The Imaginary Gentleman (30 page)

“I say, Cousin,” said the baronet. “That is hardly the tone to take with a lady.”

“I beg your pardon, Sir Richard?” Elspeth said icily.

“I … I think you spoke in haste, perhaps, and were unwittingly discourteous to Mrs. Bell.”

Mrs. Bell spoke up. “I am not in the least offended.”

“You see no harm has been done,” said the countess, blowing a kiss to Mrs. Bell.

“You are kind, Countess,” said Laura. “However, Mrs. Bell is too generous. I apologise on my sister's behalf.”

All of Mrs. Evans's suppressed fury could not quell Sir Richard's smile.

Meanwhile, Laura, in particular, puzzled over Mrs. Bell's suggestion. Could it be that she knew something to endanger the plans of the forger?

S
UNDAY OBSERVANCES OBLIGED THE PARTY
to suspend their investigations. Laura found her consequence had risen greatly in Lyme, when the countess linked arms with her and they entered the church together.

The tall gentleman, who entered a moment later, was seen to take a place behind the countess's party, all of whom turned and bowed cordially.

The landlady of the Lion whispered his name to her neighbours. “He is Mr. Templeton, a clergyman and a very respectable man.”

“That is Mr. Templeton!”

“Oh, yes. He is lodging with us. I had it from the vicar that he holds a valuable living, at a place called Westmere.”

“A widower, perhaps?”

“Oh, no! He was a Cambridge Fellow until two or three years back. He has never married.” She smirked. “Yet.”

Her friends laughed quietly. “Did you mark the warmth of his greeting to the tall lady next to Lady Clarydon?”

“That is Miss Morrison.”

“Miss Morrison! I wish I had known she was under the protection of a countess.”

“None of us did, my dear.”

“How intriguing it all is!”

At the end of the service, her ladyship's party was ushered out of the church with great respect, the vicar bowing low over the countess's hand. She was in a mood to receive the homage of those who claimed previous acquaintance with her. Mrs. Evans remained by her side, the rest of her party gathered nearby.

Laura and Mr. Templeton laughed quietly over the foolishness of their fellow creatures.

“How my star rises as they fall at her ladyship's feet!” said Laura.

“That you should suffer so—who deserves respect and homage above all,” he said.

She looked away, with a half-laugh of pleasure. “Who is this Laura Morrison who has earned such praise?” she said. “I do not recognise her!”

He said, “You will come to know her, by and by, if I have my way.” Then he indicated Edward. “Your brother has made a new acquaintance.”

A gentleman, of forty or so, had introduced himself to Edward. As magistrate, Mr. Grahame took it upon himself to thank the captain for the interest he had taken in September, to deal with an injustice that occurred in Lyme. “Unfortunately, the parish constable was not able to take the ruffians in charge,” he said. “However, it was very good of you to bring the matter to our attention.”

“Not at all, sir. I feared only that interference would seem impertinent in a stranger.”

“We are very friendly here, in Lyme, especially when we are honoured by the presence of one of our nation's heroes.” Mr. Grahame bowed.

Edward demurred but Mr. Grahame would have none of his modesty. Edward then said, “As it happens, I was hoping to consult you as soon as may be.”

“Oh?”

“I am exceedingly puzzled by a strange letter, just come to light, which may bear upon the unpleasantness in September.”

“Then I am intrigued. I will be happy to give you my opinion—unless you prefer to report to the constable?”

“This is a matter of some delicacy.”

“You may rely upon my discretion. I shall wait upon you tomorrow. Is ten o'clock too early?”

Edward laughed. “I have yet to accustom myself to the late rising on land. Ten it is.”

 

The countess's party walked back to the inn, with the Morrisons in a very much better mood than after their last attendance at St Michael's.
Breakfast awaited them and they did full honours to toast, eggs, ham and tea.

Wiping his mouth and putting the napkin on the table, Edward leant back in his chair. From his thoughtful expression, it was apparent that some particular thought had come to mind.

He said, “Mrs. Bell, yesterday you suggested that my sister may know some fact that threatens our forger.”

Mrs. Bell hesitantly began, “I have only observed …”

“Come, come, my dear,” said the countess. “You must tell us now!”

Mrs. Bell continued. “Have none of you noticed at times, that one person may make a trifling remark that seems to have significance to someone else?”

Laura was intrigued. So often relegated to the background by a combination of shyness and her inferior position, Mrs. Bell was, of course, an observer. She no doubt must have learnt much of others by watching and listening.

