The Riddle of the Shipwrecked Spinster (44 page)

Feeling decidedly light-headed, he mumbled, “I think the other riders did not see or they would’ve stopped. I’m sure Bertie Crisp, for instance—”

“Bertie Crisp! What chance had he of winning, I should like to know! You were the favourite—you could have come in first! You rushed home to help poor Florian, and fought off that howling mob! You were the one to rescue me from that horrid Major. And do not, sir, claim that Gervaise would have done so, for he came charging in so recklessly that he almost ruined—”

Piers could restrain himself no longer. Mary was seized in a grip of iron and crushed against him despite her smothered pleas that he not hurt his poor side. She was then kissed so long and hard that she would have protested had she not been so enjoying it. When at last she was released she was as dazed as he, and sinking down beside him on a convenient mound, she gasped, “Are you quite sure, my dearest love? I really am
a shamed woman and held in contempt by the
ton
, and you are so very honourable a man.”

“I am more sure than I have been sure of anything in my life. Oh, Mary—Miss Cordelia Mary Westerman Stansbury—I do so adore you. I would go down on my knees save that I am not sure I have the strength to get up! Will you, my love, do me the great honour of becoming just plain Mrs. Piers Cranford?”

Her lips gave him his answer though they did not utter a word.

Some indeterminate time later, safely locked in his good arm, Mary said dreamily, “Will you still love me if I am sent to prison for keeping some of the jewels I found?”

He had long since removed her bonnet and now kissed the top of her ear. “I shall visit you every day,” he promised fondly.

“Hmmm…”

“I think I must be alarmed by that particular ‘hmmm.’ What is your inventive mind scheming now?”

“Well, do you know, Piers, even if my mama sanctions our match—”

“Oh, egad! I’d forgot your mama! And much as I love you, my dearest one, I will not allow the lady to bully either of us! If she senses that resolve, we may have to wait for your father’s permission.”

“Not so. I am an elderly spinster of one and twenty, my darling, so I am free to wed whomever I choose. The problem is that I know how badly you are in need of funds and I shall probably not bring a great dowry to—”

“Be still! Í care not for great dowries, and besides—”

“As I was about to say, it occurs to me that were I to write a book about my experiences in some ghastly prison cell, it might provide an even better income than the one about the desert—Oh…
Piers?”

Rattling along in Constable Bragg’s cart, Ezra Sweet grumbled, “It be comin’ on to rain. That won’t help matters.”

The constable said patiently, “There was no need for ye to come, Ezra. I can give Lieutenant Cranford the note.”

“I s’pose ye begrudge me comin’, Jeremiah Bragg. A proper Jeremiah ye be. Spoilin’ everyone’s hopes and plans! Me poor old bones bean’t hurtin’ this here cart, nor my weight taxin’ yer nag undue.”

“No. But if you mean to pinch at the Squire when he already promised you—”

“That were weeks ago, Jeremiah! Months, I dessay! I got a right to
ax
him, don’t I? Careful-like, for Squire have growed hisself into a hasty-tempered young sprig!”

“He was shot, Ezra, and he’s been very ill. Mrs. Franck said Mrs. Burrows was weeping over it and says he looks so thin and tries so hard to be cheerful that she’s afraid they may lose him.”

“Well, that won’t do, that won’t! Who’s goin’ to look after me if he goes away, I should like to know! Where’s he goin’ to go? We need him here! But if he’s pulled you’ve likely chose a bad time to come, Jeremiah!”

“Well, p’raps this here note will cheer him up. Though what it may mean is more than I can come at.”

Sweet peered at the paper in the constable’s large hand. “What’s it say, then? I got a good head fer puzzles. I’ll help ye, Jeremiah.”

Bragg took up the letter and unfolded it. “Seal must’ve failed off,” he said rather sheepishly. “But it don’t make much sense anyhow. It says—” He read laboriously, “‘Father and Pixie soon moving to Milan. If you expect me to wish you well, do not refine on it!’”

“Lor’,” exclaimed Ezra. “That bean’t a nice thing to say! Who writ it?”

“It’s signed—‘De-plor-able D.’”

“I dunno what that jaw-breaker means, but whoever it is
bean’t no friend to Squire, that’s for certain! I knew it, Jeremiah! You’ve chose a bad time to take me to Muse Manor. It be a shocking bad time! Squire will be in one of his ugly tempers, surely!”

