An Elaborate Hoax (A Gentlemen of Worth Book 5) (18 page)

George immediately followed, scampering off after the beast.

“’pollo!” Davy called out, stretching out his arm as if he could reclaim the donkey by voice alone.

David held the boy tightly in his arms while Peter had hold of Hercules’s halter in case he should take the notion to bolt. David did not need to worry. This placid creature had not cared a fig for the excitement taking place before him. He stood there completely uninterested in his fellow donkey.

“Wot’s George running off for? Can’t catch him no-ways,” Peter commented. Being a stable boy, he would know better than a footman there would be no catching up to Apollo.

“If Apollo were a horse, he’d run back to the stables,” David commented. “I don’t think that jackanapes is smart enough to do that.”

“—
napes!
” Davy shouted at the top of his lungs, repeating best he could. “Jack-a-napes!”

“Well, you’d better go fetch him.” David hadn’t exactly ordered Peter to do so but had hoped he would take the initiative.

“The footman or the donkey, sir?”

“Either. Both?” David wasn’t certain. Didn’t really care.

“Yes, sir.” Peter’s feet began to move before he actually departed. “I’ll go right now, sir. Right away. I’ll find them, I will.” He turned and ran off in the direction of Peter and Apollo.

David gave some thought regarding this new circumstance. The two children and one quadruped remained. “You sit behind your sister, here, my good man.” David swung Davy up and around, seating him gently behind Lucy. “I suppose we should head home.”

“But what about Apollo? What if they cannot find him? What if he’s lost?” Lucy had the kindest of hearts. Only she would voice concern for such a creature.

“He’ll get lost . . .” Davy mimicked.

“I have every confidence George will find Apollo, and if not George, then I am sure Peter will find them both,” David reassured the children. “However, I do think it best we return. We can attempt this journey another day.”

David retrieved the lead and started out in the opposite direction. Hercules did not move. His neck craned around a bit, but he had not taken one single step to follow.

The wretched beast.

Where was that switch?
David glanced about feeling his temper rise, and he resisted the urge to let out another string of unflattering names that would be repeated by Davy, and for which David would surely be reprimanded by their aunt.

“Come now, Hercules.” David took hold of the lead a bit more firmly and urged with a gentle tug. “We are returning home—the stable. Come on . . .” As if applying reason would gain his cooperation.

“Go on, Hercules.” Lucy rocked forward repeatedly as if her momentum would impel the donkey forward. Davy mimicked his sister while applying his legs to the upper side of the animal with no results.

Devil take this confounded beast!

David wrapped the lead around one gloved hand and grasped it with all his might, vowing not to allow this wretched creature to have its way. The donkey raised his head in full protest.

The lead pulled through David’s hands. He felt the heat of the friction against his flesh, tearing the palm of his gloves. David was pulled off his feet, pitching him forward into a great patch of moistened earth.

Hercules lowered his back end with a great
plop!
He now sat upon the ground as if he were a dog.

Lucy and Davy squealed, giggling with the effort of hanging on. Lucy had wrapped her small arm around the donkey’s wide neck and had grasped a handful of the sparse mane with her other hand. Davy had his arms around his sister’s waist, trying to hold himself in place. Gravity proved to be a formidable opponent, and both children promptly slid down the beast’s back, landing squarely on their backsides.

This was just another example of why David was not meant for life in the country.

As if he had not been thoroughly humiliated, David’s spirit, his clothing, his very essence had been struck a mighty blow. One look at him and Hendricks would have a nervous breakdown. Mrs. Parker would give him such a dressing down, he was not altogether certain he could bear it. Feeling completely defeated, David confessed, if only silently to himself, that he could not feel any lower than at this very moment.

Then the wholly uncooperative, wretched animal, who now sat in the middle of the path, and who had put a period to their afternoon of fun and adventure, had the audacity to bray for a good five minutes.

Chapter Seventeen

D
r. Harding has given us very good news indeed, do you not think so, Mrs. Cavanaugh?” Mrs. Sutton could not contain her enthusiasm when she returned to Grandmother Cavanaugh’s bedchamber after seeing the guest to the front door.

“We could not have hoped for better.” Penny adjusted the pillows around Madam to make her more comfortable and wished that David could be present to hear the doctor’s prognosis for himself. “I only worry that before long we shall find her attempting to race up and down the corridor.”

“How very careless I should be. I promise you I will do no such thing.” Grandmother Cavanaugh waved to her companion to make haste in retrieving her pet. “Come on, Pug, here!” she called and patted the space next to her on the sofa. “Let’s have him right here.”

“Oh, I nearly forgot. This came for you.” Mrs. Sutton handed Penny an envelope before helping the dog onto the sofa, and Penny took a moment to think what was to happen today.

