A Perfect Gentleman(9)
Grace clutched her father’s shoulder. “You mean an asylum.” It was her biggest fear. She knew no judge would stand for her against her uncle as she was simply a female of twenty years. Her father’s left hand came up and patted the one on his shoulder.
“I prefer the word hospital, but it would serve the same purpose.”
She moved to stand in front of her father, as if by sheer will she could protect him. “I won’t let you take him.”
“You won’t have much of a choice.”
Panic seized her heart and her breaths came in shallow puffs. “I will fight you with everything I have.”
The man laughed and emptied his glass again. “Fight, but in the end I will win. Enjoy your time with your father for I am off to see the magistrate.”
Tears stung her eyes and she clutched her skirts. She could not let him get away with this. She had to find a way to stop him somehow. If only Lord Crews were the magistrate, but he was not. Lord Brachton, the absent marquess was. She could only hope he was not at home. Since he had inherited Brachton he had only been to his estate three times that she knew of, and she had yet to meet the man. What would he think of her father and this situation? Was he of a mind as her uncle?
Grace blinked back her few tears and decided not to worry about that Brachton would or would not do because she had no control over his decision at the moment and would simply need to wait. In the meantime, she needed to gather whatever help she could.
“So this is how the perfect vicar lives.”
Matthew glanced up to find his brother, Jordan, leaning against the doorjamb. Of all his brothers, Jordan was the last person he expected to see in his home.
Jordan pulled away and walked into the room. “It is rather humble, don’t you think.” He settled into a settee. “What would Father think? I had to let myself in because no servant answered the door.”
“Due to my profession I live modestly.” Matthew tried to quell the irritation at his brother’s intrusion and insults.
“But we both know you can afford to live a bit immodest. Surely a maid or footman wouldn’t be overindulgence.”
“A young woman comes in the morning to cook breakfast, the midday meal, clean and do laundry. She leaves early on Sunday.”
“Is she pretty?” His brother grinned.
Matthew put down his quill and stood. “Why are you here, Jordan?”
He studied his manicure. “I was bored in London.”
“I forgot you have no responsibilities, in London or anywhere else?” He anchored his fisted on his hips.
Jordan stiffened. “Not by choice.”
“Father is dead. You can do what you want now.”
“As can you,” Jordan retorted. Did his brother guess that Matthew never felt the calling to be a vicar, only that it was expected of him? He had studied, learned everything he could, knowing this was his lot in life, and prayed. But, he was never perfect enough and there was little choice for him now. He didn’t know how to be anything else, whereas his brother didn’t need to be anything at all, being left a good portion of father’s fortune so he never had to worry about a thing for the rest of his life.
“Actually, I am here on business as well as to visit my younger, but much wiser brother.”
“What kind of business could you have in Yorkshire?”
Jordan rose from his seat and roamed the room. “No brandy?” He turned to look at his brother.
Matthew lifted an eyebrow in censure. He did enjoy a good brandy in the evening but the one thing he hadn’t stocked was any liquor. He had planned on sending a letter off to his favorite vintner in London but had not gotten the opportunity. He had only been here little over a week and it was taking him longer to get settled in than he anticipated.
“Not even wine at dinner?”
“On occasion, though I rarely eat dinner here.”
His brother walked over and stood to look out the window. “Where do you eat?”
“I have invitations to dinner for the next two months from different families in the community.”
Jordan turned to him and smiled. “And how many have eligible daughters?”
“Too many.” Matthew groaned.
Jordan barked out laughter. “Well, at least you are allowed a respectable marriage with a respectable girl. Father would probably rise from the grave, objecting loudly the moment the banns were cried for me.”
“Are you sure a respectable girl would have you?” Matthew chuckled.
“Haven’t you heard, reformed rakes do make the best husbands?”
“But, are you ready to reform?”
The smile fell from Jordan’s face. Something bothered his brother, but Matthew hadn’t noticed it until now. Jordan was his normal, cheerful sarcastic self, but the smile was forced and eyes more strained.
