Miss Farrow's Feathers (6 page)

"Excuse me, miss, but you've got a visitor to see you."

Good heavens, could Nigel have arrived a full day early?

"It's Mr. Perkins, miss."

Meg was suddenly unable
to comprehend the simple words.

"
I'm sorry, Mrs. Cooper. Did you say Mr. Perkins?"

"Yes, from Glenwick
Downs, of course."

Ah,
that
Mr. Perkins. Of course Meg knew him. He was the steward for the earl, he attended Papa's church regularly. Whatever could Mr. Perkins want, coming here unannounced? Gracious, could something have happened to Nigel as he was traveling?

She tidied herself and let Mrs. Cooper lead her down to the drawing room where Mr. Perkins had been deposited. He gave a friendly smile when she entered the room. Certainly he did not look like a man delivering dire news. She hoped
his looks were not deceiving.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Perkins. How pleasant to see you. I'm sorry, but I'm not quite sure where my father is right now if you were hoping to see him."

"No, Miss Farrow, I actually came to see you."

"Me? Well, I'm happy to help you in any way I can. What is it you need?"

Mr. Perkins cleared his throat and glanced toward Mrs. Cooper who stood silently in the doorway. It was obvious he hesitated to state his business in her presence, although what on earth he could be so concerned about, she could only guess. Still, if he had business that was best discussed in private, Meg knew there was likely good reason.

"Thank you, Mrs. Cooper. If my father
turns up to ask for me, you may tell him I am here. I'll call for you if there is anything we need."

The housekeeper nodded and pulled the door shut behind her as she left them. Meg turned back to her guest.

"Now, whatever has brought you here, Mr. Perkins? Not any bad news, I hope."

"No, Miss Farrow.
No bad news that I am aware of, but..."

"But what, Mr. Perkins?"

He seemed uncomfortable, as if he really did not wish to continue. She bit her lip and wasn't certain that she wanted him to. Whatever could he be about? If it wasn't bad news regarding Nigel's expected arrival, then what?

"I'm afraid you are unaware that the earl confided in me regarding... certain matters
," he began.

"Certain matters?"

"Regarding Nigel Webberly. That is, I should say, the new Earl of Glenwick."

"And what did he tell you regarding him?"

Mr. Perkins hesitated, then continued.

"You know the old earl loved Mr. Webberly best of his grandsons."

No, she hadn't known this at all. "I only ever heard him speak very highly of both of them. He was devastated, of course, when the older one died in that accident aboard ship some years ago."

"Yes. The elder Mr. Webberly's loss was tragic, but the earl was secretly happy to know that Nigel would be left as his heir."

"I'm sure the earl was happy to have anyone left as his heir," she couldn't help but note. "First he lost his elder son, then Nigel's father, and then the elder of the grandsons perished. It's no wonder the poor old earl became such a recluse."

"His lordship had more than his share of sadness in life,
yes. But of course he was never pleased with the elder grandson, going off to live in America when his mother remarried the way she did."

"Yes. I never got to meet that Webberly, he was out of the country by the time Papa and I came to Richington."

"Well, his choice to leave England was a great disappointment to his grandfather. Perhaps that was why they old earl had such especially high expectations for Mr. Nigel Webberly."

"I'm sure that he did."

"So you can understand how devastated he was when Nigel engaged in... well, when you and he..."

"When he and I
what
, Mr. Perkins?"

"The earl was aware Nigel may have given you reason to have certain expectations. I don't know if you're aware, but this caused a rift in their relationship."

"Yes, I must admit I had suspicions of that."

"So you informed the old earl what transpired between you and his grandson?"

"He was a dear friend. Nigel left us all so very suddenly, you must understand. I was confused so I went to the earl. He informed me of Nigel's engagement and, I admit, my astonishment at the time was probably evident."

"So this brings us to
the matter I have come to see you regarding today."

"
It does?"

"Yes.
You must be aware of the rather, er, sensitive documents the earl had drawn up at that time."

"No, I can't say that I am."

