Midwinter Manor 2 -Keeper's Pledge (10 page)

“This must be the place,” Matthew insisted, as they drove up Cockpit Lane and past the workhouse to which they’d been directed as a landmark. “How many stonemasons can a town this size support?”

Lucy shrugged. “Lord, I don’t know. But people will keep on dying, and then they can’t do without headstones. Here we are.” She parked the car at the side of the road, casting a doubtful eye at a group of men in workhouse uniforms who stood idly on the corner, their shoulders hunched and their hands in their pockets. “Hmm. Just a moment. I say,” she called to the group. “Would one of you gentlemen be kind enough to watch my motorcar for me?”

A reed-thin lad, the flame-red hair under his cap the only splash of color about him, detached himself from the group and sauntered over with a nod.

“Thanks awfully,” Lucy said with a hearty smile. “Don’t you just feel wretchedly sorry for those fellows?” she added under her breath as they walked away. “So without hope. Something really ought to be done.”

Philip was inclined to agree, but for the moment could think of little else but his mission. They followed the sound of hammer on chisel to the mason’s yard, where they pushed open the gates to find a tall, rangy man carving a headstone in the winter’s sunshine. He had pale hair that gleamed where the sun caught it, and incongruously fine-boned features, as though he’d himself been sculpted by a master of his craft.

“Excuse me,” Philip said politely. The man finished off the stroke of the letter he was working on, then laid down his chisel and looked up.

“Sir?”

 

“I wonder—do you happen to know a fellow by the name of Billy Wainwright?”

 

The man blinked. “Aye, you might say so.”

 

Philip felt almost weak with relief. “And could you tell me where I might be able to find him?”

 

The man raised an eyebrow. “I reckon I could do that and all. Seeing as you’re looking at him.”

Philip stared. The sudden realization that he was facing Danny’s first love robbed him, for a moment, of all other thought.

“Might I ask who you’d be, sir, and why you’d be looking for me?” Wainwright’s tone was one of respect but his eyes were watchful for all that.

“Luccombe. Philip Luccombe,” he introduced himself, growing a little warm at Wainwright’s expression of surprise. “And I’m looking for Toby Costessey. I thought he might have been in touch with you.”

“Oh, aye? Well, I can’t say as I’m surprised to find someone here looking for him, though I’d have to say, sir, I’d never have guessed it’d be you.”

“So you’ve seen him?” Philip demanded impatiently.

Wainwright nodded, rose slowly, and turned back to the workshop.
“Toby!” he shouted. “Come on out here, lad. You’ve visitors.”

Chapter 10

S
TANDING
at the altar in his Sunday best, Effie beside him in a frock let out to accommodate her growing waistline, Danny felt as if iron gates were closing upon him, locking him tight in a prison of respectability. In scarce half an hour’s time he’d be a married man; in less than half a year, a father. For the first time, he had a scrap of sympathy for Toby. If Danny felt too young, too unready for this as a man of twenty-two, how much harder must it have been for a lad of Toby’s age to think of tying himself down?

But then he shouldn’t have taken advantage of the lass’s feelings for him. Should have thought ahead to the consequences of his actions. Instead of letting Danny shoulder all responsibilities, as he’d done ever since their da’s death.

At least this way, tongues would be silenced about him and Philip. He’d be a married man, and Philip would be free to be with someone his equal at last. Danny tried to feel glad for his one-time lover—God, he tried—but the pain it caused him, thinking of Philip with Matthew, was like a snare caught around his heart, tightening as he struggled.

No matter. In time, perhaps, the wound would scar over, hurt a little less.
As the service started, the gates creaked shut. Danny’s heart beat faster than any rabbit’s. Should he have spoken to Philip directly? Not just sent a note? But he hadn’t been able to bear the thought of Philip’s indifference, seen face to face. The vicar read the words, but Danny couldn’t listen to them, could only think
there’s still time, there’s still time
.
Time for what? For Philip to rush in and forbid the wedding? Aye, and maybe Danny’s da would rise up from his grave to give his blessing—
There was a noise from the back of the church. Danny fought not to whirl around, closed his lips tight so they wouldn’t utter Philip’s name. It was just a latecomer, that was all.

Then whispers became a rising murmur, and Danny couldn’t hold back any longer. He turned. “Ph—
Toby
?”