His brother gave a quick shake of his head as if to dismiss what was on his mind and focused on Matt. “I just learned something about Adele and Julia. John told me after Clay and Eleanor left for their wedding trip.”
“What kind of news could there be? They have been dead twenty-three years.”
Jordan leveled his eyes on Matthew. “That is just it. They didn’t die. Father lied to us.”
Adele and Julia were killed when he was seven. Their carriage rolled off a bridge during a storm. Their bodies had not been recovered, but there was little likelihood they survived. Why would their father lie about such a thing? Besides, Father had married a year later. He wouldn’t have done so if his wife was still alive?
Or would he?
Matthew shook the thought from his head. It wasn’t possible. The ramifications of such a union were far too large to consider since it meant his father’s marriage to his third wife, Rose, was not valid, leaving their baby sister, Madeline, a bastard. No, he couldn’t think about that now. This would destroy Rose and completely ruin any chances Madeline had at a proper marriage. Jordan and John were wrong. They had to be.
Pounding on the front door interrupted his thoughts and he pinched the bridge of his nose. This was poor timing indeed and he couldn’t imagine who would come to call. At the moment his concerns lay with his brother because something was bothering him, more than the sudden news of Adele and Julia.
“I’ll see who is paying a call.” Jordan strode from the room as if he couldn’t wait to get out of there. Yes, something was on his brother’s mind and Matthew would find out what it was as soon as they were alone.
Miss Cooper’s voice intruded on his thoughts.
“I need your help. Wait, you are not Vicar Trent. I need to see him.”
“No, I am his brother. May I be of assistance?”
Matthew recognized the seductive tone in Jordan’s voice. He hurried to the foyer before his brother successfully seduced the innocent young woman.
Miss Cooper stood just inside the door, her hat askew and dark ringlets tumbled to her shoulders. Her face was flushed and she was a bit out of breath. “Is something wrong, Miss Cooper? Has something happened to your father?”
Her turbulent green eyes focused on him. “Not yet, but if I don’t find help somewhere, they are going to take him away.”
Matthew reached for her elbow and escorted her into the parlor where she could sit. “Tell me what has happened.”
“My uncle Henry came to visit. He does not believe papa can understand anything.”
Jordan stiffened at his side and looked from Miss Cooper to Matthew and back to Miss Cooper. He muttered under his breath and walked away, shaking his head.
Matthew wanted to ask Jordan why he was so agitated since he didn’t even know Mr. Cooper or his daughter, but he needed to focus on Miss Cooper first. Jordan probably didn’t appreciate the interruption. But, his brother would have to wait. Matthew was here to serve his congregation and then he and Jordan would talk.
He turned back to Miss Cooper. “How could he draw such a conclusion?” Though in truth, most of the parish believed the same. “Did your uncle speak with your father?”
“I imagine he tried but when Papa could not answer back in the way he expected he determined he needed to be institutionalized.” Tears swam in her eyes. “I don’t know what to do. He has gone for the magistrate.”
“Who is the magistrate?” Jordan asked.
Miss Cooper looked over at him. “Lord Brachton. I don’t know him, as he recently came to title when the former Lord Brachton passed. I believe he was a great-nephew.”
Jordan brightened. “Then I don’t see it as a problem, for the moment.”
“You don’t?” Miss Cooper and Matthew asked in unison.
“I left Brachton in London a few days ago. He does not plan to return to his estate until the end of the week.”
“You know Lord Brachton?” Miss Cooper sniffed. Matthew found a handkerchief and placed it in her hand.
“We are friends, yes.”
Matthew narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Most of Jordan’s friends were not what one would be called upstanding with the only respectable thing they could attach to themselves was a title, or titled relative. However, what argument could be made against a marquess? As he was the highest ranking member of society in the area, he was the magistrate. Yet, he remembered Brachton from his earlier days. Brachton and his brother were rarely separated, unless it was to take whores into different rooms.