Mr. Templeton said, “Do you mean that this trifling remark can have significance of which the speaker is unaware because they are not privy to the hearer's thoughts?”

“Yes!” said Mrs. Bell, delighted to be understood.

“Is that all?” said the countess. “You disappoint me, my dear.”

“I am sorry I cannot provide the key to the mystery.”

“Perhaps you are right,” said Laura. “Although I cannot imagine what the trifling piece of knowledge would be.”

 

They passed their Sunday in the usual occupations—the ladies sewed and yawned, Edward and Sir Richard read the papers and yawned.

Elspeth insisted upon some exercise. She would never have said so, but this was not to be a search for pretty scenes to admire, but an exhibition of their family success and consequence. Along the few principal streets they went, attracting the right sort of attention. Laura thought of it as a parade—an elegant form of thumbing their noses—and only happiness kept her from feeling embarrassed.

The countess and Elspeth walked arm in arm, their enjoyment of the admiration of the gentlemen of Lyme, spiced with their whispered
witticisms at the expense of these admirers. Elspeth was enjoying herself too much to look behind her. In the rear, Sir Richard and Mrs. Bell walked arm in arm, occupied in a search for Medieval specimens.

Laura walked with Mr. Templeton and her brother. The other two made an effort to include the captain in their conversation. Yet they had so much to discover about each other, that they did keep forgetting him.

Edward had thoughts of his own to keep him entertained. He almost wished there had been neither letter nor a mystery to untangle, for it kept him from Evalina. He counted the long days that must elapse before he could see her again.

The delay in trying to solve the mystery would have made it the longest day in Laura's life, were it not for the company of Mr. Templeton.

 

Quite early on Monday, Mr. Templeton took breakfast with them as arranged. The fugitives were certainly in Devonshire by now, and it was time to take action.

Laura felt cheated, as the gentlemen went without her to meet the magistrate downstairs. The door had no sooner closed upon them, when she recalled a question she wished to put to Mr. Templeton. When the servant entered to remove the breakfast things, she asked if Captain Morrison was available.

“No, miss. The captain went out with Mr. Grahame.”

Running to the window, Laura saw three men emerge in the street. She tapped her fingernails on the glass but they did not hear her. She watched in frustration as they walked away up the street.

“What do you there, Laura?” said Elspeth. “Can you not bear to let … the gentlemen … out of your sight?”

“I thought of something I wished to say to … my brother.”

Elspeth tittered. “I imagine your friend will come back this time.” Softly she muttered to her friend, “Though I know not what attracts him!”

The sound of the door opening had all three look up eagerly, as Sir Richard entered the room.

“Richard, what is happening?” said Laura.

“The magistrate is as puzzled as us all. He is determined to track the hands through which the letter passed—he thinks it almost certainly written by a woman of some education.”

“Surely it is the work of a criminal,” said Elspeth.

“It is hard to conceive of a lady writing such a document. The magistrate is of the opinion that no half-taught woman could produce that hand.”

“A good point, I think,” said Laura. She stood by the window still, and Sir Richard took a chair close to Mrs. Bell.

Elspeth frowned. “Perhaps some foolish woman thought she had a chance of securing Mr. Templeton, if only Laura could be got out of the way.”

“The magistrate believes the matter to be more sinister,” said Sir Richard. “Remember Tom's beating.”

“Is he not an insolent lad, often in trouble?” said the countess.

“Yes, he is,” said Sir Richard. “But the magistrate is suspicious that Tom was ordered to deny there ever was any gentleman with Laura in Broad Street that day.”

Elspeth shuddered. “This is too distasteful, Sir Richard!”

There was the sound of a shout from the street. Laura opened the window. From higher up the street, a man was running as hard as he could, with the constable after him, shouting, “Seize him!”

“It's the ostler from the Lion,” Laura said. “He's trying to get away.” Even Elspeth rushed over to the window to see the happenings below. Two burly fishermen had run up from the beach. They seized the man, holding him while the constable secured him.

“'Tis Creeley, for sure,” said Sir Richard.

The magistrate was hurrying down in their wake. “Take him in charge,” he shouted to the constable. “I will follow you shortly.”

Laura watched as the constable began to drag the miscreant along the street. He peered at the upper windows of the inn, found the lady he had maligned and stared up at her in abject fear.

“What will happen to him, Sir Richard?” said Elspeth. “Perhaps he will be hanged.” She adjusted her lace collar and floated back
towards the sofa, followed by Lady Clarydon, who sank into her armchair next to her friend.

