When the ladies left the dining room, Mountford moved to occupy the chair Anabelle had vacated. "You have given my neighbours a very strange impression of yourself, Fielding. It appears Mrs North was not the only one who thought you were my steward."

Henry’s light-hearted tone did nothing to calm Fielding’s anger. “You have reaped the benefit of my experience, and this is what I receive in return. Thanks to Miss Latimer the entire parish now believe me to be in your employ.”

"I never thought so," Mr. Latimer said. When Fielding arched a sceptical brow, the older man added, "Well, not once I made your acquaintance at least." He pushed his chair back from the table to dispose his leg in a more comfortable position. "Can I interest either of you gentlemen in some very fine port?"

After nudging his glass forward, Fielding watched in silence as his host filled it. He then drained the contents in one go, determined to erase the worst memories of the evening in as short a time as possible.

Mr. Latimer refilled Fielding’s empty glass. "Come now, sir. Oporto's finest needs to dwell a moment on your palate for you to fully appreciate its charms."

"After this evening's revelations, I would rather embrace the oblivion it can provide," he said, with a great deal more truth than diplomacy.

Mountford reacted with half-laughing alarm. "Surely things are not so bad? Young ladies do get the strangest ideas into their little heads. It was an understandable mistake to make."

“One person misinterpreting my presence at Blackwood for employment would have been bad enough. It is something entirely different for that same person to spread the tale around all your neighbours as though it was the truth.”

And worse still when the source was the woman he loved. It was this circumstance that caused him the most pain, like a knife plunged into his back. As he dwelt on the memory of Anabelle’s pale, hopeless features staring back at him across the dinner table, the knife twisted further.

He shook his head to dispel the bleak vision and reached for his glass. The sweet, dark port swirled across his tongue, bringing with it lingering memories of ripe blackberries and spicy red cherries, but he derived no pleasure from the warming flavours.

"I still wonder how such confusion could have arisen in the first place," Mountford said to Mr. Latimer. "Before this evening I would have sworn there was no one who could mistake the Master of Meltham for a working man. Indeed, whenever he is bored and in want of diversion, or when he believes the company to be beneath his notice, he can make even me feel like the lowliest gutter-snipe. Had your daughter met my friend at those times she would have realised at once that he has not the humility to be a steward."

"I have been in the presence of the Mr. Fielding you describe. He visited me only this morning. However, I do not think he has ever made himself known to my daughter. As for how the information could be spread, I assure you it would have taken little effort. Anabelle only needed to mention her unfortunate first impressions to my wife. That alone would be sufficient to ensure its dissemination across the entire county."

Mountford shook an admonishing finger at Fielding. "If you are determined to fault Miss Latimer, then you must also blame me. I ought to have told Mrs North you were not a steward before I left for London, but it never occurred to me that anyone would imagine such a thing."

“In that case you must have a pitiable imagination.” Fielding jumped to his feet and began pacing around the dining room, the better to calm his disordered thoughts.

“Perhaps I have, but I see no need for you to fly into the boughs over such a trivial error.”

“I cannot agree with you, Mountford. Do you not comprehend the inevitable result of such a mistake? How can the necessary distinctions of rank be preserved under such circumstances? By branding me a steward to all your neighbours, Miss Latimer has irreparably damaged my reputation and standing within this community.”

Mr. Latimer frowned. “My dear sir, you refine too much upon a simple misunderstanding.”

“That misunderstanding, as you call it, can only reduce me in the eyes of anyone I met during my time here. The approbation I enjoy exists only as a consequence of my rank, my family and my connections. If I cannot command the respect due to my position in society, then what have I?”

As he confessed his fear aloud, the thought of returning to the drawing room—to make polite conversation with Mrs Latimer and her daughters—turned his stomach. “Considering these unfortunate revelations I must beg to be excused from the remainder of this evening’s entertainment. I am sorry that my departure is premature, but I fear I would not make for good company.”

Mountford’s eyes widened. “Surely you would not leave now? The evening is yet young.”

“Of course, Mr. Fielding, I quite understand if you have been made uncomfortable by this unpleasant turn of events.” Mr. Latimer ordered the Blackwood chaise readied. Once the servant had left the room he said, “I must proffer my sincere apologies for the embarrassment my daughter has caused you. I had thought her too intelligent to make such a basic error in judgement. You have every right to be furious.”

It seemed to Fielding that the older man was content to lay all the blame upon his daughter's shoulders. Yet Mr. Latimer was also responsible for the scene that had played out at the dinner table, when he had singled Anabelle out for particular censure. "You, sir, could have avoided much of this evening's unpleasantness, if you had been of a mind."

Mr. Latimer seemed neither surprised nor annoyed by the accusation, and answered in his usual unconcerned tone. “What might your reaction have been if I had revealed Belle’s mistaken belief in the privacy of my study? To be sure, your pride might have suffered a lesser wound, but I doubt you would have stayed long enough to sit down for dinner. You would also have missed seeing the evidence of my daughter’s sincere remorse and regret with your own eyes.”

He could not agree that Mr Latimer’s chosen course had been in anyone’s best interests. “You were well aware of my position, yet you chose not to enlighten your family.”

For the first time he saw a hint of frustration in Mr. Latimer’s eyes. “I have better things to do than listen to village gossip. It is no concern of mine what others think.”

“And on top of that, you decided to emphasise Miss Latimer’s involvement, at a moment of your choosing, knowing full well the embarrassment it would cause, not only to myself but to your daughter as well. There is more than one Latimer in this house whose behaviour requires an apology. Now, if you will excuse me, sir, it is past time I take my leave.” Fielding tossed back the last of his port then looked across the table to Mountford. “Do you join me, or should I return the carriage for you?”

