The Hazardous Measure of Love: Time Into Time Book Five

by Louise Allen

  ‘Come into the breakfast room,’ Adrien said. ‘Everywhere else is full of relatives,’ he added in a whisper.

  We sat at the table in the pleasant small room, with its view out onto the garden, and Adrien sat opposite, his expression grave. ‘Yes, he must have been that visitor. I have been hearing all the details from Mr Blundell, the family lawyer. My Uncle Clarence had a letter after my uncle the Colonel was killed. He told Cousin Henry about it, and Blundell, but he was not inclined to believe the claim without more proof, apparently. It was not something that much concerned Henry because he had other things to worry about, given that Uncle Clarence died so soon afterwards, leaving him with the title. Apparently when he spoke to Blundell about it he remarked that there was plenty of time to deal with the matter: either the young man would arrive with proof or something acceptable would be sent. If nothing was forthcoming after a year he would put enquiries in train – but it is an expensive matter having someone investigated so far away.’

  ‘What did the Viscount tell you when you asked him about his angry visitor?’ Luc enquired. ‘More than you told us that first time?’

  Adrien shifted, clearly uncomfortable. ‘Yes, I am sorry. I didn’t think the details were relevant at the time and it felt like… gossip, somehow. He said this young man, clearly part-Indian and with a strong family resemblance, had called. He had some papers, but Cousin Henry was not entirely happy. He felt that there was the strong probability that he was a son of Uncle Archibald, but perhaps not one that he accepted. Apparently his opinion of our uncle’s morals was not high and he suspected that he might have left other, er, proofs of his affection. Cousin Henry wanted confirmation that this man had been baptised and his parentage acknowledged.’

  ‘How did Mr Kumar take that?’ I asked.

  ‘Not very well, apparently. Cousin Henry said that he reacted, “like a gentleman whose honour has been impugned because I would not take his word.” He seemed to find that ridiculous in someone base-born and I refrained from pointing out that, if Kumar was genuine and had been raised as a gentleman, then that would be how he would react and that it surely added weight to his claim.’

  ‘So there was an argument.’

  ‘Raised voices, is how Cousin Henry put it. He said that Kumar was fetching all the papers and that when, or if, he called again he wanted both myself and Mr Blundell present.’

  That agreed with what Campbell had said, more or less, and fitted the tone of the codicil. ‘Where can we find Mr Kumar now?’ I asked.

  ‘He has taken rooms at The Fox and Gander in the village. My father offered him a room here, but he refused our hospitality. He was very pokered-up about it.’

  ‘He seems to take offence easily,’ James observed.

  ‘I wouldn’t say so,’ I retorted. ‘He is probably still smarting from Lord Tillingham’s suspicions and he is doubtless aware of hostility from some of the family on the grounds of his race, as well as his birth.’

  ‘Shall we go and see if he is there?’ James asked, neatly deflecting an argument when Adrien bristled.

  ‘Do you want me to come?’ Adrien asked, subsiding again.

  ‘No, we’ll be fine. You look as though you would be better spending an hour flat on your back on your bed,’ I said sympathetically.

  He grimaced. ‘It sounds exceedingly tempting. Oh lord, now what?’ We all turned as a smart travelling carriage, drawn by an even smarter team of matched bays, came to a halt by the front steps.

  Adrien went to the door with the two of us, incurably nosey, on his heels. The carriage door opened before the groom could jump down and get to it and a young lady came tumbling out. There was no mistaking that mass of dark red hair, the wide smile and the vivid blue eyes.

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘Rowena!’ Adrien was down the steps and swinging her up in his arms even as the groom gave his hand to an older woman. She cleared her throat and Adrien put Rowena down, ran a hand though his hair and managed a fairly coherent, ‘Good morning, Lady McNeil.’

  ‘Good morning, Mr Prescott,’ she said repressively and looked beyond him. ‘Miss Lawrence, Mr Franklin.’ Despite her tone, her expression when she looked at her daughter beaming at Adrien was indulgent.

