white as they may seem and appearances are not a true indicator of character.’

‘Then there is hope that I might redeem myself in your eyes? I assure you, I very much desire to do so.’

‘If you keep the secret of my authorship, then indeed I will be ready to admit that you are not quite as bad as I once thought,’ she admitted, hoping he did not read more of her novels and so discover that in Ravish’d by Cruel Fate , the villain somehow managed to turn into the hero and vice versa, a troubling tendency that seemed to be recurring in Death or Dishonour .

‘I will certainly do so and I can see why you wish it, for your books seem to show a passion and experience of the world that you cannot possibly possess. It was what made me doubt your authorship in the first place, until I saw your face at the Misses Berrys’ salon, when you depressed young Coalport’s pretensions. ’

‘So others have said, but I dare say I have merely picked up turns of phrase from other novels I have read, particularly those of Mr Lewis. And perhaps people’s imaginations provide the passages that I do not write.’

‘If it became known that you were Orlando Browne, you would find yourself at the centre of a great deal of scandalized attention. But I think you should tell your grandfather the secret, for he asked me to ascertain, if I could, the source of your income. He knew your father could not have left you well provided for.’

‘I will think about it, although I cannot consider the matter anyone’s business but my own.

’ She caught sight of her cousin Nat in the distance, astride a showy chestnut horse, in company with Bella, who rode a sedate grey hack, but they did not appear to have seen her for they carried on.

Alys looked after them. ‘I do not like the way Nat jabs at his horse’s mouth.

I have noticed he does so when driving, too. ’

‘I have no great opinion of his horsemanship or the way he handles the reins,’ agreed his lordship. ‘I hope my skills in that line pass muster?’

‘You seem very competent,’ she assured him.

‘Thank you. I am sure the other members of the Four-Horse Club will be delighted to hear your opinion,’ he said gravely. ‘I dare say we could catch up with your cousins, if you wished to speak to them?’