Lady Cecily and the Mysterious Mr. Gray

by Janice Preston

  ‘Another chance, sir? Why should you imagine I have had a change of heart so soon?’

  Her heart stuttered as he smiled down at her. The smugness was back, in his eyes and in the curve of his mouth. That he knew something she did not was clear and she braced herself, certain she was about to find out what had happened to Zach, fighting to keep her expression impassive, raising her brows as though she awaited a reply that had little significance.

  ‘I do not denounce you for having your head turned by Graystoke, my dear but, now that he is languishing in Newgate, I suspect you will view your future differently. My offer of marriage—’ he placed his hand on hers and squeezed ‘—is still open.’

  The breath flew from her lungs, leaving her gasping. Kilburn appeared oblivious to her distress as he continued, ‘You must not be embarrassed by your poor judgement of his character. These people, they have the inbred talent to charm and deceive. More worldly individuals than you have been taken in.’

  ‘B-but—Newgate? Wh-why is he in Newgate?’

  ‘Oh, had you not heard, my dear?’ His voice dripped false sympathy as he halted, gazing down at her with hard eyes. ‘How very remiss of me to blurt out such shocking news without first preparing you. I am so sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings. Zachary Graystoke has been arrested for an unprovoked attack on Lord Thetford that left him close to death.’ He tutted and shook his head. ‘His own brother! Poor Thetford has yet to regain consciousness. One can only hope he survives such a brutal attack.’ He patted Cecily’s hand. ‘You need not fear, however, my dear. The scoundrel has been sent to Newgate to await trial. I doubt we shall see him again. It’ll be the rope or transportation for him and good riddance.’

  It took several minutes for her confused brain to make sense of Kilburn’s revelation. Then her stomach clenched violently, forcing its scalding contents to invade her gullet. Only by dint of swallowing repeatedly did Cecily avoid disgracing herself in the middle of the Park. Her legs trembled and her eyes blurred.

  ‘I do not believe it, sir,’ she said when she at last had that nausea under control.

  Her hand was still on Kilburn’s sleeve and, aware she was clutching the cloth so tight it was in danger of becoming wrinkled, she released her grip and withdrew her arm from his. She clenched her jaw hard and concentrated on slowing her rapid, shallow breaths. Rosalind and the others had seen that she and Kilburn had stopped and were retracing their steps. Rosalind was soon by Cecily’s side, linking arms and looking daggers at Kilburn.

  ‘Are you quite well, Sister? You look pale.’

  Cecily shook her head. She could not bring herself to say the words out loud. But Kilburn had no such compunction. He announced, in a very loud voice, the news of Zach’s arrest.

  ‘Well, there must have been a mistake,’ Thea said, stoutly. ‘Mr Graystoke would never do such a thing.’

  ‘One can only applaud your loyalty, Lady Vernon, but I am afraid there is no mistake. I saw him myself, stooping over his brother’s inert body, stealing his valuables.’

  A gasp sounded from those walkers near enough to hear his words and a scowling Daniel added his growled denial to Thea’s. Rosalind clamped Cecily’s arm hard between her own arm and her body, offering her silent support as Cecily’s head whirled, grasping at ideas to help Zach.

  ‘I am a little weary,’ she announced. ‘If you will kindly excuse us, Lord Kilburn, it is time we returned home. Come, girls.’

  She steered Rosalind in a tight circle and they began to walk briskly towards the Park gate. Once they were outside, on Park Lane, Cecily halted, a plan forming in her brain.

  ‘Thea, may I accompany you to your house? I feel a little shaken still and it is nearer than Beauchamp House.’

  ‘Of course,’ Thea said.

  ‘We can summon a hackney—’

  ‘No!’ Cecily cut Rosalind short. ‘I thank you, but I shall be perfectly all right after a cup of tea to revive me.’ She smiled at her clearly worried sister-in-law. ‘Daniel will escort me home later, I am sure. You take the girls on home and I shall see you at dinner.’

  * * *

  At Thea’s house, Cecily waited until tea was served and the door closed behind the maids.

  ‘It cannot be true.’ Cecily sipped at her tea. ‘Kilburn is lying.’

