Chapter Two
Grace was in the morning room with her father when Truscott informed him that Mr Peregrine had gone out, but would join him for dinner. Mr Duncombe received the news with equanimity, but not so Grace.
‘Mr Peregrine is very sure of his welcome,’ she remarked, when they were alone again.
‘And why not?’ replied her father mildly. ‘We have offered him hospitality, as we would any of God’s creatures.’
‘But we know nothing about the man.’
‘He has a good heart.’
Grace shook her head. ‘You are too kind, Papa, too trusting. I have put him over the stables.’
‘Yes, so I understand.’ Her father chuckled. ‘I am sure he has slept in worse places.’
‘But you will have him sit down to dinner with us.’
‘Yes, dear, and I would remind you of what the Bible says:“Be not forgetful to entertain strangers.” Hebrews, my love, Chapter Thirteen.’
She smiled. ‘Somehow I do not think Mr Peregrine is an angel in disguise, Papa.’
‘Perhaps not, but I can assure you he is a gentleman and, I think, a man worthy of our help.’
More than that he would not say and soon retired to his study to work on his sermon. Grace tried not to think that he was running away from her, but she was left with the uneasy suspicion that Papa knew more about this stranger than he would tell her. She glanced out of the window. It was a fine day, if she hurried through her household duties there might be time for a ride before dinner.
* * *
Wolf found the little house under the elms without much difficulty. He had taken the back lanes around the village, his hat pulled low on his brow, and he adopted a slouching, shambling gait so that anyone seeing him would not think him a gentleman, let alone Arrandale of Arrandale. The house appeared to be deserted, but Wolf kept his distance for a while, watching and waiting. It was no hardship, for the sun was high and it was a warm spring day. At length the door opened and an old man limped out. Wolf recognised him immediately. The butler looked no older than he had done when Wolf had last seen him ten years ago. The old man sat down on a bench against the wall of the house and turned his face up to the sun. Wolf approached him.
‘Good day to you, Brent.’
‘Who is that?’ The butler peered up short-sightedly.
‘Do you not know me?’ Wolf dropped down until his face was level with the old man’s. He smiled. ‘Do not say you have forgotten me.’
‘I know the voice, but...’ The faded eyes stared into Wolf’s face. ‘Is it really you, Mr Wolfgang, after all these years?’
Wolf grasped the frail, outstretched hands. There was no doubt of the old man’s delight. He said gently, ‘Yes, Brent, I am come back.’
‘Lord bless you, sir, I never thought to see the day! Not that I can see very much, for my eyes ain’t what they was.’ He frowned suddenly. ‘But ’tis not safe to be out here. Pray, step inside, sir.’
‘Let me help you up.’ Wolf took his arm and accompanied him into the house.
‘Forgive me if I sit in your presence, Master Wolfgang, but I’ve got a leg ulcer that pains me if I stand for too long.’
‘I think you have earned the right to sit down,’ replied Wolf, helping him to a chair and pulling up one for himself. ‘You served my family faithfully for many years.’
‘Aye, I did, sir, and very sorry I was when the old master and mistress died and the house was shut up for the last time. Very sorry indeed.’ He brightened. ‘Are you come back to stay, master?’
‘Not quite yet. First I have to prove my innocence. That is the reason I am here, Brent, I want you to tell me what you remember, the night my wife died.’
‘I remember it as clear as day, sir, but I told it all to the magistrate and he said there was nothing in it to help you.’
‘I would like you to tell me, if you will. Starting with the argument I had with my wife before dinner.’ Wolf’s mouth twisted. ‘I am sure you heard that.’
The old man sighed. ‘Aye, the whole household heard it, but if you will excuse my saying so, sir, we was accustomed to you and your lady’s disagreements, so fiery as you both were. You went out and Mrs Wolfgang ordered a tray to be sent up to her room. That left only the master and mistress and Sir Charles to sit down to dinner.’
‘Ah yes, Urmston, my wife’s cousin.’ Wolf sat back. Sir Charles Urmston had always been received warmly at Arrandale. Personally, he had never liked the man. Wolf and Florence had never needed much excuse to hurl insults at one another and on this occasion she had accused him of hating Charles because he was the man Wolf’s parents would have liked for a son, rather than the wild reprobate Wolf had become. The idea still tortured him.
