A sound at the door disturbed his thoughts. The lock scraped. His guard grunted.
“On yer feet. Seems like your hanging has been brought forward.”
“What!” Pierce felt his heart rate speed up. “You can’t do that! I still have twenty four hours.” He tried to quell the sudden surge of panic.
The man snorted with evil laughter.
“You ain’t got twenty four minutes. There was trouble in Whitechapel last night. The judge says he needs all the cells he can get and we might as well get your hanging over with. Come on now. Let’s not make a fuss.”
Pierce frowned as he stood up, brushing stray pie crumbs from his shirt.
“Make a fuss! Wouldn’t you make a fuss? Apart from any sudden reprieve, I haven’t even been given my last meal! Mr. Mathews made me write down exactly what I wanted, and I’ve not had it yet,” he protested indignantly, the injustice of missing out on his cook’s best beef stew and dumplings followed by apple crumble and custard, taking precedence over his fear.
The guard glanced down at the apple pie.
“I’ll wait for yer to eat that, if you like,” he said grudgingly.
Pierce glared at the man, but it was clear the guard wasn’t shifting. Pierce let out a long sigh and resigned himself to his fate.
“Why bother. It tastes like dust anyway.” He picked up his coat and took a letter from the pocket. “Please do one thing for me. See that this reaches my wife.”
The guard grunted.
“It’ll cost you a guinea.” He held out a grubby hand.
Pierce laughed grimly.
“And where do you think I might have that concealed about my person. I am sure she will hand you the money when you deliver the letter. Please, as the last wish of an innocent, but condemned man.” He didn’t want to beg, but he could do nothing else.
The guard hesitated before taking the letter.
“Innocent? Ha! They all says that. But I knows you won that horse race, so I suspect she’s good for it. Now, no more arguing. We’re keeping the hangman waiting. Never a good thing if you want a good clean break of the neck. Which I have to tell you is a lot better than dangling there kicking and straining for five minutes, like the last poor bugger. Idiot made a right to-do just before the rope went around his neck and tried to make a run for it. Climbing the walls he was. Took ten minutes to catch ‘im and string ‘im up. Hangman was not pleased, let me tell you.” The man rocked forwards and backwards on his heels.
Pierce felt the blood drain from his face. He ran his finger along the inside of his cravat.
“Five minutes, you say...”
“Kicking, and straining. Didn’t do ‘im no good.” The gaoler confirmed.
Pierce swallowed.
“No, I don’t suppose it did.” He cast his eyes around his cell for a last time. It wasn’t a view he wanted to remember. Better to think of endless summer skies. And Daisy racing him on horseback across open fields, her beautiful, untameable hair flying out behind her... He turned back to the guard again. “Well, we had best not keep the gallows waiting. Innocent or not, I don’t suppose twenty four hours would have made any difference.” And at least it would stop Daisy making any more foolish attempts to see him. Disguising herself as a footman indeed. He would have laughed if he hadn’t been so cross.
The guard waited for Pierce to pass him. Another gaoler stood outside the door. He took some rope and secured Pierce’s hands behind his back.
“I’m not going to run.” Pierce assured the man while trying not to think of kicking and straining for five minutes.
“Apologies, my Lord, but the prison governor insists. After the last...”
Pierce interrupted.
“Yes, yes, I heard. You don’t have to go into all the grisly details again. I quite understand. Please lead on.” His heartbeat, which had risen so rapidly only a few minutes before, seemed to slow. A calmness came over him. He didn’t want his life to end, but he had married Daisy. His one true love. And she wouldn’t find out about this turn of events until it was all far too late. He wouldn’t see her tears or hear her sobs. He would remember her smiling lips, and the sounds of her passionate breaths as they made love.
Bertie fell into his chair, his hands over his face.
“I don’t believe you. They can’t have!” He thought he might actually pass out.
Lucas stood before him, pale faced and trembling.
“I swear it is true. Pierce’s solicitor was visiting, hoping to glean enough information to force a retrial. It was all about the gaol. They hanged him ten minutes before.”
“But he still had twenty four hours!” Bertie protested before looking up at his friend and whispering. “Have you told Daisy?”
Lucas swallowed hard and nodded.
“I had to see her before word got out. To find out from me was bad enough. To find out from a maid or butler would have been worse. Pierce had written her a letter of farewell. The gaoler gave it to the solicitor. I had to deliver that as well. I’ll let you imagine how she took the news.” The muscles at the sides of his jaws flexed as he held in almost uncontrollable emotions. He’d handed over the envelope and barely had time to catch his sister before she slid to the drawing room floor.
Bertie felt sick. He stood quickly snatched the brandy bottle from the tray. He poured two glasses and was about to hand one to his friend when rage took over. The slung the glass across the room and watched it shatter in the fireplace.
“They killed an innocent man! How in the name of all that is holy has this happened? Pierce was the least objectional person in the world.” He poured another glass of the amber liquid and drank it in one swig.
Lucas picked up the other glass.
“We will find the true culprit and clear his name. Albeit far too late.”
Bertie nodded and poured a third glass.
