by Sahara Kelly
“Perfectly normal,” said Rose. “I’ve heard many women say the same. And you’re actually lucky to be spared the unpleasant bits.”
“I know,” Judith sighed. “And Ragnor’s beside himself with a mixture of pride, excitement, and worry.”
All the women exchanged looks. After all, he was a man, and thus expected to act in a ridiculous fashion while his wife was carrying what might be his heir.
A tap on the door distracted them, and the sight of the Duke’s face peering around brought them all to their feet.
“Colly…really…”
“Your Grace…”
“Good heavens…”
“Should you be here?”
“Uncle Colly!” Prudence’s shocked voice won out over the exclamations. “What on earth are you doing out of bed?”
He stepped into the room, dressed comfortably in appropriate day clothes but lacking a stiff cravat. “I was bored and I heard voices.”
Ivy walked to his side, shaking her head. “I should scold you, but honestly I can sympathise.” She took his hand and led him to a large chair by the hearth. “Sit.”
“Yes, your Grace.” He grinned at her.
The others were stunned by the display of humour from one such as the Duke of Maidenbrooke, a gentleman they’d not considered much given to jests.
“Well then,” Rose sat back down into her chair. “Since you’re here, your Grace, and obviously well enough to converse, let’s start with the all-important question that’s on the top of all our minds.” She took a breath. “Have you recalled the name of that person you thought might be a link to your troubles?”
The room fell silent as five pairs of eyes swivelled to the only man in the room.
He lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug. “I think…I believe his name was Barrett.” He stretched out his legs. “I kept thinking Bartlett, but somehow it wasn’t quite right. When I spoke the word Barrett aloud…that was it. I knew it was right. But for the life of me, I cannot recall meeting a Mr Barrett.”
“That’s a nuisance,” muttered Lydia. “I was hoping we could point our fingers at someone we know and say, fie upon you, villain. And then have him clapped in irons or drawn and quartered.”
“Lovely sentiment, Lydia. Bloodthirsty but poetic.” Rose grinned at her friend.
“Barrett?” Judith blinked. “Now isn’t that an interesting coincidence?”
Everyone turned to stare at her.
“If memory serves me, our Miss Beatrice Ringwood’s fiancé is Sir Timothy Barrett.”
*~~*~~*
His Grace was caught by surprise as much as anyone else in the room, but after a moment or two he nodded. “It makes perfect sense. Now it’s clear to see where Miss Ringwood obtained her rumours. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if Sir Timothy put her up to it.”
“I agree,” Lydia said firmly. “Well then. That’s a big step toward solving our mystery, except…”
“Except we have no idea of his motive,” finished Ivy.
“Perhaps we should learn more of Sir Timothy,” suggested Prudence. “Ivy, where did you find our Debrett’s? We might as well start there.”
“Good idea, Prudence,” approved her uncle. “It should still be in my study.”
“That’s where I left it,” Ivy said. “On the second shelf of the large bookcase next to the window.”
Prudence hurried out, while everyone else looked at each other with a certain amount of confusion.
Rose spoke what most of them were thinking. “None of this makes any sense at all, does it?”
There was a general murmur of agreement.
“It inspires me to wonder what could drive one man to take another’s life?” Lydia looked unusually sombre. “I could understand desperation. Some of the most passionate emotions that stir people to do the extraordinary, either for good or evil.” She paused. “But this, stabbing someone in the back with every intention of killing him—as far as we know—what could be behind such a heinous act?”
“Madness,” declared Judith. “He’s mad. No other explanation for it.”
Prudence returned with a book in her hands. “Right then. Let’s see what we can find.”
“May I?” asked Colly, holding out his hand. “I’d like to feel I contributed something to the discussion.” He took the volume as his niece held it toward him, settling it on his knee.
“There’s not much on Miss Ringwood,” offered Ivy. “I never thought to look at her fiancé and see if there were entries pertaining to him and his lineage. Anyway, he’s probably not listed as such, since their engagement is of quite a recent date.”
