Chapter 14

“Cranfield.” Lord Matlock clapped the man on the shoulder in a welcoming fashion as he entered the dower house. “A word, if you do not mind.” Noting the look of suspicion on the man’s face, he added, “A friendly word.” He chuckled. “My wife constantly reminds me I need to spend time on small talk and pleasantries. She says neglecting them makes people uneasy.”

“She would be right.” The right side of Cranfield’s mouth curved up into a half smile.

“My apologies.” Lord Matlock motioned for Cranfield to enter the room ahead of him before turning to Bingley and Darcy. “I believe you will find your ladies, as well as the rest of the guests, in the garden.” Bingley took a step toward the sitting room, but Lord Matlock held up his hand and lowered his voice. “You have nothing to fear, my boy. I have a family apology to make, and I believe a reunion would be better in private.”

“Right,” agreed Bingley and followed Darcy toward the garden.

Lord Matlock closed the door gently. “My father was wrong.”

Cranfield gave a small snort of laughter. “You do not circle a topic, do you?”

Lord Matlock smiled. “I see very little need of fluffing the subject unless I need to convince the other party that my position on a topic is right and theirs is wrong. But, I believe on this fact we are in agreement. What my father and his cohorts did to you and to my sister was wrong ─ unpardonable really ─ though I do hope you will not hold his actions against me.” Lord Matlock took a seat next to Cranfield. “He received no support from either John or me in this decision, and he only garnered Catherine’s cooperation through threat of dire consequences ─ not even de Bourgh entered the arrangement willingly. As I am sure you are aware, my father could be very persuasive in his arguments.” He straightened the sleeves of his jacket, the only sign of his unease with the topic being discussed. “I must ask what his demands were of you. I know there must have been an agreement for you have been quite prosperous in your business.”

Cranfield cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. “I am to believe you know naught of his arrangement with me?”

“Whether you believe me or not will make it no less true.” Lord Matlock fidgeted with the cuff of his left sleeve. “I ceased communication with my father after he refused to hear my pleas on my sister’s behalf. I was never meant to be his heir, and when John died suddenly, many secrets died with him. An agreement as must have existed between you and my father was surely not one which would have been recorded in his important documents and passed down to me. Your dealings were too close to our family. A written record may have fallen into the wrong hands and brought more scandal than even my father would have been able to quell.”

Cranfield sighed. “Very well.” He rose and paced the room. “I am never to speak her name. I am never to contact her or any of her family. I am allowed to have contact with her family only if they first contact me.” He counted off the regulations on his fingers. “I am never to set foot on Matlock or de Bourgh property unless invited. I am never to speak of this arrangement unless granted permission by the Earl of Matlock.”

“And if you do not comply?”

“If I break any of these rules, no matter how small the infraction might be, I will be branded a traitor. There are men even now who may be arranging things so that it will look as though I not only transport illegal goods but also provide passage on my ships for those who would support our enemy. It will be made to look as if I am aiding the French.”

Matlock let out a slow whistle. “So your penalty would harm not only you but all associated with you.”

Cranfield nodded. “Your father knew that to threaten to do harm only to me would not have been effective. He tried.”

Lord Matlock closed his eyes and grimaced. “What did he do to you?”

Cranfield removed his jacket and his waistcoat. “I prefer to show you a portion.” He lifted his shirt. White raised scars streaked across his back and a knotted white patch of skin stood out against his side. He pointed to his side. “My leg has another scar similar to this.”

For a few moments, Lord Matlock could not do more than stare at Cranfield in horror. “You were beaten?” he finally managed to ask.

“Flogged might be a more accurate term, my lord─ a lash for every refusal” Cranfield tucked his shirt back into his breeches. “Since I still refused one term of my agreement no matter the number of lashes, I was given the opportunity to fight to retain the right to say her name. Wielding a sword after such a beating is not an easy task and the scar on my side and a matching one on my leg and a smaller slash on my arm are from that battle. I did not win.”

“You dueled for the right to say her name?” Matlock shook his head in disbelief.

“I did. I believe your father was afraid I might use that right to circumvent the other restrictions in some way, and I am certain he would have been correct in that assumption. I love your sister with a love that will only die when I do, my lord.” He buttoned his waistcoat. “To ensure I did not cause an issue with the nuptials, I was held in a cell not far from here. My wounds would have festered, and a fever would have surely killed me in that place had it not been for one kind servant. I, to this day, do not know how he came to tend me, but I am grateful to whoever sent him.”

