Page 33 of A Foolish Endeavor

“Oh, hello, Father. I am only going for a walk. I thought I might go into Doddington, see if there is any news or gossip. I will be back for dinner.” With a smile, he exited Clayton House.

Evan returned to his tea, but before he had finished the cup, he had made up his mind. He rose and retrieved his coat and left the house to follow his son.

Evan was forced to stay well back while he trailed Miles, as there were many sections where there were few trees alongside the road that he could duck behind if he needed to hide himself. As it was, Miles never looked back, striding with confident intention towards the village. When Evan turned off the road to the main street of Doddington, he saw no sign of Miles. He stood a moment, wondering if he should make a quick inspection of the shops, or simply give up the enterprise and return to Clayton House.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Kendall,” a cheery voice called to him.

Evan followed the sound to see Nancy Slade approaching, a broad smile on her lightly freckled face. A few of her unruly, red curls were visible under her light-blue bonnet which was loosely tied under her chin.

“Good day to you, Miss Slade,” Evan replied. “How are you and your father?”

“Very well, sir, I thank you. If you do not mind my asking, have you heard from Gilbert? Is he enjoying his time in town?”

“He was, until he broke his collarbone in a fall from a horse.”

“How dreadful—will he be all right?”

“In her letter, my daughter, Lady Gillingham, assures me he will be, although his time of dancing and flirting may be over for the Season. She has moved Gilbert into the Gillingham home in town so he can be well taken care of. I hope he will return to Clayton House as soon as he is well enough. It is time he settled down and began his new position as curate to Mr. Morton. I know Frederick is most eager to give him the position.”

“I see.” Nancy bit her lower lip a moment before asking, “And, do you think he will be happy as a curate, sir?”

Evan frowned. “What an odd question, Miss Slade. Of course, he will enjoy being a curate. This has been the plan since he went to Oxford. He will still be able to live at Clayton House, and his duties will not be that onerous. Eventually, he will likely find a living for himself, marry, and get on with his life.” Evan studied Nancy a moment. “Why? Do you believe him to be unwilling to enter the church? What has he told you?”

“I do not wish to break a confidence, sir. Gilbert and I have been friends for many years. I think it a fine thing for him to be a curate. However, I will say that you might do well to… inquire yourself as to what his preference is.” She bobbed a curtsy. “Pardon me, sir, but I must get back to the tea shop. Please drop in, if you have the time and I will be glad to share one of my cook’s new treats with you.”

“Thank you, Nancy, that is most generous. I actually came in to the village to find my other son, Miles. I do not know precisely where he is, though.”

“Oh, I am able tell you that,” Nancy replied in a small voice, her eyes fixed on the ground. “That is, if you truly wish to find him just now.”

“I do. I do wish to find him. Why do you act so odd, Miss Slade, is something amiss with my eldest?”

“I cannot say, sir, but I can only tell you that—since you wish to know—you will find your son at The Queen’s Larder. In truth—and pardon me for saying this—it has become quite his favorite place of late. I have seen him enter it most regularly these past couple of weeks.” She pointed to the tavern down the street. “Well, sir, I thank you for telling me the news of Gilbert.” She curtsied again and hurried away. Evan stared after her a moment.

What peculiar behavior. Why did she seem so uncomfortable telling me where Miles is? What is he doing at that place? He is not one to partake of drinking during the day.

He moved with purpose to the tavern and entered, taking a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dim light. As he scanned the room, he saw several men, mostly laborers, but one or two acquaintances of his, as well. Miles, however, did not appear to be in the room, at least as far as he could see. He nearly turned to exit, thinking he must have missed him, or that Miss Slade was mistaken, but instead, he walked to the bar keep, who was polishing a glass.

The man coolly appraised Evan. “What can I get you, sir?” he asked. “A nice cool ale on this warm June day?” He reached for the spigot to pour the drink, but Evan shook his head.

“I am looking for my son, Miles Kendall. An acquaintance of mine informs me he is spending considerable time here.”

“Your information is correct, sir,” the man said, as he continued to polish the glass. A few men within earshot laughed, and one said, “Aye, that is the truth,” but he ducked his head and turned his attention to his ale when Evan shot him a glare.

Evan turned back to the barkeep to hear more, but the man seemed content to cease speaking. He took a breath and tried again. “Indeed. Well, I have looked around your establishment, and I do not see my son at present. Can you tell me if he is, in fact, on the premises?”

The man merely shrugged.

Evan sighed, seeing how it was going to be. He pulled a shilling out of his pocket and put it on the counter. The man merely glanced at it. Evan pulled out a second coin and set it down. “I would very much appreciate anything you may be able to tell me about my son’s whereabouts,” he said in a low voice.

The man scooped up the money and tucked it into an apron pocket. Then he jerked his head towards the stairs. “Third door on the right is the one she prefers.” Then he turned his back on Evan and busied himself with work.

She? To whom is he referring?

Evan felt a knot in his stomach. He wished he might just leave the establishment and forget the whole matter, but, instead, he climbed the stairs and walked slowly to the third door on the right. He paused to listen and heard sounds he readily identified as those of a man and woman enjoying physical congress together. But was it, in fact, Miles he was hearing? He waited. Then a woman’s voice cried out, “Oh, Mr. Kendall!”

Evan took a deep breath and flung open the door.

Chapter Twenty-Seven