“Hmm.” The Duke thumbed through the pages. “Babbacome, Backerton…Banting…ah. Here we are. Barrett.”
Silence fell as the only sound was the turning of a page.
Ivy swallowed. “If you don’t say something soon, Colly, I shall become most distressed.”
Lydia thoughtfully moved the teapot away from Ivy’s reach.
“Well, well,” he said, his voice betraying a measure of surprise. He cleared his throat. “The Right Honourable Trevor Barrett, first surviving son of Lord Henry Barrett, Bart., of Shropshire. Married Jocelyn Chesham, offspring: one son, Timothy.” He glanced up. “That all sounds quite unexceptional.”
“Indeed. Do go on, your Grace.” Judith’s tone of voice left no doubt that her words weren’t a request, but a demand. Ivy bit back a chuckle.
“The aforementioned Trevor Barrett departed this life when his son was four. And the cause—here, I’ll read it—succumbed to an irregularity of the mind—leads me to wonder if he may have taken his own life.”
“How tragic,” said Rose. “And how terrible for his son.”
“Indeed. But here’s where it gets interesting.” Colly shifted the book a little. “A year later, Timothy’s mama remarried.” He looked up, letting the anticipation build. “Her new husband was one Mondale Charles Goddings.”
The words echoed around the room, bringing expressions of stunned shock to every face present.
“Good God.” Ivy recovered first. “Goddings. Barrett-Goddings.”
As one, the girls looked at each other.
“Fiona Barrett-Goddings.”
Prudence sucked in a gasp. “The woman you were engaged to, Uncle Colly?”
He nodded. “The very same. Sir Timothy Barrett would appear to be Fiona’s half-brother.”
“But…” Rose’s brow creased into a puzzled frown.
“I think that says what we’re all thinking,” chuckled Lydia with a shake of her head. “This matter has just traversed the bridge between confusing and utterly absurd.”
“It can’t be because of Fiona,” added Judith. “She left you high and dry, your Grace, not the other way around.” Colour rose in her cheeks as she realised what she’d just said. “I do beg your pardon.”
He waved it away. “Plain speaking is what we need right now, Lady Withersby. No apologies necessary.”
“Judith is right, though,” Rose still frowned over the matter. “The only connection would appear to be Fiona. You were the wronged party, so why would Sir Timothy take you into such violent dislike?”
“That, Lady Linfield, is the question we must solve,” the Duke responded with approval. “Although at this very moment, I’m not exactly sure how.”
He did his best to suppress a yawn, but his ever-vigilant wife caught it.
“I think his Grace should rest now,” she said firmly, backing it up with a determined look and a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll give us time to consider what we’ve learned thus far and perhaps expand upon it.” She looked down at him, warming him with her expression. “I will guarantee that Sir Timothy Barrett will have absolutely no chance at all to inflict any further damage upon my husband, who is not leaving the house unless I say so.”
The Duke couldn’t resist quirking an eyebrow at her. “Isn’t that rather dictatorial?”
“Yes.”
There was a smattering of
laughter in the room at Ivy’s simple response.
“You see, ladies?” The Duke held out his hands. “I am now at the mercy of a termagant who controls my every move.” He sighed dramatically. “Lord forbid word of my subjugation leak out to the Ton. I’d never hear the end of it.”
“And Ivy would write a best-selling book on ‘How to Manage A Duke’.” Lydia’s laughing rejoinder made them all smile.
“It’s an interesting thought,” said Ivy, shooting a grin at Lydia.
“Be that as it may,” Judith rose. “I think it’s time we all left their Graces to their well-deserved rest.” She put a hand to her back. “I’m feeling the need for a slight repose myself…”
“Or a nap,” grinned Prudence.
“That too, most probably,” agreed Judith.
“Oh…” Ivy’s sudden exclamation made everyone look at her. “You know, perhaps we should keep Colly’s recovery to ourselves for a little while?”
The Duke’s eyes narrowed. “What are you thinking?”
