A Fragile Chain of Daisies: Flowers of the Aristocracy (Untamed Regency Book 4)

by Jackie Williams

  She had woken on her bed with her brother and her mother beside her, each holding a hand and uttering words that could never console. Her mother had brought a glass to her lips and Daisy had glanced to the bedside. Pierce’s letter sat propped against the candle holder. So it had really been true. The man she loved had been cheated out of the last day of his life, and she had been swindled out of her reason to live.

  Swindled! Yes, cheated, duped, deceived, and tricked. Hadn’t Mr. Mathews promised to look at the case again? Yes, he had. After she, her mother, Lady Dorothea, and Jane Benedict had stormed the man’s office, hearing from the Dowager Duchess, and seeing the blackmail letters for himself, Mathews had seemed convinced. With the new evidence in his hand, he had sworn to see the judge and petition for a stay of execution pending further investigations.

  But either he had gone back on his word, or the judge hadn’t listened. Daisy barely cared which. It was too late to do anything now.

  She pressed her hand to her chest and felt the traitorous organ still beating solidly beneath her breast. Why hadn’t she died? Those romantic novelists lied, she thought bitterly. A broken heart didn’t kill. It simply tortured one beyond the point of agony to where feelings didn’t exist.

  Shadows cast by the candlelight flickered. Dusk had come quickly. She turned her head to look at the still unopened letter at her side. She couldn’t bring herself to break the seal. If she did, it would confirm the horror of the day. Her gaze shifted to the food drying on the cabinet. Someone had brought it to her, but she had no clue who. She turned away, the meal holding no interest for her, and came face to face with her bear. She reached out and pulled it towards her, holding it close against her nose.

  There! A faint whiff of the man she loved, the man she would never see again. How long would his scent last? He had only carried the ragged animal for a few minutes after rescuing it from one of Portland’s fires, but there was the faintest hint of spice and fresh air.

  She cuddled the bear close as she recalled that day. The surprise of seeing him, the suppressed laughter at his attempts to carry the tea tray. And then the wild ride in the storm, and the cottage in the woods. His beautiful proposal while down on bended knee.

  And since their wedding, they had one glorious night.

  A night that could have consequences. Could she bear it if there was no babe? Could she bear it if there were? Her hand drifted to her stomach. It might be weeks before she could tell. Would she have something of him, or would her life be empty and her body a mere shell.

  And that was when the first tear came to her eye. A single drop of water that clung to her eyelashes for seconds before it finally fell.

  Darkness surrounded her. Hours had passed. Still she stared upwards, seeing nothing now. Would she lie there until she wasted? Or would she seek revenge? What would Pierce have her do? Her heart beat sped up a fraction. Was it beating for two?

  And if it were, could she allow that tiny ray of hope and happiness to wilt and die inside her? Fury roared to life within her. Never! Not if there was any chance she carried his heir. But what kind of life would that child have? The disgraced offspring of a fallen woman and a convicted murderer? No! The thought could not be borne. Pierce’s child deserved to live with pride in his heart, not shame in a lie.

  She lifted her head from the pillow just as a gentle tap sounded at the door and Jane Benedict slipped into the room. The woman carried a tray with a jug of lemonade and a plate of fresh food. She kicked the door closed with her foot and staggered across the room.

  “Lordy! These are heavier than I thought,” she exclaimed quietly before noticing Daisy staring at her from the bed. “Ah! Awake at last. I thought you might be and I didn’t want a maid to disturb you.”

  Daisy shook her head.

  “I have not been asleep.”

  The Dowager poured a glass of the lemonade and handed it to her daughter in law.

  “No, perhaps not, but not truly awake either. Too much to think about, I suspect.” She spoke gently, more kindly than Daisy had heard in a long time.

  “Losing one husband is bad enough. Losing two...” Her voice drifted away.

  Jane busied herself cutting a slice of savoury tart.

