But as mad as those things sounded, the weeks before had been as bad. A crushed heart aside, his solicitor’s communication was the strangest one of all. He had immediately asked to visit the man in his office to check the veracity of his note. The solicitor had been only too pleased to receive him, bowing and scraping as he had assured Bertie that it was all perfectly true.
And then had come the explanation. A family at war, though few had ever known the connection before. Bertie shifted the papers to look at the extended Cravenwood family tree. And there it was. Five generations previously. Brothers. The younger one cast out of the family. According to the letters accompanying the illustration, the connection had been lost, or deliberately wiped out in more recent versions of the same document, but this was the original. It was there in black and white.
The younger brother had three daughters before producing a son who, disliking his feuding family name, took and used the middle one of his own, thereby going from being George Benedict Cravenwood, to George Benedict in one stroke of faded ink.
Bertie rolled the paper quickly, as if hiding the information would make it go away. He blamed his father for this state of affairs. If the man were still alive it would be him facing this ghastly predicament. Bertie would have had time to prepare himself, to get used to the idea. But no. It had been flung upon him while quite unawares.
He began to pace again. A Duke. A bloody Duke! Bertie had barely scraped his title before. A lowly baron amongst all his lordly friends. There had been some good-natured ribbing about it on occasions, but he didn’t mind. His status had kept him safely out of the sights of the unmarried debutants.
Visions of white clad virgins, and their over eager mothers suddenly swirled before his eyes. Good grief! It was bad enough being an eligible bachelor. And though his lowly rank didn’t cause many flutters in eager hearts, twice already he had narrowly avoided being caught alone and snared by a desperate debutant. But now there was this... This was some kind of nightmare. He wouldn’t be able to walk into a room without being hounded. He would have to watch his every move. A glance in the wrong direction and he would be marched up the aisle before he could think.
He wiped his brow and paced some more, but turned at sound. His sister appeared at the door. She stopped when she saw his frown.
“Found you at last! What are you doing hiding in here? Are you quite well, Bertie? Or are you still suffering from the shock? It’s not every day that one hears about a friend being hanged, and then rising from the dead. I confess that it kept me awake last night. I cannot imagine how Daisy must have felt. I would have boxed that policeman’s ears.”
Bertie let her prattle on. At least his sister’s waffle kept his mind from other thoughts, but it appeared that she had stopped for she stared at him with a curious gaze. Bertie dredged his brain for some kind of comment.
“Yes, of course, but I did wonder about bringing the hanging forwards a day. Never heard of such a thing before. Should have realized it was all a ruse.” He picked up the brandy bottle and poured a good measure.
Clara looked out of the window. The sun had only just begun to drop below the trees outside. She glanced back over her shoulder at the sound of liquid filling the glass.
“Early for you?” She tilted her chin. “You seem troubled. Is there something else on your mind?”
Bertie scrabbled about for an answer. It wasn’t as if he could tell her the truth. Yet. He’d have suitors knocking on the door soon enough as it was. And that was only one of his new founded worries. The other... Well, with rumour still rife he didn’t want to think about that either. His heart was still too raw. He came to his desk and shuffled with the papers, butting the edges and stacking them neatly before locking them in a drawer.
“Troubled?” He tucked the key in his pocket. “Perhaps just a little, but it is only by the usual things when one has to run a sizeable estate.” Let her have another few days of freedom, before the wolves began gathering at their door. “No, I was wondering where you have been all afternoon. Mrs. Jarvis said you were out, but didn’t mention where. Or who with.” He added as he eyed his sister and picked up his glass.
Clara turned back to the window and tried not to blush. Her hand fluttered at her side and she smoothed already smooth skirts.
“Lord Templeton came to call. He asked me to accompany him on a drive around the park, and as I couldn’t find you...”
Bertie choked on his brandy.
“Oh he did, did he? The nerve of the man! He hasn’t come to ask me if he is allowed to court you.”
Clara giggled.
“We are not courting! We are merely friends. But it’s not as if I am seventeen, Bertie. I am quite able to decide to go out with someone by myself. Besides, Ellen accompanied us at all times. I wasn’t indiscreet.”
Bertie huffed as he conceded her point. She was no young debutant. But Templeton really should have asked. Especially now. Not that the man knew anything about the recent change in the Cravenwood circumstances. No one did. And Bertie hoped to keep it that way for a good while longer. He didn’t want to think what his friends would say. He could almost hear them splitting their sides laughing as they bowed at him.
He bit back a groan and cleared his throat.
“Hmm. And what did you and Lord Templeton talk of? Not more trivial gossip, I hope.”
Clara’s eyes suddenly brightened.
