The Secrets of Scorton Hall: An Historical Regency Romance Mystery

by Kate Carteret

  “My dear Lord Beaumont, this is my great-niece, Lady Felicia Markham.” Lady Barton said in so innocent a manner it was almost shameless. “She is the daughter of my nephew, the Earl of Davenport.”

  “It is nice to see you again, Lady Felicia.” Lord Beaumont said with an amused smile.

  “Again?” Now the tone of innocence really was shameless. “Goodness me, the two of you have already met?”

  “Yes, Aunt Agatha, last year at Lord Radley’s ball.”

  “Well, I suppose if I had been invited, I would have known.” She said in a haughty tone. “But poor Lord Radley has never particularly liked me.”

  “I cannot believe that is true, Lady Barton.” Lord Beaumont was still clearly amused.

  Her aunt and Lord Beaumont were so comfortable with one another that Felicia realized they must be quite well acquainted. Still, why would they not be? Both lifelong residents of Oxfordshire, no doubt they had attended many an event in common. He was an Earl and Lady Barton a Dowager Countess. They were of the same status and it was quite natural that they should know one another well.

  Of course, Lady Barton had not owned up to such a close association when she was cajoling her great-niece into attendance of the Duke’s celebratory event. No doubt she had been trying to cover what Felicia could now see was a great determination to do the match-making that she had begged her not to.

  “Perhaps dislike is a little strong. I have it, he is disconcerted by me.”

  “What a notion.” Felicia said with barely disguised sarcasm.

  She was pleased to see that Lord Beaumont, amused by her little aside, had been forced to bite his bottom lip to save himself from laughing.

  “Ah, Colonel Wentworth!” Lady Barton called out loudly, feigning surprise as if she had no idea at all that the Colonel would be in attendance.

  Felicia could have disowned her aunt on the spot; she knew exactly what she was doing, and she had planned the whole thing out better than any playwright could have managed.

  “Forgive me, my dear, but I must have a moment with the Colonel. Lady Hanbury is organizing a charity event in aid of old soldiers made destitute by the war. I’ll not be more than a moment or two.” She said and smiled at Lord Beaumont, careful not to catch Felicia’s eye at all.

  “Of course, Lady Barton.” Lord Beaumont said, but Felicia said nothing.

  Felicia felt so embarrassed that she would have wished herself anywhere else on earth. Her aunt's little manipulation was so very obvious that Lord Beaumont could be left in no doubt at all of the point of that piece of theatre.

  “You must forgive my aunt, Lord Beaumont.” Felicia said, her cheeks turning a little pink.

  “Not at all, Lady Barton is a very fine woman.” He said kindly.

  “As fine as she is, I think her intention here is very obvious.” She knew she was being too direct, but it was the only way to release herself from the embarrassment.

  If all else fails, apply honesty.

  “Elderly female relatives are wont to do such things, Lady Felicia. I find it is best to simply let them have their way, especially when they are as robust in their determination as Lady Barton.” He laughed and it was a lovely deep rumble. “I am very fond of your aunt, she is very amusing.”

  “You are very kind, Lord Beaumont. Yes, she is amusing.” Felicia felt a good deal calmer. “And absolutely maddening.”

  “I shall remain diplomatically silent.” He had a broad smile when he gave it fully, and it made him more handsome than ever.

  Still, she could not help but compare him to Charles. They were both handsome men, but there was something almost beautiful about Charles; he was so perfect. Perhaps it was just his coloring; she had grown used to a fair man rather than dark.

  “Are you visiting your aunt, Lady Felicia?”

  “Yes, I have been with her just a few days.”

  “And how is Lord Wilby?” He asked quite naturally, although she saw his countenance change immediately.

  No doubt she had given away her own feelings with nothing more than a look. She was silent for a moment, hardly knowing what to say, and Lord Beaumont looked equally uncomfortable.

  “I am not sure, Lord Beaumont.” She said although it was clear from his expression that he realized that the courtship no longer existed. “It has been some weeks since I last saw him.” She knew her attempt at nonchalance had fallen flat.

