“You really are very kind, Lady Felicia, but I most certainly do feel responsible for not seeing to it that the glazed doors were a little stronger. It would not have taken very much for the burglar to get them open and I daresay poor Daisy heard something and came to look, surprising him.” He shook his head and seemed to be somewhere else altogether. “No, I could have done that much at least. I could have made the place secure.”
“If it was a burglar, Your Grace.” Felicia said.
“I think it must have been, Lady Felicia, for two large silver candlesticks which ordinarily sit on the mantle shelf in the morning room are gone.”
“Are they?” Lord Beaumont said with interest. “Was anything else taken, Clarence?”
“I must admit I do not know. The candlesticks were large and rather obvious, I cannot yet tell if anything else has been taken. I suppose I ought to have another look, do you think?”
“Yes, it is something that The Watch will want to know.”
“I just hope that all of this can be dealt with before poor Meredith gets here. I cannot bear to think of her arriving whilst we are in such turmoil and poor Daisy still lays on the rug.” He said with a sigh before turning to walk back into the morning room to make a quick inventory of his possessions there.
Chapter Seven
After The Watch had arrived and Felicia and Lord Beaumont had given their full account of everything they had discovered, they made their way out of the room.
The Duke remained in the room, as he must, and Felicia could not help but feel a little bit sorry for him. He was still a young man, clearly out of his depth and terribly shaken, dealing with something that nobody ought really to have to deal with. But The Watch had fallen upon the idea of a burglar with relish, no doubt pleased that the simple explanation would make the whole thing much easier for them. They would not have to ask any questions of the guests or servants, the whole thing was, as far as they were concerned, cut and dried.
Felicia wondered why it wasn’t entirely cut and dried for her also, given that items of value had actually been stolen, lending the greatest weight to the theory of a burglary gone wrong. But there was something about the scene of the crime which still was not right. It was not just the terrible injuries to Daisy’s face, but it was something she could not yet quite put her finger on.
“Do you think you could manage to eat something, Lady Felicia? It might do you some good.” Lord Beaumont said as the two of them left the morning room and set off side-by-side, just as they had not an hour and a half before.
There was something quite surreal about it, the idea that they were still simply on their way to breakfast and had only been briefly delayed by the discovery of a grisly murder. It seemed wrong to Felicia somehow as if they really ought not to continue about their day. But what else could they do?
“Perhaps I could eat a little something.” She said, thinking that she would most likely just have a cup of tea and leave it at that.
However, the nearer they drew to the breakfast room, the clearer it was that Colonel Wentworth was already in there holding court. When she heard, once again, the awful line you know what those sorts of girls are, she stopped in her tracks and looked helplessly at Lord Beaumont.
“I cannot sit in that man’s company again and hear the same old nonsense.”
“No, neither can I.” He said and held out his arm for her to take, walking her clear past the breakfast room and along another corridor towards the drawing room.
She was relieved to find nobody there and gratefully sat down when Lord Beaumont led her to one of the couches. It was the very couch she had sat on the evening before when she and Lord Beaumont had enjoyed such a lively conversation.
He strode across the room to the fireplace and reached for one of the bell ropes, presumably to request tea in the drawing room. No doubt the maid would come fluttering in shortly to find out just how many were sitting down to tea in the drawing room of all places at such an hour. Of course, news of the murder might well have made its way below stairs by now, so perhaps the drawing room bell ringing below stairs would not seem quite so out of place after all.
Without a word, Lord Beaumont made his way to the drinks cabinet and she could hear the light clink of lead crystal glasses followed by the sound of liquid being poured. When he returned to her and handed her a glass of brandy, she was by no means surprised.
“I know it is early, but I think we have both had rather a shock this morning.” He said and she looked up at him before taking the glass from his hand.
“Yes, I’m sure under such circumstances, it cannot hurt.” She said and took a surprisingly deep drink.