In this instance, however, Ezra could not have been more mistaken.

“Halfling!”

Sir Peregrine sprang up from the morning-room sofa as that glad cry rang out. Beside him, Jane Guild gripped her hands and looked with dawning hope from the radiant young lady to the nephew whose blue eyes fairly hurled a joy she had despaired of ever again seeing there.

Peregrine limped forward and seized the hand that Piers held out to him. Scanning that haggard but beaming face, he said wonderingly, “Cawker! I’ve been worried to death! Now what are you about?”

“About to make you known to my future wife, twin!”

“Praise the good Lord!” whispered Miss Guild, joining them and lifting her cheek for Piers’ kiss.

“We met once before, Miss Stansbury,” said Peregrine, enormously relieved. “How very glad I am to welcome you to our family, dear ma’am.”

“You must call me Mary,” she said, adding, “I am a scarlet woman, you must know.”

“I’ll explain about that directly.” Piers turned to his aunt. “And do you wish me happy, my dear?”

“With all my heart,” she answered, shedding tears as she embraced him and then Mary.

Somebody coughed politely.

Glancing up, Piers saw his erstwhile valet, neat as ever, but with a pleased gleam in his dark eyes as he proffered a letter upon a silver salver. “Your pardon if I intrude, sir,” he murmured. “But I am advised this is most urgent.”

“Are you, indeed?” said Piers, taking up the letter. “Am I to assume you have returned to work out the notice you never gave me?”

“I thought I might reapply for the position, Mr. Cranford, if you would not object.”

“What? Despite my wigless head and lace-less jabots?”

Blake said with faint scolding, “You will appreciate that, under the—er, circumstances, sir, at that juncture I dare not detail my true reasons for leaving your service. I was obliged to go at once to support my poor sister.”

“So you deceived me,” said Piers, but he was so engulfed in joy that he added, “You are come in time to be presented to my future wife. Mary, this is Rudolph Blake—my here-and-thereian of a valet.”

Mary, who was now sitting on the sofa holding a soft-voiced conversation with Jane Guild, smiled and acknowledged Blake’s bow, and he murmured his compliments and took himself off.

Peregrine said sternly, “FU have some explanations, twin. I left my marriage preparations to—”

“Yes, well, I’m sorry to say that you are going to have to postpone them yet again,” said Piers, failing to look in the least sorry.

“What?”
demanded his twin, who had better success in looking enraged, although he was inwardly delighted.

“I had thought, you know, Perry,” said Piers shyly, “that—well, that we might have a double wedding.”

“Jove! That would be splendid, but—” Peregrine hesitated. “When? In August? I don’t know—”

“Not in August, I hope. Either Marbury or our great-uncle will be willing, I feel sure, to help me procure a special licence. It may take a week or two, however.” Piers turned anxiously to his love. “Shall you object, dearest?”

“Good gracious,” exclaimed Mary. “You are very sudden, sir. What a good thing I have spent the past week and more in London, buying my bride clothes.”

He stared at her mischievous smile and so ached with love for her that he had to tear his eyes away. “I know that will discommode you and your Zoe,” he said to his brother. “So I have arranged a bribe for you…”

He handed over the letter Blake had brought.

Reading it, Peregrine became very pale, then flushed, and uttered a cheer of delight. “Quail Hill! You old rascal! You have bought it back!”

“Yes, though you will note, if you read on…”

Peregrine read on, then looked up, awed. “In—
my
name? Do you mean it, twin? The property is mine?”

“And the funds to build your house, Perry. Your wedding gift from the family, including, I am glad to say, a generous contribution from our great-uncle! What do you say to that, halfling?”

Mary stood and crossed to slip her hand in his. “Do you not see, my dear one?” she said lovingly. “He cannot say anything at all.”

Gazing at that adored face now entrusted forever to his care, Piers put his usable arm about her and the depth of his happiness overwhelmed him.

Jane Guild watched “her” boys, and said a silent but heartfelt prayer of gratitude.

Over the top of Mary’s curly head, Piers met the blaze of joy in the eyes of his twin; a joy that was, he knew, reflected in his own eyes.

The brothers grinned at each other, but said nothing. There was, indeed, no need for words.