  “Forgive me, Lady Felicia. I am afraid I do not know much of what goes on in Buckinghamshire, despite my vague association with Lord Radley.” He smiled apologetically. “I do hope I have not made you uncomfortable.”

  “Please, you must think nothing of it. These things happen, do they not? And really, I will not evaporate with misery, I promise.” She was surprised that she had recovered so quickly and wondered if the presence of a handsome man was much more of a tonic than she had previously realized.

  He laughed and shook his head, clearly gratified by the remark.

  “Good for you, Lady Felicia. And thank you for your kind understanding for a poor chap who has put his own foot squarely in his mouth.”

  “Even a foot can be washed down, Lord Beaumont.” Felicia laughed and realized that she was quite glad that her aunt had carted her unceremoniously across the terrace.

  It seemed like such a long time since Felicia had had to think on her feet in company, especially somewhat unknown company. Had she missed it? She thought perhaps she had a little. Whilst Charles had been very fine company himself, he did have a tendency to take over a little when the two of them were in conversation with others. There was something freeing about being in command of her own social discourse once more, even if the old pain of loss could not be denied.

  Of course, had Lord Beaumont been a Buckinghamshire man, he would likely have known all the details of the broken courtship. He would have known that Lord Charles Wilby, the man who had stolen Felicia’s heart, had thrown that same heart away when he had met Miss Louisa Bellfield.

  When that particular acquaintanceship had first been formed, Felicia had not thought twice about it. Miss Bellfield was pleasant, and as pleasant to Felicia herself as she was to Charles. The young woman was only just eighteen and her father, Hector Bellfield, was known largely for his extraordinary wealth. What was not so well-known about Hector Bellfield were the lengths he would go to in securing a title for his only child. It would be the cherry on top of the cake of his success, and he had thrown a good deal of money in Charles’ direction for just such a purpose.

  Still, Lord Beaumont did not know the horrible details, and so Felicia decided to pack away her shame for the afternoon at least. The sun was shining, the roses smelled wonderful, her aunt was amusing, and Lord Beaumont was very pleasant, very easy company.

  It was time to forget about the pain which had brought her to Oxfordshire the first place. It was time to simply get on with it.

  Chapter Four

  Dinner that evening was, as far as Felicia was concerned, a curious affair full of curious people. Her aunt had been right in the brief and blunt character testimonies she had given on each, and Felicia found she only really warmed to Lord and Lady Greystone and Sir Graham Wharton.

  Lady Greystone was the conversational half of her pair, chattering with Lady Barton as if the two of them were sharing tea and gossip whilst they waited for a bridge table to become free.

  “It will be nice to have a wedding in these parts again, Agatha,” Lady Greystone was strategically placed immediately opposite Lady Barton at the dinner table.

  Felicia was amused as she thought that weddings likely took place every day in Oxfordshire. What Lady Greystone had really meant was a fine wedding of an aristocrat with the even finer celebrations which would likely surround the event. Of course, she was every bit as pleasant as Lady Barton had declared, certainly far too pleasant to be at all superior.

  “I remember my own.” Lady Barton said with a glint in her black-bead eyes which made Felicia suddenly dread what was coming nex
t. “My poor dear Eustace tripping over his own feet on the way out of the church. He was a great one for losing co-ordination when he was agitated.”

  “Oh, he did! I remember it now.” Lady Greystone said in an amused stage-whisper. “But he was such a dear.”

  Felicia drew in her bottom lip so that she could get a firm grip of it with her teeth to stop herself from laughing as she imagined her poor Uncle Eustace being more nervous and agitated on his way out of the church with his new bride on his arm than he had been going in.

  Felicia caught Jonathan Forbes’ eye and realized that he was similarly amused by the inadvertent admission.

  “Our own wedding went well, Peregrine, did it not?” Mrs Woolworth soon found an opportunity to do a little boasting. “Everything was wonderful, even the weather.”