  ‘I do not trust him,’ Thea said. ‘He has a shifty look about his eyes. Oh, I wish Vernon was here.’

  ‘I need to find out exactly what happened, but if you feel unable to help me, Thea, I will understand. I know Vernon will disapprove and I have no wish to come between husband and wife.’

  ‘Well, I owe no such allegiance to Vernon,’ Daniel said. ‘I owe my life to Zach and I am ready to help in any way I can.’

  ‘As will I,’ Thea said, resolutely. ‘I do not believe that Zach would attack anyone, even his horrid brother.’

  ‘What can we do, though?’ Daniel asked. ‘Will they allow me to visit him in the prison?’

  ‘I am not sure,’ Cecily admitted. ‘I do not know how one might go about gaining permission. The first action we must take is to find out if Lord Thetford has regained consciousness and then go to speak to him.’

  ‘The servants might know,’ Thea said, jumping up. ‘Vernon told me Thetford only lives around the corner and you know how servants gossip.’ She hurried from the room.

  ‘I will escort you,’ Daniel said. ‘Anything to find out the truth and help Zach. We could also go to his rooms—he has taken lodgings in Jermyn Street. Someone there might have more information—his man or the doorman or a neighbour.’

  ‘Myrtle! We must rescue Myrtle, too. She will be frantic with Zach gone like this.’

  Thea returned. ‘The news is already widespread,’ she said, gloomily. ‘It is true. Lord Thetford was struck from behind and then robbed. He did regain consciousness, but his physician gave him a sleeping draught and has left instructions he is not to be woken until morning.’

  Cecily’s heart sank as her faint hope that the whole incident had been fabricated by Kilburn disappeared.

  ‘We can still go to Jermyn Street,’ Daniel said. ‘We may learn something new there.’

  * * *

  Cecily hung back while Daniel rapped on the door of the house in Jermyn Street where Zach lived. She sighed with relief when a stranger answered the door, having dreaded the possibility of being recognised from her visit last night.

  ‘Is Mr Graystoke’s man in his rooms?’ Daniel said.

  The servant shook his head. ‘’E went home, he did, when ’e ’eard what happened.’ He eyed Daniel and then assessed Cecily, looking her up and down. ‘Who’s enquiring?’

  ‘My name is Markham,’ Daniel said. ‘And you are?’

  ‘Blair, sir.’

  ‘Very good, Blair. I’m a friend of Mr Graystoke. What exactly happened?’

  ‘’E was arrested, that’s what ’appened. The Runners took ’im. Good thing, too, I say. ’E’s a gipsy, so he is. Thieving no-goods. Got no right taking rooms in a respectable house like this and so I’ll tell the landlord when I see him. I’m not paid to open the door for no gipsy.’

  ‘At what time was Mr Graystoke arrested?’ Cecily asked, moving to stand by Daniel’s side.

  Blair sidled across the step to stand opposite her and she recoiled from the stench of onions on his breath as he said, ‘You take my advice, ma’am. You give that gipsy a wide berth. ’E’s no good, I tell you.’

  ‘When I want your advice, my man, I shall ask for it.’ Unconsciously, Cecily adopted the clipped tone her brother used when he was at his most ducal and it worked like a charm. Blair stepped back and straightened. ‘Now, at what time did the Runners apprehend Mr Graystoke?’

  ‘Just after six, ma’am. He’d only just got back, ’e ’ad—attacked his own brother, so they said. Blood still on ’is hands,’ he added with ghoulish satisfaction. ‘Well, they got him bang to rights they did and a good job, too.’

  Cecily’s heart sank. Zach had left her at Beauchamp House at fi
ve o’clock. What had he been doing until six? She still did not believe he would attack Thetford, but how could he prove it?

  ‘Is Mr Graystoke’s dog still upstairs?’

  ‘Yes, he is. Mangy three-legged m—’ His jaw snapped shut as he caught Cecily’s icy glare. ‘Yes’m.’

  ‘We’ll take her with us,’ Daniel said. ‘Have you a master key for his room?’

  The man indicated a bunch of keys at his waist.

  ‘Lead the way, then, and be smart about it,’ Daniel said. He turned to Cecily. ‘Come inside while you wait. It won’t do for you to be left standing on your own on the doorstep.’