“I imagine he is a minor party,” said Sir Richard. He remained at the window with Laura and Mrs. Bell, watching as a small crowd gathered below, chatting about the excitement.

“What do you at the window still?” asked Elspeth.

“Won't you ring for some tea, my dear Mrs. Bell,” said the countess.

Mrs. Bell obliged, and Sir Richard turned vaguely, trailing her for several steps across the room.

“Sir Richard!” The baronet flinched and gave Elspeth a sidelong look like a guilty schoolboy. Elspeth smiled sweetly. “I cannot reach my fan,” she said.

He looked uncomprehending; then realised where his duty lay. He went to her little table, all of eight inches away from her, and handed her the item.

“Come away from the window, Laura,” said Elspeth. Laura did not even turn. She watched as Mr. Templeton appeared. He glanced up, noticed Laura and smiled.

E
DWARD RETURNED WITH
M
R
. T
EMPLETON
, and the party gathered around to hear about the brief interview between the magistrate and Creeley, who had made his dash for freedom before revealing any information.

Edward turned to Mrs. Bell. “Have you had any further inspiration, madam?”

“I cannot understand so unladylike …” Her voice trailed off.

“There is far more that I do not know,” said Laura. “Oh, yes! Mr. Templeton, I have a question.”

“You have only to ask.”

“Well then, I must have misheard you that last day I saw you in September. Where did you go, since I thought you intended to visit old Mr. Whichale?”

“Why should you think I went elsewhere?”

The silence was palpable; all the Morrison family stared at him in silence.

Puzzled, Mr. Templeton added, “The storm was coming on, so I rode my own horse, rather hard, back to Charmouth, where I hired a chaise to drive to Longpan.”

“So you did go to Mr. Whichale's house?” said Laura.

“Why, I dined there and stayed the night!” He looked at their faces, all expressive of astonishment.

“What!” said Edward, at last.

“It was raining heavily and I could not in any case have reached Charmouth before dark, so I accepted the invitation to stay the night.”

“The rogue!” said Sir Richard.

“A gentleman has lied to me!” exclaimed Edward.

He rose and stood before Laura. “I have taken the word of a stranger over that of my own sister, who has never lied to me in her life. How can you forgive me, Laura?”

“The facts seemed to be against me, Edward.”

“You see, you went to the wrong house, Brother,” said Elspeth.

“Excuse me, but I must disagree,” he said. “There is only one such house, and there we made our enquiries.”

“Enquiries?” asked Mr. Templeton.

“Yes, Sir Richard wished to investigate your disappearance, against my own judgement, I must confess.”

“Ah!” said Sir Richard, then fell silent when all looked his way. They waited as he bit his lip in concentration. At last he said, “There is a link between the ostler from the Lion, and the letter, you know. The lad Jem is known to the ostler—and Jem knew something of the letter.”

“And this Jem is …?” Lady Clarydon asked.

“Of course, you know nothing of this strange tale,” said Elspeth, with a shaky adherence to the truth. “Jem is a lad who told a young maidservant in Honiton about the letter, imagining that Miss Morrison had written it.”

Mr. Templeton returned to the previous point. “You went to Mr. Whichale's house, Captain?”

“Indeed, we did. When was that, now?”

Laura answered. “The eighteenth of September,” she said. “A Thursday.”

Edward raised an eyebrow at his sister's precision, and continued, “We had no idea then of any conspiracy to pretend you did not even exist!”

Mr. Templeton reached out, almost touching Laura's hand. “What you must have suffered on account of this strange episode!” he said.

“I cannot tell you the half of it.”

Mr. Templeton nodded, then turned to Edward. “What happened, Captain Morrison, when you arrived at Mr. Whichale's house?”

Edward recounted their visit, and Mr. Templeton nodded agreement at the details: the neglected state of the house, the smug and genial host, even the sign on the gate had still been in existence Mr. Templeton had defied it to enter.

All along, in the back of Laura's mind, she felt convinced that Mrs. Bell had been right. Even while she listened to each person's story, she was half-conscious of weighing every fact for the possibility that she, unknowingly, might have been the only person privy to that information. Now came this one trivial point—that Mr. Templeton entered Longpan House.

“Is that what I knew?” said Laura, meditatively. They all turned to her. “Was I the only person who knew that Mr. Templeton went to that house the night old Mr. Whichale died?”

“Possibly—but it's not likely Whichale would know this,” said Edward.