“Thank you.” Penny recognized the handwriting as the very same that also labeled many of the jars originating from Manfred Place. Whether the message was written by Miss Lemmon or Lady Pelfry made no difference, Penny suspected the content would be the same.

“Fetch my cane, would you, Sutton?” Mrs. Cavanaugh pointed toward her dressing room, where her companion headed as directed.

“Your cane, ma’am?” Penny had no notion to scold her, but her reaction could not be helped. “I thought you just said—”

“I only wish to polish the handle when I have the time, my dear,” the older woman tutted. “It so happens I am fully occupied this afternoon, I can assure you. You and my Davy are to visit my dear Mrs. Halifax and hear Mrs. Dunhurst sing, are you not?”

“Yes, we are.” With the sudden departure of David and the children early that morning and the subsequent call from the doctor, Penny had forgotten.

“I intend to host a little party of my own with Lucy and Davy.”

Madam waved at Mrs. Sutton, and the companion, familiar with her employer’s whims, arrived at her side with a small notepad and pencil, ready to take notes. “I have it on good authority they have several drawings for me. So we shall construct an art exhibit. I think they shall like that. Then we shall play draughts and jackstraws, perhaps cards.”

David had warned her about his grandmother teaching the children card games. Although Penny rather doubted there was any chance she would instruct them on the finer points of how to wager.

“And there will be a nuncheon,” Madam informed them. “Cold meats, nice cheeses, and some fruit cut in small pieces for the children.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Mrs. Sutton wrote on the notepad.

“And tell Cook to bake some of those soft, small, round muffins. You know the kind I like.” She rubbed Pug behind his ear. “And you like those as well, don’t you, Pug?”

“Yes, ma’am. Exactly . . . the ones you like. I am sure Cook will be more than happy to oblige you.”

“I’d also like some nice biscuits and those small strawberry tarts. We still have strawberries, do we not?”

Mrs. Sutton, who did not seem to recall, glanced from her notepad. “I will check with Cook to make certain.”

“Very well.” Grandmother Cavanaugh continued with further instructions. Mrs. Sutton must have known there would be more than an afternoon menu, thus the need for a notepad.

Penny heard a faint but distinct, familiar-sounding squeal, and her quick glance to the two other ladies told her neither of them had noticed. She moved to the window to peer outside, where she saw Lucy and Davy scampering to and fro, making their way toward the house. It was Davy she had heard.

Where were the others? Penny had thought they were to ride. Then what had happened to the donkeys? Moments later she spotted David trailing, at some distance, with far less gaiety in his step.

She did not wish to concern the two ladies with her discovery. Since Grandmother Cavanaugh was having such a wonderful time planning out her afternoon, Penny merely excused herself with, “I beg your pardon, there is something I must see to.”

Mrs. Sutton glanced up from her notepad at Penny. Mrs. Cavanaugh broke from her string of dictation to reply, “Of course, my dear. You go right ahead.”

The flow of instructions continued, and Penny sailed out of the room, down the staircase, and toward the back of the house to welcome the adventurers.

Before starting the journey that morning, David had hoped it would be pleasant, but somehow, he simply had the feeling the adventure would not be. He did not quite think the end would come to this. He felt a complete and utter failure.

The wide-brimmed hat he wore had been crushed when driven into the ground. From the ends of the hair on his head to the tips of his boots, he had been encrusted with mud. The carefully crafted cravat had been nearly ripped from his throat. The sleeves of his jacket had pulled apart at the shoulder of the garment, and he feared the seams in the seat of the buckskins had certainly split. He had heard the ghastly sound of the rent, not to mention the sudden brush of cool air encountering his—

Worst of all, he concluded, the blasted donkey had bested him.

After Hercules deposited the children onto the ground, there was no moving the creature. Try as any of them might, there was no budging that wretched ass!

The three of them waited a good half hour, but neither Peter nor George returned, and David had no idea how much longer it might be before their reappearance, if they ever had it in mind to head back to the stables. There was nothing for it but to leave stubborn Hercules where he was quite determined he should remain and return to the Willows.

“We can’t just leave him here, Da,” Lucy had complained.

“
’lees will be lonely,” Davy added.

“Rubbish.” David placed his hand upon Davy’s shoulder to lead the lad away, hoping he would not need to pry the child’s fingers from the straggly fur. “Never you worry, Hercules will come home when he wants our company. Besides, he knows where to find his feed bucket, and to an animal, that is the most important thing.” The donkey, David was certain, did not need help from any of them.

On their way home, as they had on the berry outing, Lucy and Davy ran wild along the path, crossing to and fro, gazing at all the wonders of the outdoors. On their return trip they managed to catch sight of a few deer and frightened away rabbits hiding in the underbrush. Despite the horrible muddle that was supposed to be their outing, the children appeared to have thoroughly enjoyed themselves, thank goodness. Perhaps the morning had not been a total loss.

