The Merchant and the Clergyman (22 page)

He listened to them and had almost forgotten
his question when James answered, quiet and sad. “No. I can’t think
of anyone else who is formed like you or Kip or Clark. Perhaps
you’re right. He might do such a thing for money. If you talk to
him, I’m coming along. Should we do that first?”

“No.” Declan touched the medicine bottle in
his pocket. “You and I need to visit my aunt first. He can
wait.”

Upstairs, they found Emily, still dressed in
the gorgeous ivory lace-and-satin gown. She sat on a ladies’ divan
in his aunt’s sitting room. She rose and impulsively threw her arms
around Declan. “You’re safe! I was so worried. And I can see I was
right to worry. Your head! Did you fall?”

“Didn’t you hear the story?”

“I knew you were found, but I had no interest
in leaving this room and encountering any of the males in this
house.”

“Have any of the guests been inappropriate or
forward?” Declan felt a stir of protective anger.

Emily sat again, adjusted the lace at her
wrist, and smoothed her skirt. “No, I was avoiding Kip and both
fathers, who would discuss my fate as if I were chattel.” She held
up a book “I’ve been attempting to read and pretend this day is
just like any other.”

“Poor Miss Parker,” James began.

She shook her head. “No, I refuse to indulge
in self-pity, and if you make me cry, you are a beast.” She
sniffed. “I consider myself lucky. I have had a narrow escape, and
no one will convince me to marry Kip. If that’s your errand, please
don’t bother. My friends have been awful, so I dismissed them all
and am going to hide for the rest of my life if need be.”

Declan hid a smile. She showed so much drama
of the young, yet she seemed rather wiser than he’d suspected. “I
came to see to my aunt,” he told her. “I have no reason to talk you
into or out of any plans for your future.”

James pulled a chair close. “I’m not here to
try to persuade you to do anything, though I doubt you’ll have to
hide for more than an hour or two.”

She gave them both a weak smile. “Good. Mr.
Shaw, your aunt is napping. Her maid gave her luncheon and her
midday dose of medicine early because of all the excitement.”

Declan would have to wait to find out if he’d
guessed wrong about Dr. Tarkington’s medicine, but then he recalled
the overworked staff at the hall and asked, “Did the maid take the
things away?”

Emily indicated the tray sitting on a low
table that held a mostly uneaten bowl of gruel and two sticky
glasses. “It’s there.”

Declan walked over and picked up the glasses
and sniffed each. One had contained Dr. Tarkington’s concoction and
the other smelled faintly of something resembling alcohol and
paraffin.

He held up the Tarkington glass. “How much
was in there, Miss Parker?”

“The glass was about half-full.”

He put the glass down on the tray with a
clunk, then looked at James. “That’s far more than an ounce.”

“There might be different doses for different
complaints. And wouldn’t Dr. Tarkington know if they used too much
of the medicine?”

“Ah, James you do try to think the best of
everyone.” Declan couldn’t help giving James’s hand a quick brush
of fingers.

As Miss Parker leaned forward, her gown made
a soft shushing sound. “Is that Dr. Tarkington’s elixir from Dr.
Miller in London?” She sniffed the glass and pulled back, making a
disgusted face. “I should have known he would have prescribed
it.”

“He does seem to like the stuff,” Declan
said.

“It’s among his favorite prescriptions.
Tastes dreadful. It helps with pain, and if someone is feeling
woozy, it helps settle them. It can sharpen the mind, as well.”
Miss Parker frowned thoughtfully. “But too much of it can have the
opposite effect. If your uncle receives extra bottles of the elixir
directly from Dr. Miller in London, Dr. Tarkington wouldn’t know.
My father went to city once and while he was there, he purchased a
bottle because Dr. Miller charges less.”

“Does your family go through so much of it?”
Declan asked and ignored James’s scowl. He’d best grow used to
Declan’s bluntness. And wasn’t that a wonderful thought—years of
James giving him pained and chiding looks.

Miss Parker didn’t grow offended. In fact,
for the first time since they’d entered the room, she seemed
interested in something other than her fate and no longer on the
verge of tears. “When my late mother was ill, yes. I often nursed
her, and I know the medicine helped relieve her discomfort.” Her
eyes widened. “And when she took more than her usual dose, she
became rather muddled. At the time, I thought it was the
progression of her illness.”

