The Sign of the Raven

by L. C. Sharp

  “Nonsense, I’m grateful for it! That soprano could shatter glass, even though she can’t hit a note to save her life. Besides, I’m curious. You rarely visit the houses of society hostesses. Has your lady wife prevailed on you to be civilized?”

  Juliana stifled her laugh, but both men noticed. The duke’s thin lips twitched in a smile. “What’s afoot?”

  They could hardly avoid telling him. In any case, he could be useful.

  “We went to the firework display tonight,” Ash began.

  “Humph. Too much of a squeeze for my liking. I don’t need to see it twice. I’m happy to wait for the real thing.” His gaze sharpened. “What happened there?” He thrust the front lappets of his full-bottomed wig behind his shoulders, out of the way, ready for business.

  “We found a dead man. Or rather, some of the attendants did. One knew me and what I do.”

  “Ah.” Newcastle paused. “And this is something to do with Lady Coddington?”

  Ash nodded.

  “Ah,” said the duke again.

  Ash leaned an elbow on the highly polished table and spoke to her. “I would greatly appreciate your impressions of this meeting.

  “Your observances are better than mine. Better than anyone else I’ve ever known.” He touched her hand, and again, she did not flinch. That instinctive reaction to anybody’s touch seemed to have gone, and she was glad of it. “Besides,” he said as if nothing had happened, as if casual touches were normal for them, “you can look bored, uninterested. You’re aristocratic. You know how to do that.”

  “I’ll let you lead.” She guessed he wanted aristocratic disdain from her. She could do that.

  “My experience of these meetings is that the person who gives the bad news is often the one vilified for it. Irrational, uninvited, but it happens often.”

  “And you don’t want me subjected to that.”

  “Exactly,” said Ash, smiling.

  “In any case,” Juliana went on, “The countess might appreciate a sympathetic ear sometimes.”

  The duke watched their exchange, a smile curving his lips. “A proper marriage, I see.”

  In all ways but one, yes it was. “I am content, your grace.”

  “After the start you had, I’m glad everything worked out for the best.”

  She wouldn’t have put it like that, but she thanked him anyway.

  “Lord Hawksworth’s daughter, eh?”

  “Yes, your grace, although I am happy to be Lady Ashendon.”

  “That’s as may be. But it would be a shame if you ignored your rank and what is due to you.” Abruptly, he turned to Ash. “You received my invitation to the ball on Friday?”

  Ash blinked. “I presumed that it was your way of informing us that there would be carriages left outside my house for most of the night.”

  “Harrumph!” The duke gave a sound that was half laugh, half throat clearing. “No such thing. Come to the ball. Let’s introduce you and your wife to society.”

  They could make some discreet inquiries about Lord Coddington. “Your grace is most kind,” she murmured.

  Ash turned his sharp gaze on to her. “You would like to go?”

  She wouldn’t have said that, but still and all. “It’s kind of him to ask.”

  Ash kept her gaze for a few seconds, then drew a breath and turned back to his grace. “Thank you, sir. We would love to attend your ball.”

  The duke nodded as if he’d expected that answer. Not until that point did her stomach tie itself into knots. She would be appearing in society as Lady Ashendon, not Lady Juliana Christenson or Lady Uppingham.

  She was a murderess, according to some, despite the real culprit having been caught. She was the wife of a gentleman, not a member of the aristocracy, one possessed of a modest fortune by their standards. Polite society would be avid to see them.

  “Juliana?” Ash said.

  She could not answer, because the door opened to admit her ladyship, but she gave him a wry grimace, to show that she was not looking forward to delivering the bad news, but she was ready for it. They all rose.

  The atmosphere in the room tightened. Juliana had only been present at one other occasion like this, delivering the sad news of someone’s death to their relatives. In that case, the husband of the dead woman had burst into inconsolable tears. Her killer was a petty thief. He was hanged a week later, but that news had done little to assuage the broken family.