  ‘I just had to come. Papa said you were in no danger, but how could he be certain? But then, after he had said that, of course, he couldn’t refuse to allow me to come.’ Rowena clung to Adrien’s arm and he looked as though he had just had a good night’s sleep and a stiff brandy.

  ‘Amazing what love will do for a man,’ I whispered to James.

  ‘We will be staying with my sister just outside Aylesbury,’ Lady McNeil explained.

  ‘But will you not stay here?’ Adrien protested. ‘I am sure my uncle, the new Lord Tillingham, would welcome you, and the ladies in our party would be delighted with some new feminine company, I know. It would be a favour to us if you would agree.’

  ‘Mama, please?’

  ‘I will go and speak to my uncle,’ Adrien said when Rowena’s mother hesitated. ‘I will simply report that you have called on your way to your sister, Lady McNeil. I will not prompt him, I promise, but if he tells me to offer an invitation, then please will you accept?’

  ‘Very well, thank you.’

  The ladies were ushered inside while we made our excuses and went to the stables. I had a strong suspicion that Adrien was quite crafty enough to secure an invitation for Rowena and her mother without any actual prompting.

  One of the grooms gave us directions for The Fox and Gander and we discussed this latest development as we rode at a walk to the village.

  ‘I have just remembered that Rowena’s half-brother is one quarter Indian,’ I said. Her father, Sir Andrew, had made his fortune in India and his first wife had been a half-Indian lady. ‘I wonder if that will influence Adrien’s attitude to Kumar. Or his own father’s, for that matter. It would be embarrassing if they demonstrate prejudice against their own nephew and cousin.’

  ‘I do not think the suspicion is based on his mixed race,’ James said. ‘Is that a major issue in your time? It isn’t so much now – I think it is the fact that he is baseborn that is making everyone very… careful.’

  We discussed the effect of immigration on prejudice as far as the inn. James, who was distinctly envious of the liberalisation of attitudes to gays in my time was intrigued to discover that toleration was not widespread for every group. By the time we reached the inn door we were well on the way to setting the world to rights in both times and were in rather a good mood as a result.

  That lasted as long as it took to locate Inish Kumar in a small private parlour where we were greeted with outright hostility.

  ‘Why have you been sent to spy on me?’ he demanded, glaring at James. ‘You are a relation of that tall, dark earl who is nothing to do with the family.’

  ‘This is James Franklin, who you recognised because of his resemblance to his brother, Lord Radcliffe. Just as it is obvious that you are related to the Prescotts,’ I said, hoping to soothe ruffled feathers. ‘I am Cassandra Lawrence, a friend of the Franklin family and of your cousin Adrien.’

  The acceptance that he was a Prescott did lighten the frown a little, but not by much. I took a chair, and so did James, which left Inish to choose between sitting down with us in a friendly manner or standing before us like someone dragged in for questioning. ‘Why are you here?’ He sat with poor grace.

  ‘My brother was a neighbour of the late Viscount Tillingham,’ James explained. ‘We were called almost immediately the body was discovered. The whole crime is a mystery and, given that you visited Lord Tillingham shortly before he was murdered, we are interested to hear your account of the meeting. Any clues may assist in discovering the killer. You might have heard something, seen something that will be of use.’ James sat back and smiled his charming Trust me smile.

  Apparently Inish was not susceptible to charm. ‘I was admitted by his servants. He insulted me by questioning my proofs. I saw no one el
se, I observed nothing peculiar. There was no assassin behind the curtains, no threatening letters written in blood,’ he added sarcastically. ‘I thought nothing but that this was a man who would be glad to prove my father did not name me in his will so that he, my uncle, could claim my lands. I know about this County Durham and the rich coal mines there.’

  ‘Voices were raised,’ I said mildly.

  ‘Are you surprised? Are you people with no pride, that you are not angered when your honour is questioned?’ He raised elegant, thin black brows. ‘I have travelled for months, at great cost in money and comfort, to claim what is mine, what my father desired that I possess.’

  ‘I can understand that you were angry and frustrated,’ I said. ‘But surely your cousin was only protecting your rights? What if you had been an imposter and he had handed over the deeds without proper checks?’

