15. Ruin and Disgrace

The following morning, the Derbyshire tour recommenced. Trips to Ashbourne and Dovedale were arranged for Wednesday and Thursday, but by tacit agreement Friday was kept vacant. Will had intimated that an invitation to dine at Ravenstag might be forthcoming; and when by Thursday evening no note had been delivered, he was convinced that Hannibal intended to issue the invitation in person.

He awoke early on Friday in a state of excited agitation, dressing quickly in front of a mirror which framed a young man with high spots of colour on both cheeks and glittering eyes. After such intimacy as they had shared, being parted from Hannibal for even two days had been a trial. Will had felt it keenly, and he was resolved to confess his feelings to Hannibal at the first possible opportunity. So much had changed between them since that terrible day in Kent, not least Will’s perception of the man he now knew had captured his heart utterly. And it was a constant source of anxiety to think that Hannibal might not realise the full extent of Will’s regard.

An unexpected diversion arrived just after breakfast in the form of two letters from Alana. Evidently one had been at first misdirected; probably, Will noted with fond amusement, as a consequence of Alana’s terrible penmanship. The party had been on the point of setting out on an excursion to the church, to take their fill of its ancient architecture and views over the Derbyshire countryside, but Mr and Mrs Crawford offered immediately to leave Will to enjoy his correspondence. He accepted without demur, not least because such a plan ensured that he would not miss Hannibal, should he call. And so the Crawfords sallied forth without him, and Will settled in to read.

The first letter had been written five days since, and was for the first page and a half a light-hearted commentary on the minutiae of village life over the past few weeks. But the latter half, which was dated a day later and written in unmistakable agitation, was of decidedly greater import. It was to this effect:

Since writing the above, dearest Will, something has occurred of a most unexpected and serious nature. Do not be alarmed – we are all well. What I have to say relates to Abigail. An express came at twelve last night, just as we were all gone to bed, from Colonel Chilton, to inform us that Abigail had left Brighton and had gone up to Scotland – to Gretna Green – with one of the officers. Oh, Will – she has run off with Mr Brown! You may imagine our feelings. To Freddie, however, it does not seem to have been so wholly unexpected.

I am very, very sorry. So imprudent a match on both sides! All other considerations apart, I have long thought Abigail far too headstrong and wilful to match happily with a fellow Alpha. And with such an Alpha as you and I know Mr Brown to be – well. All that we can do now is hope for the best. He must know that there is no monetary gain to be made from this. I am only thankful that Father and Mama do not know the truth of Mr Brown’s past. Let us hope that when I write again, it will be with news of their marriage.

Alana.

Numb with shock, Will dropped the first letter and seized the second. Tearing it open, he began reading with trembling impatience:

Dearest Will,

I hardly know how to tell you what I must, but since writing yesterday I fear I have only bad news to impart. Imprudent as a marriage between Mr Brown and Abigail would be, we now fear that it has not taken place. It seems that before their departure, Mr Brown intimated to Mr Randall that he had no intention of marrying Abigail – that his interest in her was of a far baser nature. When informed of this, Colonel Chilton set off at once from Brighton to trace their route. He succeeded as far as Clapham, but knows only that from there they took the London road.

Father is going to London this very day with Colonel Chilton to attempt to trace them, but the colonel’s obligations require his return to Brighton tomorrow evening. I beg you all, therefore, to return to Hertfordshire as soon as possible, that our uncle may assist Father in his search. And perhaps Aunt Crawford might be better able than we to offer assistance to Mama, for she keeps to her room and will not be comforted. Fredricka is in disgrace for having concealed the match, and Molly only makes Mama worse with solemn prophecies of doom and an insistence on parading around the house reading aloud select passages from Sermons to Young Women.

Do please come home, my dear brother. Never have we needed you more.

Your loving sister,

Alana.

Hardly aware of his actions, Will started from his chair and paced to the window, dragging his hands down his face, sickness rising. How could this have happened? The enormity of it – the ramifications for Abigail and for their family – were too terrible to contemplate. And then... there was Hannibal.

Hannibal, who had warned him of Mr Brown’s unsteady character as far back as the Muskrat Ball. Hannibal, whose own beloved sister had fallen prey to the man Will had boasted of and defended for so many months.