“What do you mean when you say you were held in a cell not far from here?”

“At the far end of the property, there are at least two underground rooms. Their use, I believe, was normally for noble purposes.” He sat once again and lowered his voice. “Purposes known to the crown and overseen, in part, by your father. Your father was not all bad, my lord. He actively aided those seeking refuge on English soil.”

There was a knock at the door.

“Come,” called Lord Matlock.

“My lord,” said Kellet entering the room with a tea tray. “Miss de Bourgh insists that you offer Mr. Cranfield some refreshment.” He placed the tray on the table, keeping his face to Lord Matlock.

“It is you!” Cranfield leapt from his chair and turned the elderly butler so that he could see his face. “It is.” He touched the man’s face as if he did not believe what he was seeing. “It really is you. You are the one who saved me by tending to my wounds.”

“Is this true?” asked Lord Matlock.

Kellet swallowed audibly and looked at the floor. “It is, my lord.”

“Tell me,” said Cranfield. “Who sent you to tend to me?”

“My lord?” Kellet looked at Lord Matlock for permission.

“I am as curious as Mr. Cranfield. Please tell us.”

“So I shall not be sent packing?” He shifted uneasily, looking toward the door as if wishing for an escape.

“No. Why would you be sacked?”

“When I was sent, I was instructed that should Lady Catherine’s family ever learn of my part in helping Mr. Cranfield; I would be dismissed without reference or pay.”

“I can assure you that you shall still have employment at Rosings,” said Lord Matlock. “Now, please tell us.”

“Very well, my lord. It was my master who sent me.”

“De Bourgh?” Matlock’s brows rose high in astonishment.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Why?” said Cranfield. “Why would de Bourgh help me?”

“You were injured, sir.” The look on Kellet’s face let both men know that there was more he was not saying.

“Mr. Kellet,” began Lord Matlock. “I am not my father.”

“I understand that, my lord. You are, in my opinion, much better than he.”

Lord Matlock chuckled. “You dare to share your opinion but not the information we seek?”

“I spoke of it once when questioned, my lord, and the man died not long after. I do not wish to see that happen to you.”

“Indeed? And who was this man?”

“Your brother, my lord.”

“John?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“And you fear I shall meet a similar fate if you tell me about it?”

“I do, my lord.”

“Then tell me,” said Cranfield. “I am already in danger of a similar fate.”

“After all I have heard this evening, we are all likely in danger just from Cranfield’s presence,” said Lord Matlock. “And, if there is danger to be faced, would it not be better to face that danger with all the facts possible?”

“It may be,” said Kellet.

“Then you have my permission to tell me all you know. I am aware of the risk it may pose to my safety.” Lord Matlock motioned to a chair.

“Very well, my lord. My master was my master for many years. He brought me to England with him when he came. I owed him much for his protection and was willing to do whatever he asked.” He took a seat at Lord Matlock’s insistence. “I was not the only person he brought to England. Along with the people, he also brought information for which he received the king’s reward in the form of Rosings.”

Lord Matlock’s eyes grew wide. “De Bourgh was an informant?”

“Yes, my lord. He wished to guarantee his safe arrival and plead for help for his family who remained in France.”

“He was of noble birth, was he not?”

“He was, my lord.”

“Why did his family not travel with him?” asked Cranfield.

“Most of them did, but his sister’s husband did not believe there was reason to flee. A year later when the unrest had not ceased but seemed to be increasing, Madame Henault was able to convince her husband to leave. They were granted safe passage, which was provided by your father, my lord.”

Lord Matlock closed his eyes and nodded his head as if finally understanding something. “Passage which was provided in exchange for de Bourgh marrying my sister and putting to rest a possible scandal ─ a favour for a favour.”

“And a connection to the land,” added Cranfield. “The rooms were important to the safe arrival of many, those seeking safety and those who were providing valuable information. Are they still a valuable asset?”

Kellet nodded.

Lord Matlock’s brows drew together in question.

“I assume your father had many connections within the government who brought him power,” said Cranfield. “Who would have been an asset politically? Someone who knew of the operations on this land and wished to keep them from being known?”