  I could see that had struck home. ‘You have a point, Miss Lawrence,’ he conceded.

  ‘You did not return again?’ I asked, taking advantage of this slight mellowing.

  ‘Certainly not. I did not have the correct papers. They were with the East India Company headquarters and would not be available to me until the Monday at the earliest.’ He frowned. ‘Surely the servants do not say that I came back?’

  ‘No, but it is possible to approach the study from the rear garden. You possibly noticed that the window was ajar.’

  ‘So, I climb over walls, I sneak through gardens, I enter through the window and I stab my cousin dead?’

  ‘Well?’ James asked. ‘Did you?’

  There was a flurry of movement and Inish was on his feet, the flash of a blade weaving in the air in front of him.

  ‘Oh for goodness sake!’ (That was not quite what I said, but you get the gist). I stood, hitched up my skirts and kicked him hard in the back of the knee which sent him to the ground. To be fair, I do not think that he imagined for a moment that a woman would attack him.

  James went for his knife hand, got him by the wrist and pivoted until Inish gasped in pain and dropped the knife. I pounced on it and James wrestled him into a chair.

  ‘Are you going to stay there or do I have to tie you to it?’ James kept one hand hard on his shoulder and frisked him for more weapons with great efficiency. ‘This is becoming somewhat monotonous,’ he remarked to me when he straightened up, empty-handed.

  I looked at the knife I was holding, then held it up for James to see. The blade was shaped with wavy edges. ‘Too wide. And look at the design of it. Surely the doctor would have noticed the difference between this and a wound from an ordinary European weapon?’

  ‘If he has one knife he may own others.’ James turned on the tight-lipped man. ‘I asked you a question. Did you kill Tillingham?’

  ‘You doubt my word, my honour! Is it because I am Indian or because I am base born?’ He did not appear in the slightest bit intimidated by James.

  ‘No, it is because you lose your temper and then produce a knife,’ James drawled.

  There was a fraught pause while I braced myself for an explosion, then Kumar took a shuddering breath and said, ‘I did not go back. I did not kill him. I was angry but I knew he would give me my inheritance when I produced all the papers. I had made enquiries,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘Everyone said he was a man of honour, a man with good intentions, but that he was a picker-over of trifles, someone who must have every detail correct. Admirable,’ he added. ‘But infuriating. He made me very angry, but what would have been the point of attacking him?’

  ‘So what did you do after that meeting?’ I asked.

  ‘I went to gather every last thing that he demanded that was in my possession. On Monday I asked my employers at the Company if someone would vouch for me in person if need be, and told myself to be patient until Tuesday when we had agreed to meet again. Then I heard that he was dead. My colleagues at the offices told me about the English custom of reading the will, so I resolved to attend that.’

  ‘How could they vouch for you at the Company headquarters in London if you were a stranger to them?’ James was still suspicious.

  ‘I had considered that most carefully. Before I left Calcutta I asked the priest at the cathedral who had baptised me all those years ago to come with me to the offices there. I showed them this.’ He took off his coat and rolled back his shirt sleeve to expose the inside of his right forearm. Two dark birthmarks forming the shape of an exclamation mark stood out on the paler skin – a circle with, above it, a longer oval. ‘He vouched for me and they wrote to the London office. The letter was sealed and handed to the captain of the ship and was never in my hands.’

  I thought this was as conclusive proof as anyone could hope for in an age before photography or the electronic transmission of images.

  From James’s expression, he too was convinced that Kumar was who he said he was, but he did not let that soften his tone. ‘In that case I suggest that you keep a rein on your temper and your impatience. Legal matters move slowly, but they will go faster without you making it more difficult.’

  ‘Your English is very good,’ I said, curious now. ‘Where were you educated?’

  ‘I had a tutor. An Englishman. I lived with my father, I mixed with English society once I was old enough.’ My thoughts must have shown because he added, ‘You wonder why my parents did not marry? My mother refused, said that my father would one day be a great general, an important man in England, and an Indian wife would be a hindrance to him.’ He shrugged, a bitter twist to his mouth now. ‘Perhaps he agreed with her.’