The brandy was of the same smooth, high-quality variety that her father was wont to keep at Davenport. There was, however, a heat to it which spoke volumes of its strength and so Felicia immediately slowed down.
“I feel so very sorry for poor Miss Mulholland coming here for the first time to discover that something so awful has happened.” Felicia began and stared down into the bronze liquid. “But I cannot now help but think that the murdered maid is something of an inconvenience. Something to be cleared away before everybody else’s lives can be resumed.”
“I know.” Lord Beaumont said gently and took the unusual step of sitting down on the couch next to her.
However, just like the brandy, it did not seem at all out of place under the circumstances.
“But she is not an inconvenience, she is a human being. Or, at least she was.” Despite her better judgment, Felicia took another sip of the brandy; another rather large sip.
“Yes, she was. We all have worth in this world, no matter what our status or station. Every life has its own purpose, and it seems a very cruel thing that one life be cut short so cruelly before that purpose can be realized.” He sighed loudly. “I just cannot help but wonder why she would go into the morning room in the dead of night on hearing a noise. Why would a woman so timid put herself in harm’s way?” It was clear that he was suffering some of his own misgivings about the whole thing.
For her part, Felicia still felt troubled by whatever it was she had observed at the scene of the crime which had bothered her so.
Unfortunately, good brandy on an empty stomach was not conducive to clear thought and she already felt a little unsteady. It was a different sort of unsteady now, however, being rather comforting in its own way.
“Perhaps it is the shock, Lord Beaumont, but there is something about this whole business which seems unanswered. I mean, I know that everything is unanswered, on the face of it, for we do not know who did this dreadful thing. But it is already accepted to be a burglary and the candlesticks would certainly seem to confirm that theory. And yet given the nature of the maid and something else I cannot quite put my finger on, something about that theory does not fit.”
“I know.” He agreed. “I just wish I could see the thing clearly.”
Before Felicia had time to respond, they both looked towards the door. As it opened, Felicia fully expected to see a maid brandishing a tea tray, and so was disappointed to find that some of the other guests were now making their way in.
“Dear me, what an awful thing.” Mrs. Peregrine Woolworth said in a voice that was just a little too excited and gossipy for Felicia’s liking.
“Yes, especially in the Duke's home. Really, that such a thing could happen on such a fine estate as this.” There was also something a little gossipy in Lady Harker’s tone, something which immediately erased any hint of regard that Felicia might have felt for her the night before.
This was not a little extra excitement to make their visit to Scorton Hall all the more interesting. This was not for their benefit. This was a horrible thing, an evil crime, and yet the two ladies seemed to be very much enjoying themselves.
“Well, it can happen anywhere. It all depends on the quality of the servants, you see. One bad apple and all that.” The Colonel said, still warming to his original theme as he followed the two gossiping ladies
into the drawing room.
“You really will have to excuse me, Lord Beaumont.” Felicia set her now empty brandy glass down on the table and rose sharply to her feet. “I cannot. I simply cannot.” She said, without further explanation.
“I know, Lady Felicia.” He said, nodding and clearly understanding that she could not bear to suffer such company and listen to their horrid little suppositions.
“My aunt will be awake now, I think I will go to her if you will excuse me.” Felicia continued in a whisper.
“Certainly, Lady Felicia.” He said and bowed, smiling warmly as she turned to leave.
By the time she reached Lady Barton’s room, she could hear signs of life from within. She tapped lightly on the door and opened it just enough to pop ahead around its edge.
“Come in, child.” Lady Barton said loudly.
“Oh, Aunt Agatha, how glad I am that you are up and dressed. I really must speak to you.” Now that she was with her aunt in private, her tears began to flow freely down her face.
Her shoulders were shaking, and she felt truly unwell. To relax in her aunt’s company, to be so comfortable with the woman, was to let everything tumble out of her.
“You need not explain, Ethel has told me everything.” She said, indicating that her own lady’s maid already had the awful news.
