A Conspiracy of Ravens (22 page)

He began to pace back and forth, his mind casting first in one direction then another. He was a young man who liked to know exactly where he was and how to handle himself—but ever since they had told him that he was not who he had always thought he was but another person altogether, he was beset by a sense of uncertainty.

A soft knock at the door sounded, and Trevor attempted to hide all uncertainty from his features. “Well, come in,” he said loudly. He waited until the door opened, and Lady Heather Hayden entered.

“Good morning, Trevor.”

“Good morning. I don’t rightly know if I can answer to that name or not. It’s a bit odd to wake up with a new name.”

Heather smiled gently. She came over and stood close to him looking up. “I know it’s difficult, but I think it would be best. We can’t use two names, so if you’ll just try to adjust yourself to Trevor, it would please me very much. I’ve had my maid Rachel bring you up some breakfast.”

Instantly Trevor’s face changed. “Ain’t we gonna ’ave breakfast all together?”

“No, not this morning.” Heather’s voice was almost unsteady, and she said, “I thought you wouldn’t mind if I joined you.”

“All right with me.” Trevor shrugged.

A small red-haired maid came in carrying a tray. At a gesture from Heather, she put it on a table, saying, “Will there be anything else, ma’am?”

“No, that’s fine, Rachel.”

As soon as the maid left, she said, “Here, you sit down and have a good breakfast.”

“I ain’t very ’ungry, you know.”

“Well, try to eat something. I had the cook fix you up something very special.”

Reluctantly Trevor sat down at the table. She lifted the silver cover from the tray and smiled nervously, “I hope you like your eggs scrambled. I wasn’t sure, so I thought it would be safe, and these sausages are fresh. We just made them last week.” She continued to speak, pouring his tea and asking finally, “Would you have anything in your tea?”

“I reckon a little sugar would be good.”

Suddenly Trevor began to eat. He ate almost as if he were afraid someone would take it away from him. Heather sat down beside him and poured herself a cup of tea. He became self-conscious, knowing that his manners were not what she was accustomed to. “I don’t reckon as ’ow you cooked this, did you?”

“As a matter of fact, I didn’t, but I do often cook. I love to cook, as a matter of fact, but I’m afraid our cook, Annie, is much better at it than I am.”

Biting into a piece of fresh toast, Trevor ate hurriedly, and finally he shoved the plate back and said, “I don’t reckon as ’ow I can stay here. I don’t even know ’ow to eat proper. You sees wot kind of manners I got. And I can’t even talk proper!”

“Oh, those are small things, Trevor. You can learn to fit in here. Your father and I will help.”

“Aw, you could try—but I’m one of the roughs, ma’am. I . . . just don’t fit in a place like this.”

“But you will! I can’t tell you how happy it’s made my husband and me to have you in the house and to welcome you into the family.”

Trevor stirred restlessly and asked abruptly, “Who else is in the family? I don’t even know if I’ve got brothers or sisters.”

“No brother. No sisters. You’re all we have.”

Somehow the sentence, plain as it was, seemed pathetic to the young man as he sat there watching her. “Well, who does live ’ere in the ’ouse, then?” Tremayne and Lady Trent had told him most of what he needed to know about the family, but Trevor wanted to hear more about them.

“We’re actually a small family. My husband’s brother Rupert Hayden is a little younger than my husband. He runs the estate. His other brother, Arthur, is even younger. His mother, Lady Leona, has not been feeling well lately. I’m sure you will like Arthur, though he has . . . troubles.”

“Wot sort of troubles?”

“Well, you’ll find out, I’m sure. He . . . drinks a little bit more than is good for him.”

Suddenly Trevor laughed, changing his whole expression. “So do I. Anybody else?”

“Well, Arthur has a daughter, Gervase. She’s eighteen, and you will like her. Everybody does, I think. My husband has tried to spoil her, but she’s the sweetest young woman I’ve ever known. Then aside from that there’s my brother’s sister, Leah St. John. She has a son whose name is Bramwell, but everyone calls him St. John.”

“Wot’s he do?”

