Daphne by MC Beaton Read Free Book Online

social behaviour and so she roused herself to talk at length to the bishop about the business of the parish. Mrs Armitage never knew very much about what was going on in the village, but what she did not know, she made up. The bishop was obviously disappointed that he was not going to be allowed to make the Reverend Armitage’s life a misery, but warring with that was the joy of bearing off with him one thousand guineas.
    The light was failing rapidly and although there was to be a full moon, the bishop at last announced his intention of taking his leave. Mr Garfield, also, said he must be leaving as he meant to return to his friends at Hopeminster. Relief lightened the spirits of the party. Lady Godolphin was delighted because she had taken the bishop in dislike, the vicar because he was to keep his pack, and Daphne, because shefound Mr Garfield’s presence disturbing and threatening.
    ‘Well,’ said Dr Philpotts, getting to his feet, ‘I will be most grateful to take that sum of money you promised, Mr Garfield. It will be most welcome and …’
    ‘I’m not giving it to you ,’ said Mr Garfield, raising one thin eyebrow. ‘I thought I had made myself plain. The money is to go to Mr Armitage for repairs to his church.’
    For one brief moment a most unchristian look flitted across the fat, white features of the bishop, and then he forced his large red mouth into a smile, and only Daphne heard him mutter something about the wicked flourishing as the green bay tree.
    ‘A word with you in private,’ said Mr Garfield when the bishop had taken his leave.
    The vicar felt uncomfortable. He had a feeling that Mr Garfield in private was not going to be so pleasant as Mr Garfield in public.
    ‘Mr Radford will join us,’ he said hurriedly. ‘He knows all my business.’
    ‘Alone, if you please,’ said Mr Garfield gently.
    I never could abide men with red hair, thought the vicar sulkily, although Mr Garfield’s hair was brown with copper lights.
    He gloomily led the way into his study and thrust aside the clutter of objects on his desk, and looked up somewhat mutinously at the tall figure of his guest whose broad shoulders seemed to fill the small room.
    The vicar remembered his apology and straightened his fat back.
    ‘Sit down, sit ’ee down,’ he said, waving a chubby hand towards a chair. ‘The fact is, I owe you a heartfelt apology and if you still want to take me to court over the matter, then I’ll need to face that when it comes. I heard old Philpotts was coming for to tell me to get rid of my pack. Me! There ain’t a pack in England to match mine outside the Quorn. It was a mortal hard blow to take and so I had that there pit dug in the road. Not to harm the old man in any way but just to give him a jolt. It was a stupid thing to do. I ask your forgiveness.’
    ‘Very well. You have it,’ said Mr Garfield. The vicar mopped his brow with a large belcher handkerchief and felt a spiritual glow of righteousness spreading through his body. Squire Radford’s advice had been correct.
    He had told the truth. He was not to be punished; in fact he was to be rewarded, since Mr Garfield meant to give him a thousand guineas. The vicar’s small eyes filled with tears of gratitude.
    ‘What brought you to Hopeworth?’ asked the vicar.
    ‘I was sent by a friend to purchase a couple hounds.’
    ‘You shall have them,’ said the vicar emotionally, ‘and not one penny payment shall I accept.’
    ‘If they were for me,’ pointed out Mr Garfield, ‘then I should certainly accept your kind offer. But since they are not, I insist on paying a fair price for them.’
    ‘There must be some other way I can repay you,’ said the vicar anxiously.
    ‘Oh, there is,’ replied Mr Garfield equably. ‘Shall we visit the kennels first?’
    Overjoyed that the day had turned out so well, the vicar lit a lantern and led the way around the house to the kennels.
    ‘Your daughter, Daphne,’ said Mr Garfield abruptly as he cast