“I’ll drink to that.” He clinked glasses with his friend. “And the first person I am going to ask about it is Templeton. Clara said he had plenty to say at the ball. All gossip from his new valet. Perhaps the man knows more than Templeton thinks.”
Lucas placed his hand on Bertie’s arm.
“Perhaps we should try and find out the facts before listening to gossip again.”
“But there are no facts.” Bertie began to pace. “Apart from the fact that Portland fell from his horse due to a cut girth. And then died from an infection in his leg. That’s it. Pierce hadn’t been anywhere near the man’s stable. Hadn’t seen Daisy in years. Yes, we all knew he was soft on her, but there was no evidence to hang him.”
“And yet he is dead.”
Bertie pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes tightly.
“Don’t say it! I still can’t take it in.” He shook his head and looked at Lucas again. “They hanged a man twenty four hours before the due time? I never heard of such a thing. Is that even legal?”
Lucas shrugged expansively.
“Too late, even if it is.”
Bertie narrowed his eyes.
“Are we allowed the body?”
Lucas shook his head.
“Not for another day. Something about making sure the man is dead, or some such rubbish. As if hanging him wasn’t enough.”
Bertie’s mouth hung open.
“Good God! And, and the funeral?” He spluttered at last.
Lucas grit his teeth. The muscle worked at his jaw again before he managed to speak.
“We’re going to bury him at the chapel on my estate. I will be officiating at the service. Convicted murderers apparently don’t deserve the luxury of the clergy, or of consecrated ground. Even if they are innocent.”
Bertie slammed his glass onto the tray.
“Dear Lord! As if it could get worse. We’ll have to send word to Bren and Algernon. Clara and I will be at the funeral too, of course. We’ll not see him on his way to the afterlife without his friends around.”
Lucas nodded.
“Thank you. I know it will mean a lot to
Daisy. If she is well enough to attend. She has taken to her bed, quite insensible with grief.”
Bertie placed a hand on his friend’s arm.
“Never fear. She is a strong woman.”
Lucas drew in a breath. Seeing Daisy collapse had been the worst moment of his life.
“I am not sure she is strong enough to withstand this,” he muttered.
Bertie shook his head, still unable to believe his ears.
“And his parents? Have you seen Lord and Lady Trenchard?” Bertie didn’t want to think how they had reacted to the news. Pierce had been their only child.
“They were hanging the black as I left. Both Lord and Lady Trenchard were inconsolable. Lady Dorothea instantly took to her bed.” It had been another dreadful moment.
Bertie wiped his hand across his brow.
“I need to pinch myself to know I am awake and that this is not some dreadful nightmare.”
“If only. But I have pinched myself several times already, and I have the bruises to prove that it is not a waking dream.” Lucas rubbed the top of his arm through his jacket.
Bertie kicked the table leg.
“We have to do something. I can’t stand here waiting for them to release the body and do nothing. And he is not being buried in un-consecrated ground. I know it is too late, but I’m going to Lord Templeton. He seems like a decent enough chap. I’ll get him to ask some more questions of his gossiping valet. The man may know something and let a clue slip.”
Lucas nodded.
“With nothing else to go on, it as good a place as any to start.”
Lord Templeton stared at the two men standing in his salon.
“They hanged him twenty four hours early? I never heard of such a thing before. Isn’t there usually some last minute plea?”
Lucas nodded.
“For someone of the aristocracy, certainly. But we weren’t given that chance. For the sake of his wife and family, we are now here to try and clear his name.”
Curiosity lined Lord Templeton’s brow.
“I had heard about the case, of course, and I mourn your loss, but I don’t understand why you have come to me. I am new to my title and don’t believe I had been introduced to the man.”
“But you employ the original victim’s valet. My sister said that you had heard much from him.” Bertie failed to hide the impatience in his tone as referred to the night of the ball.
But Lord Templeton didn’t appear to notice. His eyes sparkled as he suddenly smiled.
“Ah, your delightful sister, Miss Cravenwood. Yes, we did talk at the ball, but after I asked her to dance, I confess that my nerves almost overcame me. I was rather hoping that my dancing skills blotted out all memory of how dull I came across. I am ashamed to say that your sister’s beauty and charm had quite bamboozled me. Every sensible thought left my head and, rather than remaining silent and intriguing, something I have been assured that all women love, I bored her half to death with some trivial household gossip.”
Bertie glowered ferociously. The man might be besotted but this was not the time to raise questions about intentions.
“Er, well, my sister’s attractions, and your inability to remain a mystery aside, I believe that the gossip spread had some bearing on my friend’s case. Would it be possible to speak to your valet?”
Lord Templeton’s smile fell as Bertie brought his mind back to the present interview.
“Well, yes, of course. The man won’t be far away. He has asked for the evening off, but I know he is still in the house.” He glanced over his shoulder towards the door, leaned towards his visitors, and lowered his voice. “He can be a little stifling, if the truth be told. Bit like a shadow. Always there right behind me.” He straightened and glanced around again before ringing the bell by the mantelpiece. “Musgrave is an excellent valet. My cravats have never looked as good.” His voice now rang out just as the door opened. “Ah! Musgrave. Just the man.”
Musgrave eyed the visitors as he walked into the room.
