Lady Farquhar's Butterfly (29 page)

‘Oh, I know
that
, sir, because the man what was keeping us prisoner told
us,’ said Charlotte, blinking at Max. ‘It’s because Miss Olivia
discovered Lord Farquhar’s grandfather’s fortune and he used Julian
to blackmail her into telling her where it was. Reverend Kirkman
spent years trying to find it himself, especially after my lord
died.’ Glowering, she muttered, ‘If you ask me, that’s why he
wanted to marry Miss Olivia. So he’d have a better chance of
finding it if he were living at The Lodge.’

The women
gasped. Even Amelia.

Nothing
surprised Max any more.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

DESPITE MAX’S
URGENCY to reach The Lodge, he saw the merit in his sister’s
argument that local knowledge was always the best source of
information. He also needed to speak to the publican’s wife. If Mrs
Mifflin could provide independent testimony of Charlotte’s claims
with regard to Julian’s origins it would cast new light upon Olivia
in the eyes of the world.

In the shadows
of the tap room, Pat Dorling grinned a welcome from the settle as
Max bent his head to step beneath the lintel.

‘I ’ear the
Merry Widow took to ’er pretty feet and scarpered leaving both you
and the good reverend in the lurch,
my lord
.’ He guffawed
into his drink, as the publican handed Max his ale.

‘Out with you,
Dorling, if yer plan on speaking disrespectful!’ The publican
gripped the old man by the scruff of his neck and hauled him to his
feet.

‘Let him be,’
Max protested.

Raking the old
soldier with a scornful glance, he asked, ‘If you’re such a fount
of knowledge perhaps you can tell us where the reverend and Lady
Farquhar have disappeared to.’

Dorling
shrugged and took another swig as if the matter was of no interest
to him. ‘Only ’eard the news this morning, didn’t I? Whipped the
village into a frenzy it ’as.’ He looked thoughtfully into his ale.
‘So the reverend’s gone, too, ’as he?’ He sniggered. ‘And you’re
here to bring wicked Lady Farquhar to justice, are ye?’

‘Any ideas you
might have regarding her whereabouts would be much
appreciated.’

Despite the
old man’s sour look Max could tell Dorling enjoyed being solicited
for his thoughts. The old soldier tapped his nose, waving his mug
to be refilled.

Max tossed the
publican a coin and Dorling acknowledged Max’s largesse with a nod.
‘Reckon there’s
more’n
a thing or two I could tell you about
the reverend,’ he said. ‘Mean feller. Wouldn’t like to get on the
wrong side of him, but he’s canny. Knows how to make things go his
way.’

Max gave a
short laugh as he shifted position on the hard wooden bench
opposite the old man. ‘Intimates, were you?’

Dorling
grinned. ‘Like I told you afore, I teached ’is late lordship how to
hide a couple of aces up their sleeves and were well rewarded for
it.’

In the dancing
firelight he looked like an elf creature who had been admitted to
the inner sanctum. ‘Reckon he finally found the fourth viscount’s
fortune. Lady Farquhar led him to it and they’ve skipped to the
Continent to enjoy the fruits of their greed.’

‘Slandering my
good mistress, Dorling? So you’s heard all them lies today,
too?’

The three men
turned their heads. With hands on hips an enormous,
ferocious-looking woman blocked the doorway: Mr Mifflin’s wife,
judging by the publican’s cowed smile.

Thrusting out
her impressive lilac-upholstered bosom, she sailed majestically
into the centre of the room. ‘If you’re going to get gleeful about
a good woman’s fall from grace you can get out of this
’stablishment,
Mr
Dorling’ – the woman pointed to the door,
knitting beetling brows – ‘or I’ll get my Jeremiah to throw you
out!’

Max
intervened. He needed to keep the peace if he were to learn
anything further. ‘You’ll find no more ardent champion of your
mistress than me, Mrs Mifflin.’ Bowing, he introduced himself
before assisting her into a shabbily upholstered chair by the
fire.

‘Lordy! His
lordship’s cousin! Why, I can see it in yer face!’

Mrs Mifflin’s
mouth dropped open before she jerked her head in Dorling’s
direction. The fruit display which adorned the top of her bonnet
trembled perilously. ‘Pay no mind to the lies others would have you
believe. Miss Olivia were the kindest, gentlest lady and what that
husband of hers did to her would make a grave robber cry.’

