“Were you after something particular in the village, dear?” Mrs. Busby asked me suddenly. “You should send someone to fetch it for you.”
“Oh, I just had a small errand to run.”
“The weather is lovely for it,” the vicar said, looking up at the sky. “Hopefully the Almighty will see fit to grace us with a day as nice as this for the festival.”
“Yes, I do hope so,” I said, using this mention of the festival to move things along to the subject on my mind. “I just saw Bertie Phipps. I know he’s looking forward to riding his new horse in the races.”
Something flickered across both of their faces so quickly that I wasn’t entirely sure I had seen it at all. Whatever it was, I expected it was to do with Bertie and not the mention of the race.
“Did you?” Mrs. Busby asked. “I’m sure he’ll enjoy racing.”
“You haven’t spoken to him lately, then?” I asked casually. “I had thought he was often at the vicarage.”
“Oh, as to that, I … I’m not really sure I’ve seen him much as of late.” She was feigning interest in something in the distance in that way people who are bad at lying have of avoiding the truth.
“I believe that he and Marena have parted ways,” I said. I didn’t know if this was gossip I should be repeating, but I didn’t suppose it would be a secret much longer. Not after Bertie had hit Darien in the inn. Besides, it was clear the Busbys knew something.
“Yes, I think you’re right,” Mrs. Busby said, seemingly seizing upon the excuse that I had offered her. “Now that you mention it, I think Marena may have hinted at it.”
There was something strange going on here. Was it possible they knew about Darien and didn’t wish to tell me? But no. She had mistaken Darien for Milo, so she couldn’t be aware of his existence yet. Perhaps she knew only that Marena had found a new love interest.
I thought I might as well let them know I was in possession of the details. “In fact, I’m afraid that Bertie had a rival, and he … struck him in a confrontation just now.”
If either of them was shocked by this bit of news, they didn’t show it. Perhaps they had seen too much of sin to be much startled by a minor incident of physical violence.
The vicar tutted, as one might over a schoolboy tussle. “I’m sorry to hear that. I hope the young men resolved things.”
“As to that, I think there are emotions yet to be resolved,” I said.
“Well, these things pass quickly with young people,” he replied.
Mrs. Busby nodded. “Yes, I have often seen that to be the case. Well, I do hate to rush off, Amory, but I’m afraid I still have a few more things to tend to.”
“Yes, of course. Are you certain there is nothing I can do to help?”
“No, no, dear. Go home and put your feet up.” She reached out and patted my arm. “Take care of yourself, and we’ll see you at the festival.”
I turned back toward the car, wondering why they had both been acting so strangely. There was more to this situation than met the eye.
6
AS MUCH AS I dreaded it, I knew it was time to sort things out with Imogen. As soon as I returned home, I rang Mrs. Cotton’s rooming house. The maid there was about as efficient as Jenny at the inn had been, and it took several moments for me to be connected with Imogen.
“Mr. Ames has returned,” I said, when at last she was on the other line. “Would now be a convenient time for you to come and see us?”
“I … Yes, that would be all right.” She sounded uneasy, and I couldn’t exactly blame her.
“I’ll send the car for you,” I told her, and this time she accepted.
I rang off, and, after instructing Grimes to notify Markham, who I had asked to wait outside, that she would be awaiting her ride, I went upstairs to change into a more comfortable pair of shoes. Then I went back to the drawing room to find Milo was there smoking a cigarette. He rose and ground it out in the silver ashtray on the table as I entered the room.
I related to him the fact that Darien had taken up with Marena Hodges. I left out the altercation with Bertie, however. There was no need to make Milo angrier with his brother than he already was.
I was quite cross with Darien myself. Though I had never advocated violence, I couldn’t help but feel sympathetic to Bertie’s urge to punch him.
I still wondered why Darien had come here. It seemed strange to me that he should have arrived at the same time Imogen did, especially when he had meant to leave her behind. What was more, he said that he had been in Allingcross for a few days, long enough to meet and court Marena. Why hadn’t he come to see us directly upon arriving?
“And I’ve sent Markham to pick up Imogen,” I concluded to Milo. “Someone needs to break the news to her that Darien isn’t … that he doesn’t intend to … Well, I think someone should tell her what sort of man he is.”
“So she’s still in the village, is she?”
I sighed. “I’m afraid so.” I sincerely wished Milo had been correct in his assumption that she would abscond without notice.
“Then I suppose the least we can do is warn her off.”
I knew all of this must be intensely irritating to him, even more so than it was to me. While he had always lived a life primarily focused on his own pleasure, there was, implanted deep within him, a sense of familial obligation. Whatever responsibilities he shirked, whatever flights of fancy he pursued, he had always made sure that Thornecrest was well cared for, that the easy respectability of the Ames name remained intact. Heritage mattered to him, and now he was suddenly saddled with a troublesome relation who he could neither comfortably embrace nor cast aside.
“I’ll be very glad when all of this is sorted out,” I said as I took a seat near the window.
“Let’s just hope she isn’t up the pole.”
“Milo! You needn’t be vulgar.” Though it had also occurred to me that Imogen could potentially be expecting a child, that certainly wasn’t the politest way in which to couch the question.
He shrugged. “I’m simply pointing out that it would cause even more trouble for her, especially if she returns to London pregnant and claiming her ‘husband’ has gone missing. No one’s going to believe a story like that.”
He was right, of course. There was sure to be a scandal if Imogen was pregnant and Darien refused to marry her. This was the sort of thing that could ruin a young girl’s life.
“Well, we’ll just have to hope that she’s not … in the family way.”
Milo shot me a look that said he thought I was silly for avoiding the word when I was in the condition myself, but propriety had been so deeply ingrained in me that I found it difficult to rid myself of it.
“I rang Ludlow,” he said, switching the subject to our London solicitor.
“What did he say about Darien?”
“Nothing. I didn’t tell him about Darien, just set up a meeting tomorrow morning. I want to talk to him about it in person. I would like to know if he knew anything of this. Surely he would have told me when my father died.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “And there certainly would’ve been some mention of a legacy if your father had left one to Darien.”