Stranger at the Dower House (Strangers Book 1)

by Mary Kingswood

  “Have I the honour of addressing Mrs Middlehope?” he said, whipping off his tall beaver hat with a flourish.

  “I am she.”

  “We are come to solve your mystery!” he cried melodramatically, making her an elaborate bow. “Captain Edgerton at your service, madam. Allow me to present my colleagues.” Two more men descended, one a handsome fellow with a roguish smile, the other looking as if he had come directly from Bond Street. “This is Mr Willerton-Forbes,” he said, gesturing to the fashionably dressed man. “And this is Mr Chandry.” The roguish man grinned and bowed.

  “How do you do, gentlemen,” she said politely. “I had no expectation of seeing you for days yet. The lady in question has been dead for a great many years, after all, so the matter is hardly urgent. However, you are most welcome. I only hope the matter to be investigated will prove worthy of such enthusiasm.”

  “We had no other case of interest,” Captain Edgerton said. “A couple of pickpockets, a common assault… all very boring. Whereas a lady in a locked wine cellar… now that is intriguing! We could not wait to get here. But first things first. Is the inn here tolerable, would you say, or must we go on to Shrewsbury for accommodation? For myself I do not mind bed bugs, but Willerton-Forbes here is the Earl of Morpeth’s son and therefore has higher standards than we plebeians.”

  Laughing, Louisa said, “We can do a little better than the Boar’s Head, Captain. You are invited to stay at the home of Mr Gage, the gentleman who has undertaken to pay your fees. You will find the entrance to Lower Maeswood Grove directly opposite this drive.”

  All three men expressed their pleasure at this arrangement, and went off at once to make themselves known to their host. Louisa could only hope that the household would not be too dismayed by the unexpected arrival of so many people, and one of them, at least, looking as if he needed his valet with him at all times.

  They returned within the hour, bringing with them Mr Gage and Dr Beasley.

  “You may leave your sword at the door, Captain,” Louisa said. “I cannot feel it will be necessary for our discussions.”

  “One must be prepared for all eventualities,” he said with a grin, producing a pistol from each pocket.

  “Good heavens! Are they loaded?”

  “They would be of little use in an emergency if they were not,” he said affably.

  “True enough. May I look at one?”

  He only hesitated for a moment before handing it over, although she was aware of Mr Willerton-Forbes and Mr Chandry surreptitiously moving out of harm’s way behind her. Only Mr Gage stood his ground, smiling. He knew her well enough to be sure that she could handle the gun safely. She took it carefully, pointed towards the floor, feeling weight of it and admiring the craftsmanship.

  “Very well made, but then Manton’s work always is,” she said, handing it back. “Not his fanciest effort, but more serviceable for your purpose, I should imagine. I have something similar myself, although a little smaller. However pleasing the design, I should still feel happier if these beauties were left here with your sword, or better still, in the parlour there. William will make sure that no one touches them.”

  He complied at once, and then helped William fetch extra chairs to accommodate so many people in the study. After that there was the business of refreshments — Mr Gage, bless him, had brought another bottle of Madeira — before they could settle to discussing Dilys Hughes. The three Londoners’ eyes gleamed with excitement as Dr Beasley told of his findings and all his concerns.

  “It seems to me,” Captain Edgerton said thoughtfully, “that there are two lines of enquiry to pursue. Firstly, Dilys Hughes. She left here on the stage coach, but where did it take her? We might be able to track down the coachman or guard, and we can enquire in Shrewsbury and the coaching inn, although it seems unlikely anyone would remember something after all this time. The second question is whether this body is Dilys Hughes at all, so we must ask everyone in the village if any other young lady went missing. Mr Gage, we shall need letters of introduction from you, so that we may approach people who would otherwise not talk to riff-raff like us.”

  “I’m the only riff-raff here, Michael,” Mr Chandry said with a soft accent — the West Country, perhaps. “You and Pettigrew are definitely quality. Well… Pettigrew is, at any rate. Not sure about you.” To Louisa he said, “He was in the East India Army, ma’am, and you know what they’re like.”

