They parted at the base of the stairs, Constance going swiftly up, dodging a pair of footmen heaving a traveling trunk down to the hall, while Alaric strode for the drawing room.
Constance found Mrs. Macomber in the room they’d shared. The older woman was in a despondent, dejected state—no doubt worrying over what was to become of her—and, on seeing Constance still in her evening gown, clearly didn’t know whether to be openly scandalized or whether perhaps she should pretend she hadn’t leapt to the obvious conclusion.
Pearl was there, too, packing Constance’s things into her trunk; at the sight of Constance, Pearl’s eyes had widened, and as her gaze lingered on Constance’s face, they widened even more.
Closing the door, Constance smiled—radiantly. After a swift glance at Pearl, who was starting to relax and look pleased, Constance turned to Mrs. Macomber and put the elderly chaperon out of her misery. “Lord Carradale and I are to marry.”
Mrs. Macomber’s eyes flew wide, and her mouth fell open. Abruptly, she sat on the edge of her bed.
Pearl’s smile was almost as brilliant as Constance’s.
Before Mrs. Macomber could gather her wits and speak, Constance rolled on, “However, given the sudden nature of our betrothal, we—Carradale and I—wondered if you would consent to extending your service to the Whittaker family and act as my companion for at least the next weeks. We plan to remain in Hampshire”—Constance waved toward the woods—“at Carradale’s house nearby, for the next week or two, while we make arrangements to travel north to visit my grandfather so Carradale can formally ask for my hand.”
Mrs. Macomber gaped, but then gathered her wits and, after offering her congratulations, declared that she would be honored to act as Constance’s companion for however long her services were required.
Pearl was even more chuffed. She whisked out a fresh walking dress and helped Constance out of her creased evening gown and into the nicely fitted forest-green dress. “Carradale’s a right one—anyone can see that. I did wonder, what with him charging out to rescue you. So now you’re to be a lady and all.” Pearl grinned cheekily. “I’ve always wanted to be a proper lady’s maid.”
Constance laughed.
As soon as Pearl finished brushing out her hair and refashioning it into a chignon, Constance gave her orders to Pearl, who volunteered to carry the good news to Vine and oversee the transfer of their luggage, as well as Mrs. Macomber and her boxes, to the manor. “We’ll take the coach and drive around. Someone in the stables here will tell us the way.”
“Excellent.” Constance turned for the door. “I have to rejoin Carradale. The staff at the manor are expecting you. The butler is Morecombe, and his wife is the housekeeper, and the other one you’ll meet is Carradale’s man, Johns. Tell Vine the stableman is Hilliard.”
“We’ll manage.” Pearl shooed. “Go. Go.”
Mrs. Macomber, almost overcome, gave her a bright if watery smile.
Feeling as giddy as a girl buoyed on happiness, Constance rushed back to the stairs and went down. Alaric was standing beside Percy inside the open front door. Most of the guests appeared to have congregated in the hall as well.
Inspector Stokes and the Adairs had, apparently, just arrived and were greeting Percy and Alaric.
As Constance joined the small group, all three Londoners welcomed her with a smile. The other guests, she noted, were keeping a polite distance.
“We’re about to head back to London.” With a wave, Stokes indicated the coach drawn up before the door. His gaze returned to Percy. “I wanted to formally inform you that I’ve reviewed the charges and the evidence, and I’m confident of making our case against Edward Mandeville. My constables are escorting him to the Yard to be charged—they started off at first light. In due course, he’ll be tried, and there’s no reason to doubt that he will be found guilty and, eventually, will hang.”
“We thought you might like to know,” Barnaby said, “so that you can prepare your family.”
His expression contained, Percy inclined his head. “Thank you. I intend setting off later today to speak with my father. I’ll leave it to him to pass the news on to Edward’s parents.” Percy hesitated, then asked, “Did he—Edward—show any remorse?”
Stokes met Percy’s gaze and, stoically, shook his head. “No.” Stokes paused for a heartbeat, then added, “In my experience, his sort rarely do. They believe their end justifies any means.”
After a second’s silence, Penelope said, “But for the rest of us, our lives go on.” She turned to Constance and smiled. “And at least for now, we must make our farewells.”
They proceeded to do so, the men shaking hands and Penelope and Constance being bowed to and having their fingers bussed.
As Alaric straightened from kissing Penelope’s fingers, she widened her eyes and said, “Incidentally, we will be expecting an invitation to the wedding.” She caught Alaric’s eye, an intrigued and inquiring look in hers.
Alaric laughed and drew Constance to him. “The wedding is already in train, although we haven’t addressed the guest list yet.”
Beaming smiles and congratulations ensued.
Barnaby told Constance, “You and Carradale must call on us when next you’re in London. Number twenty-four Albemarle Street.”
Penelope seconded the invitation, then Stokes and the Adairs took their leave on a tide of good wishes.
Then the other guests—who, of course, had overheard—gathered around to congratulate Alaric and Constance.
Alaric accepted the accolades and the inevitable ribbing with his usual languid charm, but throughout he remained aware of Percy, quiet and reserved on the edge of the crowd.