  There wasn’t much to say to that. ‘What will you do once you have the deeds?’

  ‘Visit the estate, see whether I want to live there or sell it or rent it out. Decide whether to stay in the employ of the Company. The man of law says it is a good property, that there is coal. I will see how good for myself.’

  We wished him luck and went to collect our horses.

  ‘What is your verdict?’ I asked James once we were clear of the inn.

  ‘I believe him.’

  ‘Me too. I can see that Tillingham might have had a motive for disposing of Kumar, if, say, the Durham land has rich coal seams,’ I mused. ‘Or that Alexander, or Marcus, his heir, might feel the same way – but only if they were already plotting to kill Tillingham. But I cannot see that Kumar himself has a motive.’

  We rode in silence for a mile after that. I don’t know what James was brooding about, but I was running through suspects in my head.

  ‘I’m thinking that things do not look too good for Adrien’s father or eldest brother. Or even the eldest brother’s wife, if she is of a Lady Macbeth-like disposition,’ I said after a bit. ‘One does not have to shin over gates oneself to gain access to a house. From what I have learned from our previous investigations it is all too easy to hire criminals who will do just about anything if paid enough.’

  ‘You have eliminated the mistress? The same arguments about hired killers apply to her.’

  ‘She seems very improbable – which is probably enough to tell us that she did it,’ I added with a grin.

  We spent the rest of the ride speculating on who, exactly, was the least probable person, which was not much help, because I was losing confidence in all of our suspects.

  * * *

  After luncheon, with Luc refusing to inspect another leaking downpipe or slipped tile that day, we were about to settle down for a council of war when one of the footmen came in. ‘There are visitors, my lord. Lady Radcliffe asked me to request your presence.’

  We locked up the study and trooped off to the drawing room to find it positively crammed with Prescotts. It was easier to see who was not there, I thought, as I made the rounds, smiling and shaking hands. No ailing Doctor Prescott, or Lord Tillingham as I ought to remember to call him, and none of the more remote relatives who had been at the funeral gathering, but otherwise we seemed to be entertaining a full set of both the younger brothers’ families.

  ‘Has Rowena gone to her aunt’s h
ouse?’ I asked Adrien under cover of everyone getting seated.

  ‘She and Lady McNeil are staying with us,’ he said, not troubling to hide his grin of triumph. ‘But they are resting after their journey and she thought I ought to come.’ He cast a wary eye at his relatives and lowered his voice even further. ‘Things are rather tense at the Hall. Mama thought it would be a good idea if some of us went out, so she suggested we should call and thank Lady Radcliffe for her support. And, as is always the way, nobody wanted to stay behind and that made it worse, so eventually everyone piled into the carriages and now poor Lady Radcliffe has all of us to deal with.’

  ‘Let’s go and sit in the window seat. It will make more room,’ I suggested brightly, loud enough to be overheard, and steered him away to the far end of the room. ‘What’s up?’ I asked quietly as soon as we were seated at a safe distance.

  ‘Papa made critical remarks to Cousin Jerald. Jerald defended himself, rather forcefully, Uncle Horace waded in and managed to upset both of them. Then Aunt Prunella leapt to the defence of her youngest lamb and it all got rather unpleasant with more home truths being hurled around than could be laughed away.’ He grimaced. ‘It was made worse in a way, because it was all in the hushed tones suitable for a house of mourning, of course.’

  ‘What was your father lecturing Jerald about?’ I asked. ‘His gambling?’

  ‘I don’t think it is much of a problem, actually. No, this was about general lack of application and sense of duty, as far as I can gather. A few months ago Papa had given him an introduction to a friend who runs a flourishing bank in York and it looked as though Jerald was going to secure a very promising position there. Then he appeared to lose interest, said he didn’t want to move to Yorkshire and… I don’t know, I can’t define it. He seemed to become careless and frivolous all of a sudden.

  ‘When he first turned down the offer there was the devil of a row about it. I thought it had all calmed down, but being in the same house seems to have reminded Papa about it all over again. Jerald can hardly bring himself to speak civilly to Papa and, at the same time, seems to be snidely amused, as though he knew a secret about him.’