  “We had so many guests, we could barely squeeze them all into the manor house. That was before I bought Willow Trees, of course.” Peregrine Woolworth did not want to miss the opportunity to remind all present that his wealth had grown so rapidly and to such an extent that he had purchased one of the finest old estates in Oxfordshire, capitalizing on the ruin of the hapless old baron whose family had held the place for centuries.

  “Of course.” The Duke said brightly; he was clearly keen for the dinner to go as smoothly as the Woolworths’ ancient nuptials apparently had.

  “Oh, what a shame Miss Mulholland cannot be here tonight, I was so looking forward to meeting her.” Lady Harker, a pleasant woman who didn’t strike Felicia as deserving the dreadful husband at her elbow, added nicely to the conversation.

  She moved the subject away from what looked set to be a tedious bout of boasting, likely because she was so used to diverting her husband from similar excesses.

  “I have no doubt that Meredith is as disappointed as you, Lady Harker. It appears she and her companion have spent just a little too much time admiring the fine English countryside as they made their way down. Still, the message reports that they are not delayed by much, and she is quite certain she will arrive by the middle of tomorrow morning.”

  “No doubt the poor thing was overwhelmed with our fine country.” The Colonel growled, despite his smile. Felicia realized that the man either shouted or growled, the growling being his ordinary speaking voice. “Savage place. Savage.”

  “Scotland?” Felicia said, remembering her own visits as a child. “Oh, but it is beautiful. The countryside there is so varied, from rolling meadows to jagged mountains.”

  “Absolutely.” The Colonel appeared to agree. “Savage.” He said, clearly only actually agreeing with his own initial assessment.

  Once again, Felicia caught Lord Beaumont’s eye, only to find him amused once more. She couldn’t help but imagine the man was rather fun and could easily see how it was he managed Aunt Agatha so easily when other young men always seemed a little distressed in her strident presence.

  The party had been set in one of the smaller dining rooms in Scorton Hall, and yet still there was room for another ten guests at the table. The table had been set so as to make the meal more intimate than formal, even if the room was so large that a hollow echo could be heard every time Colonel Wentworth spoke.

  As Felicia looked from one to the other, she wondered at the group itself. They did not seem to be particular friends, barring her aunt and Lady Greystone, but more of a list of people made out in a hurry. Despite the table setting, the dinner did not really seem intimate to Felicia. Surely the Duke had closer friends than these? Unless, of course, he was friends with them all whereas they were simply acquaintances to one another. However she thought about it, Felicia couldn’t escape the feeling that there was something unusual about the guests the Duke had chosen.

  The meal itself was very well done. They had begun with a very tasty soup, thin in consistency, but wonderfully flavorsome and a little spicy. The butler had stood austerely by the serving sideboard and watched over the footman and the maid as they served.

  The footman who had served the soup was a bright young man who suited his livery as if he had been born to wear it. The poor maid, on the other hand, was very ill-favored and clearly of a nervous disposition.

  Her smart black gown was clean and well-made and yet it somehow did not sit well on her. It was neither too big nor too small but somehow did not fit right. Felicia wondered if a better-fitting gown could not have been provided for her before coming to the conclusion that it would not help. It was really a case of the way the young woman stood; she was a little hunched as if her very being were in and of itself an apology of some sort.

  Felicia felt for her, wondering if the large and unattractive mole on her cheek might be responsible for a lifetime of turning her face from the world and tipping her whole body ever-so-slightly forward. She felt for her all the more when the poor woman dropped a small piece of curried fish into Felicia’s lap when she was serving the next course.

  “Oh.” The maid said in shock before a hiss from the butler rendered her mute.

  “Please, you must not worry.” Felicia said in a quiet and kindly tone as the maid stood in stasis, not knowing if she should scoop the fish out of Lady Felicia’s lap or not.

  Felicia, who always took the precaution of laying a serviette over her lap during meals, simply folded the heavy cotton square, neatly trapping the errant fish inside.

  The butler hurried over with a fresh serviette and took the folded one containing the fish from Felicia as the poor maid continued to stand there uselessly and clearly in shock.

  “No harm is done, my dear, see?” Felicia said quietly and looked down at her spotless gown to reassure the woman.