“That you’ll be safer if you’re not perceived as a threat to whoever did this,” she answered, her gaze troubled. “And additionally the knowledge that you’re out of the public eye might embolden the culprit in some way. I’m not sure if that makes any sense…”
“It does,” said Lydia. “Shrewd and wise, Ivy. Nothing like complacency to lure a scoundrel into revealing himself.”
“Very well then,” agreed Rose. “For the time being your Grace, you are still seriously ill. And alerting your household to that fact is probably a good idea as well.”
“Then it shall be so,” he nodded. “I would like to go on record, however, as not being terribly happy with my enforced incarceration. I was bored upstairs. If I have to be confined for long, I shall get quite testy.” He shot a quick smile at Ivy. “You have been warned.”
“Well we have accomplished quite a bit,” Rose gathered her shawl. “And I, for one, am going to do some subtle inquiring amongst Miles’s friends.” She looked around. “You might want to do the same. We don’t move in the same circles as Sir Timothy, but I’ll wager my best bonnet that Ragnor, Matthew, Mowbray and Miles have run across him at least a time or two.”
“I might see if Lord and Lady Rolfe are in town. I’m sure Fiona wouldn’t mind if I popped by for tea…” Judith echoed Rose’s ideas.
“Excellent notions,” the Duke stood and bowed. “I’m in your debt. All of you. Not only for your concern and interest in this situation, but for your constant friendship toward my wife.” He smiled at Ivy. “I’m learning from her how precious a gift that is.”
A murmur of approval greeted his comment and the room emptied as the women departed Hartsmere House, leaving him alone with Prudence and Ivy.
“Right, Colly. Off to bed with you.” Ivy marched to summon Martin.
“Yes, Uncle Colly. You must get better quickly, and rest will help. I doubt Sir Timothy is finished with you, although I know you’re safe here.”
He could see the worry on her face, and he held out his arms, glad she came to him and let him give her a warm hug. “I’m a tough bird,” he said, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. “And I’m not in the least bit worried. If Sir Timothy comes near me, the Duchess will shoot him.”
Both women laughed, but Ivy also nodded. “I would too. Without a second thought.” She looked at Colly. “One has to protect what matters most.”
Their gazes met, and Colly saw the depth of her feelings in her eyes.
“I couldn’t agree more.” He cursed his weakness at that moment, wishing he were hale and hearty. He wanted desperately to take his wife to bed, but knew he didn’t yet have his strength.
Sir Timothy Barrett had a lot more to answer for than just a damn stab in the back.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The stage was set.
Society had learned that his Grace the Duke of Maidenbrooke was most unwell and in seclusion at Hartsmere House. Lady Maud Sydenham wholeheartedly embraced the scheme.
When Judith visited her the day before the next Wednesday Club gathering, she told both Maud and Sir Laurence about the situation. They needed to know, since if Miss Ringwood appeared on the following evening, she would be encouraged to spend some time with a certain group of young ladies.
“As long as you don’t make her scream,” observed Sir Laurence. “I do loathe hearing a woman scream.” He glanced at Maud. “Unless it’s under the right circumstances, of course…”
His wife rolled her eyes and ignored him. “I’ll make sure the small parlour is ready for you. I think that might be the best place to withdraw with Miss Ringwood.”
“Excellent. Thank you, Lady Maud. I’m not sure what she’ll have to say for herself, but it’s time we took control over this situation.” Judith sighed. “There is no end to the lengths people will go to when it comes to despicable behaviour, is there? I’ll never fully comprehend it.”
“I don’t know Miss Ringwood at all well,” said Maud. “But she doesn’t seem like the vicious type, and those I do know.”
“So you think perhaps she’s being manipulated?” Judith pursed her lips. “I suppose it could be a possibility.”
“May I join you for the…er…inquisition?”
“Oh, of course. That would be quite wonderful.” Judith grinned. “You can intimidate her.”
“I’m not intimidating,” protested Maud. “Not in the least.”
A snort from Sir Laurence greeted that statement.
“Well I’m not,” his wife declared.
