Page 55 of The Wordsworth Key (Regency Secrets #3)

Chapter Thirty-Two

Loughrigg Tarn

W hen Ruby saw the state Dora was in as they dismounted from Nero, she screamed from the front step: ‘Get yourself into bed right now, Dora Fitz-Pennington!’

Dora caught sight of herself in the mirror that hung in the hallway. Every jot and jag of the adventure clung to her from her straggling hair to her rapidly developing black eyes.

‘It’s kind of you to care, Ruby, but I should be perfectly well after a warm drink and perhaps some soup.’

‘But you can’t possibly be seen like that!’ Ruby gestured to her own face to indicate the bruises. ‘And that!’ She waved at the bedraggled clothes.

‘It’s not what I look like that matters, it’s how I feel.’

‘Shows how much you know about men,’ muttered Ruby darkly. ‘Go upstairs and get changed at least. I’ll heat up some soup for you. The boys and I have been baking so we have biscuits too.’

‘How surprisingly domesticated of you.’

Ruby stuck out her tongue but quickly retracted it as Jacob mounted the front steps. He came in, but didn’t take off his gloves or hat.

‘For once, I agree with Ruby. Those clothes are still damp and I need to check on my other patients.’ He kissed Dora’s forehead very gently.

‘You’ll take a weight off my mind if I know you are resting.

’ He then gave Ruby a stern look. ‘Not too many questions, please. It suffices to know that the threat is passed and the perpetrator dead.’

Ruby gave him a cowed nod at his authoritative tone. ‘Yes, doctor. I’ll look after her.’

Moss came out, ready to ride with Jacob. ‘What happened?’

‘I’ll tell you on the way.’

‘Is the danger over?’

‘Yes, we believe so.’ Jacob turned back to Ruby. ‘She needn’t stay in bed. Sitting in the sunshine is permissible.’

‘I understand. And your brother, sir?’

‘He’s as well as can be expected. He’s sent for the carriage from Levens. Hopefully, he will be fit enough to travel tomorrow.’

‘They say he was a hero.’ Ruby held her hands to her chest in a gesture she often used on stage to represent innocent awe.

‘He was a bloody fool– but a heroic one.’ Jacob tipped his hat and went back outside to Nero.

‘Well,’ said Ruby, hands on her hips, eyeing Dora with avid interest as soon as the men were gone. ‘What on earth have you been doing?’

‘Soup, Ruby?’ Dora hurried upstairs to avoid the inquisition.

* * *

Two hours later, Dora was sitting in the library, enjoying the sunshine that bathed her armchair, empty bowl on the table beside her.

Only the ticking clock and the faint bleats of the sheep disturbed the peace.

While it was quiet outside, her mind was whirling.

It would touch briefly on the moment when Langhorne shot Knotte, then shy away from the memory.

Then came the moment when she forced herself to get close to her captor to puncture his leg, but she didn’t want to think about how that felt.

Next the near-drowning and the sensation that while she tried to swim that she couldn’t get anywhere– a nightmarish experience.

She couldn’t settle on anything– it was all too raw, too shocking.

Was there something she could’ve done to stop Knotte’s death?

There had been no warning and she had no weapon– it wasn’t her fault, surely?

A gentle tap came at the door. That couldn’t be Ruby.

‘Come in.’

It cracked open and two keen-eyed boys stood in the entrance, each holding a posy of flowers, the picture of youthful mischief. Derwent nudged his older brother.

‘We picked these for you, miss,’ said Hartley, bringing a bunch of heather mixed with globe-shaped yellow flowers.

‘I picked the dog roses, but they dropped a lot of petals.’ Derwent proffered his rather sparse offering.

‘They’re beautiful. I’ll put them in a vase in my room later.’ She took the flowers and put them down beside her chair. ‘You heard the news, I suppose?’

‘That Mr Barton is being cared for in Bowness and that Mr Knotte didn’t do it– but he got shot dead protecting his friends?’ said Hartley.

‘Yes, that about sums it up. It turned out the villain was Mr Langhorne.’