For a moment, Heather seemed unable to answer, but finally she said, “Well, nothing really.”

Suddenly the light blue eyes of Trevor were filled with amusement. “Now that’s wot I likes! You reckon I can do the same thing?”

“Oh, I’m sure you’d be bored to death. Now I want to hear about all your life, if you feel ready to talk about it.”

“You won’t like it, ma’am.”

“It’s been hard, I know. Lady Trent told me a little about your difficulties.”

Trevor shrugged and gave her a few mundane details, and after a while she rose and said, “I’m going downstairs, Trevor. My husband has been meeting with the rest of the family.”

“Breakin’ the good news as ’ow they got to split the family silver with a prodigal son, eh?”

Heather realized this young man had a quick mind. “Something like that,” she said reluctantly.

“Reckon they won’t all fall over themselves with joy ’earing about me.”

“Why’d you say that?”

“Why, I knowed an old man once named Jenkins who ’ad four sons. ’E ’ad a ’ouse and some money. One of the sons ’ad run off to sea when ’e was thirteen and signed on as a cabin boy. Years later ’e come ’ome missing an arm. Lost it fighting under Nelson, don’t you see? Wot do you think ’e found when ’e got ’ome?”

“Why, I would think his family would be proud of him serving his country like that.”

“Not bloody likely! ’E was another ’and in the pot, don’t you see? I reckon it’ll be the same with your ’usband’s brothers and ’is nephew.”

“No, they couldn’t be that cruel.”

Trevor started to speak, then he realized that he was as alien to this woman as if he had come from another planet. He knew the cruelties of the world well and had hardened himself against them, but this woman, he saw, had a gentleness that was almost shocking to him. He thought suddenly,
It won’t take ’er long to find out that
not everybody is as nice as she is.

Gervase was standing behind her father, watching as he laid the paint on the canvas. It was a picture of Silverthorn almost buried under snow. Nearly everything was white except the leaden sky. The only splashes of colour were a man and a woman walking along a road that was as white as alabaster. He wore a bright green coat and the woman wore a red one. They were holding hands, and somehow, Arthur had caught the happiness of the two.

“That’s very good, Papa,” Gervase said softly as she studied the painting. “I don’t know how you do it!”

“Do what?”

“Why, how you catch the happiness of those two people with such a simple scene. They’re just two people that not many would notice. But I knew as soon as I looked at the painting that they loved each other.”

“It’s your mother and me,” Arthur said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I think I knew that. You have a great gift, Papa.”

“Do you think so, Gervase?” Arthur turned, held his brush lightly, and shook his head. “I can’t tell about myself anymore. I don’t know whether my work is good or not. I used to be sure,” he said. “When I was young I thought I was going to be another Gainesboro or Turner.”

“You will be yet.”

They suddenly heard footsteps, a slight knock, and then the door opened to reveal Crinshaw, who said, “The master has asked me to invite you into the larger parlour, Mr. Arthur—and you, also, Miss Gervase.”

“What for?”

“I couldn’t say, sir.”

“Very well.” Arthur wiped his hands on a rag and tossed it aside. “A little bit unusual,” he muttered. “I wonder what’s going on?”

“I suppose we’ll find out. Come along.” Gervase took his arm, and the two left the room. As soon as they arrived in the larger parlour, they found St. John and his mother, Leah, already there.

Edward was there also, and he turned to Crinshaw saying, “Did you find Mr. Rupert?”

“Yes, sir, he is on his way.”

“What’s going on, Uncle Edward?” St. John asked, his eyes alert. Leah was sitting down on a low couch and said, “Is there a problem?”

“Let’s just wait until Heather and Rupert get here before we begin.”

“That sounds rather sinister,” Gervase said, her green eyes spar kling. Even as she spoke, there was a spirited air about her, and she was studying her uncle Edward carefully. She was a favourite of his, she well knew, and so did everyone else, but there was a seriousness about him now, and she knew she must not break his mood.

Heather entered from the east door, and at almost the same instant, Rupert came through the main door on the north side of the room. Heather came at once to stand beside Edward, and Rupert glanced around the room, a hooded look in his eyes. “What’s this meeting about, Edward?”