  “Adept with swords and pistols, I expect,” she said, chuckling. “Is there much call for such weapons in your present line of work, Captain?”

  It was Mr Willerton-Forbes who answered. “You would be surprised, Mrs Middlehope. Murder is a nasty business and when cornered, a man who has already killed once will not hesitate to do so again. On such occasions, one needs to have one’s defences at the ready. As a lawyer, my preferred weapons are words, and Mr Chandry is a useful man in a fist fight, but in a crisis there is no substitute for lethal weapons and a man with the battle skills and experience to use them.”

  “Let us hope we encounter no crises, then,” she said lightly.

  “Unlikely, one would suppose,” Mr Willerton-Forbes said. “However, one never knows what may be stirred up from the past. And speaking of the past, we shall need to know a great deal more about this body. Dr Beasley, you have a detailed report which we may examine, I trust?”

  “Ah, I have something even more useful to you — I have the body itself. Squire Winslade is helpfully preserving it for us in his ice house, although it is probably beyond the need for such preservation. Shall we go and have a look?”

  The Londoners jumped up eagerly, and went off with Dr Beasley to fetch his carriage.

  “They will be gone for the rest of the day,” Mr Gage said, picking up a chair to carry back to the parlour. When he returned, he said, “Will you come for dinner tonight, Mrs Middlehope? You will want to hear their findings, I am sure.”

  “Your sister will have all too many unexpected guests to attend to without adding me to the number. I would not impose on her good nature by asking her to entertain an extra lady as well.”

  “Oh.” He looked pleasingly disappointed. He picked up another chair. “That is a pity. Your thoughts would be most welcome.”

  “I think Captain Edgerton and his colleagues are the experts,” she said.

  He carried the chair away, then returned and picked up his glass of Madeira, not yet empty, twirling it pensively. “I think you should come tonight, whether Viola likes it or not,” he said abruptly. “Edgerton and his friends are very enthusiastic, but I am not comfortable with a man who goes about with loaded pistols in his pockets. It seems to me to be looking for trouble, and those who do that tend to find it. I am not sure that I am sufficient to rein in his wilder starts, but a lady’s presence would certainly have a restraining influence.”

  She laughed, shaking her head at him. “You sound very determined to have me there, whereas I am almost equally determined not to go.”

  “Almost?” he said, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

  “You know my weaknesses, Mr Gage. I am sure you can find a way to tempt me.”

  “Let me see… how about a Château Latour, laid down by my father twenty years ago?”

  “Done!” she said promptly. “There, that was easy, and you have saved me from mutton and boiled potatoes.”

  “Is that what your new cook serves you?”

  “It is all she knows how to prepare. Boiled potatoes are a very depressing vegetable, I find.”

  He laughed. “Then at all costs we must preserve you from the depressive effects of boiled potatoes.” Draining his glass, he set it down on the sideboard with what sounded like a sigh. “And now I must away, for my steward has been awaiting me this half hour past. I shall see you this evening, Mrs Middlehope.”

  Louisa was greatly cheered by this invitation, and promptly sent word to Mrs Nokes that she would be dining out that evening. One meal, at least, which would offer her something more interes
ting than boiled beef and potatoes. It was such a fine day, and so mild for late March, that she was tempted to make an expedition and explore the surrounding lanes and villages. She had been told of a fine haberdashery in Astley Cloverstone, which was reason enough for an outing, so she ordered the gig brought round and changed into her travelling gown and pelisse, the only outfit she had that was suitable for driving in.

  The pony was full of energy after several days of idleness, and set off at a good speed down the drive. Louisa had to restrain him through Great Maeswood, but with the village left behind, she came to a long stretch of straight road, smooth and well-maintained, where she could give him his head. About a quarter of a mile outside the village, she came to a group of men labouring to erect a tall stone at the side of the road, so she brought the gig to a halt.

  “Good day to you! What is your enterprise here?”

