by Claudy Conn
“They are not suspect,” Her uncle returned coldly.
The viscount stepped forward at this juncture and added his voice, “I must say, sir, that I find your behavior in my home most objectionable. You saunter in here with scarcely a by-your-leave, and think to accost a guest in my house? Depend upon it; you are out there, sir!”
Squire Speenham turned to the viscount. “I do beg your pardon, but this matter requires some immediate attention.”
“Not in my house, it does not.”
The squire turned to his nephew and said grimly, “Edward, I have always thought you and your sister’s manners sorely lacking. Your scruples, I imagine are inadequate to the task of your title and great estate. This is what comes of your lax behavior over the years.”
“Get out!” the viscount demanded at once. “Out…now! I shall not have my dear, very dear friends insulted in my presence and in my home. You, as their uncle should be their protector…and instead, I find you are their worst enemy, pointing out your notions of what are their faults, instead of holding up their many honorable characteristics. Your suspicions are beneath the position you hold as their uncle. And besides all that, what possible motive could Ned have for killing poor Celia?”
“I am afraid you don’t understand the seriousness of the situation. As it happens, Agatha Brinley found a page that was obviously torn from Celia’s diary. It was in the paper bin and clearly states that Edward of Sherborne is the father of her unborn child!” the squire snapped.
“Impossible!” Ned retorted his face flushed. “We never did more than kiss…”
“And is it all not too convenient?” Mandy stuck in. “A torn page? Who would have torn it and left it to be found? Where is the entire diary? Do you mean to insinuate that Ned tore it out of the diary, killed her, and then left it for someone to find? Well that is absurd beyond thought. If he was the killer, why would he leave such a thing behind?”
The squire frowned over this but his son almost squealed with glee, “Celia points a finger at Ned from the…”
Mandy pointed her finger at Alfred’s nose, “Don’t say it. Don’t you dare say it!”
Skippy stepped forward and touched Mandy’s shoulder, “Calm yourself, for you are quite right. This so called torn page from a diary does not make sense.”
Ned’s face was white and Mandy bit her lip as she looked at him. He was in trouble. This was surely going to be very ugly.
“How can she have written such a thing?” Ned murmured and then looked at the squire, “Kindly allow me to see this page.”
“In good time, in good time. Now without further delay, you had better come with us.”
“Oh no, my man. Ned goes nowhere with you until I have seen this piece of work,” Skippy said grimly. His usual even temper had been severely ruffled and he looked ready for a fight.
The paunchy squire pulled out a wrinkled sheet from his coat pocket and slapped it into the viscount’s waiting hand but grumbled, “There. Though what right…”
“May I remind you once again, that you are in my home,” returned the viscount with a show of disdain. He cast his eyes over the page, flanked with Ned on one side of him and Mandy on the other. When he raised his eyes back to the squire it was with hard look, “My dear sir, the poor girl writes that she intends to marry Edward and make him the father of her unborn child. She does not say that he is the father.”
“Oh come now,” blustered Squire Bevis. “‘Tis there to be read. She has named him as father.”
“No, sir, her exact words are, ‘and as I have no choice, I shall tell Edward he is the father of my child and he will do the honorable thing and marry me.’ Such words are a far cry from saying he is in actuality the father. Apparently, the lady was unable to make the real father commit and schemed to trick young Edward into marriage.”
“Yes, but I told you, I never more than kissed her…” Ned said puzzled. “She would know that…would not be able to tell me I was the father…so what was the game?”
“Apparently, when she wrote that, she meant for you to do more than kiss her. Perhaps that is why she wanted to meet you early…to seduce you, allow one of the others, to find you in a compromising position,” stuck in the viscount thoughtfully. “Indeed, she did not expect Alfred. She expected the squire and that leaves me to ask…” He turned to Alfred, “You must have met her before you came to the house…”
“No, I decided to visit with Mandy first,” Alfred answered blandly.