  The required courtesies exchanged, the duke helped Lady Coddington to sit, and stood behind her chair. Since he remained standing, so did Ash. Lady Coddington was an attractive woman in her early thirties, or thereabouts, her soft prettiness enhanced by a sapphire blue gown and a matching necklace. Under the white powder, a gleam of light brown showed where the maid had missed a curl.

  Juliana saw a society lady dressed for a cultural evening. Calm and collected but with a slight wariness as she looked around and assessed the company. When her attention went to Ash, her shoulders stiffened. Was it anger at having her evening interrupted, or did she know Ash and what he stood for?

  She lifted enchanting blue eyes to Ash’s face. “Sir Edmund?” If she had said “Do I know you?” she couldn’t have been more obvious.

  Ash tucked his hands behind his back. “Sir Edmund Ashendon, my lady.”

  “Friends of mine,” the duke put in. “Allow me to make the introductions.” Which, of course, he did perfectly.

  “Do sit down,” she said with a gracious gesture of one hand. The duke and Ash did as she asked, Ash sitting next to her and the duke opposite.

  Ash glanced at the duke, but then turned his attention back to Lady Coddington. “We attended the fireworks display at Vauxhall Gardens tonight.”

  She stilled. “Yes?”

  Juliana read tension, even more than the usual formal bolt-upright pose most ladies adopted.

  “Your husband attended the display, also.”

  “You saw him there?”

  So she knew where he’d gone, and that he planned to go there. Juliana watched and listened, paying close attention to Lady Coddington. She put herself into her position. If someone had come to her and said those things, she’d have asked where her husband was, or if he had a message for her. She asked neither of those things, although Ash gave her the time to do so.

  “We saw him there, my lady. Unfortunately, not in the circumstances anybody would wish.”

  “Was he with a woman?”

  That was her first question? Many men of society took mistresses, and sometimes their wives were grateful, or calmly went their own way and found a lover. Lady Coddington was guarded, as if this was unwelcome to her.

  “Not that we know of. He was alone. Lady Coddington, there is no easy way to tell you this. I’m sorry to say that your husband is dead. You are a widow.”

  Her face remained fixed in its expression, the slight polite smile firmly in place. Juliana knew that expression. She’d used it herself often enough. When she wanted to hide her true feelings.

  “Dead?” her ladyship repeated, her voice flat. “What makes you think that?”

  The duke reached out a hand as if to take hers, but she drew back. “Sir Edmund is a man of integrity,” he said. “You may believe him. Your poor husband has reached his unhappy end.”

  She drew back, curled into herself, wrapping her arms around her waist. “Dead, you say?”

  Ash said the word he had to. “Murdered.”

  She closed her eyes and shuddered. “How?”

  “He was shot, my lady. He would likely not have suffered.” That was all he could say.

  “A robbery?” the duke interjected.

  “We do not know yet. We came here at once. I’m afraid a few people saw him before I secured the scene, including my wife’s parents. I believe you are acquainted with Lord and Lady Hawksworth?”


  Her eyes opened. She shot him a startled look. “Yes.” Her attention whipped over to Juliana. “You’re that woman? The one who—”

  “Whose first husband lost his life in violent circumstances,” Ash finished for her, before she could say anything else. “That is how we met. I helped solve that case, and if you wish it, I will help you, too, should it become necessary.”

  “A robbery.” She closed her eyes again, squeezing them tight, presumably to force back tears. She must have succeeded because when she opened them, they were clear.

  They had already concluded this was no simple attempt at theft. But her ladyship had not. And Ash would work on it whether she approved or not. But to tell the widow those things would be beyond cruel. Let her deal with the terrible news first.

  Had she loved her husband? Had he loved her? She hadn’t been pleased when she’d asked if he was with a woman.

  “May I fetch someone for you, your ladyship?” Juliana asked softly. “A drink, perhaps?”

