Graham shook his head.
CHAPTER 34
Vereker looked directly into his son’s extraordinary eyes, his precious Madeline’s eyes. He said, “Your uncle Tally. He was always very kind, very loving, but he always wanted adventure, wanted to spread his wings. At Waterloo he fell from a French soldier’s sword in his side and, as Eugenie said, he struck his head. He survived the sword thrust, barely, but his head, his thoughts—it’s quite true. Tally came home finally, but he was never the same.” Vereker paused, then, “I saw a strange look on your face, Graham. Did you have a memory of him? He spent a lot of time with you and Simon.”
Graham shook his head.
Donner leaned forward. “You truly can’t remember anything, Graham?”
“No.”
Eugenie said, “If Vicar Piercebridge hadn’t happened to visit his brother-in-law in London, if you and Mr. Sherbrooke just hadn’t happened to be at dinner—the happenstance curdles the brain.”
“It was more than happenstance,” Ryder said. “I believe it was meant to be, and that sounds odd, but I know Graham was meant to come home.”
Vereker felt tears and quickly said, “I agree with you, Ryder. Now, Graham, let me tell you of my plans today. This morning I would like to show you around our home farms, introduce you to our people. You will find them hardworking, honest folk, well, except for Old Clapper, who sits about and complains and suffers his daughter-in-law’s sharp tongue, a punishment, believe me. They will welcome you, you were always well-liked. As a boy, you were always playing with the farmers’ children. And Simon too, of course. I’m certain Mrs. Flock will fill you with her very fine lemonade, perhaps an almond biscuit. Be prepared to repeat your story, all of them have heard it, but they will want to hear it from you.
“This evening, we’ll dine with a man I hold in great esteem, Sir Malcolm Hopson, a mathematician, a philosopher, a man of wit and learning. I’m sure he’ll tell you about a brilliant young man he became friends with then he traveled to the Galapagos Islands some years ago.”
Eugenie snorted, a charming sound Graham thought. “He is a crashing bore, Father, drones on and on. I’ve heard all about this young man Charles Darwin and his outlandish ideas. Who cares about these islands with their silly name? Donner and I will dine with the Willowbrooks, win at whist and enjoy their fine wit.”
Vereker grinned at his daughter. He said to his son, “Unlike you, my boy, she has little interest in science and mathematics and all those wonderful things yet to be invented.”
Graham nodded. “I shall be happy to regale Eugenie and Donner with my adventures, particularly about little Angie who loved to put overripe plums in my bed.” But he was remembering that white veil, those shadows pushing against it, and he realized he wasn’t himself, he was young, only a boy, and he was looking up, probably at Uncle Tally.
Graham would find out from Blakeney where Uncle Tally lived and visit him. Perhaps seeing his uncle would spark more memories. He felt hope. He looked up to see Ryder studyinghim. Ryder knew him so very well. He’d been his father and confidant and his friend for over ten years. Did he guess something as his father had? Probably. What had Ryder and his father seen on his face?
As for Ryder, he pondered as he walked around the estate, through the magnificent gardens, wending through the dozen or so sheep grazing in the wide park opposite the manor. He stood at the edge of the wide ribbon of water, known as the Green Stream. He couldn’t see below the surface and wondered what was down there, out of sight. He wondered what his children would think. Ah, there were only fourteen now since Teddy had left to become a solicitor’s assistant. It was time to find another abused child. So many different personalities, his Beloved Ones. He considered himself the most blessed of men. As he stood there, the green water rippled, stilled again. Maybe there was something beneath that green surface, something frightening, something with slimy scales. He saw more movement, waves building and falling in on themselves. He picked up a stick and threw it at a hump that seemed to rise straight up, not quite breaking the surface. The stick didn’t float away, it sank. Was there something beneath the surface that grabbed it, to gnaw on it, to swallow it? He laughed at himself. Ryder shook his head, he was rivaling his son Grayson’s imagination.
He looked around at the sheep placidly grazing all around him, heard the occasionalbaabecause he was encroaching in their area. He looked at the mighty oak and elm trees surrounding the acres of green grass, rising up the hills, thick and lush. He thought about Eugenie. She’d been welcoming, finally, but he wondered. He’d seen her eyes resting on her newly returned brother, and there was something he didn’t understand in that look of hers, something she was thinking, feeling, but what? Jealousy? When Graham and his brother, Simon, had disappeared she’d been the only child left. Had she been smothered in attention and indulged until shebelieved herself the princess of the castle? Was she really happy he was home? He was a shock, certainly, to all of them. No, no, all would be good. Graham was home, where he belonged.
