A River Runs Through It (2 page)

“Are you all right, my girl? It’s not like you to forget the
figures of the dance.”

Kate barely heard him. Fanning herself vigorously, she faced
the window. “Don’t look.”

Immediately, Tom looked over his shoulder.

“I said, don’t look!” she hissed.

“What’s this all about, then?”

“It’s that bounder, that cad, that--that toad!” Tom looked
blank. Kate turned her head slightly and flicked her gaze in Mr. Dalrymple’s
direction. Tom turned fully and examined him through his quizzing glass. Kate
cast up her eyes in despair. “I said, don’t look.”

Tom shrugged and laughed. “Lord, is he what’s got you in a
pucker? Kate, he’s no more than a dandy.”

“He’s not.” She looked casually right and left, then leaned
closer to Tom. “He’s a spy sent here by the War Office and I need to get rid
of him.”

"No.”

Surprised at his vehement tone, Kate stared up at him. “What
do you mean, 'no’?”

“I mean no,” he stated firmly. “I will not help you kidnap a
government agent. End of discussion.”

“But Tom--”

"No.”

“Please, I need your help.”

"No.”

Kate glared at him, her mouth set. “One tiny favor, that’s
all I ask--”

“Kate, your last "tiny favor’ cost me a broken leg and a
whole quarter’s allowance.”

“You are my oldest, and dearest friend. The companion of my
youth, and yet you refuse the one favor I beg--”

Tom grabbed her and pulled her hastily out to the balcony. He
had no confidence whatsoever in Kate’s observing the proprieties in the
ballroom, not when she had that devil-may-care gleam in her eye. “What sort of
trouble are you in now?”

"None in the world.” She gazed innocently about, plying
her fan.

“You never look innocent unless you’re up to something,” he
informed her, undeceived. A thought struck him and he squirmed uncomfortably.
“Is it money? Kate, let me give--”

"No! I will not borrow from you.”

“Very well, pay it back if you like.”

"There’s a great chance I may never be able to.”

Tom crossed his arms and leaned against the railing. Kate
joined him. Together they stared out into the mild evening. In the distance
stood a dark pile, which in the daylight would be the glorious ruins of Castle
Wallingford.

“Are things so bad, then? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Kate shook her head. "Not so bad anymore. We’ll pull
through.”

Tom took a deep breath. He looked down at her. A gleam of
light from the chandeliers peeked through the curtains and illuminated his
face. His expression was that of a man who knew his duty and would perform it,
no matter how dismal.

“If we were married, there could be no objection to my helping
you. The children need a father.”

Kate’s mouth dropped open. Tom squared his shoulders
resolutely.

“Will you do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage,
Kate?”

A sudden rush of hot tears stung her eyes. Kate waited for
the lump in her throat to ease, then turned to him, hands outstretched. “Oh,
Tom,” she said, voice quavering. “You really are my dearest friend.”

He took her hands in his. “Well, that’s all right and tight,
then,” he said with false heartiness.

“Wouldn’t we be the most unhappily married couple in England?”

“Yes,” he agreed fervently. “What I meant to say--”

“Please allow me to make you the happiest man alive,” Kate’s
eyes twinkled, “by refusing your kind offer.”

Tom took out his handkerchief and mopped his brow. Kate
laughed, the atmosphere easy once again.

"Now about that favor…”

He groaned. “All right, I’ll help you kidnap him. But I draw
the line at murder, Kate.”

Kate slid a glance through the open doors to the opposite side
of the room where Mr. Dalrymple held court. The dance was over and the couples
were starting to drift to the supper room.

“Fiddle. This is a situation which calls for finesse. Who
are you escorting to supper?”

“I thought we’d go down together.”

Kate shook her head as a scheme of such simplicity and
brilliance sprang to her mind that for a moment it took her breath away. Such
was the look on her face that across the room, Lady Alice wondered if her niece
had received an offer from Tom Appleby at last.

“Excellent. Lucy is going in with Mr. Weilmunster. You part
is to sit by her and engage her attention away from him.”

Looking slightly taken aback by the tameness of her scheme,
Tom nodded. “What will you do?”

Kate burst out laughing. “Dear Tom, do you really care to
know?”

He held out his arm to her. "No. I do not.”

***

Kate watched in fascinated revulsion as the loathsome Adam
Weilmunster shoveled lobster patty after lobster patty into his mouth, stopping
only to drop such pearls of wisdom as he considered appropriate into the
conversation.