  “No, no.” She fumbled at her skirts, found the slit and delved into her pocket, finding a lace-edged handkerchief. “Please send for my maid, Foster.” She cast an anguished gaze upward. “And my guests...”

  With that gaze to the skies, she resembled nothing so much as a painting of The Repentant Magdalene.

  Thankfully the trilling from above had stopped, but the harpsichord still tinkled, and feet shuffled on the floor. The music room must be directly above this one.

  The duke got to his feet. He nodded to Ash when he rose. “Good evening, Sir Edmund, Lady Ashendon, Lady Coddington. Until this terrible news, the evening was a pleasant one. Allow me to deal with the guests on your behalf. I will ensure your maid comes to you.”

  The Duke of Newcastle left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

  Lady Coddington clasped her hands together, squashing the handkerchief between them. Her knuckles turned white. She stared at them as if they could give her answers. “Will you tell me how you found him, please?”

  “On his face, under the stands erected for the spectators,” Ash said, retaking his seat. “He may not have seen his attacker.”

  She breathed deeply, her bosom rising over her tight bodice. “I see. Thank you.” She lifted her head and met his gaze. “Then there is little chance of finding his—the man who...” she trailed off.

  “As you say, my lady.” His gaze left hers, then met Juliana’s over the top of her ladyship’s head, an unspoken query in them. She nodded reassurance. He was worried for her. She’d caught him checking her before when she’d helped him with a case. “Little chance. But we will do everything we can to uncover him. He will be brought to justice.”

  “Y-yes, of course. I want him found,” she continued, her voice trembling. She was close to collapse but holding herself together very well. “I want him hanged. How could he do this to my husband?” Tears stained her voice now.

  Before Ash could do anything, she flung herself out of her chair, straight at him. Her piercing scream that rivaled the soprano’s far from dulcet tones rang around the paneled walls and shook the flame in the candelabrum set on the table.

  Ash caught her. He did not have much choice. An armful of a generously proportioned woman would have felled a weaker man, but despite his lean build, her husband was no weakling. So instead of tumbling in an undignified heap on the floor, he held on and accepted her full weight.

  “He is dead, my beloved is dead!” She sobbed onto his shoulder. “I should have gone with him, I knew it! But I forgot my musicale was tonight, and he went alone. He could not bear Miss Scarsdale’s screeching, he said, and I protested. The last words between us were hard ones. How can I live with knowing that? How can I make amends?”

  Ash froze. His mouth opened and closed and his eyes pleaded for help. Juliana had to step in.

  “My lady, please be calm.” She got to her feet and leaned over her ladyship, trying to ease her away from Ash. She clung to him like a mussel to a rock. “I am so sorry we had to bring this news to you.”

  Outside, the sound of quiet murmurs and people descending the stairs filtered through to us. The duke was fulfilling his promise.

  She pushed back, her tear-stained face gleaming in the flickering light. “I should go to the guests...” She scraped her already wet handkerchief over her face. Juliana offered hers. Lady Coddington took it, dropping her own on the floor. “Oh dear, they must think...” She turned back to Ash. “What should I do?”

  Evidently she was the kind of woman who relied on men to make her decisions for her. Or liked to let it appear so. Juliana’s mother was much the same, or at least she was in public.

  “Stay here until they have gone,” he said. “The duke will ensure they are not offended by your disappearance. Let him take care of it.”

  “Yes, the dear duke.” Seemingly satisfied by Ash’s assurance, she let him help her back into her chair. Dining chairs, however comfortable, were hardly suitable, but the table provided a useful support when she folded her arms and leaned forward, sobbing loudly.

  Ash glanced at Juliana and raised his brows.

  A maid entered through the servant’s door at the back of the room. She carried a basket covered with a soft white towel. After she’d delivered perfunctory curtseys, she laid the contents on the table. Smelling salts, spare handkerchiefs, a warm shawl, and a collection of brown bottles. All the while, she talked in a soothing tone, tutting and not so much saying anything, but setting up a murmur of gentle sound. “Now, my lady, there, my lady, just take this clean handkerchief. I have some of your favorite medicine, and we’ll have you upstairs and in bed in a trice. I will send for Dr. Cope in the morning, but for now, my lady, a good night’s sleep will serve you better.”