All three of them looked at the glasses that
had held the medicine.

“Perhaps it was both her illness and the
medication,” Miss Parker said. “And the same might be true for your
aunt. Although…” She hesitated. “That glass contained an awful lot
of Dr. Miller’s Elixir. And then
another
glass with
something else as well? Good heavens, Mr. Fletcher. Why…?” She rose
to her feet. “Good heavens,” she repeated.

She covered her mouth with her hand, eyes as
wide as saucers above it. Then she drew her hand away to ask, “You
don’t think the squire would treat his wife so terribly? Are both
father and son such monsters?”

Declan faced Emily squarely, deciding the
woman had been shielded from certain truths by well-intentioned but
controlling males for too much of her life. “I believe my uncle is
having difficulty maintaining the estate. I believe he has new
debts even my aunt’s income, which he controlled by keeping her
sedated and submissive, can no longer cover.”

“And so he set Kip to marry me as quickly as
possible.
I’m
the fatted calf.” She whimpered, and fresh
tears glistened in her eyes.

“I’m certain it’s not so bad as that. Kip
cares for you as much as he can,” James began at the same moment
that Declan stated flatly, “It would appear so.”

And then, as Declan had often noticed when
dealing with people stretched to the limit of what they could
endure, a switch seemed to flip in young Miss Parker. Her cheeks
flushed bright, and her tears turned to rage.

“Then I will make certain that neither I
nor
poor Mrs. Darnley will fall victim to such a dastardly
plot. We will take her away. Immediately! Move her to my house and
from there to… I don’t know. Someplace. But I won’t let her be used
this way, any more than I would my own mother. She might have
become my mother-in-law today.”

James placed a calming hand over hers. “Rest
assured, Miss Parker, Mr. Shaw already has a plan in place. But you
could certainly help us with it.” He exchanged a glance with
Declan.

“Indeed,” Declan agreed. “My aunt will be
traveling with me to see her family in Ireland. Fearing to alert my
uncle, I haven’t packed any of her things as yet. I have found
several valises and have hidden them under her bed. Would you be so
kind as to fill it with whatever you think she might need? It would
be of great assistance.”

“Yes! I’m glad to be able to do something to
help. I could…” The fire in her eyes grew brighter. “I might
possibly accompany you on this journey, at least as far as London,
where I might visit my great-aunt Constance Everett. I should
appreciate the opportunity to escape this accursed village until
the gossip dies down.” She added dryly, “And maybe much longer than
that.”

“I’m certain I can arrange for another
ticket—or two.” Declan looked at James. “My aunt will surely need
spiritual succor on the journey.”

James didn’t smile. In fact, he frowned. And
it occurred to Declan that his grand plan to take James along with
him and make him a permanent part of his life might not be shared
by his friend. To pull up such a deeply rooted man and expect him
to easily transplant was unfair. James wouldn’t be James without
his parishioners to care for and his work to perform. It wasn’t
all
he was, but it was a large part of him.

Declan cast out this uneasy thought. No time
to be focusing on James or their possible future right now. He was
about to go to war against his uncle. He should be concentrating
solely on the upcoming confrontation.

They left Emily Parker bustling about his
aunt’s rooms, gathering what she needed without disturbing the
woman from her drug-induced sleep, and went downstairs to where Kip
and his chums now gathered in the billiard room.

Bucket and another guest knocked around a few
balls; two more lounged in armchairs with drinks at hand. One of
them had his handkerchief draped over his eyes and snored with a
delicate wheeze. Kip brooded and nursed a large glass of brandy. At
nearly the same moment Declan and James arrived, the door to the
squire’s study, across the hall, opened. Darnley and Mr. Parker
emerged.

One glance at his uncle’s face told Declan
things had not gone according to his wishes. Mr. Parker glowered
just as hard and demanded to know where his daughter had got
to.

“With my mother, I believe,” Kip answered. He
slammed down his glass on the edge of the table with such force the
glass might have shattered, and then, with typical oblivious
ignorance of the signs in front of him, the expressions that should
have told him the wedding was off, he blurted, “I’m sorry, Father,
but I will not marry Emily Parker. We are mismatched in every
way.”