“Did she tell you that Lord Beaumont and I were the ones who had discovered poor Daisy’s body?”
“She did.” Lady Barton said, striding across the room to pull her niece into her arms. “Come along, my dear, let it out. I daresay you have been stony-faced and brave throughout the whole thing, but you are with your Aunt Agatha now and you need not cling on to such pretense.” She said soothingly, gently giving her niece permission to weep in earnest.
And weep in earnest was exactly what Felicia did. She was truly sobbing, still shocked and rather heartbroken by all she had seen that morning; to be in her aunt’s embrace was a true relief.
After a minute or two, Lady Barton led Felicia across the room to a little couch under the window. It looked out across the grounds and, once again, Felicia’s eyes fell on the summerhouse. She thought of the Duke and his little infidelity before his married life had even begun. But what did it matter now? What business was it of hers how the Duke of Scorton conducted himself?
In all other respects, she believed him to be a good man. He might be wayward, even roguish as Lord Beaumont had described him, but he was clearly distressed by the death of his young servant and she thought she would never forget his pallor and expression for as long as she lived.
“How are you feeling now, my dear?” Lady Barton said, sitting at her side with her arm around her shoulders.
“A little better, I think. Perhaps I ought to have come upstairs sooner than I did.”
“I daresay you ought to have done, but I’m sure you had your reasons for staying.”
“I did, Aunt Agatha. I am not at all sure that the men downstairs with their firm opinions have the thing quite right, you see. But a woman is dead, and she deserves to have the truth looked for properly, does she not?”
“She most certainly does, but I do not see quite what you can do about it.”
“I know, I suppose I am still in shock. And then I had a glass of brandy and have yet to have any breakfast. All in all, I feel rather ghastly.”
“Well, perhaps we can…” Lady Barton began but was cut off by the sound of a curt knock at the door.
A maid came in carrying a large tray with two laden breakfast plates and a pot of tea on it.
“Lady Barton, Lord Beaumont asked me to send a little breakfast for you and Lady Felicia.” She explained, setting the tray down on the table in the opposite corner of the room.
“Oh, that is thoughtful.” Lady Barton said, rising to her feet and smiling at the maid. “And it looks wonderful, my dear. Truly, I am very hungry, and I think it would do my niece a great deal of good to sit down and eat something hot.” Already she was beginning to fuss over the tray, helping the maid when there really was no need.
“Forgive me, but did you know Daisy very well?” Felicia said, seizing the opportunity to find out a little more about the murdered woman.
“Not very well, My Lady, she had only been with us a few weeks, you see.”
“Do you know where she came from?”
“I have a feeling it was Hertfordshire, My Lady, but I do not know where exactly. I have never been to Hertfordshire myself, you see, and even if she did tell me where she was from, I would likely have forgotten it.” The maid looked so apologetic it was almost amusing. “She was very quiet, though, so I do not think she ever told me much about herself.”
“What about her family?” Felicia went on.
“I’m certain that she didn’t have any family, My Lady. I’m not sure if she was raised an orphan, or if she lost her family later on. But I am quite sure that she did not have any living relatives.”
“Oh dear, that is very sad.” Lady Barton said genuinely. “Although what parent could bear to hear such news? Perhaps it is better for a parent to already be gone.”
“Yes, My Lady.” The maid said and curtsied. “Will there be anything else?”
“No, that will be all, thank you.” Lady Barton smiled and watched the young woman leave.
“I am not sure I could manage to eat a bite, Aunt Agatha.”
“Come and sit beside me at the table anyway and see.” It was clear that Lady Barton had other ideas about Felicia’s nutrition for the day. “Begin with some tea and see how you get on.”
“Very well.” Felicia sat down at the table which was just large enough for two and stared down at the plate of bacon, tomatoes, toasted bread, and boiled eggs.
On any other day, such a breakfast would be very welcome indeed, for Felicia had a healthy appetite.
