and now tries to implicate my son? The working classes are full of guile; never miss an opportunity. Elliot is a handsome young man and attractive to the ladies, but never would he stoop so low as you say!’
‘Your son, Clemmy, would stoop as low as it suited him to. The girl in question is young and innocent and not for a moment do I suspect she is in any kind of trouble – apart from the distress caused her by Elliot last evening.’ Helen Sutton took a deep, calming breath, wondering why she should feel so agitated when she had known all along that Clemmy would spring instantly to her son’s defence. ‘What is more, his face will carry the marks to prove it, since proof seems to be what you need. He may also be nursing a swollen nose or a blackened eye, or both, for it was my under-keeper’s young lady your son attacked!’
‘Attacked? I refute it utterly!’ Clementina cried. ‘And I resent your blacking of his character. If you are seeking a scapegoat, then I suggest you look elsewhere. And if it is true that one of your keepers assaulted my son, please to remember that I can have the law on him; teach the wretch his place!’
‘Indeed you can not! I will not have scandal attached to Rowangarth, nor will I have my staff placed at risk by your prowling son. And since it seems you are not prepared to do anything about his ungentlemanly behaviour, Clemmy, then I have only this to say. Elliot is not welcome at Rowangarth until he has made a full and unconditional apology to Giles for his behaviour, and given an understanding that it will not happen again to any member of my household. And until that apology has been received, your son must not set foot on Rowangarth land, for I cannot risk the wellbeing of those in my care. Do you fully understand that?’ The steely quiet of her accuser’s voice sent fear screaming silently through Clementina Sutton. The Creesby affair had been bad enough, but to be snubbed at Rowangarth was unthinkable.
‘I fully understand that you slander Elliot’s reputation,’ she snapped, ‘and he will not set foot on your property until an apology is received by him from you!’
‘Very well. The arrangement suits me admirably,’ Helen breathed, ‘though should Elliot have cause to change his mind and walk through my woods again, I want it understood that my keepers will be instructed to treat him as a common poacher, and pepper his backside with leadshot! The choice is entirely Elliot’s!’
‘Well!’ Clemmy’s voice faltered on the edge of tears, for never before had she seen Helen so angry, so white-faced with outrage. ‘I can only say that things have come to a pretty pass between us when my son – my innocent son – must be treated like a criminal!’ She flung round, her face red and ugly with temper. ‘And if your doors are closed to my son, then they are closed to me, too!’
‘So be it,’ Helen murmured. ‘And now I will bid you good morning.’
‘I cannot believe this is happening to me, and in my own home, too.’ Clementina’s wail of torment rose to fresh heights. ‘My son slandered, accused, and by his own flesh and blood, too. You and I who have always been close, to be parted by the likes of a servant!’
‘The remedy lies in your own hands. Order your son to make a full apology – that is all I ask. That, and an understanding that all members of my household are to be treated with respect by him in the future …
‘To speak plainly,’ Helen sighed, ‘had I sent for the constable, my accusation could well have been one of attempted rape. Elliot must count himself lucky that I care for the good name of the Suttons, otherwise it would need more than an apology to get him out of this!’
‘Rape! You go too far, Helen, even for family! There can be no more said between us save that I will never again accept your hospitality nor set foot in your house.
‘And don’t be too sure I won’t have that keeper of yours up for common assault! We’ll see then who does the apologizing. It might well be me who sends for the police!’
‘Then take my advice, Clemmy; think about it. Wait until the scratches on his face heal and his bruises are gone, otherwise they’re going to take some explaining away – even to our amiable constable!’ With studied disinterest, Helen Sutton drew on her gloves. ‘I will see myself out. Goodbye, my dear.’
‘Dearest! What is it?’ Giles Sutton offered his arm to the woman who stepped uncertainly from the carriage. ‘You are shaking. What happened to upset you so? And why didn’t you leave it to me as I said you should?’
‘I don’t know, and that’s a fact.’ Wearily she unpinned her hat and removed her gloves. ‘And yes, I should have left it to you, Giles, though I thought Clemmy would have listened to reason. Oh, family squabbles are so very distasteful …’
‘Squabbles? You had words?’ Giles guided his mother to a chair, calling over his shoulder for a tray of tea.
‘Words? I asked for an apology from Elliot and was told it will not be offered. So I was obliged to tell her that I will not receive her son and that he may not even set foot on Rowangarth land until it is – offered to you, Giles,’ she sighed. ‘Whereupon your aunt said that neither would she come to Rowangarth, either. When will she ever learn that Elliot is heading for trouble if he carries on as he is? That’s what upsets me so.’
‘Mama dear, Elliot is Uncle Edward’s problem, not yours. And what is more, I’ll lay odds that he’ll turn up this afternoon bearing flowers and chocolates and apologizing charmingly. Because that’s what he is – a charmer. And he can’t bear it when a woman doesn’t fall flat at his feet.’
‘Elliot is not a charmer. Elliot is selfish and spoiled and a womanizer and where he’ll end up is anybody’s guess! Don’t make excuses for him, Giles. You lean over backwards to find good in everyone, and there is no good at all in that young man. What is more, I as good as said so to his mother. I also told her that Elliot would be treated like a poacher if he’s caught in Brattocks Wood again. I said the keepers would pepper his backside.’
‘Dearest, you are priceless!’ He threw back his head and laughed his delight. ‘How Dwerryhouse would welcome the chance to do just that!’
‘Oh, dear. I made a mess of it, didn’t I?’ The smallest smile lifted the corners of her mouth. ‘Clemmy is most put out. She swept past me in a fury as I left, taking the stairs two at a time, yelling for Elliot at the top of her voice. I’m only sorry it will make trouble for poor Edward. Thank you, Mary,’ she smiled at the parlourmaid who placed a tray at her elbow. ‘This is exactly what I need.’
‘A message from Miss Julia,’ Mary smiled, hand on the door knob. ‘She said to tell you that she and the doctor are out walking, but they’ll be back in good time for lunch. Will that be all, milady?’ she murmured, noting at once the hand that shook as it lifted the pot.
‘Thank you, Mary – yes.’
What, wondered the parlourmaid as she closed the door behind her, had happened at Pendenys that her ladyship should come back so agitated? Because William had said she’d left in great haste and never a sign of Mrs Clementina to see her off. William noticed everything.
But it was all on account of that Mr Elliot and what happened in Brattocks. Mary frowned. A bad ‘un, that’s what he was, who’d come to a sticky end. And what was more, Mrs Shaw would agree with her when she told her how upset her ladyship was.
‘Oh dear,’ Helen whispered, when they were alone again. ‘I shall have to tell Miss Clitherow. She won’t like it one bit. And had you thought that, if Elliot doesn’t come to dinner, neither will his mother, and no matter what he thinks to the contrary, your Uncle Edward will, through loyalty, be absent too.’
‘And shall you mind? At least without Elliot there won’t be an atmosphere.’
‘Not one jot shall I mind.’ She was fortified, now, by the tea and the comfort of her own fireside. ‘But had you thought that three refusals will mean we will be sitting thirteen to dinner, and that I mind about very much.’
‘Yes. I see …’ No one ever sat thirteen at table. ‘Mind, there is a