"Well, the fact of it is, Miss Farrow, that he did. And now I regret to inform you, they have gone missing."

"But what does this have to do with me?"

"They pertain entirely to you, of course."

"Me? What sort of documents
are they?"

He nervously cleared his throat. "
They are documents of a legal nature."

"Legal documents?"

"You are completely unaware of this?"

"
Completely, sir. I cannot possibly see what legal documents his lordship could have had that might in any way concern me."

"
He did not forward copies on to you? To your father perhaps?"

She was amazed at the very notion of such a thing. What could Mr. Perkins be talking about? She and Papa had been friends with the earl, but certainly there had never been anything of any legal nature between them.

"No, of course not. My father and I were never involved in any of his lordships legal affairs."

"Then he did not tell you of any certain hiding place he may have designated for such things?"

"No. What things? I'm very confused by this, Mr. Perkins."

"So... you are unaware of the arrangements he made?"

"Arrangements? If you are referring to Bartholomew, he merely asked us to look after the bird for him. There were no legal documents made for this, as far as I know."

"No, Miss Farrow. I'm afraid it is another,
far more personal matter I refer to."

"What, then? I honestly cannot guess what you might mean, Mr. Perkins."

He was clearing his throat again, tugging at his neck cloth. It was all very confusing. She ran through any memory she might have of documents ever coming from Glenwick, or anything Papa had mentioned regarding such a thing. Nothing came to mind.

"The old earl
," Mr. Perkins finally continued. "Made specific arrangement for funding to be set aside in the event of..."

"Yes?"

"In the event that..."

"Yes?"

"In the event that a child should be the result of your, er, acquaintance with his grandson."

Her mouth dropped open. A
child
? So, dear old Glenwick thought that she and Nigel... oh my! But she'd never given him any reason to suspect that. Good lord. He'd gone and put his suspicions in writing? Gracious, now that document was missing and was likely to turn up anywhere. After all, the old earl was dead and his steward, his solicitors, everyone was busily putting his house and his documents in order. Nigel would be here to take over and... oh, gracious. Whatever would Nigel think if he were to find those documents?

Oh, but he'd think she'd spoken all manner of ill things about him to his
grandfather! He might think she'd gone straight to Glenwick, carrying horrible tales and accusations, perhaps even in an effort to extort from the man. He would blame her for the rift that ensued between them. Indeed, this was a disaster! Whatever could the old earl have been thinking?

"Oh, heavens, Mr. Perkins."

"Indeed. As you can see, I felt it imperative that I make you aware of this development."

"Yes
, thank you, Mr. Perkins. But I must assure you that—"

"No need, Miss Farrow. It is obvious Glenwick's fears were unfounded and I assure you I will be the very picture of discretion."

"Thank you, Mr. Perkins. I... I simply do not even know what to say."

"Say nothing, Miss Farrow. This is a delicate matter, of course, and the less that is said by either of us, the better."

"But what will we do? You understand I cannot have such a thing bandied about."

"No, which is entirely why I came to you. As you surely have no expectation where the new earl is concerned, then you will undoubtedly want these documents located and disposed of as quietly as possible."

"Yes, certainly. But you said they are missing."

"Perhaps disposed of already by the previous earl; I don't know. I merely thought that perhaps you had some idea of them."

"No, none, sir. Lord Glenwick never once mentioned that he had done such a thing."

Mr. Perkins shrugged, but clearly was very relieved. "Well, then perhaps we are fretting for no good reason. Clearly old Glenwick was under some
misapprehension regarding your relationship with his grandson, and clearly nothing further needs to be done with any legal matters he may have drawn up at the time."

"Other than
we cannot have people hearing about this! Dear heavens, what will they think?"

"Indeed, I can well understand your concerns. Perhaps... perhaps you might like to take a look at the old earl's papers?
You might notice some reference that I have overlooked. I'm sure you would wish to be certain all is contained."

Lord, but if
old Glenwick had suspected such things of her, there was no telling what he might have mentioned in correspondence to family or friends. Mr. Perkins was a kind man to be concerned for her, of course, but it did stand to reason he might have overlooked something amongst the earl's papers. It was not his name that would be ruined, after all.