“Well, he did remain silent and mysterious for an awfully long while, quite unlike the other night, but then I saw Lady Rosamund Fairbanks in another carriage. She wore a veil and thought she was hidden from view, but I would know her equipage anywhere. Of course, I bade Lord Templeton stop and I asked her Ladyship when we might see her daughter Amelia again.” She let out a light laugh. “You know there has been some gossip, but I wanted to know the truth. To be honest, I wished I hadn’t asked, for Lady Rosamund let out a soft cry, but then she did something very strange. She pointed a gloved finger at me and declared that her daughter is visiting her aunt at Hartfield, and will be there for the remainder of the season, as I very well knew. Well, I certainly didn’t know for sure until she confirmed it, and I wondered what she meant by pointing at me, but we all know what it all really means, so for once the gossip was right. Amelia Fairbanks has been ruined!”
Bertie filled his glass again. His hand trembled and the bottle clinked against the crystal.
“I see.” He swallowed the coals burning in his throat.
Clara smiled.
“Pity. She was a nice young woman. Attractive and good company. But no names are yet circulating. I wonder who the cad is.” She tapped her finger on her chin. “Were not you interested in her at one time, Bertie? Didn’t you dance together several times? I thought you were soft on her for a while, but it seems she has another paramour. Well, you can’t win them all and there are plenty more young ladies to choose from. Assuming that you want one. You should come to Almacks tonight. It will be Lord Templeton’s first visit. I thought to keep him from the tabbies who want to snag him for their daughters.”
Bertie shook his head.
“I’d rather walk into a starving lion’s cage and be eaten alive,” he mumbled quietly. He felt the same about becoming a Duke.
Clara frowned at her brother.
“Really, Bertie! You are no fun these days. You know that I cannot attend without you. And Lord Templeton will be there. Alone. And I am twenty four.” She added sharply. Did he really want her left on the shelf?
Bertie finished his second glass of brandy and sighed deeply. Almacks! He couldn’t think of anything worse. But perhaps it wouldn’t be as bad as he thought. Might take his mind off his own future if he was worrying about his sister’s.
“Very well, but only because it will be your last such outing for a while,” he acquiesced while qualifying her request.
Clara’s frown deepened.
“Oh?”
Bertie nodded.
“I have decided to leave town for a while. And I sho
uld like you to come with me. I have some important matters to attend to at... at...” He closed his eyes briefly. He couldn’t bear to say the name. The place was a goliath of a building. Must cost a fortune to run. He would be swamped by expenses and worry for years. No, he would have to put it off. He opened his eyes and took a deep breath. “Actually I have been thinking of Downham. I haven’t shown my face there for months. The tenants will try and rob me of their rents if I don’t take an interest soon.” Downham? His country estate was the least of his worries. He was more likely to be plagued by locusts, cockroaches, and giant spiders if Pierce’s information about Portland Hall was correct.
But Clara suddenly smiled, all thoughts of London suddenly forgotten.
“Downham! What an excellent idea. It is late in the season, but such a lovely place for a house party and perhaps a ball!”
Bertie flapped his hands.
“I wasn’t thinking of doing anything extravagant at all.”
Clara pouted.
“But we haven’t entertained there since... Well, since father died. And the ballroom is greatly under-used.” She stopped as her brother glowered, and then her expression suddenly brightened. “Perhaps not a ball then, but I could invite a small party to visit.”
Bertie snorted.
“Including Lord Templeton?”
Clara laughed again and touched her brother on his arm.
“What a wonderful idea! I will tell him when we are at Almacks tonight. But there is another advantage to going there. Isn’t Downham only ten miles from Hartfield? We might be neighbours to Lady Amelia and her aunt.”
Bertie removed his arm from his sister’s fingertips and stalked towards the door, his face a picture of misery. But on the threshold, he turned to back and took a deep breath.
“I really have no idea. And even less inclination to find out.”
THE END
I hope you have enjoyed A Fragile Chain of Daisies.
Keep an eye out for the next book in the series.
If you enjoyed A Fragile Chain of Daisies, you might be interested in another of Jackie’s historical mystery romances. Read on for the first two chapters of
An Unexpected Title
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An Unexpected Title
Chapter One
1850
Anniversary Arguments
“It is agreed and settled and nothing you can say will make me change my mind.” Richard Derwent, Fifth Earl of Claiborne, remained frighteningly calm as he moved the papers to one side of his huge oak desk and took out his account books.
Madeleine fought the angry words trying to force themselves from between her lips. He could not dismiss her like this. Not on a subject so important. But her surprise, dismay, and utter fury at her father’s words was so great that she could barely think of a rational argument, let alone voice one without shouting. And she knew that would do her no good at all. Though her father was not a cruel man, his character had changed in the three years since her mother had died.
Where once he had been soft and gentle, easy to win over, he was now taciturn, argumentative, and on occasions needlessly cruel. She recalled his recent refusal to give their butler leave to attend his sister’s funeral. Even Madeleine hadn’t been able to persuade her father. It would have only been a matter of a few days, but the man had been adamant. Flack would be dismissed without reference if he took one hour longer than his allowed half day. There was no reason given. No excuse to behave in such a despicable way, but Madeleine hadn’t been able to do anything about it.
