Sleepless in Southampton by Chasity Bowlin
Chapter Twenty
Henry returned to his uncle’s townhome to find the house in an uproar. Philippa was sobbing uncontrollably, his Aunt Cecile was wringing her hands, his uncle was blustering about it being “the right thing”, while Horatia and Mr. William Carlton simply sat there, smug and superior. One person was very conspicuously absent. A feeling of dread crept through him. Something was terribly, terribly amiss.
“Where is Miss Upchurch?” Henry demanded.
“They sent her away!” Philippa cried out, the last going up in a high-pitched wail.
“What?” That couldn’t be possible. Surely, she was mistaken. “Tell me that isn’t true, Uncle!”
“It most certainly is true,” the duke stated emphatically. “I will not harbor a thief in my home! I will not. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Henry, for being taken in by the girl and bringing her into our midst! Look at the disappointment you’ve caused your dear cousin! Not to mention the upset that poor Horatia suffered when she discovered she had been robbed.”
“I fear we may have been hasty,” Cecile stated. “I am so terribly disappointed, but we might not have sent her away in such a manner. Surely we could have sent her back to London by carriage instead of just turning her out into the street?”
“I’m certain she has funds enough to see herself back to London as we have not yet managed a complete inventory of the house,” the duke stated baldly. “No doubt, she has been pilfering from here and yon since she first set foot inside the door.”
He couldn’t fathom what he was hearing, not at first. Henry simply stared at the tragically farcical scene before him, as well as its many players, before the reality of it and its many implications began to sink in. “Do you even hear yourself?” he demanded.
“Perfectly well,” his uncle snapped. “Do not dare defend her to me!”
“Miss Upchurch has been all that was kind and gracious. She has taken to Philippa and Philippa to her as if they were bosom friends. And Mr. William Carlton, who incidentally does, in fact, have some ties to the Darrow School in London from whence Miss Upchurch came, is in this house less than twenty-four hours and suddenly you are willing to brand her a thief? To what end?”
“It was a very valuable necklace!” Horatia protested.
“Yes, and Aunt Cecile has dozens of very valuable necklaces… most of which would never have been missed had Miss Upchurch decided to avail herself of one,” Henry pointed out. “But, no, she elected to steal from someone who arrived here with a limited number of items and would know the count of every one of them. Not only do you believe her a thief, you apparently also believe her to be a stupid one.”
The duke blustered, “Well, that’s… she’s turned your head, Henry. Pretty young girl like that. But you don’t… that is to say, you aren’t thinking quite clearly!”
“I’m thinking more clearly than all of you. So was Miss Upchurch! If you had been, you’d have done a bit more research on the man you entrusted with the care of your daughter!”
“What does that mean?” Cecile interjected. “What are you implying, Henry?”
“Dr. Blake, this physician you’ve obtained? He isn’t Dr. Blake at all. His name, prior to reinventing himself here in Southampton, was Dr. Albert Evans of Salisbury. He married one of his patients there—a young woman suffering from megrims. While under his care, her condition continually worsened until she suffered a terrible accident and died. Conveniently enough for him, her death happened to coincide with the point in time when her family cut them off and refused to continue supporting his extravagant tastes!”
Cecile’s face paled. “Dr. Blake is a fraud?”
“Indeed, he is,” Henry stated. “And were it not for Miss Upchurch urging me to look into the matter, we’d have never known.”
“He hinted that he had romantic feelings for me… and that when I was older, he might become more than my physician,” Philippa offered, still tearful but slightly more calm. “I discussed all of that with Miss Upchurch this morning on our way to the bathing place. She told me what she did, about switching the elixirs after the two of you discovered he’d been giving me laudanum.”
“Laudanum?” the duke bellowed. “I forbade him to give you that horrid substance! He swore to me on his life that he would not. He called it a foul poison.”
“Clearly Dr. Blake, or Dr. Evans, as it were, has quite a gift for lying,” Henry stated. “And he’s not the only one, is he, Mr. Carlton?”
“I’ve no notion what you mean,” Mr. Carlton denied quickly. “Just because the girl was right about this Dr. Blake, doesn’t mean she isn’t also capable of being a thief and a liar herself!”
“When did this necklace disappear?” Henry asked.
“Last night or perhaps this morning,” Horatia said. “It was in the box on my dresser last night when I went to bed, and this morning it was gone. A maid said she saw your Miss Upchurch slinking about in the corridors last night. Why else would she have been if not to steal?”
“Because she was switching the drugged tonic with one that would not be harmful to me,” Philippa answered. “I tried to tell you that, but no one will listen to me!”