And Nigel
—the new Earl of Glenwick—would be here tomorrow! It stood to reason the first thing he might do was go through his grandfather's papers. If anything existed there that might shine a dim light on her, she could never face him again. And Papa... oh heavens, what this scandal would do to him.

Papa's living depended on
keeping favor with the earl. She couldn't stand it if her one youthful folly were to bring shame on her father after all this time. Yes, perhaps Mr. Perkins was right. Perhaps she might like to take a look at the old man's papers... before anyone else did.

"Yes, Mr. Perkins.
I do wish it, beyond all."

Max left Bartholomew to chew on his own digits for a while so that Max could steal down to the pantry in search of something—anything—that might distract the bird long enough to hear himself think. He crept down the stairs and his ears immediately perked at the sound of Miss Farrow's delightful voice from the drawing room. She'd avoided him for hours and he'd resented it. Who was she with now? It would be wrong to eavesdrop, of course, but no one could fault him for walking slowly as he passed the door, only slightly ajar.

When he detected a male voice from inside, his slow steps faltered. Miss Farrow was alone with a man! Indeed, how could he not pause with interest?

"Yes, Mr. Perkins. I do wish it, beyond all," he could hear her say.

Indeed, the breathless tone in her voice indicated that whatever it was that this Mr. Perkins had offered, her agreement was heartfelt. Max was enthralled.

"I knew you would welcome my visit," the male voice replied smugly. "I knew I would not regret if I dared to come speak to you on this."

"I'm so glad that you did! But please, Papa cannot know of it."

"Of course. We shall certainly continue to keep the matter quiet."

“I… that is, I’m afraid I feel quite urgent about this. Do you think we might find time to get deeper into the matter yet today?”

“I should certainly think so.”

Max had to clamp his jaw shut to keep it from gaping open. Was he hearing what it seemed he was hearing? His blood pounded as Miss Farrow continued.

"We cannot proceed here, though. You understand, but Papa…"

"
Of course. At the manor, then,” her gentleman replied quickly. “Will you meet me at the manor?"

"
Yes, I can do that. This evening."

"
Can you get away?”

“I will tell my father I am visiting Miss Bent. She’s been ill, so he will think nothing of it.”

Damn, but even Max was impressed at how easily the chit planned her lies. Well, well, well… he knew Miss Farrow was a still water running deep, but he had no idea just how deep she was! And how deep she was in it, apparently.

Just who was this most fortunate gentleman?
Max didn’t recognize the voice, but that was hardly a surprise. He’d met precious few people since coming to Richington on this visit, and he could hardly be expected to recall acquaintances’ voices from all those years past when he spent summers here. It only seemed likely, though, that the manor to which the gentleman referred was the only manor home in the area Max was aware of: Glenwick Downs.

But this wasn't Nigel
—even after these years, wouldn't Max know his voice? Besides, Mr. Farrow said they weren't expecting Nigel until tomorrow. No. It couldn't be him. This Mr. Perkins must be yet another man of the lady's very close acquaintance. Just how many men did this modest little spinster have?

And would she like another?

"Thank you, Miss Farrow. I will do my best to see that our, er, meeting this evening goes well," the man said earnestly.

"I appreciate that, Mr. Parker. A satisfactory conclusion to this will surely be a benefit to both of us."

Max firmly bit his cheek to keep from laughing aloud. Or snorting. My, but the chit was cool about her illicit assignations! Obviously she didn't yet know the man who could kindle a blaze beneath her frigid demeanor. At least, she didn't yet know him in the Biblical sense. Not that Max was one to boast, but he had no doubt he could teach the chilly miss a thing or two.

But who was this Perkins and what on earth could he mean to Miss Farrow? There was nothing in her tone that indicated he meant anything
to her at all. So why was she planning to engage in scandalous activities if there was no real passion to drive her? Curiosity was driving Max to reckless abandon as he pressed his ear against the door.