“Ah—but he did. I told him myself,” said Mr. Templeton. “To explain my delay, I said that I had ridden first to Lyme to make my apologies to Mrs. Evans, for failing to fulfil an obligation to her.”

“You did not mention Laura's name, I hope,” said Elspeth, desirous of finding him at fault.

“I did not name Miss Morrison. Mr. Whichale insisted upon sending a note of apology to you on my behalf.”

“He certainly did not do so!” said Elspeth.

“The devious rogue!” said Edward.

“He could discover everything he wanted to know in a moment,” said Lady Clarydon. “One so easily forgets the sharp eyes of the lower orders.”

“How true!” said Elspeth. “His servants would have heard something of Mr. Templeton being seen with my sister.”

“One understands the old gentleman to have been impious,” said the countess. “Why did he ask for a clergyman to attend him?”

“I am quite sure he did not!” said Mr. Templeton. “When I entered the bedchamber, for all his debility, the patient expressed great annoyance at their calling in a
parson
.” He imitated the quavering fury of the old gentleman.

“So it was not a case of the old sinner burdened by his lifetime of sins?” said Lady Clarydon.

“No. I believe he had asked for his attorney.”

Edward stopped his pacing, picking up this interesting point.

Mr. Templeton continued, “Mr. Whichale told me that he had hoped his uncle would repent at the last, so had called me in instead.”

“What did the dying man want?”

“A witness to his signature on a document.”

“A deathbed confession!” exclaimed the countess, in delight.

Laura jumped up. She said, “Was Mr. Benjamin Reece present at the house?”

“Who is he?”

“He's a great-nephew of old Mr. Whichale's.”

“I encountered only Mr. Whichale and his lady.”

“A woman of very nervous temperament?” asked the captain.

“I would not have called her nervous. Quiet, perhaps, but perfectly calm.”

Laura looked thoughtfully at Mr. Templeton. Why did he assess Mrs. Whichale so differently from the other men, she wondered.

“You agreed with my brother that she seemed fearful, Sir Richard?” she said.

Her cousin tutted. “She was very timorous. I feared her husband was a bully in private, for she displayed a fear of the male sex, I thought.”

“Yet she was not afraid of Mr. Templeton,” said Elspeth.

“Mrs. Whichale had no reason to fear
him
!” cried Laura. They all turned to her. “She had done nothing wrong when she made Mr. Templeton's acquaintance.” She was almost laughing at the obvious. “She had not then written the letter!”

The whole party was silent for a moment, taking in Laura's assertion, when a servant announced that the magistrate was awaiting the gentlemen downstairs. The three men hastily took their leave of the ladies and joined the magistrate in the same room as the day before.

The magistrate hurried into his explanation. “After questioning Creeley, I believe the fellow's role did not go beyond delivering the letter, and starting the rumour that the young lady was pursuing a gentleman.”

“So he has no clue as to the identity of the letter writer?”

“No persuasion could produce otherwise. He understood the
letter to have been directed on by Mr. Whichale, who sent it to Creeley with his servant, Jem.”

“Why did Creeley spread such a mischievous rumour about my sister?” asked Edward.

“Mr. Whichale instructed Jem to plant that idea, claiming it would save the lady's reputation.”

“An unsatisfactory explanation! Did you ask how the letter arrived at Mr. Whichale's house?”

“Jem would probably not have seen the delivery, for he lives in the stables, coming into the kitchen for his meals. The letter was apparently delivered by a messenger, who rode off at once.”

“It may have been written in Mr. Whichale's house!” said the captain.

“Just as Miss Morrison suggested,” said Mr. Templeton.

“Perfectly possible,” said the magistrate, eyes lighting up. “A clever lady! A smudged crossing out would be enough to suggest a redirection.”

The gentleman passed on their news of Tom and his mother to the magistrate.

“This is bad indeed,” said he.

“I witnessed the signing of a document at the old Mr. Whichale's deathbed, the night he died,” said Mr. Templeton.

The magistrate leapt up. “What! I will away to Longpan at once. There may be no time to lose,” he said.

“Suspicions may have been aroused there already,” said Edward.

“Creeley was seen riding that way yesterday—he persuaded his master to let him borrow an old nag, so he could visit a dying uncle!”

“There seems to be many such uncles about,” said Mr. Templeton, drily.

“May I accompany you?” said Edward.

“I see no reason why not. You three gentlemen are my witnesses to the events in September.”

“We shall prepare at once.”

“Excellent! Can you meet me in a quarter of an hour, at the top of Broad Street? I will bring the constable.”