In organizing this house party, Percy had imagined standing in Alaric’s shoes. Instead, his betrothed was dead.
Yet Percy had congratulated Alaric and Constance with genuine feeling—with affection and sincere wishes for their future; with Edward’s capture, Percy seemed to have found his emotional feet and patently had his demeanor under strict control—a greater degree of control than Alaric had previously observed in him.
Indeed, to Alaric, Percy seemed to have aged overnight, not so much physically as in the way he looked on the world. In the way he saw his own place in it. His intention to travel to his father’s house immediately wasn’t a decision the old Percy would have made; the old Percy would have prevaricated and found excuses to put off the difficult task for as long as he possibly could.
Instead, it seemed that Alaric’s comment of Glynis’s murder being the making of Percy might not be far wrong.
Carriage wheels rattled on the gravel outside, and in twos and threes, the guests departed. Alaric and Constance remained beside Percy and waved them all away.
Monty was the last to leave. He hung back until the other guests were rolling down the drive, then came forward and thanked Percy with his usual easy address.
Then Monty turned to Alaric and Constance and, with a beaming smile, wished them well.
Shaking Monty’s hand, Alaric dryly told him, “Naturally, you’ll be one of my groomsmen. We’ll let you know the date.”
“What?” Monty’s eyes lit. “Oh, I say—yes, of course! You can count on me.”
Constance and Alaric laughed.
Then Monty leaned closer and in a hushed voice said, “I just wondered if you would allow me to be the bearer of your glad tidings to the rest of the family.” He opened his eyes wide. “Quite a coup, what, if I’m the first with the news?”
Alaric laughed again and clapped Monty on the shoulder. “Go forth and spread the word far and wide, but as an as-yet-unofficial understanding. It’ll be a week at least before I can present myself before Constance’s grandfather, so the official notice won’t appear until a few days after that.”
“Right-ho!” Monty beamed at Constance, then leaned in and bussed her on the cheek. “Welcome to the family, m’dear. Unofficial or not, everyone’s going to be thrilled at the news.”
After waving Monty away, A
laric and Constance farewelled Percy and headed back to the manor.
As the dappled shade of the woods closed around them, Alaric glanced back at Mandeville Hall. “Percy coped better than I’d expected.” He met Constance’s inquiring gaze. “I spoke with Carnaby—I wondered what had been done with Rosa Cleary’s body. But Carnaby said Percy had learned from Mrs. Collard who Rosa’s next of kin was and had notified them and paid for the undertaker to transport her body home.”
“I take it Percy hasn’t had to…well, be head of a household before.”
“No. Although Mandeville Hall was made over to him some years ago—when his father inherited the title from a cousin and moved to live at the viscounty’s principal estate in Lincolnshire—Percy simply went on as he had before, as if he was merely a son of the house with little to no responsibility for what, in essence, is now his estate.” Alaric paused, then said, “His father and mother will be pleased to see the changes in him.”
“You know them?”
“Reasonably well. And yes, I rather think I’ll drop them a note”—smiling, he met Constance’s eyes—“by way of confirming that what they see is real.”
“And perhaps making it clear what brought about the change? I suspect Percy will gloss over that.”
Alaric nodded, unsurprised to find her mind following the same track as his. He glanced at her. “You’ve managed a household for some years, haven’t you?”
Her smile was fond, but tinged with resignation. “When my parents died, I went to live with my grandparents, and shortly after that, my grandmother died. I was fourteen, but…” She waved at herself. “I was always on the large side, and many thought I was older. My grandfather had never managed anything in the house—he’d relied on my grandmother for that. So I picked up the reins, and as my grandfather aged, I became his right hand in all things, including running the estate.”
Alaric tightened his grip on her hand. “I thought as much.”
They reached the spot where the trees fell away to reveal Carradale Manor, and they paused to study it.
After a moment, Alaric glanced at Constance and tipped his head at the house and fields. “Are you ready to become mistress of that?”
She met his eyes. She hesitated, then said, “You told me of the lady you imagined marrying. As for me, after my fiancé was killed, I decided that I would never wed. That I had no need of a husband, that I had all I could want being my grandfather’s chatelaine.”
She looked at the manor.
After a second, Alaric prompted, “But?”
Her gaze warm and loving, she met his eyes and smiled. “You proved me wrong. But it’s having you as my love that’s the heart of my desire. However”—she waved at the manor, and her smile deepened—“as the manor is clearly an integral part of you, yes, please—lead on.”
Alaric laughed and settled her hand in his, then did as she asked, and side by side, they walked on—the rakehell and his Amazon—into the future Fate had designed for them, the perfect shared life for them both.
* * *
In the carriage bowling along the highway to London, Penelope leaned her head against Barnaby’s shoulder. On the seat opposite, Stokes had fallen asleep and was quietly snoring. She smiled at the sight.
“He deserves a rest.” Barnaby nodded across the carriage. “Solving this case—which I suspect will cause quite a stir when the news gets out—and doing it in just a few days will be a significant feather in his cap.”
