Page 19 of The Heir (Rags to Richmonds #4)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

A sense of purpose and hope quickened Oakley’s steps on the way to his club. He entered White’s shortly after leaving Dover Street, finding Leighton at a table in the front. Hilarity and jovial spirits rang out through the room; evidently there was a high-stakes card game ongoing and nearly everyone in the room had some money on one hand or another.

“Come upstairs with me.” He beckoned to Leighton.

Leighton grinned, and teased, “Buy a man a drink first, eh?”

Oakley chuckled and clapped him on the back and then followed him to the floor above where small, private rooms could be had. A servant took their coats and brought them drinks; when he was gone, Oakley began to speak. “I have just left your sister?—”

“Do have a care,” Leighton urged him. “There is already talk—the gossips are saying her husband has abandoned her. If there is tattle about some dalliance with another man, it will only make things more difficult.”

“Pray believe me when I say tattle is the last thing I should wish for, particularly on Bess’s account. Alas, with what Beamish has done, I do not know whether it can be avoided.” Oakley then began to tell Leighton all that he knew. Leighton’s jaw was slack for nearly the entirety of the time Oakley required to tell the whole miserable tale. Leighton confessed to having already suspected something was afoot that kept Beamish away so often, but thievery and potential murder had naturally not crossed his mind.

“Damian’s murderer?” He took a prolonged draught of ale and set it down hard on the table. “Do you really think so?”

“I only know that it is possible.” Oakley lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Did you know her marriage was false?”

“Only very recently,” said Leighton, taking a drink and wiping his mouth. “We knew him only as the man he claimed to be at the wedding, a name he confessed was false when he came to my father demanding more money to keep it secret. We had no idea if he told the truth, but his demand was modest and my father felt it best to agree—though he made no bones about reminding him that it was unlawful to falsely perform the rites of the clergy and that he should do best to keep his own secret as well.” He took another drink. “It does us little good of course. I do not think it possible to see the return of Bess’s fortune.”

“I hope you do not think I care two straws about that,” Oakley replied warmly.

Leighton’s gaze suddenly swung to Oakley, sharply focused. “Why would you?”

“Because I mean to marry her.”

“Oakley.” Leighton shook his head. “And your family…do they support the notion? Because from what I have heard, your sisters have been actively matchmaking on your behalf.”

“My family love me and wish for my happiness, my sisters most of all.”

“Wishing for your happiness is not the same thing as inviting a scandal of enormous proportion. Beamish is a criminal . Would you like to marry someone knowing his deeds could become known at any time? How would you be received in society if it were known that your wife’s former husband had been stealing valuables from the great families?”

“I could happily hie away to Chiltern Court with her and never see the lot of them again,” Oakley replied staunchly.

“And your children? Would you be happy seeing them shunned?”

Oakley opened his mouth and then closed it again.

“Further,” Leighton said, “we have spoken to a barrister—in confidence, of course—who informed us that even with the disregard of inheritance issues, it would be five years with no sight of him until Beamish is officially declared dead. Fortunately, Beauvis is not entailed; his father is able to name his heir as he wishes and Beamish’s mother died when he was an infant, so he would not have her to plead for him. I understand there is an eager nephew ready and willing to take over as master.”

“He may be less eager when the scandal erupts,” Oakley muttered, then ran his hands through his hair vigorously. “Ah but Bess was right when she called it a knot. Your sister is as wise as she is lovely.”

Leighton smiled faintly at the compliment.

“What of an annulment? Surely once the fraudulent nature of the thing became known, the marriage would become void?”

Leighton nodded. “A slender hope my father and I have held up for some time now. Alas, Hanson was crafty—he performed his part under the name of a parson of exceedingly advanced years who tends to be…forgetful. The good man compensates for his forgetfulness by staunchly ‘remembering’ everything, even things he does not, in truth, recollect at all. Such as the wedding of my sister.”

Oakley groaned.

“In any case, we would need Beamish present to annul his own marriage. No matter what, we are constantly stymied by Beamish’s absence.”

“Then we must find him,” Oakley said.

“You think it so easy!” Leighton laughed. “Would that it was! My father and I have sought him diligently. Alas, England has any number of small places where a man might go to become a new man or hide the old one.”