  “If this wasn’t so serious a situation, I would say that you were careless.” She nudged the offering towards Daisy who eyed it suspiciously. Jane smiled. “Don’t worry. Though it is pork, it is not boiled in jelly, but a bacon and cheese flan. Now eat. You will need your strength.”

  Hunger pangs coiled in Daisy’s stomach but she didn’t eat.

  “Why?”

  Jane huffed.

  “Because you have not eaten since breakfast. And because Mr. Mathews is downstairs asking to see you.”

  “What! No!” Daisy cried as she shot up in the bed.

  Jane hushed her.

  “Listen before you dismiss the man. He saw the judge and thought all was well. Mr. Mathews was as shocked as anyone at the rapid turn of events. Now he is here to ensure that justice is done.”

  Daisy shook her head.

  “How can justice be done when Pierce is dead? How can he come here offering false hope?”

  Jane took a deep breath.

  “Do you not want to see justice served? Not only is your new husband dead, but my son. I believe you should listen to what Mr. Mathews suggests.”

  Daisy gave a grim laugh.

  “What does he suggest? That we ask the archbishop to raise the dead?” Deep sarcasm laced her tones.

  Jane sighed deeply.

  “No, of course he cannot do that. But he can catch the real killer.” She sat down on the edge of the bed.

  Daisy began to pace the room.

  “And why is he here? What does he think we can do? We gave him all the evidence we had.”

  Jane shook her head.

  “It seems that evidence, while compelling was not quite enough.”

  Daisy stopped pacing and threw up her hands.

  “I would have thought that obvious. Otherwise Musgrave would have been hanging at the end of that rope today, not Pierce.”

  Jane twisted her hands in her lap.

  “I cannot make you see him, my dear, but he thinks that you are the only one who can do what has to be done.”

  Daisy frowned.

  “What does he think I can do? I cannot arrest or accuse Musgrave of anything. The man thinks I am a witch, and with my ruined reputation he would laugh me from Lord Templeton’s doorstep.”

  Jane smiled.

  “That is not what Mr Mathews wants you to do. He has a cunning plan that may bring Musgrave to heel.” She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. “But there is not a lot of time, and much to be done if you feel it is something you are up to.”

  Daisy tilted her head as thoughts of revenge stirred.

  “What must I do?”

  Jane walked quickly to the wardrobe and rummaged to the back of the dresses. She tugged out a pair of riding breeches and a shirt.

  “Just as well your maid was able to mend these.” She flung them on the bed and disappeared back inside the wardrobe..

  Daisy glanced at the clothes curiously, her interest suddenly piqued.

  “Mr. Mathews wants me to wear a disguise?”

  Jane’s tousled head appeared again. She held out a jacket, riding boots, and a battered old hat.

  “Yes, my dear. Being dressed as a woman will not work for this. Quickly now. Get changed and then let me help you with your hair.”

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Raising One’s Spirits

  Daisy, Jane, and Mr. Mathews sat in the flickering lamplight.

  “The carriage will be arriving soon,” Mathews whispered.

  Daisy glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece, slipped her jacket on, and pulled her hat down low on her head.

  “I’ll go via the servants door and out through the mews.” She caught Jane Benedict’s eye. “Don’t forget to cause a distraction, some kind of fuss. But not too much. Do not
raise any suspicions, but give me enough time to do what I must.”

  Jane walked to the window and twitched the drape to one side.

  “I should have thought about this more before. I did not realize the plan was so dangerous. What if you are caught? This man is a fiend. We should leave him to Mathews and his men.”

  Daisy let out a low laugh.

  “Mathew’s men are as discreet as an elephant walking down Regent Street.” She ignored the constable’s sharp intake of breath and carried on. “Big and brawny they might be, but they won’t be able to get as close to the man as I. Besides, if the blackmailer thinks he is being followed tonight, he might go to ground. We have to be sure of where he hides out. Convincing his driver might be the only way we can find out, and no man would be scared enough of a woman to let that happen.”

  Jane glanced over her shoulder.

