A Lady's Guide to Mischief and Murder

by Dianne Freeman

  He finally closed his mouth as she joined us. “Miss Kendrick, it looks as though you always planned to join the hunt,” I said, as my brother was clearly speechless. “You have outdone us all.”

  A smile lit her brown eyes. “Let’s just say I had hopes, and I thought it best to come prepared.”

  Tuttle brought us to attention, announcing the arrival of the carts. Heavens, this was quite rustic. George stepped up to assist me in climbing aboard.

  As I took his arm, he bent close to speak to me. “Bradmore will be in this cart. You should join him. Since you’ll all arrive together, you’re more likely to be shooting near each other.”

  Well, that almost sounded like a vote of confidence. Perhaps he thought I’d be of some assistance after all. “Thank you, George. I promise not to do anything reckless. I know I can’t expect the same from you, but please try not to make me worry.”

  “I’ll do my best. And though I appreciate your promise, it won’t stop me from worrying about you.” He leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Just be careful.”

  Alonzo and Anne squeezed in beside me, with Nash and Bradmore seated across. Soon we were bumping along the rutted track out to the farthest fields on the estate. Anne leaned around Alonzo to catch my attention.

  “Lady Harleigh, I haven’t had much of a chance to speak with you about this, but I do hope you don’t believe Durant’s talk that it was my arrow that felled Mr. Evingdon.”

  My gaze darted to Mr. Bradmore, to see how he reacted to this bit of information, but his expression gave nothing away. I smiled at Anne. “I never did believe that rumor, Miss Kendrick, if it ever was a rumor. Mr. Durant was most likely jealous of your skill with the bow and arrow and simply teasing you.”

  “If it was teasing,” Alonzo said, “it certainly grew out of hand. No one who saw you hit the bull’s-eye so accurately could think you’d let fly an errant shot.”

  “And we all know you wouldn’t have done it intentionally.” Nash’s eyes were sparkling with amusement.

  “Of course not,” I said. “No one would think you’d hit Mr. Evingdon intentionally.” Again, I cast a pointed look at Bradmore. He’d been in the maze after all, where the arrow had been shot.

  He leaned back when I’d placed emphasis on the word you. He wore a look of confusion then squared his jaw and crossed his arms over his chest as if affronted.

  Anne chuckled. “I just wanted to make sure you all felt safe with me since today I am carrying a shotgun.”

  As our cart mates laughed, Bradmore and I carried on our silent confrontation. I hoped he knew I’d be watching him. We scowled at one another as we continued the short bumpy ride. We reached the edge of the wood, alighting from the cart in the short grass, which grew taller as the field stretched out before us. Now I understood why the sport of shooting took up half a day. The area was vast, stretching out to a pond far in the distance.

  As George anticipated, we paired off and met up with our loaders. I stayed with Alonzo and Anne, while Nash and Bradmore, along with their loaders, were stationed just a few yards away. Farther to my left, the group from the other cart filled in the space between us and the woods, with Leo, Lily, and George at the farthest end.

  Even with my concerns, I couldn’t help but enjoy this moment, and I could see why the gentlemen loved this so much. In the early-morning chill, a mist floated above the pond and worked its way into the trees and brush, only clearing perhaps a hundred yards around the group of us. A few workers from the estate drove up in yet another cart with a small pack of dogs.

  Alonzo leaned toward me. “Some of the dogs will stand on point when they find the grouse. Others jump into the grass and flush them out.” He shrugged. “I haven’t been able to figure out which are which, as sometimes they just run around and bark. I suppose it’s part of the tradition.”

  He let out a laugh as the dogs jumped out of the cart and gamboled into the grass.

  “If the dogs don’t flush out the birds, what do you do?”

  “We just walk forward, into the tall grass. That stirs them up, and as they fly off, we try to shoot them, with the emphasis on try. Grouse are small and fast. I’m not sure I’ve actually hit any yet. I’m too enthralled by the sight of it all.”