“I told Father Flannery that the idea of a pageant glorifying
several of the seven deadly sins was abhorrent to any man of sense and
breeding.” Chew, chew, swallow. “I feel certain you must agree with me,
Vicar.” He bowed pondersously for a man of such youth in the direction of the
reverend and took another bite of lobster.

"Nonsense, Mr. Weilmunster,” the Reverend Mr. Whiffle
replied heartily. "Neither the good Father nor I see the pageant as
anything more than a bit of fun for the village and tourists alike.”

Kate watched his Adam’s apple gyrate as he once more chew,
chew, swallowed. Her eye automatically went to the table opposite, where Tom
was entertaining Lucy. His glance met Kate’s and both turned away, turning
laughs into coughs. Kate resolved in her determination not to move heaven and
earth to see Lucy married to someone worthy of her. Into her brain dropped a
scheme of such malevolent brilliance that even her scalp tingled.

“As I have always said, revulsion of the Seven Deadly Sins
must go hand in hand with obedience to the Ten Commandments for true piety.”
He began to tick off the sins one by one. “For instance, pride, anger, envy,
gluttony--”

Out of the corner of her eye, Kate saw Lucy glance her
fiancé’s way. A flush stained her cheeks as she kept her eyes focused on her
plate.

“--sloth, lust. Can anyone tell me the next?” he asked with
heavy-handed humor, taking another patty.

“Boredom?” Kate asked, eyes wide with a look of such
innocence anyone who knew her well would have been forewarned.

“You jest, Lady Katherine.” He turned to her and all the
others at their table suddenly decided they needed more wine, or lobster
patties, or conversation with someone at another table. There was a hurried
exodus, leaving only Tom and Lucy at one end, and Kate and Mr. Weilmunster at
the other.

“I have always decreed that a sense of humor, so rare in a
woman, must be guarded lest it get out of hand into vulgarity.” He speared
several more lobster patties onto his plate.

“Like gluttony.”

“Precisely,” he agreed. “Lady Katherine, Kate, if I may--”

Kate’s hackles rose at such familiarity, but she nodded.

“As I’m sure Lucy has told you, it is my fondest wish to be
your brother very soon. By so doing, it shall be my honor to help relieve you
of those burdens of family which no mere woman should have to bear alone.”

Kate smiled through gritted teeth. “My family could never be
a burden.”

“If before that happy day arrives I can be of any assistance
to you,” he blew lobster breath wetly into her face, “you have but to ask.”

At last! The opening she had been waiting for. “As a matter
of fact,” she began, fanning herself, "there is a matter on which I should
like your opinion, Mr. Weilmunster.”

He was so surprised he stopped with a lobster patty halfway to
his mouth. Though his offer was kindly, if officiously meant, Lady
Katherine--Kate had never made a secret of her unaccountable dislike of him.
"There is?”

Kate bit her lip prettily. She dropped her gaze to her fan,
then looked up into his face. He felt the full weight of her considerable Thoreau
charm so that he actually put down the patty and turned his full attention to
his future sister-in-law.

“Oh, Mr. Weilmunster, I--I simply don’t know where to turn. I
fear a Terrible Suspicion has entered my heart.” She pressed her hand to her
bosom. As bosoms went, it was by no means on par with Lucy’s, but it was
nonetheless a bosom, and he was, after all, a man.

“I hardly know where to begin. Never would I want to unjustly
accuse any man, but--”

“Yes, Kate?” he breathed excitedly.

“It was your discussion of the Seven Deadly Sins,” she told
him piously, “which brought it to my attention. It is Mr. Dalrymple.”

“I understand from Auntie Alice he is a friend of yours from
London.”

Nothing the reptile had said so far infuriated Kate as much as
to hear him refer to Lady Alice in such a familiar way, but she swallowed her
spleen. “Hardly a friend, though we did know one another. One meets all sorts
at the very largest parties, as of course you know.”

Mr. Weilmunster thrust his chest out at her intimation he was
acquainted with the ways of the
ton
.
“Did he press his suit upon you unwillingly?”

“Yes, he did. Tell me, Mr. Weilmunster,” she leaned ever so
slightly closer. “Do you feel as I do, that it is rather odd for a stranger in
town to try so hard to discredit our Cavalier? In fact, if one was to take a
look at him,” her companion craned his neck to take a gander at Mr. Dalrymple,
happily holding court in the ballroom, “He really bears a striking resemblance
to--

"The Cavalier!” He dropped his fork in excitement.