  “G’day, mum,” said one of the men, stepping forward and removing his hat. “G’day, Goronwy. ’Tis a monument to Lord Saxby, who died in this very place at the turn of the year, mum. The ’orses musta took fright at somethin’ and tipped ’im out, and the young master too. Terrible tragedy, it were. Thought it right to mark the spot. We took the ’at round and all o’ us put somethin’ in, all ’is lordships tenants and workers.”

  “That is commendable,” she said. “He was well liked, then, the late Lord Saxby?”

  “Aye, ’e was that,” the spokesman said, but the other men exchanged glances and Louisa drew her own conclusions. She drove on, the straight road permitting an exhilarating pace. It was easy to see how his lordship might have come to grief — a fast drive, a rabbit startled into motion, the horses spooked… It would not have taken much.

  She slowed for the village of Astley Cloverstone, which was smaller than Great Maeswood, with no properties of substance, yet it looked to be better cared for, and perhaps more prosperous. She easily found Mr Whiteway’s haberdashery and was delighted to find that he was also a draper and hatter and much more besides. She spent a hour and a great deal of money there, the entire family emerging from back rooms to stow her many parcels in the gig and wave her off.

  From there Louisa turned west, passing two substantial properties on the outskirts of the village, Cloverstone Manor and the Grange. After that, the road narrowed and meandered through pretty woods, barely tinged with green as yet, a few scattered hamlets and a stretch of river before turning south again. Her route ran through a maze of narrow, criss-crossing lanes. She had checked the map before leaving, but even so she had to ask directions twice.

  She passed through another large village, Woollercott, a substantial habitation with several good-quality houses, and thus came once more to the main road between Market Clunbury and Shrewsbury, where she turned for home. She came back into Great Maeswood almost before she was aware of it. Only one house, half-hidden amongst trees, gave warning of the approaching village and almost at once she rounded a bend and saw the entrance to Maeswood Hall.

  The pony never broke stride, but even sped up a little as he turned into the drive. Louisa laughed out loud, realising the creature’s mistake. He was so used to returning to the Hall that he did so automatically, even though his home was now at the Dower House. The drive was too narrow to make a turn, so she allowed the pony to take her all the way to the house. He turned aside before that, however, and thus she found herself arriving at the stables, where the pony stopped.

  Two grooms ambled out, saw the gig and laughed. “Well, Goronwy, have you come home, you daft thing?”

  “It was my fault,” Louisa said. “I was inattentive, and he had turned in before I knew what he was about. Will you help me get him facing about? I had hoped to turn him in front of the house, but he had other ideas.”

  The grooms persuaded the pony to reverse enough for Louisa to set off again, back down the drive, onto the main road and then into her own drive. He seemed a little reluctant, but she eventually got him to the stables and carried her parcels into the house in triumph. Marie was summoned at once to unpack and inspect.

  “There now, have I not done well? Gloves, ribbons, buttons… do you not think these silk flowers are pretty? And what about this spotted muslin? It will make a very pretty gown. They had plenty of cotton, and a few lengths of satin, but I am not a satin sort of person, I feel.”

  “Vous êtes de la soie, madame.” You are silk.

  “La soie? Silk? Oh yes… silk, velvet, swansdown… but we must make do with what we can get, must we not? Can you do something with the muslin and this jaconet? Day gowns… something different. I am so bored with the three I have… round and round they go. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, then start the cycle again on Thursday.”

  “Vous aurez besoin de robes pour le soir aussi.” You need evening gowns, as well.

  “Evening robes?” she said, grasping at the few words she understood. “The only occasion requiring an evening gown is a dinner engagement, and there are all too few of those,” Louisa said sorrowfully. “No, let us not worry about evenings, but I am sure your nimble fingers can contrive something for mornings.”

  “Mais bien sûr, madame. Le décolleté comme ça, et les manches… voyez-vous? Deux jours.” But of course. The neck like so and the sleeves… you see? Two days.

  “I did not quite catch all that, but I am sure it will be wonderful. How clever you are, Marie! What would I do without you? How old are you now?”

  “Vingt-trois, madame.”