  Five minutes later they were outside on the pavement with Myrtle between them.

  ‘Where next?’ Daniel asked.

  ‘Bow Street, I should think,’ Cecily said. ‘That where the Runners are based—in the Police Office at the Magistrate’s Court.’

  Daniel hesitated. ‘I do not think—’

  Cecily glared at him, her temper on a knife’s edge. ‘If you are about to suggest that it is no place for a woman—’

  Daniel held up both hands, palms out. ‘Peace! But it is no place for a lady and neither is a prison. Besides, there really is no need for us both to go—I shall enquire about visiting Zach in prison and I know for a fact he will not wish you to see him in there—you know how proud he is—so there is no use you arguing with me.’

  ‘Very well. But you will not talk me out of speaking to Lord Thetford tomorrow, Daniel, so do not waste your breath attempting it.’

  He laughed. ‘I would not dare, although I fail to see what you hope to achieve by challenging him. If he is determined to have his brother convicted, then I do not see how you might talk him out of it.’

  ‘I must do something.’

  They had been walking as they talked. A hackney bowled up the street towards them and Daniel flagged it down.

  ‘I will drop you and Myrtle off at Beauchamp House, then I shall find out what I can at the Police Office.’

  * * *

  The stench was enough to slay him. The Romany half of Zach shrank from the filth—Romanies were fastidious about cleanliness and Zach had spent the past ten years following their complex rules until it was now instinctive. This place was hell on earth as far as he was concerned. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, rubbing his jaw, wincing at the tender swelling. It had been necessary to defend himself when first he was hustled, clad in chafing leg-irons, through the damp, poorly lit maze of staircases, passages and wards by two turnkeys wielding cudgels. He had been left to find his own place in the common yards. As noxious as the yard was, it was at least better than being in the cells with their barred windows and stinking soil buckets.

  The yard—where the inmates had access during daylight hours—were crowded with young and old men alike: the untried and the tried, the accused and the condemned, the first offender with the hardened criminal. They were all massed together in one seething cauldron of despair. Zach had been ready for the challenges—he was a big man and he knew there would be men who would try to assert their authority over him from the start. He soon disabused them of any such notion and now, close to twelve hours after the Runners had taken him, he was left largely alone. But he kept his back to the wall as he thought through what had happened, what he had learned about the accusation against him and what might come. He did not think of help from outside. No one, other than Cecily, would care what became of him. He must be ready to defend himself by whatever means he might, but he did not doubt that his future appeared bleak.

  Thetford had been robbed. Beaten unconscious. But Kilburn had disturbed the attacker and identified him as Zach. Now, they must wait until Thetford regained consciousness in order to press charges. That he would do so, despite the fact that Zach had not carried out the attack, seemed to go without question. The delay was merely a formality. Thetford would awaken, swear a deposition, and bring Zach to trial at the Old Bailey. And Zach would be found guilty. Zach had little faith in the fairness of the judicial system, particularly with his Romany blood to stand against him.

  His only defence—and it was a defence he could never, ever use—was that he had an alibi: Cecily. But his honour simply would not allow him to bring her name into the affair.

  * * *

  After settling Myrtle in with an overjoyed Hector, Cecily gave orders that she was to be informed immediately Mr Markham called and then she shut herself in her bedchamber to think. She paced her room restlessly. She did not believe Zach would harm anyone, even his brother, but—he had been arrested. Surely they did not arrest someone without some evidence they were guilty?

  And what about when Leo learned of the attack and subsequent arrest? He would be delighted to be proved right, no doubt, and he would use it as proof why Cecily could not wed Zach. As much as her head echoed with snide remarks that he was right and she’d been too hasty, her heart simply could not believe that Zach would harm Thetford. Unless—if Thetford attacked him first, would he not defend himself? Sick dread pooled in her stomach. Would they believe Zach, if that were the case? And what if Thetford died? Would they hang him as a murderer? Thetford was a nobleman after all, and... Her heart seized in terror. Zach was Thetford’s heir. Any jury, surely, would view that as motive enough to kill.

  * * *

  When Daniel eventually called, it was with no further news whatsoever. His visit had been in vain. Nobody at the Police Office was able—or willing—to answer his questions and he still had no idea how to arrange a visit to a prisoner inside Newgate. It was one of the disadvantages of him being a stranger to London and its institutions.