“It was very thoughtful of Lord Beaumont to have some breakfast sent up to us, was it not?”
“Yes, very thoughtful.” Felicia took a sip of tea from a thin porcelain teacup.
“He is a very fine young man; do you not think?”
“He is as fine as you are persistent, Aunt Agatha.” Felicia said, but her customary teasing did not give her the joy it ordinarily did.
It felt wrong somehow, unreal.
“Can you blame me for being a little persistent when I see a fine opportunity for my treasured niece?”
“I do not blame you at all Aunt Agatha, not for anything. I do not know how I would have managed this day had you not been here with me now, making me feel safe and comfortable. I adore you, as well you know, but I am not yet ready for such things, and most particularly not on a day such as today.”
“No, but you do have a life to live, a future to look forward to.”
“And I shall look forward to it another day.” Felicia said and finally picked up in her knife and fork in hopes that her willingness to eat might both please and distract her aunt a little. “Aunt Agatha, as much as you do not like Charles Wilby, I am afraid that my heart still belongs to him. I do not think that it will forever. I certainly hope that it will not, but for now it does. Lord Beaumont is very pleasant and so kind. Of all the men who appeared on the scene downstairs, he was the only one who was both respectful and capable. The truth is, I can hardly think I have ever met so fine a man as Lord Beaumont. The fact remains, however, that I am not ready to think of such things. My heart will not let go of Charles Wilby and I will simply have to wait patiently until the day that it does.”
“Very well, my dear.” Lady Barton said gently. “Well, do not simply brandish that cutlery like weapons. Eat something.” Lady Barton’s customary bossy tone was just about the most comforting thing that Felicia could imagine at that moment.
Chapter Eight
“Have they all gone now?” Jonathan said when he found Clarence sitting alone in the drawing room.
“Yes, The Woolworths were the last to leave. I suppose they wanted to draw every last bit of enjoyment out of this misery.” He was alre
ady drinking brandy, even though it was barely mid-afternoon.
“They are of a type, Clarence.” Jonathan laughed briefly. “I was surprised to find you had invited them to stay, I must admit.”
“Well, I had told Meredith a little bit about them and she was full of curiosity to meet them. I daresay my portrayal of them was far from kind, which just goes to show that one cannot be cruel without a little retribution.”
“Retribution?” Jonathan said incredulously. “Surely you do not think that poor woman’s death is God’s way of telling you not to be mean-spirited about your neighbors!”
“I honestly don’t know.”
“Clarence, for heaven’s sake.” He said, deciding to pour himself a glass of brandy too.
“If you would.” Clarence held out his own glass for replenishment.
“Very well, but a smaller measure if you already believe someone murdered Daisy in a bid to teach you a lesson.” He carefully poured a half-measure and handed it to him. “I realize this is a dreadful shock, my dear fellow, but do try to hold onto your wits.” He tried to make Clarence laugh, but his words fell flat.
“I cannot get the image of the poor woman out of my mind. Who would do such an awful thing?” Clarence spoke in a far-off tone as he let his head loll against the wing of the armchair.
He looked pale and his eyes were sunken, the skin around them dark. Jonathan had never seen his old friend look so unwell and he was certain the fact that this awful thing had happened in his own home had affected him greatly. They were all shocked by the death, but there seemed to be an extra layer of misery for the Duke of Scorton.
“Let’s hope The Watch can find something out.” Jonathan said although he was certain that their own search for the truth had already ceased.
The man who had done this awful thing would likely never be caught; not if he really was a random burglar, at any rate. Jonathan realized that the fact affected him almost as much as finding the murdered woman in the first place. How could such an awful thing go unpunished? How could the authorities not care? For he was certain that they would not put in the sort of effort that would undoubtedly have followed the death of a woman of better means and better status.
The Secrets of Scorton Hall: An Historical Regency Romance Mystery Page 6