‘She was not my child, but she was my charge... I kept her close to me, wishing only to protect her in her fragile state.’

And now Mischa Lecter would once again be exposed to malicious gossip in connection with the rogue Alpha who had almost been her ruination. And who was now, almost certainly, Abigail’s.

Will dropped onto the window seat and buried his head in his hands. Why had not he exposed Mr Brown when he had had the chance? Now Abigail was lost, and all Hannibal’s reservations about forming a connection with the Graham family were about to be proven horribly justified.

How he will hate me.

There was only one thing to do – find the Crawfords and make immediate plans to return to Hertfordshire. Impetuously he jumped up, but as he reached the door it was opened by a servant, and Hannibal appeared. His smile of greeting – the same warm, intimate smile with which he had left Will the previous evening – faded as their eyes met. And Will, painfully conscious that in all likelihood, after this day, Hannibal would never again look at him in such a way, said in a voice trembling with emotion, ‘Forgive me but I must find my uncle and aunt this instant.’

‘Will? Good gods, what is the matter?’

Striding forward, Hannibal made as if to grasp his hands, but Will shied away.

‘It cannot wait.’

A flicker of hurt crossed Hannibal’s features, but it was quickly schooled.

‘Of course. But let me or the servant go after Mr and Mrs Crawford. You are not well.’

Will hesitated, but he recognised the sense of Hannibal’s words and nodded, retreating to the window seat to sink down again in utter misery as Hannibal recalled the servant and instructed him to find the Crawfords with all due haste. That done, he closed the door, removed his hat and placed it on the table, then made straight for Will, kneeling before him to cup his face between warm palms.

‘Will,’ he murmured, the tenderness in his eyes almost too much to bear. ‘My Will. Tell me.’

Will took one shuddering breath and then another, inhaling Hannibal’s beloved scent. ‘Kiss me,’ he begged. ‘Please, just –‘

In the next instant, Hannibal’s lips were pressed to his, and soon they were kissing with ravenous hunger. Will slid his arms around Hannibal’s neck and opened his mouth beneath his lover’s, greedy to taste and savour while still he could. Only when Hannibal made a noise of concern and broke off to stroke his thumbs across Will’s cheeks did he realise that he was crying soundlessly.

‘Please, Will.’ Gentle, cajoling, brow creased with worry. ‘I cannot bear to see you so. What has happened?’

Tell him, hissed his inner voice. Tell him before he learns it from some other source.

‘I have had a letter from Alana,’ he blurted, ‘with news that I can hardly fathom.’

He disengaged from Hannibal’s embrace and stood up, Hannibal immediately following suit. Will brushed past him and paced the length of the room, in an agony of indecision. How to tell what surely he must? But in the end, the realisation that his aunt and uncle would likely be returning at any moment forced the words from him like bitterest gall, and at the door he turned.

‘My youngest sister has left all her friends – has eloped – has thrown herself into the power of – of Mr Brown.’

Hannibal flinched as if struck, and the colour drained from his face.

Heart aching, weighed down by a dreadful sense of impending loss, Will continued dully, ‘They are gone off together from Brighton. You know him too well to doubt the rest. Abigail has no money, no connections, nothing that can tempt him to marry her – she is lost forever.’

‘Is it absolutely certain?’

No warmth now in Hannibal’s voice, no tenderness remaining. Only a clipped sharpness demanding answers.

‘They left Brighton together on Sunday night and were traced almost to London, but not beyond; they are certainly not gone to Scotland.’

Hannibal’s eyes narrowed, expression now stone cold. ‘And what has been done? What has been attempted to recover her?’

Will sighed. ‘My father is gone to London, and Alana has begged my uncle’s immediate assistance. But nothing can be done, I know that very well. How is such a man to be worked on? How are they even to be discovered? I have not the smallest hope.’ Agitation growing, he slammed his fist against the door, causing the wood to judder beneath the force. ‘I could have prevented this. I knew what he was! Had his true character been exposed, this could not have happened.’

To this Hannibal made no answer. Brows knit together, he stood in brooding silence, and Will waited with head bowed for the inevitable blow. When it came, the accompanying pain was so sharp it stole his breath.

‘I am afraid you have long been desiring my absence. Would that I could – but I will not torment you with vain hopes.’ He cleared his throat. ‘This unfortunate affair will, I fear, prevent my sister’s having the pleasure of seeing you at Ravenstag tonight.’

