The Secret Pearl(110)

Miriam’s arms were about Fleur, and she was laughing. “I knew it,” she said. “I knew the whole thing was quite ridiculous. Isabella, my dear, you are like a block of ice.”

“I hope you are not raising Miss Bradshaw’s hopes without good cause, your grace,” the Reverend Booth said.

“I would not do anything so cruel,” the duke said. Fleur looked at him. “I had a long talk with Brocklehurst and got enough of the truth out of him that he will not wish to pursue the course he was taking, I believe. And there was a witness to our talk, whose presence he was unaware of through most of it.”

“Matthew has admitted the truth?” Fleur said.

“To all intents and purposes,” his grace said. “I don’t believe you have anything more to fear from him, Fl … Miss Bradshaw.”

She put her hands up over her face and listened to Miriam’s bright laughter. She was aware of Daniel crossing the room to shake the duke by the hand.

“What a wonderful morning this is,” Miriam was saying. “I felt guilty about closing the school, but now I am very glad I did so.” Her voice seemed very far away.

“She needs to sit down,” another voice was saying, and strong hands were taking her by the arms and lowering her to a chair. And one of those hands cupped the back of her head and forced it down close to her knees. “It’s all over, Fleur. I told you you were safe.”


THE DUKE OF RIDGEWAY liked Miriam Booth. She appeared to be just the sort of friend Fleur needed. She was sensible, practical, cheerful, affectionate. Once Fleur had recovered from her partial fainting spell, Miriam took her off to her room for a while, despite her protests.

He was not so sure he liked Daniel Booth. The man was blond and handsome, quiet and gentle. Yes, all the qualities to make women fall in love with him. Combined with his clerical garb, they might well be irresistible to most women, his grace conceded.

And he cared about Fleur. As soon as the women had left the room, he asked detailed and perceptive questions until the whole story was told.

“Such a man ought not to be the social leader of a community,” he said. “He ought to be prosecuted. Unfortunately, to do so would be to cause Isabella further stress. One must accept the arrangement you have made as satisfactory, I suppose.”

“Those are my conclusions too,” his grace said. “Personally I would like to take the man apart limb from limb and bone from bone, but that, again, would not be in Miss Bradshaw’s best interests.”

The Reverend Booth looked at him with very direct eyes, which seemed to see through to his soul.

“Miss Bradshaw ought not to remain here,” the duke said, “though I am quite sure she is in no danger from her cousin. It would not be appropriate for a lady of her rank to return to my home as my daughter’s governess. I plan to find Brocklehurst and persuade him to release a sizable allowance to her until she gains control of all her fortune at the age of twenty-five. Failing that, I shall try to place her with an older lady as a companion.”

Again those eyes looked into his soul and saw everything.

“I believe you have done more than an employer is called upon to do for those dependent upon him,” the Reverend Booth said. “Isabella has been fortunate. But she is among friends again now. My sister and I have discussed plans for her future. Now that we know she will not be going to trial, we can present those plans to her for her approval.”

And one of those plans involved the curate’s marrying Fleur, his grace thought. And perhaps she would marry him, too, if she could somehow get past a certain event that had taken place in her life in London. And perhaps it would be the very best thing that could happen to her. She had been going to marry the man before the death of Brocklehurst’s valet had changed everything. She probably loved him, and he appeared to care for her.

The duke was not at all sure he liked Daniel Booth.

He should take his leave. There really was no further reason for staying, especially if her friends were willing to help her settle somewhere other than Heron House. He should wait until she reappeared, say a formal good-bye to her, and then begin his journey home.

He could be back at Willoughby less than a week after leaving. Back with Pamela. Back perhaps before Thomas left, in time to offer Sybil some sort of support in the agony she would suffer when he did so. Not that she would allow him near her, of course.

He should go back and try to begin the process of forgetting. It must be done soon. Why defer it?

And yet he accepted an invitation to luncheon and retold his story to an almost silent Fleur and a brightly curious Miss Booth. Fleur looked not nearly as relieved or excited as she should have looked. But of course, the stress of months had only just been lifted from her shoulders. It must be difficult to adjust her mind to the knowledge that it was over, that she was free.