"Indeed
,” the gentleman said. “With luck, the new earl will know nothing of it when he arrives tomorrow."

"That is certainly my hope. I do wish to continue on friendly terms with him."

"I can understand. You would naturally wish that."

Max had to wonder
what sort of simpering lout this Perkins fellow was. How could he sound so calm and unaffected? Even a fool could see the young lady was just dangling him along. Was this fool so very desperate he would arrange a secret tryst with her all the while knowing she cared more for another?

Then again, Richington was a small village. Choice material like Miss Farrow was not to be found around every corner.
Apparently this Perkins was clever enough to realize that jealousy or posturing on his part would get him nowhere. He'd have to make himself content with what he could get. Still, Max could not reconcile any of this in his mind. What on earth was the woman up to?

"Very well," Mr. Perkins continued
with unmanly calm. "I shall take my leave, waiting with impatience until you can meet me this evening."

"I'll be as prompt as I can," the young lady said
.

Prompt?
Who spoke of promptness when planning matters of passion? By God, the woman was an iceberg. She showed as much zeal as if she were scheduling a visit to the fish market. Max shook his head. What sort of tryst was this, these two unbesotted lovers so casual and indifferent? Why should they even bother to put themselves out for it? He could surely understand Miss Farrow’s lack of interest, but how was the Perkins fellow so even and cool? It was unnatural.

Max was contemplating
what Perkins must have done or said to tempt her in the first place when he suddenly realized footsteps from inside the room were coming toward him. Damnation! He gathered his wits just in time to jump away, back toward the stairs, and pretended to have just entered the area as the door to the drawing room opened.

A well-dressed
—but very middle-aged—gentleman appeared in the doorway. Behind him, Max could see that Miss Farrow was surprised to find someone so nearby. He smiled casually as if he knew nothing and nodded toward the gentleman.

"I beg your pardon, I had no idea there were guests."

With a courteous bow he stepped backward, up onto the bottom step to allow ample room for Miss Farrow and her gentleman to proceed past him toward the front door. They did not. Mr. Perkins understandably narrowed his eye and studied Max. No doubt he had good reason to wonder what Miss Farrow was doing with yet another gentleman in her personal orbit.

She detected the quandary and cleared her throat. "Mr. Perkins, this is Mr. Shirley. He is here assisting my father with, er, a project."

Max bowed once again. “I am the parrot expert, sir. I am assisting with the parrot.”

Mr. Perkin’s brows went upward. “Assisting with the parrot? I was unaware there was anything wrong with the bird.”

“Bartholomew’s fine,” Miss Farrow informed. “But it’s his language, of course. Papa decided we needed to bring in a trainer to reform him.”

Mr. Perkins actually seemed interested. “I see. And have you
had much success, Mr. Shirley?”

“Some,” Max re
plied.

“Very little,” Miss Farrow chimed over top of his reply. “Bartholomew spouts his rubbish all hours of the day and we are yet to make heads or tails of any of it.”

“But we are trying,” Max finished, determined not to let her malign his competence, despite the fact he admittedly had none—in the area of parrot training, at least. “These things take time.”

“Well, I’m sure that his lordship appreciates all your effort,” Mr. Perkins said. “He will undoubtedly be happy to reunite with the bird once he’s arrived back at the manor.”

Even Miss Farrow seemed surprised to hear this. “Reunite at the manor? Do you suppose Ni—the new earl will wish to keep his grandfather’s parrot for himself?”

Mr. Perkins shrugged. “It would stand to reason he might. The bird was very dear
to his grandfather, after all. True, his language is abhorrent, but for sentiment’s sake, I would imagine the new earl will want the bird back.”

Miss Farrow
chewed her lip. “Right away, do you suppose?”

"I don't see why not, especially if Mr. Shirley has not been achieving success with his training."

"But I have," Max argued, pointlessly. "Some."

"Then his lordship will undoubtedly thank you," Mr. Perkins said cheerfully then headed for the door.
"I will inform my employer of these new developments."

His employer? Ah, so Mr. Perkins worked for cousin Nigel. Max wondered what Nigel would do if he knew just how closely his associate was attending his duties.

