The story took a while to sort out, Tommy being a man who wandered about in his telling. He began with some tale of dockside taverns that made little sense, and added colorful travelogue. For a boy who’d never left Ashmead, two cities, a major cathedral, canals, and an estuary full of birds had been revelatory.
The earl nudged him back to the main story repeatedly.
Yes, Mr. Benson went to court in Manchester and to an estate agent, too.
Yes, the store appeared fine.
No, he didn’t know about the sale.
Chester because the bishop, and Mr. Benson was that angry with the priest. “But that were good because if they’d given him what he wanted, we’d have come home and Mr. Benson would never have ridden up the Deeside coast.”
“Why did he?” Fanny asked.
“He had me looking for a place to hide a ship. One that could sail the ocean, not one of them little riverboats or canal barges. We didn’t see one the first day.”
Fanny glanced at the earl, who murmured, “Looking for how our villain transported his victims, I suspect. Smart.”
Fanny shuddered.
“Found him!” Tommy crowed. “Ship and some queer cove he recognized. Name of Bateson. I thought Mr. Benson were going to have me charge down with him like pirates or something to take the ship. Looked like thunder, he did.”
Bateson?!“But he didn’t?” Fanny held her breath.Surely Eli wouldn’t charge in there on his own.
“Sent me after Holliday. One mention of this other cove, Everhard, and Holliday gathered up a small army to pound on down there before they could escape. I rode along with them,” Tommy said proudly.
“And Eli—Mr. Benson—stayed in Mostyn to wait?” Fanny asked.Please tell me he did nothing foolish.
Tommy laughed. “They almost got him.” The boy launched into a vivid and undoubtedly embellished story of escape, pistols, and a desperate ride up the coast that Fanny found difficult to swallow. “Besides, he had an appointment with that bishop. He were bound and determined that man would do as he asked.”
The earl—her brother—David gave Fanny the broadest grin she’d ever seen him allow. “That’s the Eli Benson we know, calmly taking care of business while chaos reigns around him.”
That did sound like the man she loved.
“Yep. Finished his business and rode back to Mostyn. Got there as Holliday was bringing the prisoners up from the ship. Sir Robert was with him—Mr. Benson, I mean.” Before the earl or Fanny could ask, he went on, “They met up in Chester. Sir Robert said he knew Eli had business there.”
That left only one question, the thing most important to Fanny. “When will he be home? I know he said three days, but will that be enough time? Can I count on it?”
Tommy shrugged. “Mr. Benson went back to Manchester with Holliday to give his testimony. He and Sir Robert should be here in three or four days. Maybe.”
*
The damned ponycart broke an axel. Eli had endured more terrifying crises on the road, more undignified upheaval, and more hours in bone-rattling motion in the past few months than in his entire life before. Da’s cart on its side was the final calamity in a long line of them.
He’d left Manchester fifteen hours before, one day after he’d sent Tommy on the road. While Holliday had made Everhard spill his guts over Bateson’s evil operation and Rob had dealt with magistrates, all Eli could think about was Fanny. He’d given his written testimony and caught the first mail coach south, the fastest way to get to her, determined to put his courage to the test by proposing to her.
The coach had changed horses every ten miles. For the first twenty or so, he’d worked on a speech he thought might do, rewording and analyzing the main points he would make to state his case. By the third stop, he’d known that for foolishness. He’d taken stock.
What, after all, do you have to offer, Benson, glorified clerk that you are? If it is a hero she wants…As the coach had rumbled over the peaks, he’d reviewed what he had read in her notes. Tall? No. Blond? Decidedly not. Rugged and well-muscled? He’d snorted. Commanding and decisive? Alas, no.A man has to consider a situation before he acts.Loyal? Yes. She wouldn’t find a man more loyal, a man who would be at her side for his entire life. There was that.
But heroism couldn’t be everything. What did a woman want in a husband? Steady income and a home for her children.
You may not be wealthy, Benson, but a steward is a man of stature. You won’t fail her. You can provide.
As they’d passed through Ashbourne, fear had set in.What does Fanny want really? A cottage where she can write. Space of her own. You can give her that, Benson.But was it enough? He wouldn’t know until he asked. He had to put his poor heart at risk and ask the woman.
When he’d disembarked at the Willow, Da, who had come out to greet the mail, had clapped Eli on the back, delighted by the surprise. Eli had asked to use the pony cart and promised to come back the next day for a good talk. “At least I’ll try.” On to the hall and Fanny he’d gone.
Trudging uphill one more time, leading his father’s pony and carrying his valise, he felt a fool. A clerk that couldn’t even manage a cart. He glared up at the imposing façade of Clarion Hall, Fanny’s ancestral home.