Tonight. What could have been. Dinner and music and conversation... Stolen kisses... And a night spent wrapped around each other in Hannibal’s bed. But the invitation, barely extended, had been politely, if expediently, withdrawn. Foolish tears pricked Will’s eyes and he blinked them away. Impossible, surely, to be surprised by this turn. He smiled tightly.

‘Oh, yes. Please apologise for us to Miss Lecter. Try, if you can, to conceal the unhappy truth for as long as possible.’ Bleakly, he added, ‘I know it cannot be long.’

Hannibal nodded, gaze intent and grave, and Will pulled open the door, standing aside for him. For a moment, Hannibal looked as if he would say something else; but he only shook his head, retrieved his hat from the table and walked slowly out. In the doorway he stopped, and fixed Will with a long, serious parting look. And then he was gone, and Will was left to wait for the Crawfords in a state of utter desolation.

Hannibal quitted the room with his stomach turning at the thought of leaving Will in such distress, yet knowing that he had no choice. And with each heavy footstep which removed him further from his beloved, he heard over and over the same condemning words.

‘Had his true character been exposed, this could not have happened.’

It was, of course, only right that Will should blame him for this catastrophe – who else should be held responsible, when it was his own misjudged pride which had prevented him from revealing the truth about Matthew Brown to the general populace of Hertfordshire many months ago? Cold trickled down his spine at the thought of young Abigail in the hands of the degenerate Alpha. With no fortune, and little but her youthful charms to recommend her, she certainly presented no inducement to matrimony.

The memory of Will’s kiss provided little solace - he had clearly been in shock and would now, in all likelihood, be regretting that he had momentarily sought comfort with the man who had, however inadvertently, brought about his sister’s ruin.

Hannibal took Firefly’s reins with a distracted murmur of thanks to the groom, and on the long hot ride back to Ravenstag his thoughts dwelt solely on one subject. Back at the house, he strode dishevelled through room after room looking for Margot; and finding her finally in the saloon with Mason and the Cordells, walked across to the sofa where she sat engrossed in a book, plucked it from her fingers and tossed it aside. Ignoring Mason and Mrs Cordell’s outraged clucking, he fixed his dearest friend with desperate eyes.

‘I need your help.’

***

A day and a half on the road saw Will and the Crawfords safely back at Wolf Manor.

‘I have missed you so,’ cried Alana, returning Will’s fierce hug with tears in her eyes. ‘Thank you for coming home.’

‘Of course we came home.’ Glancing at Molly and Fredricka, who stood in subdued silence behind their eldest sister, Will added gently, ‘Whatever happens, we have each other.’

‘Indeed we do.’ With a reassuring smile, Mrs Crawford embraced each of her nieces in turn.

‘And it is very possible that all shall yet be well.’ Mr Crawford came forward, hat and gloves in hand, and lifted an enquiring brow. ‘My sister still resides upstairs, eh?’

‘Yes.’ Alana blushed apologetically. ‘She will be glad to see you though.’

Mrs Graham was unquestionably glad. And tearful. And faint of heart.

‘And I never did trust Mr Brown,’ she declared, casting watery eyes around the small gathering at her bedside. ‘Nor ever did I approve of this whole Brighton scheme. What was Mr Graham thinking, allowing my poor, dear Abigail to go off all alone, like a lamb to the slaughter?’

After ten minutes more of such self-pitying lamentations, Will had had quite enough. He excused himself and tugged Alana out with him, barely saving the expression of his ire for the relative privacy of his room.

‘Lamb to the slaughter!’ he exclaimed incredulously, shutting the door with an emphatic bang. ‘Ever since the Militia were first quartered here, Abigail has had nothing but love, flirtation and officers in her head!’

‘She is very young, Will.’

‘And so we must pay the price for her youthful impetuosity?’

Sighing, Alana held out a folded note.

‘What is that?’

‘Abigail left it for Mrs Chilton. Read it, Will. It might make you feel more charitable towards her.’

‘It is not that I feel uncharitable,’ he insisted. ‘You know how much I care for her. But Abigail’s actions reflect on us all, Alana. Cannot you see that?’