She had never known such discomfort when Mr. Flack had asked how her entreaties had been met. The desolation and pain had been clear in his eyes, a frisson of anger too, but stoic to a fault, the man had nodded and thanked her politely for her efforts even if they had been met with such an unkind refusal. A refusal that she couldn’t dismiss from her mind. Perhaps her father wasn’t going to yield to her own objections of his latest infuriating idea. And if he didn’t... Panic eventually forced her words out.
“But why, father? You are in good health. Why make me do this now? I have never met the man and you suddenly demand that I marry him. I cannot do it. I don’t know him.” Her rich, brown curls bobbed with her alarm even while tear filled emerald eyes flashed hints of hidden fire.
The old earl blinked slowly at his beautiful daughter. It would be so easy to give in, he had done it often enough in her childhood, but his fingers trembled uncontrollably and he clasped them together as he refused to let her tears of frustration sway him. Now was not the time to weaken.
“I am not going to be here forever. I have to make sure that you are looked after. If your mother hadn’t died, if we had a son, things might be different.” He saw hope in her eyes, and squashed it immediately. “But they are not! And I refuse to see you put out on the streets after I am gone. I simply will not let it happen!” His voice rose a fraction.
“Gone? But there is no danger of you leaving me. Is there?” Fear struck her heart and laced Madeleine’s tones as the old man rubbed his eyes and pressed his fingertips to his temples. He had been struggling in low light for some time. Now she realised that the situation was far worse than she thought.
Richard Derwent glanced at his daughter and sighed deeply. He wasn’t about to answer her question entirely. Instead, he gathered the invoices accrued over the last month and tapped them together, shaking fingers settling them in a pile on his desk before he clenched his hands into fists as he fought the mutinous tremors.
“One never knows.” He knew, but wasn’t about to tell his daughter that she might be an orphan at any minute. “I don’t intend leaving you, but my body will no longer listen to my brain. My headaches are becoming worse, and bright light affects me greatly. Mrs. Grenfell’s tonics no longer have the same benefit that they used to. Dr. Finch says that there is some pressure behind my eyes.” He spread his fingers and glared at his hands as they shook visibly. “And these shakes are now impossible to stop. They are driving me to distraction.” He thought about the endless sleepless nights he had recently endured as he looked tenderly at his daughter. “Neither of us knows what it might mean for my future. I have to take reasonable precautions in the event of my demise. Especially over you. I cannot see you without a home.”
Madeleine rushed around the desk and fell into her father’s arms as Doctor Finch’s almost daily visits now became understandable. It wasn’t to keep an old man company, to commiserate over the loss of his wife as she had thought. Her father was ill. Clearly for far longer than she knew. Might his condition explain many of the changes in him?
“Why did you not tell me things were so bad? Surely there is something we can do. Medicinal practices are advancing so quickly. Do not give up father. We must away to London and find a cure. I’ll tell Phillips to begin packing your trunks immediately.” She looked into his eyes, searching for his agreement.
He smiled sorrowfully and dashed her hopes with a shake of his head.
“No, my dear, there is nothing to be done. But in any case, I could not go today, nor tomorrow, nor in the very near future. Benjamin Asher Derwent, your fiancé, will be arriving to meet you on the morn. I have arranged an engagement ball for a sennight’s time and the marriage to take place the month later. That should give you time enough to come to know one another well enough to marry. There can be no going back, Madeleine. While you were gallivanting about the old abbey playing with bits of rock this afternoon, I had the invitations sent.”
Madeleine pulled herself from h
is arms, her voice rising in stunned disbelief. How had he known she was at the abbey? She had told him she was going to lie down due to a megrim.
“What! You cannot mean it. You cannot! Father no! I will not marry him. I have plans of my own. Hopes to fulfil. If you force me into this arrangement, I will...” Drawing in a breath she raised her chin in stubborn determination. “I swear that I will kill myself!” She finished dramatically.
The old earl’s eyebrows dipped into a furious line and he thumped the side of his fist onto his desk to silence her.
“I do mean it and I can do it. For once in your life you will obey me! And you will never make such a threat to me again. Your life and future happiness is why I am forced to take these actions. You are fortunate that Derwent has already agreed to the arrangement.”
Her heart pounded against her ribs, her erratic breaths almost choking her.
“But why would he do such a thing? What man goes around marrying women he has never met? What does he gain from this? Is this about money? And if it is, why did you agree to such an arrangement? Do I mean so little to you?”
Richard Derwent took in a sharp breath.
“Quite the contrary, as you would know if you would take but a moment to listen. We were blessed when we had you. Not many women are lucky enough to bear a healthy child when they are forty, but the complications Eloise underwent soon after your birth made it clear that she would not have another.” He steepled his fingers as he gathered his thoughts. “I have no say over the entailment of the estate. If I had, I would give Claiborne to you in a heartbeat, but it is not up to me. The estate goes to the next living male relative, however distant. So hear me well, child. Benjamin Asher Derwent is going to inherit this place and there is not a damned thing you or I can do about it!” He ran his fingers through what remained of his white hair as he looked at his daughter. “Instead, I have done what I can to see you safe and happy.”
A Fragile Chain of Daisies: Flowers of the Aristocracy (Untamed Regency Book 4) Page 32