are opening the grounds of Lyford House so that the incumbent of Tresham Magna church, Mr Williams, can organise his annual fête to raise money for the poor children of the parish. Your presence would add lustre to the occasion.’
Devenish rose and bowed. ‘How could I refuse such a charming offer! Of course, I will attend. And you will, I am sure, inform Mr Williams that I shall be pleased to forward him a large donation. His cause is a worthy one.’
He was ironically sure that all his London associates—he told himself that he had no friends—would have been astonished to learn of his generosity since he usually mocked those who salved their consciences by giving large sums to charity. What they could not know was that she had named the one cause to which he always secretly gave: the relief of poor children.
Unaware of this, Drusilla murmured her thanks. He bowed again, saying ‘Forgive me, ladies, if I leave you now. My agent will be in a rare taking if I do not return home soon. I told him that I would be gone for a short time—and now I have spent the whole afternoon away.
‘He will be sending out search parties to find me for he is convinced that, though I may survive in dangerous London town, I shall be quite lost in the innocent countryside!’
The smile which he gave them at the end quite overset the pair of them. It transformed his face, turning it from a cold and stony beauty, like that of a statue, into something attractively human.
Seeing it, Drusilla experienced a totally new sensation. Her whole body thrilled so strongly that she became completely aware of every part of it. For the second time that afternoon she scarcely knew where she was.
Miss Faulkner’s heart missed a beat. What a delightful man! She knew of his nickname and his reputation, but her immediate response was, Oh, what a Banbury tale! Such a charmer as he is could not possibly be the man of whom I have heard.
And so she told Drusilla when he had left them. ‘You do know, my dear, that his nickname is Devilish, and that he is sometimes called Satan. He is supposed to be as hard as nails, and to have the tongue of a viper. As usual, I have to believe that, yet again, rumour lies.’
‘Handsome is as handsome does,’ remarked Drusilla as coolly as she could in an effort to reprove herself for her strong reaction to him.
She paused a moment before resuming. ‘We know little of Lord Devenish other than that he is a charming and considerate person to entertain to tea and muffins. We can scarcely judge of him correctly on such a slight acquaintance.’
‘Oh, you are always so commonsensical, my love. For once allow your feelings rather than your reason to command you.’
Drusilla could not retort that to give way to her feelings might be most unwise where Lord Devenish was concerned—it would be too dangerous—so she wisely said nothing.
‘Forgive me, Rob, if I dashed away as soon as I arrived, but driving in a closed carriage, even for a short distance, always gives me the megrims. I needed to be out—and I was happy to be so. Particularly since I happened across a most charming local family, all bread-and-butter innocence—Mrs Drusilla Faulkner and her young brother, Giles. It was the lad’s misfortune to fall from his horse. Assisting them made me late for my meeting with you’
‘Now, you are not to sneer at them, Hal. They are all that you criticise them for being, and to know them would do your black heart good!’
‘If my black heart were susceptible to tea, muffins and a spinster lady, as well as the brother and sister, then you might be right,’ drawled Devenish, pulling a chair round and sitting astride its seat. ‘Now, pray inform me what has been all a-bubble here that you send for me so peremptorily.’
He made nothing of being called Hal. It had been his childhood name and the only person in the world allowed to use it was square, solid and dependable Robert Stammers who was examining him so quizzically.
‘Before I begin to do so I would wish you to allow one of your labourers, Caleb Hooby, to speak to you on a matter related to the misgivings which had me ordering you to do your duty here at last.’
‘Reproaches, reproaches, Rob, they are all I ever hear from you, but, yes, send him in. I suppose that he has a story to tell?’
‘That he has, and I would prefer him to tell it to you.’
‘Very well, and I had best sit behind your desk, looking as solemn as befits the Lord of All visiting the peasantry both high and low.’
Caleb Hooby proved to be a middle-aged man, decently dressed and nervously turning an old-fashioned brown wide-brimmed hat in his hands.
‘Most kind of you to allow me to speak to you, m’lord, most kind.’
Devenish waved his hand. ‘No matter, pray begin.’
‘It’s this, m’lord. See, I have a daughter Kate, a pretty child, but naughty, just turned sixteen. A sennight since she disappeared late one afternoon. She told her mam that she was off to walk with a neighbour’s girl, Ruth Baker, and would not be long. Not long, she said, m’lord, not long, but she never came back, and Ruth said as how she never met our Kate, nor had arranged to meet her.
‘Not hide nor hair of her has ever been seen since. I feared that she had run away. She had been a wild thing this last few months, and would not be checked. I thrashed her the day before for not helping her mam with the little ‘uns as she should, and mayhap that caused her to leave us. Her mam found that her few bits of clothes had gone, too. One of the labourers on Master Harrington’s estate said that he had seen a lass like her waiting at the crossroads where the London coach picks up passengers.
‘And then, this morning, her mam found her little box of treasures still in the cupboard in the room she shares with the little ‘uns. And when she opened it, it was full of her little bits and pieces, as well as the few pence she saved to buy trinkets for herself and the little ‘uns when the pedlar came round. But what worried us was, why did she leave the money behind if she were going to London? And where got she this, m’lord, as I shall now show you.’
Silent before the man’s anguish, Devenish watched him fumble in his breeches pocket, before he added, ‘And why should she leave such a valuable thing—and her savings—behind if she was off to London to make her fortune? For that was a jest of hers in happier days.’
So saying, he drew from his pocket something that shone and glittered in the bright afternoon sun, which filled the room, and laid it on the desk before Devenish.
Devenish picked it up. It was a necklace of thin fine gold, with a small pendant diamond in a delicately beautiful setting. He examined it carefully and handed it to Robert, who gave a low whistle, and said, ‘Is this as valuable as I think it is?’
Devenish did not answer him, but said in a voice quite unlike his usual mocking one, ‘Tell me the truth, Hooby. Have you ever seen this before?’
‘Nay, m’lord. Never. What should a poor fellow like me have to do with such trinkets?’
‘And you never saw your daughter wearing it?’
‘Neither I nor my missis, m’lord. Who would give her such a thing? She was walking out with Geoffrey Larkin until a month or two ago, but she quarrelled with him. She said as how he was a rough fellow, and not for her.’
‘And
