It was much longer before the newlyweds appeared for breakfast, looking flushed and smug. "Good morning!" Wil greeted everyone.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Humphries," Captain Peacock replied in his deep, stern voice.
"It's not that late, surely?" Mavis asked, worried.
"No, he's just winding you both up," Lucas replied. "Come and sit down. We've some things to talk over while you two eat."
"Oh, what's happened?" Wil asked, serving himself a large portion of egg scramble and three slices of toast, before passing the dish to Mavis. She scraped the bowl clean and took all of the remaining slices of toast.
He overheard Miss Brahms mutter to Mrs. Slocombe, "If those two are gonna be workin' up an appetite like that every night, we're gonna need more hens!"
He shot her a quick, flirtatious eyebrow-twitch, which set them both to laughing behind their hands. Then he addressed his attention to his breakfast, and to Peacock, Lucas, and Rumbold, in equal measure.
"Young Malcolm Heathcliffe was here last night," Peacock informed him.
Wil nodded. "I remember. He doused me before I went into the stable after Lexie. But what was he doing here in the first place?"
Rumbold took off his glasses. "It would appear that he was, er, vandalizing the, er, wedding presents."
Mavis gasped.
"He did what?" Wil exclaimed angrily, his voice rising into a squeak.
Peacock held up a placating hand. "We've taken a cursory glance, and nothing appears to be seriously damaged. Just mostly unwrapped and things tossed about a little."
"He must have snuck in the front door while we were all running about fighting the fire," Lucas—Jamie—speculated.
"And then heard all the commotion and stuck his head round the corner," Wil finished.
"Which was when I spotted him and pressed him into service in the bucket line," Peacock surmised.
"Cor! You don't think 'e set the fire, do you?" Miss Brahms asked.
"No," Mavis and Captain Peacock said together.
"'E wouldn't do that. He's jealous, but not gen'rally destructive," Mavis clarified.
"In addition, Moulterd has already confessed to setting the fire," Rumbold said. He gestured to Mr. Beck, who was stoically sipping coffee and not speaking. "Mr. Beck found him behind the stable, sooty and smelling of kerosene and scrumpie."
"But why would Dad fire the stable?" Mavis asked.
"I assume he was drunk and wanted to do us harm and cost us money," Peacock said. "Aside from the house, the horses are the most valuable asset we have. I suppose we should be glad he didn't try to fire the house as well!"
"Wait a minute," Wil said. "Where's Malcolm now? It seems a bit far-fetched that he and Mr. Moulterd came up separately on the same night, to perform two different sorts of mischief."
"It does stretch credulity a tad," Peacock admitted.
"Also, the last time I saw 'em was right after your engagement and wedding date was announced," Jamie Lucas said. "They were sitting in the pub, off in a corner with their heads together over something."
"Bet they was plannin' it then," Miss Brahms said.
"Well, we shall know shortly, as Malcolm should be arriving here any minute," Peacock said, checking his watch.
"Why's that, Peacock?" Rumbold asked.
"Because I let him go home last night after the fire was out, on the condition that he be back here at 11:00 to explain himself, and if he didn't, I would have the law on him for arson."
Right on cue, there was a knock on the back door. It was Malcolm. Mavis answered it, giving him a sharp look as she did so.
He touched his cap to her and looked away, shamefaced. She went and sat down next to Wil, who took her hand and held it on top of the table with a pointed look at Malcolm.
Everyone was there, gathered around the kitchen table, which was too small for such a gathering. Jamie and Mr. Beck went and got some extra chairs from the sitting room and brought them in, and Lexie trotted over and climbed confidently onto Wil's lap. He was surprised, but pleased; he put his arms around her and held her steady.
"How did you know to blindfold Dover?" she asked him in a loud, child's whisper.
"I read Black Beauty as a child," he whispered back. "Have you read it yet?"
She shook her head.
"You'll like it," he promised. "Now, shush, and let's listen."
"Come over here, Malcolm," Peacock directed. Let's hear your account of last night."
Malcolm stood awkwardly at the end of the table, his gaze darting nervously around the room. It came to rest on a tape recorder in front of Mr. Rumbold, and he gulped.
Rumbold and Peacock started to speak at once, and Peacock ducked his head deferentially. "With your permission, sir?"
Rumbold waved for him to go on.
"Now, then, Mr. Heathcliffe—as you can see, we'll be recording your account, which you should treat as if it's admissible in court, and tell the truth, the whole truth, et cetera. Are you ready?"
"Yes, sir," Malcolm said, sounding very subdued.
Peacock nodded to Rumbold, who pressed the record button. Peacock announced, "This is the statement of Malcolm Heathcliffe, given this 13th day of October, 1993. Those present are as follows: Captain Stephen Peacock..." he gestured to Mr. Rumbold, who announced his name.
"Cuthbert Rumbold."
He gestured, and one by one, everyone in the room announced their names.
"R. James Lucas."
"Fiona Rowe."
"Jessica Lovelock."
"Anne Humphries."
"Morgan Beck."
"Shirley Brahms."