His face flushed and damp with sweat, Toby walked up the aisle toward them. He clutched in his hand a sad bunch of greenery Danny reckoned had come straight from some poor soul’s grave, and his chin was up, wavering only slightly. “You’ve got to stop the wedding,” he said. “Effie’s my lass, and that’s my baby she’s having.”

Effie gasped as he went down on one knee in front of her, and the vicar shut his book with an annoyed snap.

“Effie, I’m right sorry I ran out on you. But I’m back, now, and I’m going to take care of the both of you. Will you marry me?”

She stared at him for a moment, her little face so pale Danny worried for a moment she was about to faint. Then her eyes narrowed. “And how do I know you won’t run out on me again, Toby Costessey?”

“I won’t, I swear it. Come with me, lass.” Toby grabbed her by the hand. “Come outside.”

Danny turned in apology to the vicar as Effie let Toby lead her back down the aisle to a chorus of wagging tongues; then he strode off after them, in case his fool of a brother managed to mess things up again. At the back of the church, he was startled to spot Matthew Cranmore, grinning as if he’d planned this all himself. Lord, but he was a strange one, Danny thought, and hurried past him to catch up with Toby and Effie.

They were out in the churchyard, in a corner Danny knew well.

“See here, Effie?” Toby was saying. “That’s my da’s grave. And as his soul’s my witness, I’ll wed you soon as the banns are read. And I’ll not run out on you again.”

“I an’t said yes yet,” she reminded him, but she was holding that sorry, secondhand posy, and her eyes were shining as she looked up at Toby’s face.

“Then will you? You know I love you, Effie Smith. I was riled up about you not telling me first about the babe, and then I got scared, that’s all.”

“You think I’m not scared? It’s me’s got to bear this child,” she said.
Toby put his arm around her. From the way she snuggled into his side, Danny reckoned that was what she’d been after. “I’ll look after you, don’t you worry. So, will you, Effie? Will you marry me?”

“Yes, then.”

Danny turned aside as they kissed. After a few minutes, he cleared his throat and they broke apart, startled. “How’s about we put horse before cart this time around?” Danny asked, his heart lighter than it had been for a good, long while. “Toby, you’ve a vicar to talk to.”

Toby gave him a long, hard look, then nodded. “I ought to swing for you, Danny Costessey, getting ready to marry my girl.”

“Well, begging Effie’s pardon, but I’m glad enough you turned up in time to stop me. It’s good to see you back, Toby. Mam’ll be that pleased.”

“After she boxes my ears, maybe,” Toby said ruefully as they walked together back toward the church.

Danny decided it wouldn’t help none if he told his brother he deserved it. “So where have you been these last weeks? And how did you find out about the wedding?”

Toby rubbed his neck, squinting into the watery January sun. “Mr. Luccombe came to tell me. Brought me back in the motorcar and all.”

Philip
? Danny stared, uncomprehending. “Mr. Luccombe? But he’s—” Abruptly, he remembered Effie’s quiet presence and caught himself before he went on to explain how Philip wasn’t his, not any more.

“Aye. Well, it was Miss Shorwell as was driving, at a fair old lick, too, to get back here in time. They guessed I’d gone to Wainwright’s.”

“
Billy’s
? You were at Billy’s all this time?”

Toby shrugged. “Didn’t know no one else in Pontefract, did I? Thought he might be able to get me a job at the yard, but I didn’t much like working with dry, dusty stone, the hammers making my ears ring and my head ache all day long. I’ll be glad to be back working on the gardens.” “
If
they’ll take you back on, after all this.”

“Course they’ll take me back on.” Toby rolled his eyes. “Mr. Luccombe’s going to raise my wages, too, seeing as I’ll be a married man, and give us some money to set me and Effie up. Told you, he came to get me special. Him, and Miss Shorwell, and Mr. Matthew Cranmore too.”

“He was there?” Danny swallowed.

 

“I told you Mr. Luccombe was there. Got cloth ears all of a sudden?”

“No, I meant Mr. Cranmore.” He badly wanted to ask how they’d been together, if they’d seemed like lovers. It didn’t make sense. If Philip and his cousin were lovers, why would Philip go to so much trouble to fetch Toby back?

But Toby wouldn’t welcome that sort of question, nor know how to answer it neither, Danny reminded himself. “How’s Billy then, and those young’uns of his?” he asked instead.