  Never before in her life had Cecily so keenly felt the restrictions of her sex.

  Daniel had left soon afterwards, with the promise of calling for Cecily the next day as soon as he heard via the servants that Lord Thetford had awoken.

  * * *

  Leo had returned home late that night and Cecily did not see him, but she knew there would be a moment of reckoning come morning. If Rosalind did not tell Leo what had happened, then he would for certain hear it from some other source. She slept badly, tossing and turning, drifting in and out of a light sleep but, at first light, she was up even though there was nothing she could do. She picked at her breakfast, her appetite flown, and—in no mood for company—she returned to her bedchamber to continue her interminable wait. Finally, after hours of indecision, she sent for Anna. Visiting Newgate was not an option, but she could go to Bow Street. Surely she could demand answers where Daniel could not? Being the sister of a powerful duke did have some privilege.

  The chimes of the longcase clock that stood in the hall drifted through the door as Anna came into the room and bobbed a curtsy. Ten o’clock already! She wondered what Zach was doing; what he was thinking. Did he feel abandoned? Well, she would not abandon him.

  ‘Anna. Make haste now, I must dress and go out. And I wish you to accompany me.’

  ‘Milady—’ Anna made no attempt to follow her bidding, but remained by the door, holding it open. ‘His Grace has asked you to attend him in his study. Immediately, begging your pardon, milady.’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Cecily’s heart leapt up into her throat and then sank again. Leo knew. The sympathetic glow in her maid’s eyes almost proved Cecily’s undoing, but she had kept her emotions under control thus far and she was damned if she would appear before Leo with swollen eyes. She had more pride than that. She must hope that Leo would be able to tell her more details about what had happened.

  Grantham opened the door of Leo’s study for her and she walked in to find her brother standing by the window, his back to her, and a stern-faced Vernon standing by the unlit fireplace, his arms folded across his chest. Leo turned—his features as grim as Vernon’s—as the door clicked shut behind Cecily and gestured to her to sit. She ignored it. Instead she crossed the study to a space where she could see both her brothers at the same time, her pulse pounding. Too late, she wished she had t
aken action straight away and gone earlier to Bow Street. She would rather face the court officials and the Bow Street officers than face these two in their current moods.

  She seized the initiative while she had the chance.

  ‘Tell me what you have heard, Leo, please.’

  Leo’s brows shot up. ‘You know, then? About Graystoke?’

  Cecily nodded as Vernon unfolded his arms and moved towards her.

  ‘And here we were, worrying about how to break the news to you.’

  ‘Please—’ she looked from one brother to the other ‘—tell me what you know...everything you know.’

  ‘The news is all over Town,’ Vernon said. ‘The servants are agog with it and it is here, in The Times. Every nasty detail of it.’

  Cecily held out her hand. ‘May I read it?’

  ‘Unnecessary,’ Leo said, ‘when we have the full story straight from the horse’s mouth. Kilburn called here, not half an hour since.’

  ‘Did he tell you what happened?’

  Leo frowned. ‘What difference does that make?’ His silver eyes softened in sympathy. ‘Kilburn identified the attacker as Graystoke.’

  Tendrils of anger wound tightly around her heart—a rage she welcomed, to hold secure her courage and her belief and to prevent her heart from breaking in two. She must not fall apart. Zach needed her and she would not let him down.

  ‘I do not believe him. Zach is not a violent man. Nor is he a man to attack another from behind. He is no coward.’

  Leo sighed and swept his hand through his hair. ‘How can you be so certain, Cecy? The magistrate had no hesitation in refusing him bail. He’ll stay in prison until he’s tried. Cecily—my dear—you barely know the man. He has lived with Romanies for the past ten years—who can tell what association with such people will do to a man’s character? You should be relieved you have discovered the truth about him. You have had a lucky escape. It was fortunate Thetford was quickly discovered and taken for medical attention or it might have been a murder charge. Not that it will make much difference. Violent robbery attracts the most severe punishment. Kilburn has returned to Thetford’s house in order to record what he remembers of the attack as soon as he wakes up.’