Discovery and censure were immediate threats and Glenna tossed and turned all night with horrible nightmares of the villagers pulling her, Reed, and Luke from the house and executing them on the spot. A bit extreme, but her imagination would not stay silent or calm. However, the servants had been back for two days, and luckily Glenna and Reed managed to keep Luke’s presence secret. How long they could manage it was another question.
Mrs. Grampton stood at the counter and rolled out dough for a pie crust. Glancing up, she gave Glenna a brief but brittle smile. Not the warmest of women, but she was efficient and a good cook and housekeeper. Glenna returned the smile with an overly false, bright one, as she often did when she was hiding something. “I trust you had a good visit with your sister. What is the talk in the village?” Glenna perched on the nearby stool and reached for an oatmeal biscuit.
The cook gave a slight shrug and continued with her chore, sprinkling water and flour on the crust. “The late viscount continues to be the main topic. I ’eard ’er ladyship ’as taken to ’er room and won’t come downstairs, not even for meals. The earl stays to ’is study. ’e ordered Ravenswood’s belongings be removed right away if you can imagine.” Mrs. Grampton lifted the crust and laid it at the bottom of the pie plate. “The vicar ’as been tasked with sellin’ the clothes and such and can keep the money for the parish. I’ll be sayin’ this. The earl is generous, even in ’is grief. If the man even feels grief a’tall.”
Clothes. The viscount’s clothes. The wheel in Glenna’s mind spun at a rapid and plotting speed. She had a fair bit of money laid aside. Pin money Reed had given her the last couple of years. No reason she should not drop by the vicarage and purchase some of the garments for Luke. The story she could use is that the purchases were for Reed. Popping the last of the biscuit in her mouth, she rose to her feet. “I will be going out for a while. The professor is downstairs and does not wish to be disturbed. I will return in plenty of time for tea.”
“Aye, Miss Glenna.”
Glenna scurried off to find her cloak. Will the clothing jog Luke’s memory? She was becoming surer of the fact he should be told about his former life. How cruel to leave him in the dark with no knowledge of his past. While agreeing with Reed he should remember on his own, anything Glenna could do to assist Luke in his recollection, she would do. And procuring part of his former wardrobe may be the catalyst needed.
* * * *
With close to thirty pounds tucked away in her reticule, Glenna hitched the horse to the small wagon and made her way to the vicarage. Reed hired a young boy from the village to chop firewood, keep the coal scuttles filled, tend the yard, and also tend to Faraday. The gentle gelding of advancing years was named after a physicist that discovered electro-magnetic induction. Leave it to Reed to come up with such a name. Glenna became quite adept of hitching the horse, and it came in handy today as the lad was not about.
The horse ambled at a slow gait, and for his age, Faraday held his head high. He was more than able to pull her and the wagon. When they returned from her errand, she would make sure he had a special treat and rub down.
The vicarage and chapel came into her line of vision. They were small and non-descript; the village did not need one larger. Both were built of stone and in good repair. Smoke curled up from the chimney, indicating the vicar must be home. Glenna did not know the man well as she and Reed only attended services at Easter and Christmas.
What she did know was that Mr. Dornan was Irish and had lived in the area for close to twenty-five years. As she pulled on the reins to halt Faraday the vicar stepped outside, his hands clasped behind his back. He made no movement to assist her with the horse or her descent from the wagon. Nevertheless, she managed to scramble down with her dignity intact and looped the reins around the hitching post. “Miss Parker? I see you so seldom I could not be sure it was you approaching.”
Glenna tamped down a scowl and a discourteous retort. Of course, the vicar had to let it be known she did not attend services on a weekly basis. His voice had a slight musical lilt and the tone covered in a frost of disdain.
She flashed him one of her brilliant, counterfeit smiles. “Yes. It is I. I have heard from my cook, Mrs. Grampton, you have been given the task of disposing of the late Viscount Ravenswood’s belongings. I thought I would come by and acquire a few articles for my cousin.”
The vicar frowned. “I’ve no plans to sell anything to the villagers. Instead I found a consignment shop in London who is interested in purchasing the entire lot.”
Glenna smoothed her wool skirt. “Did you give them an itemized list?”
Mr. Dornan cocked an eyebrow. “Not as yet.”
“Excellent, then you can sell a few bits and bobs to me. Reed does not get out much, the poor dear. Anything I can do to increase his wardrobe, I shall.”
Mr. Dornan glanced at the vicarage and seemed to be contemplating her suggestion. “Well, I suppose it would not do any harm. I merely wished to spare the earl and her ladyship the heartbreak of seeing any of the locals traipsing about in their late son’s garments.”
The words were spoken with deep feeling, and Glenna warmed a little toward the vicar. She nodded. “I understand, Mr. Dornan. As you know, my cousin keeps his own counsel, nor do Reed and the earl move in the same social circles. I will ensure he does not flaunt the clothes about in public.”
“Aye, and I understand about keeping one’s own counsel. Very well. Come in, I have many of the items laid out as I was about to begin the task of itemizing it all.”