Oakley had never considered himself a particularly clever man; school had been more struggle than triumph for him. However, he had always prided himself on his ability to guess at riddles and charades. It was all in the phrasing, he had learnt. There was much to be gleaned from word meanings and emphasis, particularly for words spoken when emotions ran high.

Hanson had said to him ‘when next I see him’ in regards to Beamish. Not ‘if I see him’ or ‘if I can find him’ but ‘when next I see him’. It suggested that Hanson knew where he was, or at least knew where he might be.

“I wonder whether Hanson might know something. I daresay there is something in the way he presented things that makes me believe he might be able to lead us to Beamish. Perhaps we might even contrive some way to flush Beamish out of his fox hole.”

“I suppose it is possible. What reason might Hanson have to help us?”

“Same reason any criminal does anything,” Oakley replied. “Either because he is paid for it, or is at risk of being killed over it. Myself, I prefer the latter, but the former is more likely.”

“He would likely wish for a great deal of money to give up his comrade.”

“My understanding is that there is a great deal of money to be had. Hanson feels Beamish has befooled him, cheated him out of money. If he thinks there is any possibility for him to receive his due, I reckon Hanson would give up his own mother.” Oakley nodded, excited and encouraged to have, at last, something to do for this tangle. “Tomorrow we will call on him.”

Oakley arrived back at Tipton House to find that the family had gathered. The duke and Frederica, Worthe and Scarlett, Adelaide and Kem, and Lady Carbrooke along with Lady Lenora and Lady Lila were all milling about the drawing room. Even Lord Tipton had removed from his bed, at last, and sat in his favourite chair, looking as healthy as he had for some time. Oakley went to him at once. “Father? Your colour is marvellous.”

Lord Tipton patted his hand. “I confess, it gave me a turn, all this nonsense about Damian, but reason has asserted itself at last and I am well prepared to have dinner with my family as a gentleman should.”

“May I get you anything?”

“I have things well in hand.” Lady Tipton had arrived at her husband’s side with a glass of barley water.

“Barley water!” Lord Tipton cried in dismay.

“’Tis fortifying!” she protested. “You cannot expect to regain your health by drinking wine all day!”

“If barley water is to be my choice, then pray, let me die,” Lord Tipton said, but he smiled as he said it and took the proffered glass. Oakley thought he might have seen him pat his wife’s bottom when he thought no one could see, but the very notion made him shudder. All a sign that he was raised by loving parents, though, which was more than many, including his sisters, could say.

Addressing Lady Tipton, he enquired, “Did I forget we were all meant to gather today?”

“It is a trifle spontaneous,” she said, her cheeks pink and her air anticipatory. “But Cook was good enough to accommodate us all. I daresay,” she lowered her voice, “we might have something to celebrate.”

“Celebrate?” Oakley asked. “What are…” He allowed the sentence to trail off as Worthe stood and addressed the room at large.

“If my beloved relations will indulge me for a moment?”

“Of course,” said his lordship from his chair. He, too, had a smile playing about his lips, seeming to expect something wonderful. A child , Oakley thought with satisfaction. Scarlett is with child, and they mean to tell us now.

“Some weeks ago, Scarlett began to be plagued by dreams of her former life in Stanbridge. Most particularly of the Reverend Margrave kidnapping her,” Worthe said. “And so disturbing were they to the peace of my dear wife, I felt I needed to do something, anything, that would put her mind at ease.”

Oakley pursed his lips, thinking that a mention of Reverend Margrave was certainly not what he had expected—nor had Lord and Lady Tipton, if the bemused expressions on their faces were any indication.

“To relieve my wife’s fears, I hired one of the men from Bow Street to make some enquiries, and what I have learnt is…” Worthe paused a moment, then said, “Reverend Margrave has died. Suffered an apoplexy in the pulpit of a small church in Wales.”

The announcement was greeted with silence until Oakley said, finally, “I do not know whether I ought to console you, Scarlett, or cheer for you.”

“I thank you for both. I have excessively contradictory feelings on the matter,” Scarlett admitted. “Though his heart proved cold to me, and despite the harm he attempted to do to me, he and Mrs Margrave raised me. I suppose I have some…softer feelings left within me for that, at least enough to feel…sorrow at his passing.”