  It was no use, for Felicia could see her hands trembling. Finally, the maid reached for the serving dish once more, but the swift return of the butler put an end to her evening of serving the Duke’s guests.

  “Leave.” Chester said in a quiet voice which was riddled with muted anger.

  The maid uttered not one word as she dashed from the room although all present heard her little cry of dismay from the corridor outside. It was a cry which made Felicia’s heart ache; the poor woman.

  “I am terribly sorry, My Lady.” The butler said as he clicked his fingers and indicated that the footman ought to continue to serve.

  “Not at all, Mr. Chester. These things happen from time to time.”

  “Well, I shall deal with it, My Lady, you may be sure of that.” Chester looked vaguely annoyed and Felicia knew why.

  She had been too polite in addressing him as Mr. Chester, and he despised her for it the way the lower middle-class servants always did when someone of her class treated them with respect.

  It was a phenomenon which had always intrigued Felicia, for it seemed to make no sense at all.

  “Perhaps it is my own fault, Chester.” The Duke piped up convivially. “I should not have asked you to give the girl such a great responsibility. It was too soon.”

  “Your Grace.” Chester said, bowing his head and not daring to agree that his master had made a mistake.

  “I thought it would boost her confidence. The poor child is always dropping things and poor Chester here and the housekeeper are already at their wit’s end with her.” The Duke turned to the group to explain as the butler silently returned to his post by the sideboard, his eyes never leaving the footman in case he, too, let him down in some way.

  “Sounds like you would do well to dismiss her, Your Grace.” Lord Harker said and Felicia could almost feel his wife’s stomach tighten. “That sort of incompetency breeds among the lower orders. Standards slip in one, they slip in them all.” He was so pompous that Felicia thought it little wonder her aunt did not like him.

  “Perhaps the poor woman could be given another chance, Lord Harker. We all make mistakes, after all.” Lord Beaumont’s tone was steady, but it was clear to Felicia that he had no more regard for the Baron than she did.

  “I wouldn’t have such a thing in my own house.” The Baron had identified with a position and he was stic
king with it, regardless of how uncomfortable his determination made all present.

  “If Lord Barton could trip over on his own wedding day and be forgiven by his wife, I am sure a nervous maid can be forgiven the loss of a slippery fish.” Lord Beaumont’s comment drew a hearty laugh from both Lady Barton and Lady Greystone.

  “I am the very spirit of forgiveness, Lord Beaumont.” Lady Barton said, and Felicia felt proud of her aunt and her resolve to go along with it and ease the tension.

  She also thought her aunt had quite enjoyed being at the center of Lord Beaumont’s humorous aside, an idea that was borne out when the redoubtable old lady raised her wine glass in silent toast to him.

  Between them, Lord Beaumont and her aunt had gently taken the reins of the conversation and guided it onto easier terrain.

  When the meal came to a close, the party retired to the drawing room for drinks. Felicia squeezed her aunt’s hand when the two of them settled down side-by-side on one of the many velvet-covered couches.

  “You did awfully well in there, Aunt Agatha.” Felicia whispered in admiration.

  “Yes, I think that the handsome Lord Beaumont and I work well together.” She looked up and smiled as he approached. “Ah, the man himself.”

  “Oh?” He said, settling in the closest armchair to the ladies.

  “I was just saying that the two of us work well together, Lord Beaumont.”

  “Indeed, we do.” He laughed. “We are well practiced at dissolving disputes over dinner, are we not?”

  “Oh yes.” Lady Barton smiled so warmly at Jonathan Forbes that Felicia came to realize just how well they knew one another.

  “No wonder His Grace likes to have you both at table.” Felicia said before taking a sip of viscous sweet sherry.

  The drawing room, despite being so large, was set out well with little clusters of couches, armchairs, and low tables making several smaller and cozier areas. The Duke had settled himself down with some of the men, including Colonel Wentworth and Lord Harker, and for that, Felicia was grateful. Even though she could still hear the Colonel, that little bit of distance made all the difference.