Ryder walked back to the house, weaving his way through the tame sheep. Of course Vereker hadn’t invited him along with Graham on their jaunt to the home farms. He wanted his son to himself, to show him off to all the tenant farmers, the young god, so perfect. Ryder remembered the time Graham had lied through his teeth to sneak away to a traveling bawdy show in Lower Slaughter. He’d been seventeen, full of a young man’s lust. He’d snuck back into Brandon House, his young male’s eyes still glazed with lust and of course he’d been found out.
Ryder decided he wanted to meet Uncle Tally. Before he left King’s Head he wanted to be certain there was no possible danger to Graham because he knew very well the danger to Graham as a boy was still here or nearby, ready to strike again. Was the danger from this poor man wounded so severely at Waterloo? Did he have any ideas on who had tried to murder Graham and his brother so many years ago? Had he been behind it?
Ryder sighed. Life was always changing and shifting in unexpected ways, bringing in new people whose motives were many times hidden, and people who lied. He also planned to speak to Graham tonight once everyone had gone to bed.
CHAPTER 35
King’s Head
Vereker felt infinitely blessed as he listened to Vicar Piercebridge wax eloquent on the miraculous return of his beloved son, Lord Graham, Viscount Whitestone. He pictured a new stained-glass window, perhaps showing the Last Supper in bright colors, installed directly behind the ancient pulpit. Light would flood in, rainbow colors, if, that is, it wasn’t raining. It would be perfect. He would visit Canterbury himself, make inquires. Perhaps a lovely window could be made and installed by the end of the year.
He couldn’t stop smiling, even now remembering every detail of his time with his son the previous day, meeting all his tenant farmers who, naturally, remembered the young boy, friends with all of their sons and daughters, and Graham had met those sons as young men now, many married with children. Even if they knew he had no memory of any of them, nothing was said.
Vereker encouraged Graham to speak of his time at Oxford, his plans to make English trains the very best in theworld, talking of his ideas for water boilers, and he felt so blessed that he himself had the same interests, only he didn’t believe he was as smart as his son. Well, Madeline had been brilliant, so many ideas she’d had, so many improvements she’d made on simple everyday tools, like a special knife to peel potatoes, simple really but Mrs. Sample had been thrilled. It was odd, though. He’d never before thought of her in that light until Graham spoke of ideas to lessen the lurching of a train and he would swear he heard her voice.
Graham sat beside his father in the family pew, dark green embroidered cushions for Hepburn bottoms for nearly two hundred years now.
He was mildly embarrassed when Vicar Piercebridge smiled continuously at him during his sermon about God’s wondrous miracles, giving himself no credit. But of course everyone in St. Lucy Head knew of his amazing discovery by the vicar, that he was the one responsible for the return of the Long-Lost Heir, no need to belabor the point and be accused of self-aggrandizement. To Graham’s pleasure, the vicar also spoke about Graham’s blessed savior Mr. Ryder Sherbrooke, who’d actually saved his life and made him his ward. He further added that because of Mr. Sherbrooke’s goodness, he, the vicar, was able to meet the young Viscount Whitestone and recognize him as the Hepburn heir and he’d come home to his beloved family. Graham watched Ryder’s face. He knew him well enough to realize he was deeply embarrassed.
Of course Graham had already met nearly everyone in St. Lucy Head, shaking so many hands, accepting so many bows and curtsies when they’d arrived at the late Norman church with its ancient stone bell tower set on a lovely grassy hill, the Channel its backdrop. An impressive church and he’d had no memory of it at all.
He was grateful Ryder sat on his other side, close, a bulwark from his earliest memories, always there ready and willing to protect him, love him, give him every opportunity.Then his father, seated on his other side, touched his arm, smiled at him.
His father.
After service, given more hands to shake and well wishes, Graham wondered how he could get himself alone after luncheon. He wanted to visit his Uncle Tally. But it seemed the only time his father wasn’t beside him was when he had to relieve himself. But then his father, all regrets, told him and Ryder he had to attend to a problem with a tenant farm dispute. He prayed it wouldn’t take long to resolve, and looked toward Graham. Graham knew he wanted him to accompany him, but also knew it wouldn’t be the done thing.