‘That’s as may
be,’ muttered Dorling with a baleful look, ‘but she danced to her
husband’s tune! On the dining-room table all covered in cream
before the men lined up to—’

‘Get out!’
screeched Mrs Mifflin, leaning forward and stabbing a stubby,
beringed finger in the direction of the door. ‘
Your
Meg was
a harlot, enticing his lordship into her bed. Well, she got her
just deserts, didn’t she?’ She shook her head, adding sorrowfully,
‘If you only knew how good her ladyship was to your Meg.’

‘She slapped
her face!’ Trembling from outrage and too many ales, the old man
rose to his feet. ‘Lady High and Mighty slapped my Meg’s face
because she were jealous that my Meg knew how to please ’is
lordship when
she
didn’t!’ His thin voice quavered while his
ale splashed upon his boots. ‘Not five minutes after she called my
Meg a harlot Lady Farquhar were dancing naked on the table—’

‘Because her
husband ordered her!’ Max championed, also leaping to his feet.

‘Because the
reverend
ordered it!’

Surprised into
silence, they stared at the old man. Shaking like he had the ague
he dropped his eyes, muttering almost sheepishly, ‘He were behind
all the humiliations,’ as he sank back on to the wooden bench.

They absorbed
this in silence as the wind rattled the windows and the fire
crackled.

‘And did
anyone think to have pity on her?’ Mrs Mifflin exhaled on a sob.
‘My beautiful mistress were forced to perform like a high-class
whore so the reverend could wrap her up and whisk her away.’ She
turned an appealing gaze upon Max. ‘Weren’t no use telling her the
reverend didn’t deserve her gratitude. Not when he were so clever
at making himself out to be her hero.’

Max recognized
the passion that would see Mrs Mifflin defend her mistress to the
death. If Charlotte spoke the truth there’d be no trouble getting
the publican’s wife to add her testimony to the evidence that would
vindicate Olivia. Olivia’s deceit with regard to Julian would be
condoned; so would the behaviour that had branded her the notorious
viscountess.

‘Why?’ Max
waited tensely. It was the question behind everything.

‘Why would he
want to humiliate a married woman? The wife of his benefactor?’

The old
soldier hunched into his seat. ‘Why does it matter?’ he asked,
sourly. ‘She were the one what danced naked on the table. Not the
reverend. Not my Meg.
Oi
!’

With a squeal
the old man dodged Max’s fist. ‘All right! All right!’ Recovering
his bravado he grinned at their shock, chewing his gums a few
seconds before adding self-importantly, ‘Meg said it.’ He lowered
his voice. ‘Said Lord Farquhar had sold his soul to the Devil and
the reverend was paying his dues on his behalf. That ’is lordship
could do whatever he chose so long as he did what the reverend said
in return ’cos he were doing all the bargaining on ’is lordship’s
account with regard to the hereafter.’

The publican
shifted his gaze from Dorling to Max. ‘There’s others what’s made
claims like this.’

‘That my
cousin was mad?’ Max gave a hard laugh. ‘I admired him when I was
very young though he fell into bad company shortly afterwards—’

‘After Miss
Kirkman passed away.’ The publican nodded his head sagely. ‘A
beauty she were, in a ghostlike kind o’ way with her pale skin and
staring eyes, though she were right queer in the attic. It were
ever a surprise to hear ’is lordship’s fancy had fell upon
her.’

‘Farquhar, the
old devil, sent her to her Maker, just like he did my Meg and the
child she bore ’is lordship,’ Dorling said gloomily. ‘Same night
the young viscount were born.’

Mrs Mifflin
clicked her tongue. ‘The girl was introduced to society after
convincing everyone she were better, but it were a big mistake.’
Glowering at Dorling she added, ‘Regardless of what we think of Mr
Kirkman, his mother was a good soul. Let’s not rake up the past.
Miss Dorothy’s in hallowed ground and that’s all that matters.’

But Max was
not so interested in Miss Dorothy or the efforts to give her a
Christian burial despite the fact she’d taken her own life.

Shocked, he
realized he sat opposite Julian’s natural grandfather. The old man
didn’t even know it himself, thinking Meg’s baby had been stillborn
the night his daughter had died in childbirth. An irony that
Dorling insinuated Kirkman was the boy’s natural father, though he
was now still talking of Miss Dorothy.

Max had a
flash of inspiration:
Kirkman blamed Lucien for his sister’s
death
.

And Lucien
accepted his guilt giving the reverend leverage over him. When his
manipulation of Lucien proved so successful the clergyman made
Olivia his next victim.