‘Never liked him,’ said Derwent. ‘He had a cruel laugh.’

‘That he did.’ Dora shuddered but made an effort to concentrate on the two boys standing beside her. ‘Thank you for your help. We would never have found Mr Barton in time if you hadn’t come to tell me about the island.’

‘But you got hurt, two ugly shiners,’ whispered Derwent. ‘That was our fault, for leaving you.’

‘And it was us who told Mr Langhorne where you were,’ added Hartley. ‘Everyone must be so cross with us.’

That spiral of guilt and negative thoughts had to be scotched immediately.

‘Not at all. I’m proud to have escaped with only a black eye or two.

You did exactly what you should’ve done.

It was our bad luck Langhorne had insinuated himself into the hunt.

And you didn’t just tell him– you told Mr Smith, Mr Moss and the others.

That meant help reached me in time as Mr Smith and Dr Sandys were hot on his heels.

So I will say it again: thank you both. It’s safe to go back to your camp if you’d like to do that. ’

The two boys looked at each other. ‘We thought we’d go and see how Mr Barton is.’

‘It’s a long way to walk.’

‘Mr Moss said he’d take us in his gig, then drive us home to Keswick. He said it wasn’t fair to expect heroes to walk.’

Dora smiled. Moss had returned an hour ago to keep an eye on the boys for Jacob’s peace of mind, he’d explained.

He was sitting in the kitchen with Ruby and the two were sizing each other up like mistrustful cats sharing the same hearth.

This idea of driving them home sounded like a plan Jacob might’ve cooked up and asked Moss to execute.

‘Have you decided Mr Moss is to be trusted?’

Hartley frowned, not yet certain of anything. ‘He’s not all bad.’

‘He said he’d teach us how to hide our camp better– for next summer,’ said Derwent with more enthusiasm.

Heaven help the people of Grasmere and Rydal, but maybe it took a whole valley to raise these two boys. ‘In that case, I wish you godspeed and I look forward to our next visit to see how you are getting on.’

The boys gave her sweetly awkward bows and left.

* * *

Jacob returned that evening with better news on Wright. He had begun to show signs of life, reacting to stimulus and appearing to be slowly surfacing. He was back from the brink.

Stripping off his clothes, Jacob slid into bed beside Dora and pulled her into his arms. She drew circles on his chest, her ears pressed against his ribs, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

The wind rustled the trees outside, a hurried noise of the world moving on. The ever-present flock bleated.

‘His parents have arrived with an excellent doctor from Colebrookdale,’ he said, stroking her hand where it rested on him. ‘We discussed if there was any surgical remedy and agreed we might set back his recovery if we attempted anything.’

‘Then he’ll recover?’

‘I hope so. He’s young– he has that in his favour. He might find the brain injury affects his speech or movement, but I’m sure his parents will provide him with the best care. They’ll move him as soon as he is well enough.’

‘Poor lad. He just wanted to drink and pretend to write poetry.’

‘It’s a very high price to pay for enjoying yourself.’

‘Did they find where the skate came from? I was wondering about that.’

‘Barton’s cottage– where else? Langhorne treated it like his own personal storeroom and he could tell when it was safe to go over and raid it simply by looking out of his window to see if anyone else was in occupation.’

‘So it wasn’t just an argument when he went to retrieve the notebooks– he went armed with the intention of committing another murder with the skate? Does Langhorne’s family know what he did?’

‘They will do, I’m afraid, because he shot at his father’s employer. I wonder if Lord Furness will continue to employ Mr Langhorne senior?’

‘And thus Andrew Langhorne continues to create yet more victims even from his watery grave.’ That didn’t seem fair to Dora. Langhorne’s father was nothing to do with any of this and yet he would pay the social and economic price.

‘They’re going to search the lake tomorrow– or at least that area between where the boat capsized and the shore. They can’t drag all of it, of course.’

‘Wouldn’t it be ironic if Langhorne provided us with the last poetic death on the lines of Wordsworth’s poem– the body rising bolt upright and ghastly.’

‘ A spectre shape of terror – as Wordsworth put it. A fitting end. I hope they find him, just to put that last detail to bed.’