“Henry?” Cecile asked. “Is this true?”
“It is. I met her in the kitchen immediately after she had switched out the bottles,” he replied. “And furthermore, she had no need to steal from you, Aunt Horatia. Last night, I proposed to Miss Upchurch and she accepted. We elected to say nothing until we had the matter with Philippa and Dr. Blake more settled, but there you have it. She’d not have risked everything for your necklace when, as her husband, I could happily buy her dozens of them!” With every word his voice had grown louder until he was practically shouting.
“You can’t mean to marry her,” Horatia sneered. “She is beneath you!”
“And Mr. Carlton is beneath you, is he not?” Henry snapped.
“But, Henry—she is illegitimate,” Horatia protested.
“As am I,” Cecile stated. “You appear to have conveniently edited your memory, Horatia, of where I came from. Henry, do you love her?”
“Against all reason, yes, I do. She is kinder and lovelier than anyone I have ever known. She also does not simply expect that I should take care of everything for her and for everyone else, though I find myself quite pleased when the opportunity presents itself to rescue her,” he admitted. “I know we are not of long acquaintance, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Not in the least. I have to find her.”
“She said she’d go to the coaching inn… the same one where she found you after discovering Lady Parkhurst had died,” Philippa informed him.
“Henry, I forbid it,” his uncle stated.
“Then I shall not return here. We will obtain a special license and be married as soon as possible before retreating to Haverton Abbey. I do hope you will put an end to Dr. Blake’s nefarious schemes. I would hope, that after all I have done over the years, you would trust my judgment that much,” Henry replied. And he meant it. If it meant being with Sophie, he would break with his family if they forced his hand. That, more than anything else, told him just how deep his feelings for her had grown in a very short time.
“Do not be hasty,” Cecile warned her husband. “Henry is family… and his judgment has always been sound. I think perhaps it is time for Mr. Carlton to explain his connection to the Darrow School and why Miss Upchurch thought him so familiar at their meeting yesterday.”
“Miss Upchurch was mistaken,” Mr. Carlton said firmly.
Despite his vehemence, it was obvious that he was lying. The man had begun to perspire and his eyes shifted about nervously. Even the duke seemed to have honed in on the fact, despite his own assertions of Sophie’s guilt.
“The truth, Carlton,” Henry demanded. “Or I will beat it out of you.”
“That will not be necessary!” Horatia said. “I placed the necklace in Miss Upchurch’s room… at William’s suggestion. He was convinced that she was an opportunist out to ruin you, Henry.”
“No. That’s what he convinced you to believe,” Henry replied. “Tell the truth, man, or I will beat it out of you.”
Carlton sneered. “You aren’t even married to her yet and, already, she has you brawling like a common criminal!”
There was no thought. No planning or even consideration of consequences occurred. Henry’s fist came back and then flew forward of its own accord, sending Carlton sprawling to the tile floor as blood poured from his obviously broken nose. While the result was satisfying, the degree of violence had not appeased his temper. Stepping forward, he grasped Carlton’s shirt front and hoisted him up against the wall. Holding him there, he drew his fist back again. “I want the truth, Carlton. Not part. Not the pieces of it which cast you in a favorable light! You will tell us what you know or I will beat you until you do!”
“Miss Sophie Upchurch is my daughter,” Carlton shouted, the words coming out in a rush, all but tripping over one another.
“Your daughter?” Horatia gasped, sinking to the floor. “Your daughter? How could you lie to me about such a thing, William? How?”
“I have been supporting her anonymously at that school for years. I deliver the funds in person because I never wanted bank notes to be traced back to me or to have any record of my payments to Miss Darrow. It was a youthful indiscretion and a terrible mistake on my part. I have paid dearly for it since. And you will, too, Marchwood. Blood tells, and her mother was the worst sort of fraud!” Carlton explained, his voice taking on a wheedling note as he pleaded for sympathy. “When I saw her here, I thought… I thought my every chance at happiness would be ruined. That she was here because she knew the truth and would demand even more from me!”
“And hers? What about her happiness?” Cecile demanded. “Did you ever give any thought at all to the woman who is your child? Who even now has been cast from this house like a common criminal because you plotted against her? Oh, we have much to beg her forgiveness for!”
“Go after her, Henry,” Philippa urged. “Please bring her back safely.”
“I shall. And I think it best if Mr. Carlton is not here when I do,” Henry replied, abruptly releasing Carlton so that he fell to the floor like a sack of stones. He landed with a thud and a whimper.
“That,” Horatia said, “Is something we are all in agreement upon.”