“It would be a good reason to seek a connection to the land.” Matlock scrubbed his face with his hands. “I fear you are wrong, Cranfield. My father may have done what appeared to be good, but I am certain it was done only for his own benefit and no one else’s.”

The three men had sat in silence for a few moments before Kellet rose to leave.

“Mr. Kellet,” Lord Matlock called to him. “John was killed in an accident. Why do you think it came as a result of your conversation with him?”

Kellet’s face turned ashen. “My lord, I dare not say.”

Cranfield stood and walked to the window. “Not all the hidden activity happening on this land is legal, and your father knew of it, my lord, but your brother did not.” He turned to face the room. “Why else would your father be able to threaten me with being marked a traitor if he did not have access to items which would make the claim believable.”

“But he could create documents which if found on your vessels would be damning.”

Cranfield nodded. “True, but I know what I heard when he uttered the threat, my lord. He knew.” He walked closer to Kellet. “Your master. When did he learn of how his land was being used?”

“Two months before his death.” Kellet attempted to school his features into implacability but the glistening of his eyes and his lowered gaze told of both his grief and discomfort in speaking of Sir Louis’ death.

“He was a good man,” said Cranfield. “I know. I listened. It was reassuring to know that she was not tied to some reprobate.” He laid a hand on the butler’s shoulder. “His death was not as reported, was it?”

Kellet’s jaw clenched in an effort to keep control of his emotions. “No,” he finally managed.

“It was not that the fever following his accident had damaged his heart?” asked Lord Matlock.

“If the report said it was his heart, then I expect it was his heart,” said Cranfield. “However, I suspect his heart would have survived many more years if it had not been helped along the path of destruction. And I very much suspect his accident was not an accident.”

“Poison?” Lord Matlock’s shook his head as if the concept was impossible to believe. “Who would do such a thing?”

“Whoever had the most to lose should the information fall into the wrong hands.”

“My father?” Matlock fell back in his chair, eyes wide and mouth open in shock.

Cranfield shook his head. “No, your father would have himself protected well enough to not be included in any activity on which the crown might frown. My guess would be Barrows. His land abuts Rosings, and he needs support to retain his seat in parliament.”

“Mrs. Barrows.” Kellet barely spoke above a whisper. “She was here far more often than her husband.”

There was a series of three soft knocks at the door. Kellet looked nervously from the door to Lord Matlock.

“My wife,” he said, “and I would assume my sister.” He rose and straightened his jacket. “I will speak to them in the hall.” He paused before leaving the room and turned to Cranfield. “You have always had my approval.”

Cranfield stared at the door after it closed behind Lord Matlock. He tugged at his cravat and tried to breathe deeply to steady his nerves. His heart beat a rapid rhythm. He shifted from foot to foot. He sat down only to stand again. Finally, the door opened, and there she was, standing beside her brother.

Lord Matlock gave her a small nudge to enter the room. “If you need me, I will be out here for the next half hour, after which time I will rejoin you along with my wife, niece, and son.” He gave Catherine one more nudge and closed the door softly behind her.

It was silent in the room for a few minutes before Cranfield laughed nervously. “I have dreamt of the day I should see you again, but in all my dreaming, I never once considered a proper greeting.” He stepped toward her. “I could say it is good to see you, and it would be true, or I could say I missed you, for I did so very much.” He shook his head and stepped closer. “But those greetings do not begin to convey my joy at this moment ─ a moment I never thought would happen, but the hope of which has kept me alive all these years.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips.

She reached up and placed a hand on his cheek. “You do know it was not my choice to marry?”

He nodded. “And you must know I would have stopped it if I were able.”

“And you never contacted me because you were prevented?”

“Ah, my love, I could never have stayed away from you willingly.” He kissed her hand once again before pulling her into his embrace. “Please do not ask me to leave you, for I do not have the strength to be separated from you again.”

She pulled back slightly to look up at him. “Never. I would never ask you to leave.” A smile lit her face despite the tears which flowed down her cheeks. “Adrian?” She reached up to touch his cheek once again. “Kiss me.” She placed a finger on his lips as he lowered his head to do as she had asked. “But first say my name as you used to.”

“Ah, Kate,” he whispered against her lips before claiming them with all the sweetness and passion he had been denied for so long.