His veins
seemed to ice up. Nathaniel Kirkman had brought Julian directly
from Meg Dorling to Olivia. He’d brought her a living child, the
fruit of her husband’s infidelity, but a living child and an heir.
Olivia would be forever in his debt
.

‘I can
understand the benefits of having such a hold over my cousin,’ he
said, slowly, ‘but why Lady Farquhar? Why would he orchestrate her
humiliation?’

Mrs Mifflin
drew herself up until she resembled a mighty galleon about to brave
rough seas.

‘Why, it were
so Lady Farquhar’s gratitude would know no bounds when he spirited
her away after each debauch and she’d marry him after his lordship
had drunk himself into his grave.’

She sniffed,
adding, ‘But it weren’t Lady Farquhar the reverend wanted: it were
the power e’d ’ave over the young viscount.’

Dorling
cleared his throat. ‘That is, what we all thought were the rightful
viscount until Lady Farquhar admitted her crimes to the whole
world.’ Waving his tankard in the air to be refilled, he regarded
Max. ‘Like I told you afore, I reckon that lad you’s looking after
be the reverend’s son. Stands to reason, don’t you think?’

Mrs Mifflin
gasped.

‘How dare you
charge my dear lady with such wickedness? I were with her during
her entire marriage
and
the birth. The only reason I didn’t
stay after his lordship’s death was because there was no money for
me wages, which is why I finally said yes to Jeremiah, here.’ She
nodded at her husband who contrived a suitably grateful smile as
she went on, ‘Miss Olivia were the truest wife ever, and that boy
is his lordship’s son, I’ll swear it on me grave.’

Dorling looked
morose. ‘The reverend wanted the boy, too. As much as he wanted
Lady Farquhar, I reckon, though I dunno why he’d want to be
leg-shackled to ’er when no doubt he could tup her anytime ’e
liked, and I reckon he did.’

Max forced
himself to breathe through his fury as the old soldier went on,
‘That’s why he got his lordship to change his will. So he could get
power and influence over the new young viscount, have the beautiful
Lady Farquhar for his wife, and live in the house where the gold
were hid.’ Raising his head, he sent Max a challenging look through
rheumy old eyes.

Like a
fire-tipped arrow this information found its mark.

The
Reverend Kirkman influenced Lucien to change his will, too
?

‘Like you’d
know, Pat me old friend,’ challenged the publican. ‘His lordship
died long after your Meg. Reckon yer makin’ up what you think ’ud
impress us.’

‘It’s true!’
protested Dorling. ‘Reverend Kirkman wanted Lady Farquhar that
bad—’

‘I didn’t know
you were such a confidante of my cousin,’ Max remarked, drily,
while his mind turned over the possibilities.

‘’Twere one of
the housemaids what told me wife,’ Dorling muttered. ‘Daisy, what
were a witness at the end.’

‘Daisy’s a
good girl,’ affirmed Mrs Mifflin. ‘She’d not tell lies.’

‘Did Daisy see
it written down?’ Max asked.

Dorling chewed
on his gums. ‘The girl couldn’t understand what were writ, but she
heard them talking when ’is lordship were on ’is deathbed and the
reverend saying as how ’e’d be just the man as would look after the
boy right and proper.’ He sighed. ‘If my Meg hadn’t a’ died she’d
bin the next Lady Farquhar with the key to the hidden gold and I
wouldn’t be sitting here with you lot.’

The publican
sniggered and Max leaned forward. ‘So what
is
this great
treasure?’ he asked.

Dorling’s eyes
shone. ‘A great cache of gold the late lordship’s grandfather put
together to fund the Jacobite uprising after hocking everything of
value that he had. That’s what the reverend were after – the key
Lady Farquhar wore round her neck after ’is lordship passed away –
and if he’s found it, it’s him you want to vent your spleen on, not
me!’

The
key
.

Convulsively
Max closed his hand around the key in his pocket he’d used to open
the door of the crypt when he’d paid his respects to Lucien after
leaving Olivia. The key with which he had replaced the key to
Elmwood. The key he’d taken from around Olivia’s neck when he’d
asked her to marry him in the attic at the dower house.

Leaping to his
feet he strained to see how much daylight remained.

‘I know where
Kirkman is – or has been!’ he cried. He was, perhaps,
half-an-hour’s hard ride from The Lodge, from the crypt. For
seventy years the cold, damp cavern dug into the side of the hill
between The Lodge and the dower house had hidden the fourth
viscount’s secret treasure.