Page 40 of A Victim, A Viscount, And Miss Mifford
"You are the fifth viscount's baseborn son?" he guessed, and the butler heaved an irritated sigh.
"Of course I am," Allen rolled his eyes, "Everyone knows it; it's quite the open secret around here."
"Forgive me for not knowing all of Plumpton's secrets," Ivo was droll, "I have only recently arrived, you see."
"Yes, well," the butler grumbled, "You can ask anyone—Mrs Hardbottle might be best, she's been here nearly as long as I have. My mother was a milkmaid. When the fifth viscount put her in the family way, he insisted that one of the groomsmen marry her so that my birth might not be such a shame to her. He never officially recognised me, of course, but he was fond of me. He taught me the history of the family, taught me how to respect and treasure the Crabb name. When I was of an age, he set me working in the house, quite the step up for a lad of my muddied origins."
"Quite," Ivo agreed, "And was the late Lord Crabb aware of your shared parentage?"
"He was," Allen nodded, "Within these four walls I was his friend, his confidant, and the man he trusted above all others. I was the only one to call him out when his behaviour did not meet the standards expected of his title."
"Such as marrying Miss Hughes?"
"That and trying to remedy the messes he made when his pettiness got the better of him," Allen sighed, "It was easier in the latter years; I could impersonate his hand well enough and his memory was easily tricked."
"It was you who wrote the letter seeking payment for the groomsman who broke his back," Ivo guessed, "And the letter which arrived after Lord Crabb's death, asking for Mr Harold to have his pension reinstated."
"Yes," Allen gave a solemn nod, "And I suppose you disapprove and think it grounds for dismissal, but I cannot regret it."
"As a matter of fact," Ivo shrugged, "I think it was very kind of you to risk your position for another. You should be commended for it, Allen—though any attempts at forging my signature will not be met with similar sentiments."
"Yes, my lord," the butler hesitated, "Am I to take it that you are not dismissing me?"
"I am not," Ivo confirmed.
"And you do not believe that I engaged in fratricide?"
"I do not," Ivo sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat, "Though it would be much easier for me if you were guilty, Allen. With you removed from the equation, I've run out of ideas for who the true villain might be."
"The truth always prevails, my lord," Allen offered reassuringly, before glancing nervously at the paintings on the walls, "Shall I have these returned to the Long Room?"
"You hold onto them for now," Ivo said quickly; things were bad enough without having the formidable fifth viscountess staring down at him each day.
As there was little else left to say, Ivo excused himself from Allen's drawing room, his mind trying to make sense of what the butler had told him.
He longed to discuss his news with someone who would care as much as he did, and impulse led him to the stables, where he ordered the groomsman to saddle his horse.
As he cantered along to Primrose Cottage, Ivo debated whether Miss Mifford would receive him. She had every reason to wish to ignore him—or she believed she did, at least—but the news from Allen might tempt her to suffer his presence.
As it turned out, Ivo need not have feared being refused by Miss Mifford—or any of the Miffords for that matter—for when he called the maid answered and informed him that the family were not in.
"Her Grace returned from London, my lord," the dark-haired girl sniffed, "And the family abandoned plans to take dinner here, in favour of a meal at Northcott Manor. Never mind that I spent all morning peeling the vegetables."
The last bit was muttered as an aside, though loud enough for Ivo to hear. He did not at all know how to respond to her, so he simply made a vague, sympathetic noise.
"If you could tell Miss Mifford that I called?" he suggested, and the maid gave a surly nod.
"I shall, my lord," she answered, chewing her lip thoughtfully, "May I speak out of turn..?"
Was she about to reveal something about Jane? Had the eldest Miss Mifford confided to this girl her feelings for Ivo?
Eagerly, Ivo nodded, and the maid took a deep breath before she began to speak.
"Might not be my place, my lord," she said coyly, "But I have heard that your Miss Flora Bridges has a man calling up to her at the house; a Mr Bennett. I'm not suggesting that she's doing anything improper, but from what I've heard, he's been calling up at night-time."
It was not a shared secret about Miss Mifford, but nevertheless Ivo's heart began to beat urgently within his chest. Was it possible that Flora was the villain after all? An unlikely suspect, to be sure, but then Ivo's most likely suspect had proved a bust.
"Are you certain?" he pressed, trying not to sound too excited.