What they had already cost him, he could not yet share with his sister, the pain of his separation from Hannibal still too fresh. Burying his feelings, he took the note and unfolded it with no little trepidation as Alana seated herself on the end of the bed.

‘Colonel Chilton brought it with him from Brighton.’

The note was short and written in Abigail’s distinctive scrawl.

My dear Jane,

You will laugh when you know where I am gone, and I cannot help laughing myself at the thought of your surprise tomorrow morning. I am going to Gretna Green, and if you cannot guess with whom, I shall think you a simpleton, for there is but one man in the world I love, and he is an angel. Do not send word to Wolf Manor, for I wish to surprise Mama when I write to her myself and sign my name Abigail Brown! Doubtless Father will be cross because I am not marrying an Omega, but it simply cannot be helped. I never was destined to be ordinary.

What a good joke this will be!

Abigail Graham.

‘A good joke?’ Disgusted, Will threw the note to the floor. ‘How could she be so thoughtless? So selfish?’

‘But at least it shows that she was serious in her intentions,’ commented Alana, retrieving the note and smoothing it out on her lap. ‘She must truly have believed that they were to be married.’

‘I do not doubt it,’ replied Will, and he reached for his sister’s hand. ‘We know better than most how devious Mr Brown can be. But even had she chosen a better suitor, to behave in this self-indulgent way – well, at least this time tomorrow Father will have our uncle’s assistance in finding her.’

***

But almost an entire week passed without any word, either from the Crawfords or Mr Graham. The one letter they did receive was from Mr Franklyn, who had evidently been informed of the family’s trouble by Lady Price. His resulting long missive provided a certain grim entertainment; and although Will and Alana vowed to keep its contents from their mother, Will bookmarked certain passages and took to reading them at night as a ruthless antidote to his endless pining.

You are grievously to be pitied, in which opinion I am joined by Lady Bedelia, to whom I have related the entire affair…As Lady Bedelia says, this false step in an Alpha pup must surely proceed from the licentiousness of her father…The death of your daughter would have been a blessing in comparison of this. For who, as Lady Bedelia herself condescendingly says, will connect themselves with such a family?

There. His aunt knows. All is now unquestionably at an end between us.

When finally Mr Crawford wrote, it was only to inform them that there was no news of Mr Brown and Abigail, and that Mr Graham would be returning to Wolf Manor the following day.

‘But then who will fight Mr Brown and make him marry Abigail?’ was Mrs Graham’s wailed response.

***

Upon Mr Graham’s arrival home, he greeted Will with a warm embrace and bestowed smiles of varying degrees of warmth upon his daughters, but otherwise said nothing of the reason for his absence. Not until afternoon tea did any of them venture to speak of it, and it was Will who finally plucked up the courage.

‘How did you leave our uncle?’

Mr Graham paused in stirring his tea. ‘Weary and vexed, much like myself. However, he is determined to continue his enquiries, and I have granted him leave to pursue the matter in whatever way he sees fit. For myself, I think it a hopeless business. They could not have chosen a better place in which to disappear.’

‘Surely the choice of location was none of Abigail’s making,’ protested Alana.

‘Perhaps not,’ replied Mr Graham archly. ‘But there was at least one choice in this sorry business that was entirely hers to make. Perhaps,’ he sighed, ‘if she had been better taught...’

‘No. Do not distress yourself in that way.’ Will placed a comforting hand on his father’s shoulder, exchanging worried glances with Alana. ‘Abigail has always been headstrong.’

‘My dear boy, I am not afraid of being overpowered by remorse,’ his father continued, looking up with wry affection and patting Will’s hand. ‘It will pass soon enough. But I am to blame for this and there’s an end.’

‘Do not worry, Father,’ piped up Fredricka, who was busily picking apart one of Abigail’s old bonnets. ‘Abi has always wanted to visit London.’

‘She will be happy, then,’ he commented dryly, and returned to his tea.

***

Two days later, an express arrived from Mr Crawford. Will and Alana found their father pacing in the orchard, the letter clutched in his hand.

‘What does our uncle say?’ asked Will, tensing at Mr Graham’s strained expression. ‘Is not it good news?’

‘Hmph. What of good could possibly come from this situation? But as to the news your uncle has sent –’ Looking as perplexed as Will had ever seen him, Mr Graham held out the letter. ‘Read it for yourself, Will. Read it aloud, for I can hardly make sense of it.’

