She started to eagerly open it. James placed his hand over hers. “Not here,” he said. “I do not trust that others will not come.” He took the book from her and tucked it in his jacket pocket. “Let’s return home.”
CHAPTER 11
GEORGE INGLEWOOD
There was a loud commotion coming out of the Sheep’s Head Tavern when Cecilia and James came upon it on their way home. In their typical communication style, with merely a glance at each other, they agreed to enter the tavern to see what was going on.
It was George Inglewood standing in a circle of men from the village, toasting his return with cheers and echoes of “Congratulations!” He was grinning and clinking mugs with each man in turn. From what they could hear, the Branstokes concluded George had bought a round for all the people in the tavern.
James and Cecilia approached George as the crowd around George began to disperse. “Did you go with Captain Horsley to Devon?” James asked.
“That I did,” George said gleefully, “and the Captain letmetake charge of the yacht on our return! I’ve been unofficially apprenticing under him for almost a year now, and this is the first time he’s let me captain the yacht. He said I’m a natural! I’m chuffed. I haven’t been able to stop grinning since we docked.”
“Let us add to the congratulations,” Cecilia enthused. “That does call for a toast.” She turned toward the bar. “Mr. Hopkins,an ale for my husband and me, please… Shall we sit?” Cecilia suggested when Mr. Hopkins slid the drinks over the bar to her. “I should like to hear about your trip.”
“Yes! Of course.” George followed James and Cecilia to a table in a corner away from the others in the tavern.
“Did you bring Miss Faith Jones back with you?” James asked.
“Yes. I left her at Mortlake Manor. She was an odd sort, didn’t know if she wanted to cry or be angry.”
“I can understand that,” Cecilia said. “The vicar said she wrote a letter to her mother to explain her anger and perhaps mend their relationship.”
“That was my understanding, and she was angry she didn’t have a chance to do that. But I didn’t get a chance to speak with her much, as I was sailing us back to Folkestone as swiftly as the winds would let us come.”
“You made good time,” James observed.
“Yes, we did. Captain Horsley told me the earl wanted us to make haste. Oh—the Duke of Monteith handed me a letter to give to you on our return here. Unfortunately, I put it in my portmanteau which I sent on home.”
“I’ll get it from you later,” James told him. “Thank you for bringing it.”
“That duke wasn’t happy about Miss Jones leaving with us. Said it was a bad time. She told him she would stay if he felt strongly about it. He got rather angry then, and told her she had to go.”
“Interesting,” James said, now curious about the letter George had. His cousin was not known for having a temper. Had he a tendre for Miss Jones?
A lovely smell came from the direction of the kitchen. “Ummm. I smell something enticing,” Cecilia said.
“Mrs. Hopkins’ pasties,” James told her.
“Are you hungry, Mr. Inglewood? My husband told me Mrs. Hopkins makes delicious pasties, and I am rather famished,” Cecilia said.
“I’ve been too chuffed to eat.”
“Well, you should eat. I’ll ask Hopkins if we might have three pasties,” Cecilia said, rising from the table.
James watched his wife walk away, then turned back to face George. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about your sister’s death. And the death of Mrs. Jones.”
“I heard about Mrs. Jones’ death,” he said. “I’ve been away from Mertonhaugh since two days after my sister’s death.”
“Your father wants to declare Mrs. Jones’ death a suicide. He believes she suffered guilt for your sister’s death and therefore ended her own life.”
George barked out a sharp laugh. “Not likely! My father likes to have truth match hiscreatednarrative. He has always been like that. Truth is not the truth unless it matches what he believes should be the truth,” he said bitterly.
“Why does he want Mrs. Jones’ death classified as suicide other than to see that she is buried in an unconsecrated grave?”
“Because she was one of the people who did not automatically agree with everything he said, nor did she do as he wished. To my mind, the worst thing that ever happened to my father was being named magistrate for the area. He asked for it, you know, and no one ran against him.”
“No, I didn’t know,” James said.