Glenna stepped across the threshold, removed her gloves, and placed them in her reticule. The interior of the vicarage was cozy, a roaring fire blazed in the hearth. A sofa and two chairs rested before the fire, and a large braided rug covered most of the wood floor. Mr. Dornan took her cloak. “May I offer you a cup of tea?” he asked politely.
She glanced up at the tall, slim, older man. He’d warmed considerably in his look and tone since she first arrived. Dressed entirely in black, save for the white collar at his neck, he possessed the countenance of a stern scholar with his salt and pepper hair and thin mouth, but in taking a closer look, Glenna observed a playful twinkle in his blue eyes. “I would love one. And Mr. Dornan, allow me to assist you with your inventory.”
“Most kind of you. I accept your offer. Please, inspect the items at your leisure while I put the kettle on.”
Glenna laid her reticule aside and gasped at the sight before her. Piles of fashionable attire lay on nearly every surface. Hanging on a nail were many fine evening clothes of expensive quality. Luke would no longer have use for those, she thought sadly. Books, and many of them, sat in piles on the floor. Ravenswood had been a reader. No wonder he’d quoted Paradise Lost to her in the bookstore. On the table lay a leather shaving kit. She traced the initials on the silver handle of the razor. LWM. Lucas William Madden. Surely such a personal item could clear the fog from Luke’s memory. Next to it sat a bottle of New Mown Hay Cologne. They really did clear out everything as if to obliterate his existence. However, everyone grieved in their own way. Some found comfort in the dearly departed’s belongings, yet for others the memory became entirely too painful to endure. A smaller group wanted to be rid of any reminder because they were glad the deceased had shuffled off this mortal coil. She wondered which group the earl fell in.
The vicar walked toward her. “Tea is steeping, so that should give us a few moments to make room at the table.” They both began to shift the piles of clothes and other personal items to the sofa.
“There is quite a lot here. The earl was keen to shunt away any memory of his son?” Glenna asked.
“Hard to say. I think he wished to spare his wife further heartache more than anything. The poor woman is prostrate with grief. The earl is a little more, shall we say, self-contained.”
Glenna gave him a warm, genuine smile. “Much like yourself, Vicar?”
He nodded. “Aye. You could say that. At times it is easier to present a front of cool determination and aloofness than to reveal the hurt that resides deep inside your soul. I learned the lesson long ago. Do forgive my curtness when you first arrived. I am grieving over a dear friend’s untimely death.”
“Of course, please accept my most sincere condolences,” she murmured. Could the dear friend be Ravenswood? Unlikely, but it would not hurt to try and find out. Once they completed their chore, they both sat at the table. “Mr. Dornan, did you know the viscount well?”
An affectionate grin curved about his mouth. The vicar was quite a pleasant-looking man, especially when he smiled. In his early fifties, she guessed. How quickly he warmed up to the subject. “I was a young curate when I first arrived here twenty-three years past. At the time Ravenswood was about five years of age, and I recall there was some difficulty hiring a tutor so I was asked to fill in. I tutored him for eighteen months.” The smile grew warmer at the recollections. “While I was glad of the extra funds, I did grow fond of the lad. Very clever, a natural gift for retaining great swaths of information. He tried to hide his intelligence under a devil-may-care facade, one he kept in place the whole of his too-brief life. But I saw underneath to the lad eager for knowledge. For attention. For…love.”
“As the only son and heir, I would assume he did not lack either love or attention,” Glenna interjected.
“The viscount was quite a handful, rambunctious and mischievous, and as a result he annoyed his father greatly. Lucas did not fit the mold of how an heir should act, in the earl’s mind at least. It caused a rift between them, one that grew vast and wide through the years and sadly never mended. Lucas had his own ideas on how to live his life, and it certainly wasn’t under his father’s thumb. They clashed constantly and the arguments were legendary. On one or two occasions, blows were exchanged.”
How terrible. “And his mother?”
The vicar sighed. “Lady Whitestone, though beautiful, is not an outwardly warm and caring woman. Fulfilling the many duties that come with being the wife of an earl occupied a considerable amount of her time. She also was attentive to her young daughter, believing a son should be left to the auspices of his father. As a result, the lad did not receive the love he needed. Nor the guidance. I did try, but…” The vicar shook his head, a look of sadness in his eyes.
Glenna inclined her head toward the piles of books. “It appears the viscount was a great reader.”
The vicar nodded and smiled, no doubt happy to change the subject. “Oh, aye. He did it in private, though, as if he did not want anyone to know of his keen and inquiring nature. I do not think the earl approved of deep intellect.” Mr. Dornan rose. “The tea must be ready. I’ll return in a tick.”
Well. The dear friend the vicar grieved for?--Ravenswood. Interesting insight into Luke’s past life. If he possessed such an eager thirst for knowledge, why hide it? Perhaps it is as the vicar stated; the earl disapproved. No doubt the viscount’s peers would also scorn such a show of intelligence. In light of this, Ravenswood played up the rake within. Glenna shook her head and smiled. Yes, leave it to her to make a romantic hero out of him. Lucas Madden had been wicked and dissolute. Sharp brain powers or not.