  He was correct. The birds, which were quite small, but very noisy, took flight the moment we stepped into the field of scrubby grasses and heather. Mr. Tuttle had certainly done his job as, between dog and man, every few yards we advanced sent half a dozen of the creatures shooting skyward. The silence of the morning gave way to the flapping of wings, shrill chirping, and gunshots. As the day warmed and the mist dissipated, loaders scrambled to keep up with the shooters as we moved steadily forward toward the pond. More birds took flight, and round after round was fired, until all that remained was the echo of gunfire, gray wisps of smoke, and the smell of gunpowder.

  About fifty yards from the pond, Tuttle called for a halt while the dogs and their handlers retrieved the birds, and the shooters clapped one another on the back. The activity was exhilarating, exciting, and absolutely horrifying. Those poor birds. Though I could see an overwhelming majority of them managed to escape, I didn’t think I could ever bring myself to eat grouse again. Unfortunately, considering how many were shot, I was quite certain it would be on the menu this evening.

  I shook off the thought and looked around for my quarry. Bradmore. I spotted him in the group of gentlemen to my left, drinking from their flasks and debating who was the best shot. Throughout the morning, I’d kept an eye on Bradmore, and though he’d fired his gun a few times, he seemed more preoccupied with watching the proceedings. I’d even caught his eye once or twice. He’d given me a nod and returned to his observations. What was he about?

  Lily slipped up to my side. “There’s not much more ground to cover before we reach the pond. Should we make one more attempt to talk them out of their plan?”

  I put an arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze. “I’m sorry Lily, but at this point, I suppose we have to trust them.”

  Tuttle called us back to order, and we moved forward once more. We cleared the final yards in no time at all, and the dogs were set on the pond to retrieve their master’s kill. Amid their barks and splashing, and the huzzahs of the gentlemen, another shot rang out, startling us into silence.

  A shriek rent the stillness of the air. I jerked around toward the woods to see Lily drop to her knees as Leo collapsed onto the ground, clutching his arm. A look of shock and pain contorted his expression.

  Dear Lord! It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. From the corner of my eye, I caught a flash of movement. Bradmore, running toward the woods.

  Chapter 19

  George left Leo in Lily’s care and ran after Bradmore. I hesitated only a moment, but as the men in our party ran toward Leo, I clutched Alonzo by the arm. “Come, we have to follow George.”

  The mist had long since lifted but the men we trailed, in their gray and brown tweeds, were difficult to spot among the trees. Fortunately, the racket they made crashing through the woods made them easier to follow. I gave thanks for the sturdy boots I’d put on this morning. Another silent message of gratitude went out to my brother who at first followed me without question, then pushed ahead, guiding me and making way through the brush.

  I heard a grunt and a thud up ahead just before we stumbled into a small clearing. George pushed himself up from the ground, his hand wrapped firmly around Bradmore’s ankle. Bradmore himself thrashed about, facedown in the brush with only his kicking legs in the clearing.

  He managed to twist himself around enough to shout over his shoulder, “Turn me loose, you dolt! He’s getting away.”

  Alonzo pushed past me to help George subdue the scrapping man. Between the two of them, they pulled Bradmore from the grass and undergrowth, and dropped him on the damp leaves in the clearing. Alonzo knelt behind him to take hold of his arms while George leaned an arm against a tree to catch his breath.

  “What the hell’s the
matter with you, Hazelton?” Bradmore’s face, red and scratched from the brush, was the picture of impotent rage.

  I emerged into the clearing. “He said someone is getting away, George.”

  “A ploy, Frances.” He straightened and glared at the man. “You’re the only one I saw running, Bradmore.”

  “Yes, running after the shooter.”

  George shook his head, ignoring the man. “Frances, go back and find Tuttle. He should have some rope on one of the carts. Have him bring it back here.”

  Bradmore shook his head in disgust. “You’re an idiot, Hazelton.”

  I took a step away and turned back, battling with indecision. It had seemed as if the shot had come from the woods and Bradmore had definitely been in the field at the time.