“Loud,” Toby said ruefully. “I didn’t get a decent night’s sleep whole time I was staying there; the baby cried that much. S’pose that’s something I’ll have to get used to, eh, lass?” He gave Effie’s shoulders a squeeze, and she smiled up at him.

“Come along, now,” Danny said as they hesitated on the church steps. “Time to face our mam, young Toby. I’ll warrant you’ll be longing for the peaceful sound of Billy’s babe howling when she gets a hold of you.”

“And oh Lord!” Effie snatched her hands to her mouth. “Mrs. Standish was laying on a wedding meal for us. Baked a cake and all. What’s she going to say now the wedding an’t happened?”

“Two bridegrooms is one too many for any lass, so I’ll leave you to find that out by yourselves,” Danny said. He’d a feeling his presence would only cause embarrassment to folks. What did you say to a man who’d been cut out of his own wedding by his brother, after all? “Toby….” he clapped a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re back. And I’m right sorry I hit you.”

Toby shrugged. Danny guessed he was aiming for nonchalance, but it came off a bit forced. “Didn’t hurt none, anyway,” he muttered. “You punch like a girl, Danny Costessey.” But he rubbed his face as he said it and gave a crooked smile.

Warmth flooded through Danny like a river after rain. “Then it’s as well I’m not planning to do it no more. I’ll see you later, Toby. Good luck in there.” He turned and walked off home, his heart much lightened, but still troubled.

P
HILIP
hadn’t liked to go to the church. If Toby did his part—
if
he did it, and didn’t once more get cold feet, there would be drama enough without him showing his face to cause more comment. So now he stood in the drawing room once more, too restless to settle while he waited on tenterhooks for news.

“Sir?”

 

“What is it, man? Has something happened?” Never had

Standish’s polite reticence been less welcome.
“I thought you might wish to know that Daniel

Costessey’s wedding has not taken place. Apparently the younger Costessey returned and interrupted the proceedings.” “And the wedding? It didn’t happen?” Philip desperately needed to be absolutely sure of this one key point.

“Daniel Costessey is
not
married, sir. Toby Costessey has asked for the banns to be read for him and Effie.” Standish spoke with emphasis, and looked as though he worried it still hadn’t quite sunk in. As well he might. Philip had to hold himself back from asking for further repetition. “Shall I mix you a drink, sir?”

Philip laughed then, a high-pitched sound that hung between them somewhat embarrassingly. “Sorry,” he said, abashed. “I was just thinking champagne, but I don’t suppose….”

Standish coughed politely. “Brandy and soda, sir?”

“Yes. Thank you, Standish.” Philip sank back into his chair, feeling weak. When he took the drink Standish handed him, it was with both hands, because he feared the shaking of one alone might spill it. He downed it in a few short swallows, then set aside his glass with new resolve. “Standish? I’m going for a walk. I may be a little while.”

Standish merely nodded, and stood to one side as Philip passed.

T
HE
sun was all but set, shadows lengthening until they covered the land, by the time Danny returned to his cottage. Light streamed from the window, and his heart fluttered in his chest like a new-fledged sparrow. There was only one man who’d walk into Danny’s home like he owned the place, and that was the man who did, in fact, own the place. But what would Philip be doing here? He’d made it clear all was over between them.

As he neared the door, Danny’s steps grew ever slower until he cursed himself for a coward. If his heart were to be broken, best to make it a clean break; it wouldn’t hurt any the less for dragging things out. Gathering his courage, he flung open the door.

Philip rose from his chair. He looked wild, disheveled, and eerily beautiful in the firelight. “I heard,” was all he said.

Danny swallowed and nodded. “Aye. Seems I’m destined to stay a single man.” He turned to carefully shut and bolt the door. Whatever was to happen here, it was best there be no witnesses, he reckoned.

“Not—not single,” Philip said, as Danny turned back his way. “At least….” He ran a hand through his hair, giving Danny a fair inkling how he’d arrived at his present unkempt appearance. “I know you’re angry with me.”

Angry? Hurt, yes. But angry? Danny didn’t reckon he could manage that, not with Philip looking at him like a frightened deer caught in a trap. He shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.

“Yes… yes you are. I’m not asking you to understand, but I just—”
“Don’t.” Danny paced forward and then stopped. He couldn’t stand it any longer. “I don’t want to hear it. And I do understand, all right? He’s like you—educated. Cultured. A gentleman. I just—just don’t tell me about it. Please.”