Discovering the Devil

T h i r t y - t h r e e

"Underneath your dark, beautiful skin, your blood is hotter than the sun. I know it."

Penelope knew it too. "You're sure Drew isn't upset with Harry?"

"It isn't as if Harry started the fight," Polly pointed out. "And anyway, it seems our men have done some bonding right under our noses."

Penelope raised her eyebrows. "Really? When?"

"There was a tavern. And a visit to Hawthorne apparently."

A tavern? "Oh."

"Oh, indeed." Polly sipped her tea. "Recent gossip helps too."

"Recent gossip?" Penelope echoed. Ever since she'd read the rags about her wantonness at Hawthorne, Penelope had quit reading any columns.

"You haven't heard?"

"No."

"A columnist wrote about how Harry graciously gave a loan to a desperate businessman who burned his fields. Apparently, he also paid for the man's groceries." Polly shook her head. "I don't even think Drew would do that."

"Of course he would. Drew is good, just like Harry."

"And you remember that scalding report about Harry from the vicar?" Polly asked. "Well, the validity of the report has been called into question in light of certain accusations. One of his congregants accused him of taking money straight from the offering baskets and into his pockets."

Penelope shrugged. "I told you 'holy' people could have agendas."

"And you were right." Polly smiled slyly. "Though I suspect your hunch had less to do with the truth and more to do with your burgeoning infatuation.

"No, I'm just more discerning."

"Well, now the columnist calls the reader to wonder how much we know about the vicar is slander or truth." Penelope pulled a paper from her reticule. "Do you want to see it?"

Penelope took the page and skimmed its contents. We should remember that this man completed a good deed in secret, without asking for thanks or looking for public praise. A lot is unknown about this stranger who graced our village only ten odd years ago—but one must wonder: how much more did we get wrong? "Oh my god."

"It won't convince everybody, but it's starting to sway some. That reminds me." Polly fished out two sealed envelopes from her reticule. "Here."

"What's this?"

"These are apologies from Hyacinth and Catherine for how they spoke to you at the modiste."

"You didn't have to make them write me letters, Pol."

"You saw how they insulted you that day—clearly I can't stop them from doing anything. And I can't make them do anything either. They told me they wanted to do it in person but my mother..." He couldn't finish.

"I understand." Penelope's heart soared. "Do you really think that his reputation can be cleared?"

"If you'd asked me last month, I would've said 'I hope so'."

"And now?"

"I believe it."

Penelope released a bittersweet sigh. All she wanted was for everyone to see Harry for exactly who he was. If that miracle could be accomplished, she could die happy. Her friend was happily married, and Penelope had enough money saved to rent a little cottage on the outskirts of Milford. She was sure that Harry would allow her to do some chores here and there to keep herself afloat. It wouldn't do much to mend her reputation, but Penelope knew repair of that was hopeless. As long as she had Polly and Harry, she would be alright. The only thing that could make her whole was her mother, but that seemed like something Penelope had to learn to live without too.