  “Frances, hurry.”

  Somehow this felt very wrong, but I didn’t think now was the time to question George’s judgment. He knew what he was doing. I left the three men in the clearing and stumbled through the path of broken limbs and trampled brush to make my way back to the field. Tuttle had managed to bring the chaos into some sort of order. Leo had been loaded onto one of the carts with Lily seated next to him, pressing a bloodied cloth against his shoulder. He appeared pale and shaken, but relief washed through me to see him alive and sitting up, though leaning heavily against my sister.

  I spotted Mr. Tuttle across the field, shouting orders to the estate workers as they rounded up the dogs and herded the gentlemen to the various conveyances. By the time I reached him, Leo’s cart was already heading back to the manor.

  He pulled his cap from his head and wrung it in his hands. “My lady, did Mr. Hazelton catch the shooter?”

  Breathless, I nodded. “He needs a length of rope to secure him, and we should leave one of these carts for conveying him back to the manor.”

  “Are Mr. Price and Mr. Hazelton all right?”

  I turned to see Anne behind me. “They are both unharmed, but I must hurry. Miss Kendrick, if you can arrange to clear one of the carts for them and try to get everyone out of here and back to the manor, I would be in your debt. And Mr. Tuttle, if you can find that rope, I must take you to them.”

  Within minutes Tuttle and I were crashing back through the woods to the clearing.

  With the gamekeeper’s assistance, they bound the protesting Bradmore’s hands and walked him back to the field. As they dragged him into the cart, I couldn’t help thinking we were missing something. By no means did I trust Bradmore, but I didn’t believe he fired the shot.

  Bradmore remained silent on the short ride back to the manor. George directed Tuttle to drive the cart up to a door in the north wing. He unloaded Bradmore from the cart and pulled him through the door that led to the estate offices. Once inside, Alonzo offered to fetch the authorities.

  With a shove from George, Bradmore fell into one of the guest chairs near the desk. “Not just yet.” He offered Alonzo his hand and slapped him on the shoulder. “Thank you for your assistance back there. I’ll send word to the constabulary shortly, but I have a few questions for the man first.”

  Hoping George would forget about my presence, I slipped into a chair by the bookshelves, as far away from Bradmore as the room would allow. George walked Alonzo to the door. He held it open as he looked around the room. Spotting me, he raised an eyebrow and gestured to the door. “Frances?”

  “No. I can’t allow you to question this man on your own. If you are not sending for the police, I shall stay here with you as a witness.”

  “He is bound, Frances. He can’t harm me.”

  I came to my feet. “Then he can’t harm me either. Besides, I am more concerned that in your anger, you may do something you will come to regret.”

  “Ha!” Bradmore’s laugh was mirthless. “Thank you, Lady Harleigh. I too think Hazelton will come to regret his actions.”

  “This is not a matter for debate.” George’s voice was more of a growl.

  “Good, because I’m not debating. I’m staying here, and that’s final.”

  Bradmore tossed his head in a show of bravado. “Let her stay, Hazelton. Unless, of course, you plan to bring out the thumbscrews.” He cast an ironic glance at me. “That would be a sight you’d rather not see, I’ll wager.”

  George closed the door with an impatient shove and crossed the room in three strides. “Who are you? And just what is your quarrel with Kendrick?”

  Bradmore released a long sigh. “I have no quarrel with Kendrick or anyone else in your party. My name is indeed Bradmore, and I am here at Her Majesty’s behest.”

  I glanced at George to see this had taken him by surprise. Bradmore noted our reactions with a mocking grin. “I’m in the queen’s service, and I’m given to understand you are as well.” He tipped his head and narrowed one eye. “In a roundabout way, that is.”

  George crossed his arms over his chest, watching Bradmore with a wary eye. “Do go on.”

  “The order didn’t come directly from her of course, but the Home Office.”

  “What has the Home Office to do with my brother’s estate?”