‘And Luke Knotte? What will happen to him? He has no living family, does he?’

‘I think he would be content with the solution the locals have come up with. He’s to be buried in Grasmere churchyard and Wordsworth is going to suggest an epitaph for a fellow poet.’

He would appreciate that. ‘Is he Knotte’s father, do you think?’

‘No, I don’t.’

‘But Knotte overheard him.’

‘I think he must’ve heard Wordsworth talking about his illegitimate daughter, Caroline. She lives in France, but the family are in contact with her and her mother and support her when they can. As you can imagine, communications are not helped by the war.’

‘Did you find that out from Wordsworth’s autobiographical poem?’

Jacob shook his head. ‘It’s clear there’s something hidden in the poem, but it’s coded.

There’s a long part that doesn’t seem to fit the rest about lovers who are separated.

The clues are there for those who pay attention.

’ Then he grinned. ‘But I have to confess Dorothy told me. I’m not that clever.

They’re not ashamed of the connection; they merely do not want it bandied about.

Wordsworth has more than his fair share of enemies. ’

Dora thought about that for a moment. ‘That poem– it’s dangerous, isn’t it? Full of mysteries when it seems so innocent.’

‘All the best poetry is. If you understand a poem at one reading, then it’s not great, merely entertaining.’

‘Says you.’

‘Says me.’ He toyed with her hair. ‘Will you marry me, Dora?’

She snuggled closer. ‘I told you. I’m thinking about it.’

‘I’m going to keep on asking.’

‘And I’ll keep on thinking. But thank you for asking.’

‘You don’t mind?’

‘No, I find I don’t.’

‘That’s encouraging.’

‘But I will say that I find that I love you most desperately. If Lady Alice does try to carry you off, I might have to challenge her to a duel.’

He laughed in delight. ‘My money is on you. I gave the lady her congé this morning.’ Dora smiled and kissed his chest in approval. ‘When did you realise you loved me? That’s what I’m interested in.’

There seemed no point hiding it from him, not now she’d admitted so much. ‘I’ve known for a while, but I decided I would tell you when you rescued me and told me that I should be using my frog’s legs and arms.’

‘That was the comment that settled it?’

‘I decided if you could be so absurd when saving my life, then you were the man for me.’

‘Misfits who fit?’

‘Exactly.’

* * *

It was suspiciously quiet in the house when Dora got up late the next morning. The tarn was a blue droplet of heaven, the grass emerald-green, the hills at their most enticing, every fold and field full of golden promise. It felt almost as if they were on holiday, Dora realised– finally.

Bolstered by this thought, Dora went into the kitchen to make Jacob and Ruby some breakfast. She found a note for her on the table.

Dearest Dora,

You will probably laugh when you know where I have gone– and I must smile myself when I think of your surprise.

As you read this, I will be heading south to take up my position as Viscount Sandys’ mistress.

You need not fear– he does this fully aware that I am keeping my child with me.

He has promised he will look after the baby, will find her a situation when she grows up, and that we will want for nothing.

He will be her godpapa and have a second family where he can be himself, not the viscount.

Unlike you, I will certainly insist on servants and a cook– but each to her own.

I cannot part without thanking you for taking me in– and for promising to care for me and the child.

You might not believe it, but I do have my pride.

I never intended to take advantage of your generosity.

Fortunately, fate has brought another solution my way.

I will return the clothes I’ve borrowed as soon as I have a new wardrobe– this is my first priority as you might imagine as none of them will suit my new position.

I aim to be the leader of the demi-monde before too long.

I will send my address to you when I’m established– it is likely to be in Marylebone as dear Arthur already has a house there and I’ll see if it will do.

I will understand if you do not feel it appropriate to visit me considering the difficulties you have had with the viscount, but I will always welcome your company.

Your affectionate friend,

Ruby Plum

Dora put the letter down. That was… awkward.

Jacob came into the kitchen, tousled and still yawning.

She passed him the letter. ‘There’s been a development– and I fear it’s my fault. Do you still want to marry me?’