“We cannot both leave early. It would be most improper. With Mr. Latimer’s permission I will enjoy his company for a while longer.”

“And I will return Sir Henry safe and well in my own carriage at the end of the evening.”

“As you wish.” Fielding offered Mr. Latimer the briefest of bows before he strode from the room.

The hallway beyond was silent. The housekeeper waited by the front door, ready to offer assistance with his coat and hat. It took only a few minutes before Fielding found himself alone in Mountford’s chaise; his thoughts as cold and dark as the evening sky that enveloped him. As he wrapped his anger around him like a cloak, he considered his future, far away from Blackwood, Haltford and Woodside.

Upon his return to Blackwood he avoided the door to the parlour where Mountford’s other guests were entertaining themselves with what sounded like an uninspiring game of charades. Instead, Fielding climbed the stairs, hopeful that he would reach his chamber unobserved.

That desire was soon thwarted when one of the other bedroom doors opened unexpectedly.

Sally gasped, but her surprise soon gave way to a smile. “Tony? I had not expected you back so soon.” As she met his eyes her face fell. “Whatever is the matter?”

He drew in a breath, and attempted to project an outward calm. “There is nothing wrong with me. I am well enough.”

“Then why—?”

Overwhelmed by the events of the evening, he balked at her sympathy, instead turning towards his own room. “Do not ask, I beg you.” Any hope he may have felt that she would respect his desire for solitude melted like a spring frost as he heard her footsteps behind him.

He entered his own chamber as his man was turning down the bed.

“Sir! I did not look to see you until later.”

“We are returning to London tomorrow. Have everything packed and ready to leave by mid-day.”

“Yes, sir, but I thought—”

A sharp voice rang out from the doorway. “Mr. Parkes, if you would kindly leave us for a moment.”

“Certainly, Miss.”

Fielding straightened his back, his voice firm. “Parkes, you will stay where you are. Miss Mountford is returning to her guests.”

Sally’s familiar laugh sounded behind him. “Mr. Parkes, I fear your master is not quite himself. Please fetch him some brandy. You will find the decanter on the sideboard in the dining room.”

The ever inscrutable Parkes caught Fielding’s gaze, and he saw a hint of apology in the valet’s eyes before he bowed towards Sally. “Yes, Miss.”

Fielding’s anger grew as his valet passed beyond his sight. As the door closed behind Parkes he folded his arms across his chest and lifted his chin. Yet still he refused to turn, or acknowledge Sally’s presence.

“Would you not rather tell me yourself, or are you content to let Henry divulge all when he returns home? Whatever has happened you know he will paint events in the worst possible light.”

Sally was every bit as recalcitrant as determined. As soon as she fixed her course he could only postpone what would be an inevitable conversation. “For once, I doubt even your brother could make the situation any worse than it is at present.”

He expected a mocking response, and after a few minutes of silence Fielding wondered whether Sally had slipped out, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He turned. She stood by his writing desk, examining the hilt of his pen-knife. Her eyes rose to meet his, but she spoke not a word.

“Why are you still here?”

She lifted her chin as her placid gaze pierced him from across the room, but remained mute.

Despite himself, Fielding felt the anger within him beginning to cool. “Your guests downstairs would appreciate your presence more than I.”

She smiled then. “I have a guest upstairs who needs my attention too. Dearest Tony, I have never seen you so perturbed. Whatever has happened between you and Henry, I am sure we can put it right. He would mourn the loss of your valuable friendship, as would we all.”

“What makes you think this is about Henry?”

“I cannot imagine any other reason for you leaving him behind, or returning to town with such unseemly haste.”

“This has nothing to do with your brother.”

“Are you certain? What else would send Anthony Fielding tearing back to London? Unless…”

He waited, wondering what alternative speculation she might propose. No matter what her imagination conjured, Sally Mountford would be as shocked as he to discover the truth.

After another minute of silent contemplation, his visitor lowered the pen-knife to the desk and glided towards him. Her clear blue eyes studied his face as she placed a comforting hand upon his arm. “Whatever the cause of your disordered equanimity, there is little in this life that is as terrible as it might first seem. The human spirit is a resilient vessel, capable of surviving even the most violent storm. Wounded pride has a voracious appetite, and continued misery will only nourish it. You must starve it of sustenance to find true peace.”

His bitter laugh echoed around the room. “You throw my own words back in my face?”

She shrugged her elegant shoulders. “It was good advice. I may not have remembered it verbatim, but the sentiment remains the same. Once you were my rock in the midst of a tempest. I could not call myself a friend if I did not return the favour.”

For a moment the temptation to divulge the whole wretched mess rose up within him, but he held himself firm. His damnable Fielding pride would not permit him to lay his emotions open to minute examination, least of all to Sally.

“Are you determined to leave?”

“I have no choice.”

“Do not be hasty. You should at least wait until tomorrow before you make your final decision. The night often brings with it wise counsel.” Her hand fell to her side and she smiled up at him before she turned to leave. At the door she met Parkes, who carried a tray with a decanter and two glasses. “What an efficient man you are, Mr. Parkes, but why the second glass?”

“I thought you might wish one for yourself, miss.”

“Me? I could not possibly drink with Mr. Fielding in his bedchamber. The two of us, alone together? That would be terribly improper!” Sally’s laughter echoed as she disappeared into the dimly lit hallway.

* * * * * *

Apologies for the delayed chapter this week. I will be travelling to France on Friday for two weeks. During that time my intention is to stick to my posting schedule, internet connection permitting. I may not have time to respond personally to your comments while I am away, but I am always very happy to see each read, vote or comment. xx

Au revior until next week!