"Elizabeth Slocombe."
"Wilberforce Humphries."
"Lexie Lucas!"
"Mavis Moulterd, er, I mean Humphries!"
And after a pause, "Malcolm Heathcliffe."
Malcolm began talking, detailing his anger when the Humphries engagement had been announced. His discontent has resonated with old Moulterd's, and the two of them had plotted together to come up on the night of the wedding and get back at everyone.
"I didn't know what Mr. Moulterd was going to do," he pleaded."If I'd known, I wouldn't have come. I would've tried to stop it. I didn't want anyone in danger, especially not the little girl!"
"We're getting ahead of ourselves here," Rumbold intervened. "What, exactly, did you come up here to do?"
Malcolm hung his head. "I didn't want to 'urt anyone, really. An' I didn't 'ave anything against everyone else. I just wanted to get back at Mavis and 'Umphries, over there. So I came up and I was just going to mess with their wedding presents a little. An' I wanted to get back the one from my dad."
"Why, what was it?" Wil asked.
"It were a blanket that me mother knitted for me, for my wedding present when I married Mavis like she wanted," Malcolm said, with a touch of defiance.
"I never wanted t' marry you, Malcolm!" Mavis protested.
He shook his head. "I know that. I meant that my mother always wanted for us t' get married. She'd been good friends with your mum, back when they was both young."
"What's your mum's name, lad?" Beck asked.
"Diana Heathcliffe, sir," Malcolm replied, "but she's dead now. She died 10 years ago."
"Ah. Sorry, lad," Beck replied.
"Did you know 'er, sir?" Malcolm asked.
Beck nodded. "Aye, I think so, but that's for after we've finished here. So you wanted to steal back your mum's blanket?"
Malcolm nodded. He looked straight at Mavis. "I'm sorry, Mavis —"
Beck interrupted. "That's 'Mrs. Humphries' to you, lad," he ordered, shifting his considerable bulk to the edge of the chair, as if he were about to leap to his feet.
"— Mrs. Humphries," Malcolm continued through gritted teeth. "It's just that, it's the last thing I had from my mother, and I don't think my dad should've given it to you."
"Did you find it?" Wil asked.
"No. I 'eard the ruckus outside and went to see what was 'appenin', and then Captain Peacock shoved a bucket at me. Next thing I knew, li'le Miss Lucas was goin' in after the horse, and you was headin' in after her. Then the fire brigade showed up and I was sent home. And that's the whole story."
"Very well," Rumbold started to shut off the recording device.
"No, wait!" Malcolm stopped him. "There's somethin' I wanna say, and to go on record as sayin'."
"What is it?" Peacock asked.
Malcolm looked at Wil. "Mr. Humphries, I apologize for the way I treated you. I was jealous o' you and Mavis — Mrs. Humphries, that is — and I didn't think much o' you at the start. But after seeing you run into that burnin' stable after li'le Miss Lexie, when I could only stand there, frozen to the spot — well, I think Mavis got the better man after all."
"Thank you, Malcolm," Wil replied, touched.
"An' I apologize to Mav—to Mrs. Humphries as well—for the things I said, an' for givin' her a hard time, an' for what I did that made 'er go off me in the first place."
"And what was that?" Beck wanted to know.
Malcolm hesitated, staring at his shoes.
"'E hit me," Mavis confessed. "He wanted me to... do somethin'... and when I told him no, 'e smacked me in the face an' I fell down. That were over a year ago though."
"Right," Mr. Beck said. He rose swiftly, pausing only long enough to press "stop" on Rumbold's tape recorder on his way by. He strode over to Malcolm, grabbed him by the ear, and dragged him outside.
Those inside listened with wide eyes and open mouths, as they heard a couple of blows, some grunts of pain, and a growled threat. "Touch her ever again, and I'll 'ave you!"
Everyone's gaze swiveled to Wil's mother, who continued to placidly sip her tea. Noting their stares, she shrugged. "Mr. Beck has a strong sense of justice," she said.
"Swift, as well," Peacock remarked.
Beck came back in, dusting his hands and humming. "Ah, that's better. Any chance of another cuppa tea?"
Mavis shook off her shock and leaped to put the kettle on, staring at Beck.
He smiled at her. "He won't bother you again, m'dear," he assured her.
Malcolm came limping back in, with a split lip, a swollen eye, his hair mussed, and his clothes covered in dirt. "Right, so... well, sorry, everyone," he said awkwardly. He asked Rumbold and Peacock, "Are you still gonna 'ave the law on me?"
"Step outside, please, and wait for our decision," Peacock ordered him, and Malcolm ducked out gratefully.
"Well?" Peacock glanced around the room.
"'E's not a bad person," Mavis volunteered.
"He did apologize," Wil pointed out.
"He had nothing to do with the stable fire," Miss Lovelock ventured.
"And 'e did help fight it," Miss Brahms said.
"His dad's a decent sort. He can probably keep him in line, and it wouldn't hurt us any for Henry Heathcliffe to owe us a favor," Jamie said.