“But your father’s note requested him to meet with her at seven,” the viscount returned.
Alfred shrugged, “I went up to the house early…and I didn’t care about being a bit late for a meeting with Celia.”
The Viscount and Mandy exchanged glances and Mandy said, “Something here is off and I mean to get to the bottom of it. Alfred, I don’t believe you. I think you met with Celia first, before you came up to the house.”
“Preposterous,” Alfred snorted.
“What a black scandal,” the squire said. “Simply has never happened in our family before.”
Ignoring her uncle, Mandy said, “No, what is preposterous you boor, is that you would rather think Ned a libertine and a murderer than think a woman in trouble was looking for an answer with a fraudulent claim,” Mandy turned on him like a tigress and had the satisfaction of seeing him take a step away from her.
“Nevertheless, Edward must come and see what Connors has to say to all of this,” the squire said on an unrelenting note.
“You had better go speak with Magistrate Connors then Ned. I will see Mandy home and never fear, we will get out of this absurd tangle,” Skippy offered.
“No!” Mandy’s hands were on her hips and she was momentarily taken aback as she turned open eyes to Skippy. “You can not mean to allow them to take Ned. Why, you can see…they will not stand up for him.”
“I am certain that your uncle will take a different tune in public, after all, he is your uncle…” he stared at the squire. “The best way to avoid the scandal you seem to believe will be the worst your family has ever endured, is to make certain, Ned is cleared,” Skippy glared at the squire.
“You call him our uncle, Skip, but here is the thing. He is not by blood, not by heart. He never liked us. Oh Skippy, he is pleased so pleased to see us brought low. Don’t you see that?” Mandy was in great distress.
“Mandy, Ned must answer this accusation, if we are to clear his name,” the viscount returned gently.
“No! The squire will try and display how good and honorable he is bringing in his own family.” She stomped her foot, “Ha! He is neither.”
“Don’t fret Mandy, we’ll do,” Ned said patting her back. “I’ll go with them and clear it all up. I shall be home for dinner. Have cook truss up one of my favorite dishes, eh?”
Mandy watched them go and rounded on her friend. “He won’t be back. I know they won’t release him. Uncle will see to it. He will paint it black for Ned.”
“Be quiet for a moment—let me think,” Skip returned as he paced.
“You have to stop them from taking Ned! You have to!”
“Mandy, there was nothing for it. He had to go in to Harrowgate,” Skip said walking away from her. “I must do something…and it can’t wait, so be seated and calm yourself.”
“What? What are you doing?”
“Writing your guardian,” Skip said as he sat at his desk.
“That old thing? What can he do?” Mandy frowned.
“Old?” the viscount returned with some surprise. The Duke of Margate was one of his closest cronies and scarcely a year older than himself. He had never thought of him as an old thing. “He isn’t old and he is a most powerful figure. He could do something—if I can bestir him to it.”
“He hasn’t bothered with us in this entire year—why should he now?” Mandy chewed her bottom lip nervously.
“Well, he is a bit of a rogue and didn’t think he needed to bother with you two as Ned was off to school and you are
n’t a child, Mandy…and he said your aunt was in residence. But this changes everything. He won’t like the scandal either.”
“Indeed, he sounds a most selfish creature.”
“Aren’t we all at bottom,” Skippy remarked and waved her off with a flick of his wrist, “Now be quiet, girl and let me get to the letter. I have to word it just so.” He sighed, “I am very fond of him and won’t dispute that he is a notorious rake, but he wouldn’t like anyone falsely accused, especially when he is listed as the guardian.”
Now it was Mandy’s turn to pace and she did so while the viscount scribbled, sealed his letter and hastily got to his feet and rang for his man, saying, “The duke will come and he will know the way out of this muddle, see if he don’t!”
* * *
The duke in question was unaware of the trouble his two ‘wards’ were presently suffering as he tooled his high stepping black gelding through the London hubbub with deft skill. A cart filled with vegetables had lost a wheel, spilling both owner and contents onto the road which caused havoc with the traffic.