  “It is not just the danger I worry about. Your name will be dragged through the mud if this plan goes wrong and you are discovered.”

  Daisy took a trembling breath.

  “I thank you for your concern, but I am already ruined. The gossips have seen to that.”

  Jane let the curtain drop.

  “I am past caring about gossip and have vowed never to repeat an unfounded story ever again. Your father told me about Lord Trenchard’s mother. Apparently she collapsed at the news.”

  Daisy nodded sorrowfully.

  “As dangerous as this is, Mr. Mathews has me convinced. We have to clear Pierce’s name and I cannot see any other way. We have to catch Musgrave with his hands on your gold and force him to confess.”

  Jane walked across the room and lifted her hand to her daughter in law’s cheek.

  “You are a daring one. So full of courage, even at a terrible time like this. I am sorry that my son stifled your spirit. He would have been a better man if he had let you shine.”

  Daisy took the older woman’s hand.

  “But at least now we can be friends.”

  “Friends with enemies.” Jane frowned. “Let us hope there will be an end to them tonight.”

  The three of them walked to the door and peered down the hall before wishing each other luck.

  “This is the last time. You can go to hell and back before I give you another farthing.” Jane Benedict hissed into the darkened carriage as loudly as she dared.

  A shadowy figure appeared as a muffled voice came back.

  “A little late for threats, your Grace. I came in person tonight to make sure that you couldn’t try to default on your end of the bargain again. You know what will happen if you try to thwart me. A slip of a knife and you, or your precious daughter in law will die a horrible death.”

  Something glinted in the darkness. The Dowager stepped back and clung to the carriage door.

  “But I have nothing left. With my son dead...” She stopped at the man’s grim laugh.

  “You will have to learn to tighten your purse. With economies you will have plenty to survive. Or perhaps you would like to sell some of your jewels. It is not as if you will have anywhere to wear them anymore.”

  Jane gasped.

  “You wretch! You mock me while I still grieve for the man you killed.”

  A low chuckle came from inside the man’s muffler.

  “So, you have worked it out at last. But as I said, it was a mere slip of a knife. Until the next time, your Grace.” The man wrenched the carriage door out of the Dowager’s hands and pulled it shut.

  Daisy didn’t know how she held back, but the admission of guilt had not been conclusive enough. With no other witness, her word would be doubted. There could be no mistake or retraction at a later date. They needed more evidence. Something that Mathews would believe and act upon. As much as she wanted to shoot the man inside the vehicle, the thought of her beloved Pierce hanging from a rope kept her lips sealed tight.

  She pressed the pistol in her hand to the driver’s side.

  “Keep quiet and follow your master’s orders to the letter or you will be getting a bullet through your guts,” she hissed in a gruff voice as a knock sounded on the panel behind them. The surprised and petrified driver gave a quick nod.

  The carriage took off. Daisy glanced at the road ahead. Fortunately there were a few other carriages about. With luck Mr. Mathews’ pursuit would not be detected. They left the main routes and travelled the narrower back streets away from the better parts of town. The roads became quieter. Daisy was sure she could hear hoof beats and the rattle of wheels close behind. Would the man inside realize something was afoot? No, probably not, she reassured herself. The transactions had been made many times before and no one had followed his coach. With his threats becoming ever more sinister, there was no reason for him to suspect there would be any pursuit now.

  The driver slowed a few minutes later. Daisy glanced around. She had no clue where they were. She had never been in this part of town before. The carriage rolled to a halt. The driver remained in his position as the carriage door opened and the occupant stepped down. He threw up a small purse which the driver caught neatly in one hand.

  “Same time next week, unless I send you word.” The passenger clearly still wore his muffler.

  Daisy waited until the blackmailer had turned his back before sliding away from the driver and down onto the road. She stepped back into a darkened doorway and peered across the street as the carriage rolled away. A slither of light showed as a door opened, and then closed. A second later she felt a presence beside her.

  “His only hideout, obviously. We wondered if he might have another.” Mathews whispered in her ear. “My men followed him here after he left his employ this evening, but I can’t see that he has done anything untoward as yet.”