Rumbold sighed. "On the other hand, I feel compelled to point out that he has shown violence to one of our own, more than once, and that he was in cahoots with Moulterd, and he did vandalize all the wedding presents."
"Ah, but he won't be showin' any more vi'lence to the young lady after today," Beck assured them.
"I vote we give him a chance to redeem himself," Jamie recommended.
"Hands up for the redemption of Malcolm?" Peacock asked.
Almost everyone raised their hands. Peacock glanced questioningly at the rest. "Are we to understand that the rest of you are voting to involve the law?"
"Ach, no," Fiona told him. "I'm abstainin', is all. As long as oor Jamie is content, weel, it's none o' my business, is it?"
"That goes for me as well," Mrs. Humphries agreed. "As long as my Wilberforce and his Mavis are satisfied, so am I."
Captain Peacock smiled at Lexie, who was bouncing up and down on Wil's lap (giving him a pained expression) with her hand straight up in the air. "Yes, Miss Lucas? What is your opinion?"
"I don't like that he messed up those presents," she said. "I think you should call a policeman to come and make him set them all to rights!"
"Oh, aren't you a love!" Mavis exclaimed, giving the girl a spontaneous hug.
"That's a very good idea, Lexie," Wil applauded. "But I think it would be better if we just made him do it, ourselves."
"Call him in and I'll ask him," she directed. "He wouldn't dare say no to me."
Wil met Jamie's gaze with amusement; he cut his eyes pointedly toward Mrs. Slocombe and then back to Lexie. Jamie rolled his eyes and sighed.
"Och, doesn't she sound just like oor Rose, Jamie!" her aunt Fiona laughed.
Wil grinned. "Does she? You mean your wife talked like that?" he asked, with another quick glance at Mrs. Slocombe.
Jamie hung his head and nodded.
"I don't see anything wrong with that!" Mrs. Slocombe declared. "A girl needs to be assertive from time to time!"
"And it seems that our Mr. Lucas likes that quality in a woman," Wil teased, casting his eyes in Mrs. Slocombe's direction again.
Jamie glared.
Wil chuckled.
Peacock cleared his throat. "Be that as it may... we still have the Heathcliffe boy out there waiting. Shall we have him in and tell him?"
"I'll get him," Jamie said with some relief, as he went out the door.
Malcolm followed him back in, still looking nervous.
"Mr. Heathcliffe," Peacock began. "The two you have wronged the most have generously decided to forgive you and not get the law involved. However, we shall retain this taped copy of your confession, against any future mischief against us. Also, there is one of our number who feels an act of restitution is in order."
Malcolm's gaze darted to to Wil, to Mavis, and (nervously) to Mr. Beck, but it was Lexie who slid off Wil's lap and came forward.
"I think it was very mean of you to mess up the wedding presents, Malcolm," she stated. "Daddy says that since Mr. Humphries saved my life last night, that makes them like brothers. So that means it was my uncle and aunt's wedding that you messed up."
She gave him a considering look, with a bit of a scowl, and then drew back her foot and kicked him in the shin. Hard.
Malcolm yelped and hopped, holding his leg and glaring at her.
She shook her finger at him. "Don't give me that look!" she scolded. "You deserved it! Now then, what you have to do is get back into that sitting room and fix up the presents you tore apart. Mr. Rumbold can find you some cello-tape, and then you can actually earn Uncle Wil's and Aunt Mavis's forgiveness!"
Malcolm stood for a moment, visibly weighing his options. Then he sighed. "Right. Cello-tape, Mr. Rumbold?"
"I'll bring some right down," Rumbold promised, rising and heading up the stairs.
"Anyone else want a go at me while I'm 'ere?" Malcolm asked, with a mix of humor and belligerence. "Might as well get it all in one go." He looked at Wil. "You, Mr. Humphries? You've got a right to, more'n anyone."
Wil shook his head. "Are you serious? It was only luck I managed to thrash you that once. I mean, have you seen yourself?"
Malcolm was startled into a chuckle, and he looked at Wil with respect in his eyes. "Can't deny I'd earned it," he said. He looked at Mavis. "I was out o' line. I'm sorry, Mav—Mrs. Humphries, I mean. And I'll fix up your presents best I can."
"Wait a mo'" Beck interrupted. He asked Wil, "Did you say you'd thrashed this brute?"
"Well..." Wil started to answer, but Mavis interrupted him.
"He sure did, Mr. Beck! Malcolm smacked me at the pub, and my Wil rushed over and laid 'im out flat! 'Oo do you think you are,' Malcolm says, an' Wil says 'Wilberforce! Claybourne! 'Umphries!' an' he hit 'im once for every name, and the last one knocked him righ' out! Oh, it were beau'iful!" Mavis rhapsodized.
"Well, I'd got my dander up!" Wil defended, his voice going squeaky. "No one raises a hand to Mavis! Not while I'm around!"
Beck smiled at him, a full, broad smile that reached his sparkling blue eyes. "I'm proud o' ye, lad," he congratulated.
He glanced around the room, his gaze coming to rest on Mavis. "I s'pose now's as good a time as any."