Kate pressed her advantage. “Imagine, three strong men,
unable to subdue one paltry criminal? His story doesn’t quite add up, don’t
you think?”

“I--I begin to see your point, Lady Katherine.” He looked
wildly from her to the Cavalier in the next room.

“Kate, please.” She pressed his arm with the merest butterfly
touch.

“Kate,” he agreed.

"The embodiment of all the Seven Deadly Sins, the
Cavalier himself, is corrupting the morals of the youth of our village, Mr.
Weilmunster. You must do something,” she told him thrillingly.

He looked down at her, his future sister-in-law,
de facto
head of the most noble line in the county. She
looked back at him as if all the wisdom of Solomon would spill from his lips
and lost what little wit he possessed. Truth be told, it was to be, had he but
known it, his bravest hour. He pressed the hand on his arm, thrust away from
the table, and strode into the next room. “I shall take care of this, Kate,
have trust in me.”

Kate hurried to the doorway, unwilling to miss the ensuing
scene for all the five thousand pound rewards in the kingdom.

Adam Weilmunster strode to the middle of the room, pointed to
the gentleman in black, and shouted, “You, sirrah! You are the Grey Cavalier!”

A collective gasp rang out. The musicians stopped tuning for
the next set. All conversation ceased. The ladies even stopped plying their
fans. No one wanted to miss the spectacle which was to come.

Mr. Dalrymple, meanwhile, watched in obvious stupefaction as
his accuser continued his tirade.

“You, sirrah, have pulled the wool over our eyes, accepting
the hospitality of our village, while secretly robbing us blind! Your cohorts
in crime, paid with your ill-gotten gains, have promulgated your story of being
held up! You, sirrah! I accuse you of violating of laws of man, and the laws
of God!”

With that, he turned and ran up the stairs, calling loudly for
constables! dragoons! Bow Street Runners!

There was a moment of stunned silence, then a buzz of noise
rose higher and higher. Those in the supper room raced back to the ballroom,
to pretend not to gaze at Mr. Dalrymple, and whisper behind fans and raised
hands.

Meanwhile, the accused, stunned, glared at Kate, who smiled
smugly and wiggled her fingers in his direction.

Constable Mackey stepped heavily down the stairs, followed by
Mr. Weilmunster. The crowd parted swiftly, conversation ceasing once more.

The constable stopped in front of Mr. Dalrymple, standing
beside his chair, miraculously restored to health.

“Mr. Frederick Dalrymple?”

The accused nodded stiffly.

The constable, clearly wishing he was anywhere but here, doing
Adam Weilmunster’s bidding, pulled out a bit of paper. “Can you account for
your whereabouts on any of these dates?”

Mr. Dalrymple shot Kate a look so black she stepped back, a
thrill of apprehension rippling up her spine.

“Twenty-sixth April, eighth of May, twenty-second May, third
June, seventeenth of July, four August, ten September?”

“On September 10
^th
, in that it was yesterday, I can
safely say I was resident at the Lady and the Scamp. While out for an evening
drive, my coach was waylaid by the ruffian called the Grey Cavalier. I was
subsequently beaten and robbed,” he replied coldly. “As to the other dates, I
could not say. My time is rarely my own.”

Constable Mackey looked as unhappy as it was possible for a
man of the law, on the track of a famous criminal, to be.

“In that case, lad, I hereby detain you in the name of His
Majesty, King George, on the grounds of highway robbery.” The constable pulled
out a pair of wrist irons and clapped them on the prisoner.

The accused went quietly, and with much more dignity than
displayed by his accuser. Heady with excitement, Mr. Weilmunster dogged the
constable’s footsteps, giving directions and making suggestions until Mackey
turned and said sharply, “Mr. Weilmunster, I’m the constable here, I’ll thank
you to remember.” Mr. Dalrymple, with one last fulminating glance at Kate which
promised retribution of the worst kind, followed the constable across the dance
floor, his mince gone in favor of a manly stride, his head held straight
instead of at a foppish angle. Just as he placed his foot on the lowest step,
the crowd burst into a spontaneous round of applause. Surprised, he turned to
look and a voice rang out: "Three cheers for the Grey Cavalier!”