The vicar laid a tray before her consisting of a china tea pot with a violet and pansy design, two matching cups and saucers, and a plate of oatcakes. “This is a special blend of black tea from Ireland. My family sends it to me regularly. Would you be so kind as to pour?”
She did, and handed him the tea as he sat. “Did the viscount’s talents run to other pursuits? Art? Music?”
He laughed, his eyes twinkling with mirth. “Dear me, no. The lad was hopeless. No artistic talent whatsoever. I did try to teach him the piano. A complete disaster. All thumbs. And he did make an effort, I will give him that. Ultimately, we turned back to books. Through the years, we indulged in many a lively debate on the books we read. Those discussions continued well into his later youth.” The vicar sipped his tea, his eyes soft and moist. “After I became vicar and during his visits home from school, the viscount would come for an evening or two and we would discuss many topics. Books we’ve read of history, philosophy, and religion. I liked him. Quite a lot.” He shrugged. “Oh, I heard of his reputation, but I did not reprimand him as I suppose I should have. We were--friends. Friends do not judge. He certainly did not judge me.”
The temptation to confide of her own encounter with Ravenswood the Rake nearly made her reveal all. No need to add fuel to the gossip of which she was certain he’d heard in lurid detail. They were dear friends for a long time. What an astonishing revelation. Glenna reached for an oatcake. “I also am a great reader. Perhaps we could discuss books one afternoon over tea.”
The vicar froze. Oh, heavens. Did he think she was interested in him romantically? Why did she make such a forward suggestion? To find out he cared and mourned for Ravenswood warmed her. She genuinely liked Mr. Dornan. The times Glenna bothered to attend services she found him distant, unapproachable, and altogether stern. Goes to show you really do not know a person.
“I would like that,” he replied at last, his voice soft. “I would like it if you would call me Patrick. When we are alone at least.”
Now it was her turn to stiffen with uneasiness. Good Lord, he did think she was interested in him beyond friendship.
Patrick chuckled. “Do not be alarmed. You have nothing to fear. My amorous inclinations do not lean toward--women.”
What could he possibly mean? Oh. Oh. A hot flush spread across her cheeks. He preferred--men.
Patrick gave her a forlorn smile. “I have no idea why I revealed that. We hardly know each other, and believe me when I tell you I do not make a habit of exposing such private things about myself. Forgive me for shocking you. And I would appreciate you keep my secret to yourself, Miss Parker. For obvious reasons.”
Glenna took a great gulp of tea, then placed her cup on the table. She cleared her throat. “Please, do call me Glenna. Of course I will keep your confidence. And I am not shocked as such. Surprised perhaps. I admit I do not know of such inclinations as you call them, but love is love, is it not?”
“Ah, my dear Glenna. If only the rest of society and the world at large were as tolerant. Alas, they are not. Imprisonment is the penalty for such an inclination. To think thirty-four years ago it was punishable by death. Secrecy is indeed a must. Regardless, I would welcome your friendship and discussion on books. With gratitude.” He held out the plate of oatcakes and she took another. “Ravenswood knew of my amorous leanings. It did not bother him a bit or affect our friendship. I do grieve for his loss and now wish I had spoken out more on his profligate pursuits. To have it end in such a violent way.” He frowned into his cup. “Lucas loved this tea. He bade me to order a tin for him, but he never got the chance to collect it.”
Profligate pursuits? She wondered if Patrick heard of Ravenswood’s attendance at orgies with both sexes or was there even any truth in the salacious stories? A lump formed in her throat. “Yes. A tragic way for it to end.” A slight ache took root between her eyes. In order to take her mind off her growing headache, her gaze wandered to the piles of clothes. The silence between them extended, but it was not uncomfortable. It was as if both became lost in their thoughts of Ravenswood.
“Do you see anything here you wish to purchase? The money is for a good cause.” Patrick winked.
“I do. The shaving kit. These four pairs of trousers. These six white shirts and this black waistcoat.” She stood and stopped before the greatcoat lying across the top of the sofa. Ravenswood had been wearing it when they met for their “assignation” at the hunters hut. How dashing he looked, how the broadness of his shoulders and his muscular form showed the black wool garment to perfection. It still would. “This coat.”
Patrick laughed. “I do not know your cousin well, but I believe Ravenswood was a good deal taller. The clothing may not be a good fit.”
“I am very handy with a needle, I assure you. The alterations would be minimal as Reed is as broad, judging by the width of the cape.”
“Could I interest you in a few books, perhaps? No charge, my dear. Help yourself. Lucas would be pleased they went to someone who appreciates them. As would I.”
“It was fortuitous I brought the wagon.” She chuckled warmly.
Patrick took her hand. “And you will come back?”
Glenna nodded.
“Shall we say, two weeks from today, same time? I will have ham and egg sandwiches to go with the oatcakes?”
With a smile, she laid her hand on top of his. “I will be here.” Glenna was glad she came. Not only did she find out interesting aspects of Luke’s past life, but more importantly--she found a friend.