Free Far From Home by Valerie Wood Page A

to Mr Newmarch?’
    He pressed his lips together and shuffled his feet. ‘We parted company,’ he muttered. ‘He, erm – he became acquainted with a Spaniard in New Orleans. They had a disagreement over something and Mr Newmarch went into hiding. He didn’t come back, so I set off for New York. That was well over a year ago. I’ve not heard of him since.’
    She gave a thin smile. ‘So you’re using his name, wearing his clothes and spending his money?’ Or May’s money, she thought, for she still held that charge against Edward Newmarch, even though in the eyes of English law a wife’s possessions belonged to her husband.
    ‘
Not
his money,’ he insisted. ‘I haven’t used his money. I only drew what was due to me. His name, yes. I thought I would stand a better chance of success by using his name and background.’
    ‘And what if he should want to use his own name?’ She sank down into a chair. ‘Or is he not in a position to need it?’
    He didn’t seem to grasp the implication of her words for he replied, a trifle arrogantly, ‘This is a big country, Miss Gregory. There are many men with similar names.’
    ‘Who come from the north of England?’ she said derisively. ‘Come, come, Allen. You can surely do better than that!’
    ‘I never thought—’ he began.
    ‘You never thought that you would be found out! Well, I can tell you that you are found out and that I shall inform Mr Dreumel at the earliest opportunity! I shall also write to my cousin, Mrs Newmarch, to tell her that her husband has disappeared, and an impostor has taken on his identity.’
    She stared Allen in the face. His cheeks had become quite ashen. ‘If you have any decency left in you at all, will you tell me whether I can inform her if her husband is dead or alive?’
    He shrugged. ‘He was alive when I last saw him,’ he said. ‘I swear that he was.’
    ‘Is there proof of that apart from your word?’ she asked bitingly. ‘Is there anyone else who can verify it?’
    ‘No,’ he muttered. ‘He said he needed to hide away for a couple of weeks.’
    ‘Why didn’t you go with him if he was in trouble? Why did you come to New York?’
    ‘He told me to wait, that he would come back when things had died down. I don’t know what kind of trouble it was except that there was a woman involved. I was ill in New Orleans. The climate didn’t suit me at all. I had malaria. So – when he didn’t return, I decided to leave and come back to New York.’
    ‘Come back?’ she asked.
    ‘Yes, we had a few hours here on first arriving in America. I liked the feel of it. On the journey back I met Dreumel.’
    ‘It still doesn’t account for your using Edward Newmarch’s name instead of your own!’
    ‘It doesn’t, does it?’ His face became devoid of expression. ‘But whatever I tell you, Miss Gregory, you’re not going to believe me.’ He lifted his chin and gazed back at her. ‘So believe whatever you want. But I’ll tell you this. Wilhelm Dreumel depends on me and if you tell him who I really am, he’ll probably dismiss me and all the work we’ve done will come to nothing. He’ll lose money and so will his partner.’
    She was stunned. Whatever should she do? She rose to her feet and he did also, so that they stood facing each other. ‘I shall think about telling Mr Dreumel,’ she said at last, and saw a flicker of relief on his face. ‘Though I shall definitely write to my cousin,’ she added. ‘She must be informed.’
    ‘As you wish, Miss Gregory.’ He gave her a brief bow and left, speaking first to the desk clerk then striding swiftly upstairs.
    She followed more slowly and on entering her room found Kitty sitting by the fire, sewing a button onto one of her gloves. ‘Did you get any sense out of him, Miss Gregory? Did he tell you what’s happened to Mr Newmarch?’
    Georgiana sat down. ‘No, not really. Allen said he was alive when he left him. That was in New Orleans. Allen’s up to something, no