Curses born of frustration were being hurled at the hapless merchant farmer who shook his dirty fists at one and all and did what he could to repair his day.
The duke felt for the man and his situation, but he had suffered a long hot ride from just outside of town and wanted to get his horse to its stables so the animal could be watered, fed and rested.
Seeing the farmer’s predicament would take a long time to rectify, he stood about and contemplated his options. The traffic was quite impenetrable. And with a scan of his surroundings he saw he had but one choice left to him.
There was nothing for it and with as much skill as determination, he urged his horse up the curbing, ignored the protests of pedestrians and circumvented the fuss in the street.
A few moments later, having handed his favorite horse to his groom, he walked the short distance from his stables to his fashionable town house at the corner of Berkley Square.
He brushed the dust and dirt from his exquisite riding coat just as his butler opened the door wide. The duke smiled, thinking his man must have been on the look out for him and momentarily wondered at it. He dropped his riding coat, hat and gloves into his man’s extended hands and greeted him warmly.
“Hello Graves, hot enough for you?” he remarked as he started forward.
“Indeed yes, Your Grace. I hope you did not find your ride too tiring,” answered the elderly retainer. “And I do apologize for coming at you as soon as you have arrived, but there is a note from the Viscount Skippendon marked urgent, that I thought you might wish to have immediately.”
“Indeed!” the duke was surprised. Skip was not given to melodrama. He saw the note on silver salver on the wall table and took it up, slapped it across his hand and after thanking his man, retired with the epistle to his library.
It read:
Margate,
To get to the point, you may recall that you are the guardian for the Sherborne twins, poor souls!
As it happens they are also very dear friends of mine, very dear.
At any rate, better get yourself up here at once, for they managed to embroil themselves in murder and demmit Brock, it don’t look good!
Yours,
Skip
The duke knuckled his eyes before re-reading the letter. Murder? For Skip, this was a most astounding missive. He must have read it wrong, or Skip, must have left something off. Murder?
However, this doubt was soon laid to rest as he reviewed the letter for the third time. The wording was most precise and the duke realizing his plans for the immediate future had been abducted by twins he would soon be rid of when they reached their majority swore roundly and quite at length.
The truth was, they had never been any trouble and he had often felt a twinge of guilt for not having paid at least one visit to them. They were no more than six years his junior and he had not enjoyed the notion that he might have to travel to Yorkshire and play ‘big brother guardian’. He wondered at his father, leaving this job to him instead of one of his more reliable cronies.
He had not bothered making the trip when he realized that their staid aunt Agatha had taken up residence with them. After all, the boy had gone off to school and the girl was grieving. What could he offer?
Blister it! He was not meant to be a guardian. His father had been appointed that office, but when his father passed, just ten months ago, he left him the title, the Margate wealth and the Sherborne twins. Now look what came of his neglect! But murder? Absurd.
Right then rogue and perhaps libertine, he might be, but only to a point. He could not allow his wards to be thrown to the wolves. If Skip vouched for them and apparently he had, there must be more than what appeared to meet the general ‘look’ of things.
As Skip was concerned for the two and seemed to know them well, the duke decided that was all that was needed. He must first assume the young lord innocent of such a heinous crime. Why then was he being accused?
It was most certainly his duty to hurry off and see to them. In addition to that, he once again felt that twinge of guilt for having neglected being a guardian to them from a distance. His father would have been disappointed.
This made him frown.
Hell and damnation, this was a bloody nuisance, but he would not allow the situation to proceed without him.
He would leave first thing in the morning and make his way to the Sherborne Estate, and see to those twins, murder be damned!
* * *
In the last week, things had gone awry at Sherborne and as Mandy had feared, Ned had not been allowed to return home.