  “What is that in English? Hmm… twenty… three. Yes, it must be, for you were eighteen when you came to me, and that was five years ago. I thought then that you were far too pretty to be a lady’s maid, and that some observant young man would snap you up. Both my previous maids left me for husbands, but happily for me you have not done so yet.”

  “Mariage? Moi? Jamais! Les hommes sont abominables, madame. Je ne veux rien à faire avec eux.” Marriage? Never! Men are abominable. I want nothing to do with them.

  “I wish you would not speak so fast, Marie,” Louisa said. “I get the gist of it… you dislike men and have no wish to marry, but that is very sad. Not all men are abominable. Thoughtless, some of them, boring and selfish, on occasion, but not abominable. Not all men, surely.”

  “Tous les hommes,” Marie said firmly, and then, emphatically, “All men.”

  Louisa gave it up. It was sad, but at least she would never lose another maid to a lovestruck suitor.

  ~~~~~

  Laurence had been forced to endure a long lecture from Viola on the subject of wily widows, but she could not rescind an invitation already given, much as she would have liked to. She took her revenge on the children, deeming the company too adult for a boy of twelve and a girl not yet out. Henrietta had been disappointed not to hear more about the dead body, but Edward, who was not as ghoulish as his sister, accepted the rebuff without demur. Laurence knew that they would eat the same dishes in the nursery, so they would not miss a great deal and he chose not to contest the ruling. Viola had enough to deal with, what with three very stylish young men arriving on her doorstep days earlier than they were looked for, and then having Mrs Middlehope foisted upon her.

  He was rewarded by the peach velvet evening gown, which warmed him inwardly, and clearly warmed Captain Edgerton, too, judging by the gleam in his eye and the alacrity with which he swept Mrs Middlehope away from Laurence. Mrs Middlehope threw him an amused glance as she allowed herself to be drawn away.

  At least he was able to claim her for dinner, and keep some of her conversation exclusively to himself. The London gentlemen were well-bred, and kept the table amused for the whole meal. Mr Willerton-Forbes talked glibly of his high ranking acquaintances, like the Duke of Dunmorton and the Marquess of Carrbridge. Mr Chandry was from Cornwall, and able to make the adventures of dashing smugglers sound almost heroic. As for Captain Edgerton, his tales of life in India were a great deal of nonsense — elephant stampedes and tiger-shooting females, indeed! Still, Viola was enthralled with it all, and by no means
impervious to the delicate flattery of the gentlemen.

  When the ladies rose to withdraw, Laurence put in hastily, “Mrs Middlehope, will you not stay a little longer, for our intrepid investigators are bursting with news, I can see, and the business most nearly concerns you, since the lady was found in your house. Viola is welcome to stay, too, if she pleases.”

  “It is all too horrible for me, Laurence,” Viola said firmly. “Mrs Middlehope?”

  “If you will indulge me, Miss Gage, I should like to stay for a short while, just to hear of Captain Edgerton’s discoveries.”

  Viola could not object to such a request from a guest, so she nodded and passed through the door Mr Chandry was holding open for her. The gentlemen re-seated themselves, shifting their chairs a little closer together.

  “Will you try a little port?” Laurence said to Louisa. “You will like it, I believe.”

  “I should love some,” she said at once. “I very often took a glass at home, for once my mama-in-law died, I was generally the only lady in the house and I so hated to miss all the interesting conversation.”

  “Just you, your husband and your father-in-law?” Laurence said, as he poured her a glass and slid it to her.

  “And the chaplain and the secretary, and occasionally the steward or attorney, too. I was quite outnumbered. Oh, this is excellent! So smooth!”

  “It is something to do with when the brandy is added,” Laurence said. He would have liked to enter into a longer discussion of the fortification process, but he could see Captain Edgerton was impatient to talk about the body, so he yielded to him.

  The captain leaned forward eagerly. “We now know that this is not Dilys Hughes at all. You suspected it, Mr Gage, because of the clothes, but today Dr Beasley took some additional measurements to confirm it. Dilys Hughes was small, not much above five feet in height, whereas our mystery lady is about five foot six inches tall. So now we must start a full enquiry to find out just who she is.”

  He rubbed his hands together in glee.