The shrieks of the children caught his attention. David looked up and watched Lucy and Davy running toward the house, and toward Penny, who had emerged.

How David dreaded facing her. It wasn’t merely his most recent circumstance or his present condition, but he very much regretted last night. During his slow strolling return journey, he’d had ample time to reflect upon his actions and her reprimand.

Even from that distance, there was no hiding from Penny, nor the eyes of a few curious servants who soon gathered around her and whose unwelcome attention began to shift to him.

“It was great fun!” Lucy announced. “We had the best time!”

Davy was quite beside himself with a fit of the giggles and could not mimic his sister as was his habit.

“But my dears, you are covered in . . . How is it you—” Penny, after a few false starts, decided on which question she wanted answered. “What have you two been doing?”

Why did David feel as if he were the villain of all this? There would be some reckoning, no doubt. And to think on it, perhaps rightly so.

“Goodness, just look at you!” Nanny did not sound pleased. “What’s happened to the pair of you?”

“We fell into the mud!” Lucy joined her brother in a bout of giggles. “We slid right down Hercules’s back!”

“Fell
doooooow-n
!” Davy finally managed and motioned with his arms the act of falling, then dramatically crumbled to the ground.

“I can see that. Now you get to your feet, lad.” Nanny glanced at Penny and sighed. “You’re gonna need a good wash. What we will do with those clothes . . . I don’t know!”

“Go with Nanny, if you please,” Penny instructed the children. By her expression she was clearly not half as amused with the event. Nanny, aided by two maids, ushered her charges away, and Penny’s focus shifted from them to David.

He still had quite a ways to travel before he met up with her. By the time he arrived, Penny alone waited for him. She looked to be his antithesis in a light-colored round gown and a delicate, clean ivory lacy cap. David stood before her in all his dirt and said nothing.

“You look dreadful,” she whispered.

“I feel worse,” he confessed.

“Are you hurt?” she uttered without emotion because she could not have cared.

“Am I bleeding?” David glanced at his arms and then pressed his hands to his face, checking to see if there were telltale traces of blood. “I suppose I have firmly placed myself in your black books.”

She remained silent.

He would not blame her if she never spoke to him again. He sincerely hoped she would not pack up the children and leave the Willows for London that very afternoon. In the condition in which Lucy and Davy had returned, David might have put them in danger for all Penny knew.

“The children . . . they are quite unharmed, you know.” He would never see harm come to them. Never. “Did you hear them? They actually enjoyed themselves, despite our misfortunes.”

Again silence. What
was
she thinking?

“Have you nothing to say?” He wished she would say something. Standing before her was becoming dashed awkward.

“I am pleased none of you have been harmed.”

That was it, then. She was merely cross with him.

“Are you still angry?” he ventured. “Angrier, perhaps?” He paid particular attention to her face, watching for a reaction. David certainly hoped he was wrong about this, for he was well in the briars last night. “Perhaps it was not you who was vexed with me, but
Mrs. Cavanaugh
?”

“Mrs. Cav . . .” Penny narrowed her eyes. It was the first real expression from her he had observed.

“
Caroline
. . .” he clarified. David felt her coolness ebb when she broke eye contact with him and glanced at their feet. If he were not mistaken, the corner of her mouth softened as if a smile were contemplated. “We cannot continue in this manner. You must own that we remain at the Willows for my grandmother’s benefit, and it cannot be seemly if you and I are at odds.”

“Of course not.” Her gaze met his once again. “I think I must apologize for my behavior last night. I had no right to—”

“Please . . .” David made to raise his hand to stop her from saying more, but the act of creasing the arm of his jacket loosened a dried clump of mud and it fell to the ground, just missing his soiled boot.

Penny suppressed a chortle. “I am sorry. I do not mean to laugh.” She cleared her throat. “Sir, I am not laughing
at
you.”

“Say no more. I shall allow you bouts of madness if that is what you need to retain your sanity.”

“
‘Bouts of madness to retain sanity’? I am most certainly perplexed by your response.”

David spoke softly, “I think our present circumstance may be causing both of us—” David paused, not wanting to say the wrong thing. “I think it best I apologize to you. If I behaved in such a fashion that might have disgraced my wife, you had every right, and indeed I am grateful. I had no notion my attention to Miss Lemmon would be perceived as flirtatious, for that was not my intention, and I, most sincerely, beg your pardon.” The act of bending his right knee to make a leg caused a chunk of dried mud to loosen from the right thigh of his buckskins and fall to the ground, not altogether soundlessly.

Penny had the wherewithal to not laugh, chuckle, or snicker at the accompaniment to his gesture. David appreciated her composure.

“I should beg Miss Lemmon’s pardon as well, but I can see your wisdom in thinking that my association with her should be kept to a minimum.”

“That might be best,” Penny agreed.