Page 31 of Regency in Color

Thomas shook his head. “Can you describe them?

The older man frowned in concentration. “English, dark hair and eyes the same. They came in a wagon being pulled by one horse.” Harold made a motion with his right hand down the side of his cheek. “One had a scar on his cheek, as if he’d been cut.”

At once, Thomas knew who they were. He hung his head, letting out a long breath, his stomach clenching in frustration. “I will tell you,” he said.

“Go on, son. Sit down,” Harold said, motioning to a pair of stools at the opposite side of the stable.

They sat and Thomas let out a long breath. “I was a wee lad when I came to England from Ireland, we settled in the south. Growing up I had a good life. My father bought some land and farmed it. My mother is an accomplished seamstress and was soon in high demand in our village. Because my parents did well, my sister and I never wanted for anything.”

He looked into the man’s eyes. “Unfortunately, I took advantage of the fact the young women of the village considered me handsome and a good catch. Soon I gained a reputation for being the town rogue.”

“I can imagine your parents did not care for it.”

Thomas nodded. “My father put me to work, did his best to keep me in hand. Mother, well, mostly she prayed.” His chest constricted. “One day I met a young woman named Catherine. She was quite pretty and… willing. After knowing her for several weeks, she began demanding I marry her. I was a cad and told her I never had any feelings for her.”

At Harold incredulous look, Thomas continued. “It was cruel. I said it because I wanted her to dislike me and not keep making demands.”

“When did this happen?” Harold asked.

“Almost two years ago.” Thomas let out a breath. “She sobbed and begged me to stay with her. I refused. The following week, she was dead. Drowned.”

Harold shook his head. “Her family blames you.”

“Of course. I do believe it was my fault. Her brothers let it be known they would kill me. It was then, my father insisted I go away. I didn’t wish to run, but my parents insisted I leave. I am not sure how they came to find me here.”

“Do you think she drowned herself because of you?” Harold asked.

Thomas shrugged. “I heard rumors that she and her parents had a horrible row. One overheard her father tell her he wished her dead. Those are just rumors. My mother was told she was involved with another man while with me. I am not sure if it is true or they hoped to ease my burden of guilt.”

“What are you going to do? Do you wish to leave?”

Thomas shook his head. “I am not running any longer. I will face them.”

Harold was thoughtful. “I agree, it will not end until you clear things with them. I pray they will listen to reason. I am sure if they go into the village and ask, they will be told you work here. Depends on how many people know you by name.”

“I go to the village often, it will not be hard for them to find out I am the Yarnsby’s driver.”

“There is nothing to do but wait. I will speak to Mr. Yarnsby. Unfortunately, he may consider it too dangerous for his wife that you remain.”

His stomach tumbled at the thought of having to start again. He managed to save most of his earnings mainly because he was unsure how long he’d remain at each job he managed to acquire. “I understand. May I speak to him first?”

“Yes, of course.”

* * *

Mary wasn’tat the supper table when Thomas and Harold joined Moira and Lottie that evening. It was not unusual as she often ate with the Yarnsby’s.

“Thomas, how was your venture into the village today?” Moira asked. “Where are the things I asked for.”

“I left them in the carriage. I will get them.”

“Eat first,” Moira said. “The food is getting cold.”

After the meal, he retrieved Moira’s items as well as the parcels for Mrs. Yarnsby and Mary. He then went through the foyer to find a place to leave the parcels, the ladies had acquired in the village. There was a side table and he placed them on there with care.

Deciding it was best to get things over with, Thomas went to Mr. Yarnsby’s study and stood at the doorway.

The man sat at his desk scribbling notes in a ledger and looked up sensing him. “Good evening Thomas.”