“Of course not, my dearest.” Sir Laurence smiled wickedly at Judith. “If you’re looking for the real thing when it comes to intimidation, you couldn’t do better than Hobson.”
“That’s an excellent notion,” nodded Judith. “I’ll certainly keep that in mind. I do believe that Hobson could have persuaded Napoleon to part with all his secrets if they’d allowed him onto the Bellerophon.”
“I’m not sure he had too many secrets left at that point, dear,” pointed out Sir Laurence. “But you can safely wager that if he did, Hobson would have discovered them.”
Maud doggedly continued. “Since Miss Ringwood can in no way be compared to Napoleon, this is probably not the most productive of conversations. And I’m sure you have other things to do this morning, Judith.” She patted the young woman’s hand. “How are you feeling?”
As Judith beamed, Sir Laurence headed for the door. “You girls are going to talk about lady stuff. I have manly things to do.”
“Bye, dear.” Maud gave him an airy wave.
“He’s so kind,” said Judith. “As are you. I don’t deserve you both…” She burst into tears.
Maud sighed and pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve. “Here you are.”
“Thank you,” sniffled Judith. “I seem to be a regular watering pot these days and I don’t know why.” She hiccupped. “Only yesterday cook produced some magnificent scones for breakfast. They were so good I cried for a full ten minutes.”
She blew her nose and dried her eyes.
“Blame little Withersby,” Maud grinned. “It’s quite normal.”
“So I’m told,” agreed Rose. “But it’s rather a nuisance. Especially since Miles is picking me up shortly and we’re going to visit Fiona and Lord Rolfe.”
“They’re back in town?” Maud’s eyebrows lifted in surprise.
“Yes, but they’re keeping their presence quiet. Heaven knows they don’t wish to be any more of a cause for scandalous gossip.”
“I can see their point.” Maud remembered the shock when the reigning beauty had walked away from her unwanted engagement to the Duke of Maidenbrooke in order to marry the notorious gambler, Lord Gadsby Rolfe. Judith had assisted them in their plans and counted them both as friends.
“Miles always got on very well with Lord Rolfe, and I confess to some curiosity as to whether marriage has changed Fiona.”
“It usually does,” remarked Maud.
“Well as long as she’s s
topped fainting, it’ll be an improvement.” Judith rolled her eyes. “That was a rather annoying characteristic.”
Maud laughed. “Run along then. And good luck with the plans.” Her smile faded. “I don’t like the damage that could have been done to the Duke, Judith. He’s a good man and deserves better than to be the target of some foul and vicious scandalmongering.”
“We all feel the same way, my Lady. Thank you.” Judith rose, as did Maud, and the two hugged each other, both knowing that they were family, regardless of birth or heritage.
“Ah, here you are.” Miles peeked around the door. “Hobson betrayed you, my Lady.” He came in and took Maud’s hand, elegantly kissing her knuckles.
“We had just finished our chat, Sir Miles. Your timing is impeccable.”
He preened. “As it always is…”
“Oh dear.” Judith sighed. “Don’t get him started. I will have to endure it for the rest of the morning.”
Maud laughed. “Run along. And good hunting.”
“My Lady,” Miles bowed, and then followed Judith from the room.
*~~*~~*
It was a short trip from Sydenham House to the outskirts of London, where Lord Rolfe and his lovely wife now resided.
“I am rather looking forward to this visit,” confessed Judith as the carriage drove along quiet streets. “I’m not sure anyone’s seen hide nor hair of the Rolfes since their marriage.”
“Rolfe is no fool,” answered Miles. “He caused a bit of a scandal, but since then the couple has been a very model of propriety.”
“I know.” She frowned. “Not a whisper. It’s most annoying.”
He chuckled. “You can find out why. We’re here.”
Judith found herself stepping down from the carriage in front of a sparkling new residence, a large home set back a little from the street and delightfully fronted with neat shrubbery and even a few flowers. It wasn’t quite a country manor, but certainly nicer than those located closer to the centre of London.