  “You are on your brother’s estate, and I understand you recently received a threatening letter. While you chose to ignore it, the Home Office did not. I am here to keep a watch over you. Make sure no one follows through on that threat.”

  While Bradmore explained himself as if remarking on the weather, I groped for the chair beside me—something to lean against as a cold hand squeezed the breath from my lungs. Leo wasn’t the target. It was George. My George. Bradmore’s words barely penetrated the fog in my head, but I heard and latched on to one. “Recently?” My voice rose to a shrill note. “The threat you mentioned was one you received recently? You told me it was in the past.”

  George ignored me and stepped closer to Bradmore. “Why should I believe that? You could be in league with Bracken. How do I know he didn’t hire you to kill me?”

  Good Lord, this just kept getting worse.

  “Well, there’s the letter I have from your superior at the Home Office, giving me this assignment.” He raised his arms. “It’s in the inside pocket of my coat.”

  George studied Bradmore a bit longer, then stepped over to the man and reached inside his coat. I bit my lip when he pulled out a folded sheet of paper. Heavens, was the man finally telling us the truth after lying about himself for days?

  “Is Lady Esther even your aunt?” I asked. “Does she know you are here?”

  “She is, and she does, though she has no knowledge of my assignment. I imagine that’s the reason I was chosen. I could visit her home with no questions asked.” He released a snort of a laugh, reconsidering his statement. “At least not many questions. I take it you’ve learned Lady Esther is in London.”

  I couldn’t look at the man and turned to George who was still studying the letter. Finally, he looked up and cast a glance my way. “It’s legitimate,” he said. “Bradmore works for the Crown and was sent here to see to my welfare.” Folding the page, he reached into the desk drawer and pulled out a pocket knife. He swiftly cut the rope binding Bradmore’s hands. “Sorry, old man.”

  “Understandable, considering the circumstances.” Bradmore rubbed his wrists.

  “There is nothing understandable about this at all,” I said. How could they be so calm? “Why did you not speak to us about your assignment earlier? You’ve been coming here for several days now.”

  Bradmore shook his head. “It’s in the letter. My instructions were to make contact, join your party, and keep an eye out for any possible threats. As to why they didn’t want Hazelton in on this mission?” He raised his newly unbound wrists. “I’m just pulling this from the top of my head of course, but perhaps they feared he’d take matters into his own hands.”

  George winced as the barb hit home.

  Bradmore turned his attention to George. “At any rate, that business at the archery competition prompted me to send in a report about all those accidents, which were beginning to look less like accide
nts. I decided you and your guests were definitely in danger, and I should take you into my confidence. Their answer arrived today. I planned to speak to you after the shoot, when I could get you alone, but obviously, you had other plans.”

  I’d heard enough. Cold resolve stiffened my spine. All this time I’d been worried about Leo, and it turned out someone was trying to murder George. He owed me some answers.

  “Who threatened you, George?”

  He heaved a sigh. “The threat came from a man named Bracken. About seven years ago I was part of an investigation into his criminal activities. I told you about this. It was one of my first assignments.”

  “But you said it was in the past. You told me he’s in prison.”

  George looked at Bradmore. “I thought he was.”

  “He’s still in prison, all right,” Bradmore said. “We checked up on him.”

  “You did?”

  My head was spinning. “Stop. The two of you clearly understand one another, but I’m part of this conversation as well. Please back up and explain yourselves.” I looked at Bradmore. “How do you know Mr. Hazelton received a threat?”

  “Because he reported it.”

  “I’m required to do so,” George said. “But I didn’t expect them to take any action.”

  I gasped. “That’s where you were headed just before you left town. The letter you dropped. It was from Newgate Prison. How could you have told me it was nothing?”

  George held out his hand in a placating gesture. At least he knew how angry I was. “I wasn’t trying to mislead you, Frances. I really didn’t think it amounted to anything.”

  “The Office disagreed,” Bradmore said. “Sent me to Newgate to speak to the old man. A cagey sort, but smug enough to make me suspicious. I thought the threat serious. By the way, do you recall he had a son?”