"I'm sure we will be happy to see the new earl reunited with Bartholomew," Miss Farrow said, following her guest to the door. "And thank you so much for your visit today, Mr. Perkins."

"Indeed it was my pleasure," the man said, turning to face her and give Max a dismissive nod. "And a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Shirley. I must be about my business now, but I look forward to seeing you again, Miss Farrow."

She gave no hint of looking forward to the same as she returned his nod. "Yes, thank you, Mr. Perkins."

Once again Max was impressed by her coolness. She actually showed more emotion at the mention of the offensive parrot being dislodged from her home than she had at the veiled reference to her scheduled liaison with
the bland Mr. Perkins. Who was the fellow that he should presume to know what Nigel would or would not wish to do with their grandfather's prized parrot? Especially if it the good reverend had been specifically entrusted with the bird by the old man himself?

It was all very
odd. Max would most definitely be interested in learning more about Mr. Perkins and this entire situation.

"
Mr. Perkins is steward at Lord Glenwick's estate," Miss Farrow kindly informed Max once the door was shut behind the man and they were alone.

Ah, that explained things. Somewhat. But whatever happened to
Mr. Hastey, the steward Max remembered from his own days at Glenwick? He very nearly asked, but of course that would have enlightened Miss Farrow that he had some connection to the place and he most certainly was not ready for that. Not now, when he was only just getting some solid evidence to prove his suspicions.

"Ah, I see," Max said, although of course he truly didn't.

Miss Farrow didn't seem to care one way or another, though. "If you'll excuse me, Mr. Shirley, I have, er, things to tend."

He bowed politely and stepped aside to allow her access to the stairway. "Yes, I'm sure that you do, Miss Farrow."

She frowned at him, then shrugged and scurried past, trotting upstairs to tend whatever it was she needed to tend in preparation for her evening's plans. He almost felt sorry for her, knowing things were not very likely to go as expected. After all, he intended to interrupt them.

Meg absently tapped the table and glanced
—for the hundredth time—at the clock. Was it her imagination, or was dinner taking interminably long tonight? And could Papa possibly chew any slower? Heavens, but she was becoming more and more agitated every minute. Surely Mr. Perkins was going to give up on her, to think she was not coming.

And of course she really shouldn't go. Indeed, anything that required her to lie to Papa could surely not be a proper thing to do. Then again, it would certainly not be proper if these papers Mr. Perkins mentioned were to turn up in the wrong hands, their horrible accusations and assumptions coming into public knowledge! No indeed, that would not be proper at all
, either.

She had no choice but to
slink over there and help Mr. Perkins look for them. She simply had to find them, or at least be convinced they'd been destroyed years ago. It was wrong to lie and to go sneaking around, of course, but she comforted herself with the knowledge it was for a worthy cause. It would protect Papa, of course.

"You've hardly eaten, my dear," he said from his place at the head of the table.

She started. "What? Oh, but I find I'm not terribly hungry, Papa."

"Perhaps this meal is not to your liking," Mr. Shirley suggested. "Could it be you have an appetite for something else?"

"No, of course not. It's just... I have recalled that I had promised to look in on Miss Bent today. You know Miss Bent, Papa. She's been ill, the poor thing. She's really quite elderly now and her niece has had to go into Town for a time. We know times are tough for them and I do worry so. I feel simply awful that I've not been to see them and after I had promised and all... so perhaps I should go over there now. Yes, I should, don't you think? Of course you do. You always tell me to do what is right, Papa, and I did make a promise..."

Mr. Shirley was
watching her intently. What was that look in his eye?
Condemnation
. It was almost as if he could detect that that she lied! Could he? No, surely not. How could he? She was merely imagining things. He wasn't condemning her at all. He was smiling, in fact.

"It's refreshing to hear a young lady so dedicated to good work, Miss Farrow," he said. "
Too often young ladies seem to care only for fripple and finery and beaux. How pleasant to see you are nothing at all like those pretty packages with nothing inside them but cotton."