  “Blackmail is a crime.” Daisy whispered back. “And I heard him admit the murder of my first husband.”

  Mathews gave a gentle huff.

  “That’s not enough to hang the cove yet. He could say that you imagined his threat.”

  Daisy shook her head.

  “But her Grace has the incriminating letters. You saw them. He will not be able to deny the blackmail.”

  Mathews whispered again.

  “I saw some letters, true enough, but they will only count against him if can we prove that they are in his own handwriting. He could be a messenger instead of the true criminal.” He didn’t sound convinced that they had the right man.

  A breeze whipped along the street. Daisy clamped her hand over her hat.

  “Are you trying to catch the real criminal or are you satisfied that you have hanged the wrong man?”

  Mathews grunted.

  “I didn’t convict him. There were twelve members of that jury. I just laid out the evidence I had.”

  “Which amounted to next to nothing. All gossip and hearsay.” Daisy whispered bitterly.

  Mathews spoke wearily.

  “If I may be so bold, Lady Trenchard, if her Grace had come forward with the threats earlier, the investigation might have gone in a different direction. But regardless of her delay, your new husband’s actions have not been those of an innocent man. He ran from my men and went to ground. If he had been willing to answer my questions a lot sooner, things might not have gone so bad.”

  Daisy glared at him.

  “Well, I don’t blame him for running after seeing the way your men treated him. One of them bashed him over the head. Have you brought that fool with you tonight? If so, I hope you have given him clear instructions not to kill the killer until the fiend has confessed.”

  Mathews nodded.

  “My men have clear instructions. They will not interfere until I give the signal. Ah!” He pointed up at a window opposite. A lamp had been lit. “Now let us just give him a few minutes to settle and then we’ll pay him a visit. Don’t forget to keep him talking. I need the whole story.”

  Daisy’s stomach gave a nervous flutter.

  “Are you sure it wouldn’t be better if you interrogated him?”

  Mathews shook
his head.

  “He’ll likely be too wary of me, but he won’t be so worried about what he says in front of you. Without wishing to insult, he didn’t hold you in high regard anyway. Now your name has been dragged through the mud, I doubt if he will care about whatever he tells you. It is unlikely that anyone would listen to the hysterical words of a grieving, ruined widow. And he may want to gloat.”

  Daisy fumed while silently knowing he spoke the truth. Who would listen to her? Perhaps her brother and family, but there wouldn’t be many others. Mathews had to hear it for himself, but Musgrave would probably keep his mouth shut if the policeman questioned him. Having her ask the questions was the only way. She squared her shoulders.

  “You will be outside the door the whole time? I have my pistol, but would prefer not to use it. I want this murderer to hang by his neck.”

  Mathews nodded.

  “You have my word on it.”

  Musgrave chuckled as he kicked the door closed and threw off his muffler and coat. Another five hundred guineas to add to his growing pile of gold. He walked across the room and bent beside the bed, grappling beneath the frame until he could pull out his money chest.

  He straightened as he lifted it, puffing and blowing as he hauled it onto the bed, then chuckled again as the mattress dipped. Blasted box was so heavy he would have to find another and begin filling that, but giddy with anticipation, he lifted the lid.

  The gold glittered temptingly and he plunged a hand in the vast wealth. Even after the purchase of this house, there were still thousands at his disposal. He was officially a rich man. Which was just as well given his current plans. He smiled at the thought. Ah yes! A nice little cottage with a garden, a cook, and a plump maid willing to light more than the fires in the grate. He chuckled at the delightful prospect. Perhaps he might go as far as having an orchard, or buying somewhere on a stream where he could spend his days troubling the fish. Anything so that he didn’t have to shave another man’s whiskers, or stiffen collars and cuffs. He’d had enough of attending to other gentlemen’s attire. Now he simply wanted to retire. He thought of a plump maid again. Well, retire yes, but with a few extra benefits.