Will took the letter, and Alana peered over his shoulder as he read.

‘My dear brother,

Soon after you left London, I was fortunate enough to discover in which part of the capital our fugitives had hidden themselves. Shortly thereafter, they were traced and apprehended; and although they are neither married nor even engaged, if you are willing to assure your daughter the settlement previously agreed upon as befitting your Alpha progeny, then the marriage may take place with all due expediency. Mr Brown has some little money, and when all his debts are discharged he will not be in so hopeless a position as at present.

If you will send me full powers to act in your name, I will make arrangements for the wedding to take place within a fortnight. Abigail is now in our care and she shall remain with us until this matter is settled.

Yours, etc,

Jack.’

‘And they must marry,’ murmured Will, returning the letter to his father. ‘Yet he is such a man.’

‘Yes, they must marry. That is the way of the world, Will, and your sister knew this when she consented to the elopement.’ Mr Graham frowned. ‘But there are two things that I would like very much to know – how much money your uncle has had to lay down to bring this about, and how I am ever to repay him.’

‘What do you mean?’ Alana paled. ‘You do not think that our uncle means to discharge Mr Brown’s debts?’

‘My dear Alana, of course he does. The salary of a lowly officer allows little enough for squandering.’

Filled with revulsion, Will turned to Mr Graham. ‘Then the rumours we have heard of his gaming here in Hertfordshire are true.’

‘Here, Brighton, London too, I should not wonder.’ Mr Graham smiled grimly. ‘What a prize our little Abigail has snared. A fortnight hence, I wager your uncle will be short of pocket by at the least ten thousand pounds.’

It was a sombre party that returned to the house, although they were not left long to their reflections. Mrs Graham’s joy at the prospect of her favourite daughter being the first of her children to marry was unconfined, and she arose from her sickbed with admirable alacrity.

‘We must send to Paris for her trousseau, and of course they must be married from here. Perhaps, my dear, you could find a house for them close by in which to settle,’ she wheedled.

Singularly unimpressed, her husband retorted, ‘She shall marry in London, in the clothes her aunt provides for her, whether it be lace or sackcloth. And as for finding them a house, that is done already. Colonel Chilton writes in an accompanying note that he has found Mr Brown a commission in the north – which I presume your brother has paid for – and they are to travel immediately to Newcastle from the church.’

The shrieking and rending of garments which this speech provoked drove all the children promptly into the garden, where they remained for several hours. But for Will, even this was not far enough away; and saddling Winston, he rode out to the pond where first he had met the proud, stern Alpha whose absence he felt every hour like a wound that refused to heal. There he dismounted, stumbling, and fell to his knees, utterly defeated. And there, finally, the hot tears fell, and he cried as he had never in his life cried before.

Why did not I tell him that I loved him? I should have told him. Hannibal, brother-in-law to Matthew Brown? Never. All is truly lost now.

***

In the end, a compromise of sorts was reached for the sake of familial harmony. Mr Graham agreed to provide some little money for a wedding outfit from a respectable London fitter, and the Browns were granted permission to pay a visit to Wolf Manor on their way north.

Thus, two weeks to the day of Mr Crawford’s letter, the carriage was sent to meet the newlyweds from the public coach, and just before dinner it returned. Abigail’s excited chatter could be heard in the vestibule, and when the door to the breakfast room was opened, she ran straight into the waiting arms of her doting mama.

Sauntering in behind her came Mr Brown, looking as nonchalant as Will had ever seen him. He bestowed generous smiles on all, while meeting the gaze of none. Yet for all such bravado, his pretty mouth had acquired a decidedly sulky dip, and his already pervasive scent was tinged with a sickly note.

At dinner, Will was relieved to find himself seated far from his new brother-in-law. This relief was tempered, however, by his proximity to the giddy, giggling bride.

‘My dear Matthew and I agree on every subject,’ she gushed, biting delicately into a mushroom as she gazed admiringly at him down the length of the table. ‘He says that we are birds of a feather. My little hawk, he calls me.’ She fluttered a wave at him, which was returned by her dear Matthew with only a brief, half-hearted lift of the hand.

‘Hawks are, by their natures, solitary creatures,' Will could not resist pointing out.

Evading Alana’s kick under the table, he eyed his youngest sister with wonder. How could not she see what already was evident to him?