“Will Lady Leona be joining us?” Edward asked.

“Grandmother is not feeling well today,” Gervase answered somewhat uncomfortably, for Lady Leona’s bouts of confusion troubled her.

“Very well,” Edward said. “I wish everyone would sit down. There’s something Heather and I have to tell you, and it will probably come as a shock to you.”

St. John stared at his uncle and said impulsively, “I’m not sure that sounds like a happy beginning.”

“I don’t mean to show unhappiness, for I’m not. As a matter of fact, Heather and I think it’s rather good news.”

“Well, hurry it up, will you, Edward? Some of us have work to do around here, even if others don’t.” No one could escape the contemptuous look that Rupert gave to both St. John and Arthur.

“There’s been a rather startling development in our family. A short time ago we had a visit from a Catholic priest, a Father Xavier . . .”

Everyone listened carefully, for Lord Darby was not a man to waste words. When he said, “. . . so the priest got the dying confession of this woman who said—and prepare yourself for a surprise—her baby, which she had the day before our son, Trevor, was born, died. She confessed to the priest.” Here Darby passed a hand over his forehead and then swallowed hard. “She confessed that she had exchanged her dead child for our son.”

“What?” Rupert exclaimed and suddenly came to his feet. “Why, that’s errant hogwash!”

“Don’t be too quick to say that,” Heather said quickly. “We’ve had it checked very carefully. Lady Trent and Mr. Tremayne have looked into it very thoroughly. It was they who located the young man. He knew nothing at all about this.”

“It’s some kind of a rogue’s game, that’s what it is!” Rupert exclaimed. “We’ve got to have the police look into this person, whoever he is.”

“We’ve already done that, Rupert,” Edward said somewhat coldly. “We’ve looked into it in every way we could possibly think of. But there’s one proof that I don’t think anyone can deny.”

“Well, what’s that?” Gervase asked.

“His appearance. He’s the exact image of the Hayden men, even to this cleft in the chin. He has it and the widow’s peak, the same colour hair, the same eyes.”

Heather added at once, “He didn’t believe it himself at first, but we showed him the portrait of Edward when he was the same age, and Trevor couldn’t believe it.”

“So his name is Trevor. I bet that wasn’t his name when they dug him up.”

“It’s his name now, Rupert,” Edward said firmly.

“I don’t believe a single bloody word of it!” Rupert exclaimed angrily.

Leah had said nothing, but now she raised her voice, and there was a strange expression on her face. “You can’t mean to claim this man as your son, Edward? You’d pass your title and estate to him?”

“Yes, we would. Heather and I have found the son we’ve always wanted. I’ve told every one of you at one time or another how Heather felt that God had made a promise over that child. We thought he died, and we couldn’t understand God’s workings, but now”—Edward’s voice grew suddenly warm, and his eyes were bright with anticipation—“God has given us the son we’ve always wanted.”

“But, sir, you must know things like this happen.” St. John spoke up. “It’s like the shell game.”

Leah said, “Just a minute, St. John.” She stood. “I’d like to see this man, Edward.”

“Yes, that’s why I’ve called you here. If you’ll wait, I’ll go get him.” He left the room at once, and Rupert began to protest. “Heather, you surely have better judgment than this.”

“I would think Edward would have better judgment,” Leah said, “but he’s wanted a son so badly that he’ll grab at any straw.”

“We’d better wait, hadn’t we?” Arthur said mildly. “Until, at least, we see the young man and hear the evidence.”

“I think that’s exactly right, Papa.” Gervase went over and stood before Heather. “You believe this, Aunt Heather?”

“Yes, I believe it with all my heart.”

“Well, I can’t wait to see your son. If he’s anything like you and Uncle Edward, he’ll be a fine man.”

Nervously Heather said, “You mustn’t expect too much. He’s led a terrible life. He was thrown out onto the streets when he was very young, and he’s had to make his own way.” She continued to speak, trying to prepare them for what they would see, but it was obvious that Rupert, St. John, and Leah were angry to the bone, and her heart faltered as she considered what the young man would have to face.