Penelope hummed in agreement, then murmured, “Regardless, you have to admit that nothing ends a murder investigation better than having a wedding to look forward to.”
Barnaby glanced down at her. “But you guessed Alaric and Constance would marry from the first, didn’t you?”
“Of course! It was obvious—at least to a journeyman matchmaker such as I. However, in this case, I didn’t need to interfere. They managed perfectly well on their own.”
Barnaby humphed. “Strange to say, I suspect they had a bit of help—definitely a push—from Edward Mandeville.”
“Hmm. You might be right.” After a moment of cogitation, Penelope opined, “Indeed, they might not even have met were it not for Edward. If he hadn’t killed Glynis, Alaric and Constance would have, at best, only seen each other in passing. And I doubt that would have done the trick.”
“Fate moves in mysterious ways, her wonders to perform,” Barnaby said.
Penelope sighed contentedly. “True.” She turned an impish smile on her husband. “After all, Fate led me to you.”
* * *
* * *
Dear Reader,
When I completed writing The Murder at Mandeville Hall, I realized how much of the characters’ actions were driven by one motive, namely, to protect—either a family member or a romantic interest. Constance journeyed to Mandeville Hall seeking to protect Glynis. Alaric felt protective of Glynis, too, as well as Percy, his childhood friend, and also soon added Constance to that list. Meanwhile, Percy sought to protect Glynis, and Edward sought to protect Percy. Although I didn’t know it when I started writing, The Murder at Mandeville Hall became a study in what people might be driven to doing in order to protect those, who for whatever reason, they care for. I hope you enjoyed the result. If you feel inclined to leave a review here, I would greatly appreciate it.
THE CASEBOOK OF BARNABY ADAIR series is one I continue to add to. The volume immediately preceding this one, the sixth installment, The Confounding Case of the Carisbrook Emeralds, was published just 2 months ago. More information about earlier volumes—Where the Heart Leads, The Peculiar Case of Lord Finsbury’s Diamonds, The Masterful Mr. Montague, The Curious Case of Lady Latimer’s Shoes, and Loving Rose: The Redemption of Malcolm Sinclair—can be found following, along with details of my other upcoming and recent releases.
Barnaby, Penelope, Stokes, Griselda, and their friends continue to thrive. I hope they and their adventures solving mysteries and exposing villains will continue to entertain you in the future just as much as they do me.
Enjoy!
Stephanie.
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COMING SOON:
The second volume in
Lady Osbaldestone’s Christmas Chronicles
LADY OSBALDESTONE AND THE MISSING CHRISTMAS CAROLS
To be released on October 18, 2018.
A heartwarming tale of a long-ago country-village Christmas, a grandmother, three eager grandchildren, one moody teenage granddaughter, an earnest young lady, a gentleman in hiding, and an elusive book of Christmas carols.
Therese, Lady Osbaldestone, and her household are quietly delighted when her younger daughter’s three children, Jamie, George, and Lottie, insist on returning to Therese’s house, Hartington Manor in the village Little Moseley, to spend the three weeks leading up to Christmas participating in the village’s traditional events.
Then out of the blue, one of Therese’s older granddaughters, Melissa, arrives on the doorstep. Her mother, Therese’s older daughter, begs Therese to take Melissa in until the family gathering at Christmas—otherwise, Melissa has nowhere else to go.
Despite having no experience dealing with moody, reticent teenagers like Melissa, Therese welcomes Melissa warmly. The younger children are happy to include their cousin in their plans—and despite her initial aloofness, Melissa discovers she’s not too old to enjoy the simple d
elights of a village Christmas.
The previous year, Therese learned the trick to keeping her unexpected guests out of mischief. She casts around and discovers that the new organist, who plays superbly, has a strange failing. He requires the written music in front of him before he can play a piece, and the church’s book of Christmas carols has gone missing.
Therese immediately volunteers the services of her grandchildren, who are only too happy to fling themselves into the search to find the missing book of carols. Its disappearance threatens one of the village’s most-valued Christmas traditions—the Carol Service—yet as the book has always been freely loaned within the village, no one imagines that it won’t be found with a little application.
But as Therese’s intrepid four follow the trail of the book from house to house, the mystery of where the book has vanished to only deepens. Then the organist hears the children singing and invites them to form a special guest choir. The children love singing, and provided they find the book in time, they’ll be able to put on an extra-special service for the village.
While the urgency and their desire to find the missing book escalates, the children—being Therese’s grandchildren—get distracted by the potential for romance that buds, burgeons, and blooms before them.
Yet as Christmas nears, the questions remain: Will the four unravel the twisted trail of the missing book in time to save the village’s Carol Service? And will they succeed in nudging the organist and the harpist they’ve found to play alongside him into seizing the happy-ever-after that hovers before the pair’s noses?
Second in series. A novel of 62,000 words. A Christmas tale full of music and romance.
Click here to read an excerpt
The Murder at Mandeville Hall: The Casebook of Barnaby Adair: Volume 7 Page 25