The fullest extent of his sister’s folly became clear over the days that followed. Any natural vivacity that Matthew Brown had once possessed was gone. Any depth of feeling which he might have had for his loquacious bride was singularly lacking. He was trapped in a snare of his own making, and no amount of simpering, smirking flattery could be enough to disguise the vicious resentment lurking in his dark eyes.

But Will could not rejoice in the Alpha’s defeat. The price they had all paid for it had been far too dear. And what Abigail’s punishment would yet prove to be, he could only contemplate with genuine sorrow. His one comfort was the knowledge that she had inherited their mother’s pugnacious wilful ignorance.

***

On the fifth day, the uncommonly fine weather drew the whole family out into the garden; and as Will wandered through the orchard, picking his way between rosy windblown apples, he found himself unexpectedly in the company of his youngest sibling. Evidently she had sought him out, for they had not walked together long before she turned to him with a confidential air.

‘Will, you were not present when I told the others of my wedding. Would you like to hear of it now?’

‘I have no particular objection,’ he replied mildly, though in truth the idea turned his stomach. But in another five days, they would be gone. And in all probability, it would be a long time before he saw Abigail again. ‘Tell me, then.’

She laughed happily and looped her arm through his.

‘Oh, it was such a day! Our aunt sat with me while I dressed, and she talked so seriously! But I heard hardly a word of what she said – all that I could think of was my dear Matthew, and how splendid it would be if he was married in his red coat.’

Swallowing his annoyance, Will asked, ‘And was he?’

‘No,’ she pouted. ‘In truth, it was very dull. Why, even Mr Lecter’s coat was brighter, and he only groomsman!’

‘What did you say?’ Going hot then cold, Will stopped dead and grasped his sister’s arm. ‘Mr Lecter? Hannibal Lecter was at your wedding?’

‘Yes, and he was horrible stern! Why, he did not even compliment me on my gown. But, oh!’ Pressing her fingers to her lips, Abigail giggled nervously. ‘I ought not to have said a word about it. It was to be a secret. What will my dear Matthew say?’

Head in a whirl, Will stared at her, a dozen questions perched on the tip of his tongue. Hannibal in London, at Matthew Brown’s side? Acting as groomsman at his wedding? After everything that had occurred between them, it was surely impossible!

‘Will?’ Abigail looked at him anxiously. ‘Swear to me that you will not say anything. I would not wish to get into trouble.’

Will allowed the irony of that statement to pass. ‘I will not say a word,’ he promised.

He would, however, write to his aunt; and as soon as he was able, he took himself away to his room and did just that.

If, my dear aunt, you consider it acceptable to share with me the reason for Mr Lecter’s presence at my sister’s wedding, I would be most grateful to know the particulars. I do not, however, ask you to break any confidences; and if you too believe total secrecy to be necessary, I shall honour that wish and pry no further.

***

When, several days later, Mrs Crawford’s response arrived, the thickness of the envelope was reassurance enough that contained within were all the answers for which Will had hoped. He sought an isolated corner of the garden, and with trembling fingers, unsealed the paper.

My dear nephew,

I have just received your letter, and I must say that both Mr Crawford and myself are exceedingly surprised by it. We had assumed you to be fully aware of all the circumstances, considering your closeness to a certain party...

But I must not be coy. I know how you value plain speaking, dearest Will. The fact is, we had thought that Mr Lecter would have written to you himself. Doubtless he has good reason not to have done so – perhaps he meant to relate the story to you in person – but as he has not spoken to us of his intentions one way or another, I feel no compunction to withhold the facts of the case from you now.

One week after our return to town, Mr Crawford and I received a visitor. It was, as you must have guessed, Mr Lecter. He had apparently been in London for several days, having left Derbyshire only a day after our own hasty departure. He came to tell us that he had located Abigail and Mr Brown, and that he had seen them both. Before I proceed further, Will, I must add that Mr Lecter has impressed us greatly. His behaviour has been impeccable, his manners open and without ceremony. His motives we believe to be entirely guided by his concern and care for you. Not that he has so much as mentioned your name. He shares, I believe, your stubbornness in keeping such feelings strictly under check! But I digress...

Blinking back tears, trembling from head to foot, Will turned the page.

Now I shall know it all.