Declan nearly smiled at Kip’s ill-timed
drunken bravado. It had taken a healthy dose of liquor, but it
seemed Kip had finally gathered enough courage to speak up for
himself—and for Emily—as he went on.

“Miss Parker is a lovely girl and deserves a
man who will worship her. Alas, I am not that man.”

“No, you’re not,” Mr. Parker growled. “Send a
servant to fetch Emily.”

Declan took a breath and dove in. He wanted
Parker to hear him out before leaving. “Uncle, I should inform you
I plan to take my aunt on a visit to see my mother. Miss Parker is
even now preparing her for the trip. We shall leave on the
late-afternoon train to London, if not today, then tomorrow.” He
looked at Parker. “Your daughter wishes to accompany us as far as
London. Miss Parker feels now would be a perfect opportunity to
visit her great-aunt, Mrs. Everett. Sir, I would greatly appreciate
your daughter’s help with my sick aunt during this trip, and it
might give her a sense of purpose as well.”

Before either man could respond with
protests, Declan plunged on. “Before leaving, I wish to express my
concerns on several fronts. One is the extreme dosage of a patent
medicine that has been administered on a daily basis to my poor
aunt, making her health and state of mind even worse. The other is
the attack upon my person last night by a man who, I believe, is in
Squire Darnley’s employ.”

Several sharp intakes of breath sounded in
the room, and one of Kip’s friends muttered, “Bugger!”

Both the squire and Parker began to talk, but
Declan spoke louder. “Clark, your gardener, is the size and shape
of the man who hit me, and there is a bruise on his face today,
right where I clipped my attacker on the cheek. I asked myself what
would cause this man to follow me and could only surmise he’d been
told to do so.”

Darnley’s protests grew, but Declan wouldn’t
pause long enough to give him voice. “I’d asked too many questions
about my aunt, so you set him to keep an eye on me, to learn what I
might be up to. You didn’t count on him being such a thug as to
brain me with a club and tie me up.”

“All preposterous nonsense!” Darnley roared.
“How dare you, sir? How dare you! To tell me you plan to take my
wife as if I had no say in her welfare and then accuse me of all
sorts of outlandish scheming. Simply outrageous!”

Declan faced Mr. Parker. “I’m sure you’ve
begun to question why the squire is so set on the marriage
happening even when it appears both young people involved are not
interested in being wed. The estate’s finances are in disarray to
say the least. Make of that what you will.”

Parker scowled even harder, his brows knit
together so it seemed they’d never come unknotted. “My God, man. I
knew
something was wrong. I should have listened to my
suspicion that this match was not right. If I’d paid better
attention to the gossip I’d heard about what young Darnley and his
friends in London had gotten up to, we may have avoided this
scandal.”

“Here, now,” one of the friends called out,
but another of the four shushed him.

Mr. Parker regarded Declan. “I don’t know
you, Mr. Shaw. It should be mad of me to allow my daughter to
accompany you.” He paced back and forth for almost a minute. One of
the young gentlemen leaning against the wall began to slump to the
floor.

Declan wondered if he should try to persuade
Mr. Parker but decided that was Emily’s task. He crossed his arms
and waited.

At last, Mr. Parker spoke again. “Yet I might
agree if my daughter wishes it and is accompanied by her maid and
Mrs. Darnley, and you promise to deliver her promptly to Mrs.
Everett’s door. It could help her escape the whispers after today.
I shall wire ahead to warn Constance of the impending visit, but I
know she’ll welcome Emily with open arms. She is too old to travel
or would’ve been here for the wedding. Emily seems to thrive on
giving care to those in need, and my aged aunt will appreciate her
companionship for a while.” Parker nodded emphatically as if
grateful for one thing going right in this botched day. “Altogether
an excellent plan.”

“Father, is it true?” Kip lurched suddenly to
life, planting his big body squarely in front of his father. “Did
you have one of the servants follow Declan? Have you had them
follow
me
before? Because I’ve sometimes wondered if I’ve
seen… You have me watched, don’t you? You try to control every
breath of my life! But I won’t have it. Not anymore. Do you hear?
I’m a man, and I’ll do what
I
wish to do.” He gestured with
the brandy glass he’d scooped off the table and sloshed liquor on
the carpet at his father’s feet.