Keeping the Castle - By Patrice Kindl Page 0,60

by memories.

“Well,” he said cautiously, “we were not precisely begging in the streets.”

Now I did blush. “Of course not!” I said, mortified. “I did not mean you were bound for the poor farm, or anything of that sort!”

“No . . . of course, I don’t think they’ve got poor farms in London,” he mused, still with that look in his eye. “Soil’s not good enough for it, you know, and there are buildings and roads everywhere. Difficult to turn a profit, with crowds of people and horses and carriages trampling your crops all the time.”

My eyes narrowed. Perhaps I ought not to have broached the subject, but I could not help but feel he was making use of my honest sympathy for some sort of private jest.

“Then it was lucky, was it not?” I enquired coldly, “that your cousin and aunt were so hospitable as to receive you here in Yorkshire.”

He gave another great shout of laughter. “Oh indeed! Now there was a famous stroke of good luck for my mama and me!”

“I agree,” I said, more coldly still. “I think it was very good of the Baron.”

The joke, whatever it was, lost its savor. His countenance darkened.

“Yes,” he said, “you would think that.”

We continued on in silence for a few moments. Our conversation seemed to have traveled a long way from the subject of Miss Vincy and her child. Evidently he came to the same conclusion, for at length he said, “I confess I did not tell you all I knew about Miss Vincy, as I promised. You perhaps wonder why I brought her here yesterday morning if I was indeed as ignorant as I claim?”

I nodded, but did not speak.

“I’ve been on intimate terms with the Vincy family for perhaps as much as five years,” he said. “Some two and a half or more years ago I became aware of a crisis going on, about which they did not want me to know. Miss Vincy went away, to visit relatives, I was told, and did not return for over a year. Given the old lady’s temperament, I found it unsurprising that the daughter should get away when she could, so I said nothing.

“Eventually she turned up again, looking a good bit different. She’d changed, and not for the better. She’d lost something—her nerve, I’d say. She got quieter, and it was a long while before she took up her drawing or painting tools again.

“However, it wasn’t until recently, on this visit to Yorkshire, that I had the opportunity to observe her closely, living in the same household as we are. What I guessed was that she had a secret, a secret that she stole off to visit from time to time. And that it lived in this cottage.” He jerked his chin at the house behind us.

“I was curious, I’ll admit.” He kicked at a stone in his path, frowning. “I’ve always thought highly of Miss Vincy.”

I stared at the stone, feeling my spirits sink.

“When she seemed so agitated lately, I decided to investigate. I stopped by here yesterday morning, early. I asked that woman if I could take any messages to Miss Vincy at Gudgeon Park. She jumped at it. Seems the boy had taken a turn for the worse in the night and she was anxious Miss Vincy know about it. I had a look at the child, so I could convey his condition to her, you know. And then I did the arithmetic. Crisis in the Vincy household two and three-quarters years ago; two-year-old boy kept in a cottage close enough for Miss Vincy to visit regularly.

“I am very good at sums, Miss Crawley,” he said. “And this was not a difficult equation.”

I returned to the house from my walk somewhat refreshed in body but much perturbed in mind. Was this why Mr. Fredericks had not proposed when Mr. Godalming was making a nuisance of himself? A man may be excused for proceeding warily under these circumstances, especially when he does not know all the relevant facts.

Of course, a man may have half a dozen by-blows begat upon half a dozen women without anyone even commenting on the fact, let alone giving his prospective bride cause to reconsider the relationship. But a woman most emphatically may not.

My poor Miss Vincy! Did she love Mr. Fredericks, and had she spent yesterday not only in terror for her son but in mourning for the loss of her suitor? Or had she in fact been partial to Lord