“And the dreams?” Frederica asked. “Have they gone now? How strange that after two years you should begin to dream about the reverend!”

“In fact,” Scarlett said with a smile up at Worthe, “we were told it was not strange at all. Alas, while those dreams did pass, there have been others in their place, equally peculiar. I keep dreaming I have lost my kitten, even though I do not have a kitten!”

“We were told by the midwife that it is to be expected,” Worthe added, “for a woman in a delicate condition.”

There was a moment’s pause while the others in the room came to understand him and then they all erupted into happy felicitations. Lady Tipton’s delighted effusions were such that Oakley thought she might swoon, and Lord Tipton lurched to his feet with such haste that his cane, quite forgot, went clattering across the floor. Hugs, kisses, and claps on the back were given with abundance, and Adelaide informed her sister, “Thank heaven! Because I was having symptoms myself and began to fear I had another coming already!”

“As did I,” Kem added. “Do not misunderstand us—Susanna is a delight. But we are happy to wait another year or so before the nursery has another occupant.”

“They say they know what causes that now,” Penrith said drily. “The matter rests within your power, sir.”

Oakley and Kem both hooted with laughter, and Frederica, after a moment looking puzzled, joined them.

Cook had done an excellent job with their impromptu family celebration. It was in times such as these that Oakley truly marvelled at the miraculous reunion of the Richmond clan. He saw it in his parents’ eyes too; they plainly delighted in the number of chairs that were now occupied at the table, and the scrape and clink of a multitude of people eating and drinking, talking and laughing while another generation formed and grew among them.

Lady Tipton had scarcely eaten a morsel. She had seemed to pass most of the courses just listening to everyone’s banter and smiling at them all.

“Mother,” he said quietly, “you have barely touched your dinner.”

“I am too full of pleasure to eat,” she said. “You will never know, dear boy, until you are a parent yourself, but there is much joy to be had in watching your family gather and tease and talk and…and simply be together. And then such delightful news from Scarlett atop all of that! It is almost too much to bear, such happiness, and I only want to drink and eat of the moment.”

“Well said!” Oakley gave a little incline of his head. “I confess I do feel some measure of that. I think of all the evenings with just three at the dinner table. They were happy times then, too, for we knew no different, but look at us now. We are a dynasty!”

“You were always the most wonderful boy,” she told him, the faint glimmer of tears in her eyes. “You were enough, even if there was only you, you were such a blessing to us!”

“Thank you.” He touched her hand lightly.

“But, that said…” she teased with a smile. “I do at times imagine myself as one of those grandmamas with a veritable herd of grandchildren dangling from all sides of me. Just imagine the lawns at Chiltern with scores of children roaming about! The halls echoing with their laughter!”

“Happy thoughts indeed,” he agreed.

“Only think of it,” she said, warming to her subject. “If each of you has just three, why, that’s a dozen! And dear Frederica has already brought us three, if she has three more, then I shall have?—”

“Good heavens!” Oakley said, laughing. “One step at a time, my dear lady! Poor Frederica has only just got married!”

“That is true,” Lady Tipton agreed. “Perhaps I ought to be concentrating my hopes and wishes on you? How goes the search for a wife?”

Oakley groaned. “Stepped neatly into that trap, did I not?”

Lady Lenora, who was on Oakley’s other side, leant over him to inform Lady Tipton, “Every woman to whom his sisters have introduced him is now engaged…alas, they are all engaged to someone else.”

“Miss Talbot is not,” Oakley informed her.

“Have you even called on her?” Lady Lenora asked.

“Miss Talbot? Well…no.” Lady Tipton frowned, so Oakley hastened to say, “But all is not lost. I have been applying myself to…interests of my own, and I have reason to hope that all will work out for the good.”

“Oh, I do hope so.” Lady Tipton sighed. “For I do truly wish to hold the future earl in my arms before I die.”

“Before you die! Heaven forfend, you are but forty years old,” Oakley said, knowing full well she was above fifty.

“Forty! Do not I wish it!” Lady Tipton laughed, but her happy blush grew more pink.

“One and forty then, and not a day older. You will hold your future earl and perhaps a little lady or two besides.” Rising a bit out of his chair, he gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I shall not fail you.”