He had been questioned thoroughly by the Harrowgate magistrate, who had decided to hold him in a single cell at Harrowgate Court Hall. Magistrate Connors, as it happened, had been a good friend to the Sherborne’s grandfather and told Ned that because he might be accused of some partiality in the case, he needed to call in an impartial judge and hold a hearing. However, what Connors did not immediately perceive was that because he stepped away, people assumed Ned must be guilty.
By the next morning, news of this had spread throughout the countryside. Opinions were divided. The locals refused to believe that the young Edward Sherborne could have murdered his cousin. They were vocal and united in their opinion and ready to go to fisticuffs for Ned’s good name.
However, his uncle, the squire, had allowed just enough of his friends to think that he did not support his nephew in this dreadful instance and that made those who had doubts wonder and whisper.
Mandy, on a visit to her brother, heard as she was crossing the avenue on foot, one of her uncle’s friends telling another, “Blackguard is what he is. Bedded his cousin and though that made her a tart for I’m a notion she did not say him nay, but she didn’t deserve murder. What would make him do such a thing?”
A local passing by stopped and wagged a finger, “Stubble it! Lord Sherborne is a fine young man. I’ll not be believing sech things of him and you shouldn’t either. What kind of cove are ye spreading such malicious rumors?”
Mandy smiled at the local, glared at her uncle’s friend and then hurried the remaining distance across the dusty street, where an older darkly dressed woman, Mandy did not recognize called out, “You’re the twin…walking about without even a maid in attendance. The two of you just running wild…look what comes of it!”
Mandy stopped and turned to her, “Fie, you don’t know us. You don’t know anything about us, but I know already a great deal about you. Pretending to be all righteous while you go around spreading filthy gossip. Shame on you!”
“Well!” gasped the older woman.
“Indeed, I quite agree. Well! Perhaps you may think twice about spreading ugly rumors. Remember, my brother is Lord Sherborne and when he is proven innocent, he and I will remember moments like these.”
This made the woman’s eyes shift warily but she turned and huffed off. Mandy stood a moment, still in fight mode before she turned and headed t
oward the courthouse. This was her uncle’s evil doing…his and Alfred’s.
Her meeting with her brother had left her sick with worry and when she returned to Chauncey who awaited her with the family carriage, she went directly into his big burly arms.
He had been their driver and head stableman a good part of their lives, but he was also a trusted and beloved friend. He had been with them throughout their childhood escapades and had seen them through their share of scrapes over the years. She sniffed and told him, “I fear the worst, Chauncey.”
Chauncey set her apart and wagged an aged finger at her, “Lordy, Miss Mandy, jest look at ye carrying on like some wilted bloom. That ain’t how I taught ye. Don’t ye shame me now.”
She laughed uneasily and leaned back against the carriage. “It doesn’t auger well for Ned and he becomes more depressed each day he spends in that horrid place. Those that don’t know Ned are inclined to think that if his uncle is against him, he must be guilty. And those that do know him, like Sir Owen, are inclined to look sour and keep their opinions to themselves for fear he might be guilty. Horrid.”
“Never ye mind that now, missy. He’ll come through this ken, right and tight, see if he don’t.” He sighed heavily, “What I been trying to do is put out feelers with m’people, hoping someone can give us a lead as to Elly Bonner’s direction. She can’t have just up and disappeared.”
A livery boy came rushing at them at this juncture and it was obvious he was a friend of Chauncey’s. He was out of breath as he said, “I heard tell Mrs. Brinley just come forward she did, Chauncey. Said it was her duty and went to Magistrate Connors direct, she did.” He blushed as he saw Mandy’s face, but Chauncey pushed him for more.
He eyed Mandy again for a moment, tipped his dark wool cap and said, “Sorry miss. I don’t believe it for a minute. But, Mrs. Brinley told Magistrate Connors that Celia told her that Lord Sherborne didn’t really love her, but that she had a way to force his hand.”
“A whisker if ever I heard one,” Chauncey declared but Mandy saw the concern in his eyes.