  The maid could not know about Lord Coddington’s death, but she had come armed.

  Lady Coddington gave no sign that she’d heard any of it, but her sobbing lessened, and when the maid eased her back, she allowed her to do it. The woman tutted over her ladyship’s red face, and wiped the tears away with a clean, damp cloth. Then she folded it neatly and laid it over the lady’s eyes. “This will reduce any swelling, my lady. We will get the cook to slice some cucumber directly.”

  “Did anyone tell you what ails her ladyship?” Ash asked her.

  She took her time answering him. “No, sir.”

  “No doubt she will tell you herself, but the matter is serious.”

  When she turned back to her mistress, her stance made clear that they were in the way. Naturally, she could not say so directly, but she didn’t need to, dismissing them as effectively as if she’d spoken it.

  “What mood was his lordship in when he left this evening?” Ash asked. When she didn’t reply, he repeated it.

  The maid turned to them, effectively shielding Lady Coddington with her ample body and full skirts. “I don’t like to be rude, sir, but you should leave her ladyship to me. She’s suffered a severe shock, and she can’t answer any of your questions.”

  “I wasn’t asking her ladyship,” Ash said, steepling his long fingers. “I was asking you. Your name is...”

  “Simmons, sir. I’m no gossip,” the woman said. “What goes on in this house is no business of yours.”

  Ash shook his head. “I’m afraid it is, now. I will need to ask those questions, tonight or tomorrow.”

  Lady Coddington waved a hand, weakly. “Answer their questions, Simmons.”

  “Was his lordship in a good mood when he left this evening?”

  Simmons bobbed her head. “Well enough, sir. Happy he was going to see the fireworks, sorry her ladyship could not go with him. She had guests, you see, and she hadn’t made sure of the date. He was a bit put out, but he said he could go on his own, and it would save her ladyship the journey there and back. Her ladyship dislikes crowds.”

  “Ah, I see.”

  “He did
not say he was meeting anyone there?”

  “No, sir. I think he was coming back after. He said he’d see her ladyship later.” She glanced at her ladyship.

  Lady Coddington’s grief and exhaustion filled the room. She would say nothing else.

  With murmurs of condolence and promising to return if she needed them, Ash and Juliana took their leave.

  Chapter Four

  Half an hour later, they were home, standing outside their bedrooms. Juliana’s maid would be waiting inside hers. But as she touched the latch, she changed her mind and turned. “What my father said about a true marriage...” She put her candle down on the table outside the bedroom.

  “Ah.” He came to her and took her hand, the one with the wedding ring. He made sure she saw his intention first, and she let him take it with only slight hesitation. “Either he said that because someone had told him that we do not share a bed, which I doubt, or he wanted to see our reaction. He knows what happened to you with Uppingham. He should understand.”

  “He doesn’t. He still wants an heir. If we have a son, he will do everything he can to get him the earldom.” She sighed. “And the whole nonsense will start again.”

  She let her hand lay in his. It was her father’s desire for an heir that made him marry her to her brute of a first husband. Since his title, like most in the nobility, could only pass through the male line, her father had bribed everyone he could get to in the Crown Office to recreate the title in any son Juliana had.

  “I have made it clear to him that I will allow no child of mine to accept a title that is bought and paid for.” He shrugged. “But that is of little matter next to the suffering you went through. He should understand that injuries like the ones you suffered, inside and out, need healing.”

  Recalling the way he had touched her and she had enjoyed it, she said, “I think I’m healed.”

  He released her hand. “You’ve come a long way.” A smile touched the corners of his mouth. “I trust you to know when you are fully recovered. But even if you are, I will not urge you to do anything that you do not want to. Heart and mind.”