“I was about to inform you that I am on my way out, and to check that you had everything you need for this evening.” He gave a low bow.
Lord Templeton waved his hand towards Lucas and Bertie.
“Just one thing. Lord Caruthers and his friend have brought some surprising but worrying news. Apparently their associate had been convicted of murder, but they believe the accusation to be false. Unfortunately, before they could petition for a stay of execution and a retrial, the hanging was brought forwards. Lord Pierce Trenchard was hanged earlier today.”
Musgrave’s eyes widened a fraction and his lips twitched.
“He was? And you are telling me this information because...” he asked expectantly.
Lord Templeton appeared surprised.
“I thought you would be interested seeing that it was your previous employer who had supposedly been killed by this man. Hadn’t you mentioned the affair to other members of my staff?”
Musgrave gave another bow.
“Oh no, your Lordship. I would not stoop to gossiping, especially on the subject of one’s previous employer, dead or not. If anyone has suggested that I would...” He sounded deeply offended.
Lord Templeton quickly shook his head.
“No, of course not, I was clearly mistaken, but perhaps you heard something of it. The gossip did not concern your previous employer, but his wife. Was not there some mention of her duplicity in the murder?”
Musgrave gave a shrug.
“I could not comment, my Lord. Her Grace and I had little to do with one another.”
“But I understand that she was married to the Duke for several years. You must have known something about her.” Lord Templeton pressed.
Musgrave gave a short nod.
“Well, of course. As the mistress of the house, naturally our paths crossed, but my domain was with the Duke. He gave me my orders, not his wife.” He shuffled his feet in the ensuing silence.
A crease appeared across Lord Templeton’s brow.
“Can you tell us nothing else? A man has been hanged for a murder that he may not have commit.”
Musgrave pressed his lips together and looked upwards, as if the mouldings in the ceiling might give him some inspiration.
“Well, she had a taste for vivid colour. I believe she had her own room decorated in flamboyant style. I recall the Duke mentioning that it gave him a headache to even look in there.”
Lucas gave an impatient grunt.
“That I can believe, but my sister’s preference for bright decor is not what we are here for.”
Musgrave stared at Lucas.
“Of course! I recognize you at last, my Lord. You are her Grace’s brother.” He bowed again as Lucas nodded. “Then you know what she is like. There is always gossip doing the rounds, but I wouldn’t like to repeat any falsehoods. Especially before a member of her family.”
Lucas felt his patience breaking. He took a calming breath before speaking again.
“No one is asking you to repeat lies, but if you could remember any of what happened on the day of the race. Or what was said afterwards? Any detail, even if you think it irrelevant. Our friend has lost his life. Nothing we do will bring him back, but the injustice served on him doesn’t lie well with us. If we could clear his name, at least his wife and family might be able to rest at night.”
Musgrave spread his gloved hands.
“I don’t know what else to say, my Lord. I remained inside Lord Devonshire’s house on the day of the race and only knew anything of the Duke’s fall after he was carried in on a board. Lord Devonshire’s doctor was already on site. He reset my master’s leg and all appeared to be well, but the bone had torn through the flesh and an infection set in overnight. My mistress arrived the following day, but nothing could be done. Everyone assumed that it was a tragic accident. She took the body back to London for burial in the family grave. In the meantime Lord Devonshire arranged for my master’s horse to be returned, but his stablemaster had noti
ced the tampered tack and the constables were sent for. They questioned her Grace, but though she is an avid rider, she had not been at the race. She was er, indisposed, I believe.”
Lucas nodded.
“She had personal reasons for remaining at home. But you were at Lord Devonshire’s as the events took place. Did you hear anything about the winner? Lord Trenchard left the race rapidly after winning the prize and knew nothing of the Duke’s death until several days later. While you were still there, do you recall anything said that would suggest someone bore him a grudge.”
Musgrave’s jowls wobbled as he shook his head.
“No, my Lord. I did not. The event and its participants held no interest for me. If the truth be told, I barely know one end of a horse from the other. Besides, I was so concerned for my master that I did not listen to what was being said.”
“Ah! So things were said!” Bertie held his finger in the air. “Out with it, Musgrave, or we take you to the constables.
Musgrave backed away a few steps.
“No! No, I don’t know. You are confusing me.” He turned to his master. “My Lord, I have reported everything I know and cannot help these gentlemen further. You have given me the evening off and I beg to be allowed to leave.”
Lord Templeton’s frown became deeper as he glanced out of the window at the darkening sky.
“Of course.”
Musgrave bowed again and quickly left the room.
Daisy stared up at the canopy above the bed. How long had she lain there? She didn’t know and hardly cared. There had been no tears, no sobs, or cries of despair. The pain was too great for anything so trivial, but her heart had been ripped into shreds.
Pierce is dead! The words rang in her head. Had her brother really come storming into the house earlier that day and said them? Had he handed her an envelope that bore her name in Pierce’s familiar hand? She had stared at it uncomprehendingly for several long seconds before the shock, the utter devastation set in. And then the room had begun to spin.
A Fragile Chain of Daisies: Flowers of the Aristocracy (Untamed Regency Book 4) Page 29