The Secrets of Scorton Hall: An Historical Regency Romance Mystery

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The Secrets of Scorton Hall: An Historical Regency Romance Mystery Page 11

by Kate Carteret


  “Too clean.” Lord Beaumont said firmly. “This summerhouse has not been in proper use since our Eton days. It was beginning to fall into disrepair then and the last Duke simply stored some old bits and pieces in here and forgot about it. The only thing which keeps it safe from the elements is the thick growth of Ivy all over the roof. I cannot imagine that the floor would be as clean as it is without having been scrubbed recently.”

  Lord Beaumont lifted the candle and rose to inspect the rest of the floor more thoroughly. Felicia simply followed along in his wake, wondering what else there was that she could do.

  “Here, exactly the same. I am beginning to think that the entire floor has been scrubbed.” He suddenly held the candle aloft and peered up towards the ceiling. “Look, cobwebs everywhere, in every corner, and yet the floor is so clean you could eat off it. Forgive me for ever doubting you, Lady Felicia, I am certain now that you are quite right. Whatever happened to poor Daisy Marlow happened right here in this room.”

  “Oh dear,” Felicia said, the idea of it making her shudder. “I really did turn my back on her that night, did I not?”

  “Even if she was killed in here, we still cannot say at what time. It is still possible that the figure of a woman you saw in here that night might well be somebody else. I grant you that it would seem unlikely that two such unusual events occur on the same night in an abandoned, derelict summerhouse, but it is not impossible.”

  “If it was Daisy, I wonder who she could have been meeting,” Felicia said, closing her eyes and remembering the silhouette of the man and woman in what looked to be such a caring, loving embrace. “And if she really was meeting somebody, how could he suddenly go from caring about her enough to hold her to him to suddenly hating her so much that he would beat her so cruelly?”

  “I cannot begin to imagine what demon of a man would do such a thing.” Lord Beaumont said, his voice sounding almost apologetic as if he felt some responsibility for his own sex.

  “Wait a minute.” Felicia said, her attention caught by a sudden twinkling to the side of them.

  No sooner had she turned to look for it, however, than it disappeared. She reached out to take the candle from him and held it out in front of her in the direction of the twinkling. She moved her arm from side to side, hoping that the light from the candle would catch whatever it was once again and have it reveal itself.

  “What is it?” Lord Beaumont said, still crouched beside her.

  “I saw something twinkling.” She said, her voice a little distant as she concentrated. “Ah, there!” She said and straightened up to make her way carefully across the room.

  There, underneath a battered old wooden side table, was a shining object. She reached out and picked it up, laying it flat in the palm of her hand as the two of them, heads together, studied it by candlelight.

  “It is a woman’s locket, silver, I think.” Felicia said, squinting.

  “Yes, and it looks clean.” He reached into her palm and took it from her.

  “No tarnish?”

  “None. Whoever this belongs to, it has not lain here long.” He said with certainty.

  “Whoever it does belong to, it could not be Daisy Marlow. No servant could surely afford such a beautiful piece.” Felicia said and could not even picture Daisy wearing it.

  “I would like to say that somebody has dropped it here and lost it quite by accident but look at the clasp.” He said holding the two ends of the silver chain up to the light of the candle. “It has not been opened, the chain has been snapped.”

  “Perhaps accidentally?” Felicia said somewhat hopefully.

  “I do not know, but it is a thick enough chain and it would have taken some force to snap it.”

  “But none of this makes sense, it cannot have belonged to Daisy Marlow.”

  “Perhaps two separate events occurred in this summerhouse after all. For heaven’s sake, we have more questions now than we did in the beginning.” He laughed mirthlessly. “Here, take this for a moment and I will check the rest of the floor.” He gently placed the locket into her open palm before taking the candle from her.

  Felicia continued to study the locket in the gloom, feeling the engraving there on the cool metal beneath her fingertip. A silence opened up between them as Lord Beaumont continued to inspect every corner of the summerhouse.

  “I have found something.” He said, kneeling on the floor some feet away from her and holding the fingers of his right hand up to the candlelight to inspect them.

  “What is it?” She said, stowing the silver locket into the pocket of her gown before crossing the room to him.

  “On the bottom of this chair leg, there is what I believe to be a little blood.” He said, still looking at his fingertips. “And forgive me, but there is a stickiness to it which suggests that it is not an old stain.”

  “Oh, dear Lord.” Felicia said and felt her stomach turn over.

  “Whoever cleaned this place did a good job, just not good enough.” He said and rose to his feet, handing her the candle whilst he cleaned his hand with his handkerchief.

  Felicia stood for a moment silently wondering exactly where this had brought them. Lord Beaumont was right, they had more questions now than in the beginning. She felt a little nauseous, somehow her worst fears had been confirmed. She was certain that Daisy had died in that room and she would never truly know if there had been anything she could have done about it on that fateful night.

  Quite from nowhere, tears began to roll down cheeks and she quickly dashed them away with the back of her hand.

  “Lady Felicia?” He said gently setting the candle down on the sideboard. “Believe me, there was nothing you could have done. However quick you had been, you would never have been quick enough.” He said and suddenly pulled her into his arms.

  She leaned her face gratefully into his chest and let her tears flow, knowing full well that there was nothing she could do to stop them.

  He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and, after a moment, she could feel the comforting touch of his hand on the back of the head.

  “I really am so sorry, Felicia.” He said, his voice now a whisper again, even though they could not possibly be overheard.

  “At least we know, Lord Beaumont. We may not know everything yet, but we have made a start. Oh, I am so sad, but I do feel as if I have done something constructive now to help Daisy. The Watch did not bother to look, they did not care, but we have looked, have we not?”

  “We have.” He said, releasing her enough that she was able to straighten and peer up at his face in the gloom. “And we will not simply leave it here, I promise. I do not know how far we will get or if we will ever get to the truth of it, but we will try.”

  “Thank you, Lord Beaumont.”

  “I think we have pushed our luck enough for one evening, we ought really to make our way back into the hall.” He said, turning to peer out of the window and across the dark lawn.

  “Yes, I daresay this has been risky enough.”

  “Let us talk about it again tomorrow when we are rested and have clear minds.” He said, and she knew that they were about to be plunged into silence once again as they made their illicit way back to their own beds.

  Without another word, he led her to the door, blew out the candle, and took her hand ready to escort her safely back into the hall.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Despite the lack of sleep, Jonathan still woke early the following morning. He was tired, it was true, but he was also extremely hungry. Hoping to see Lady Felicia at the breakfast table, he wondered if the two early birds might get a little time alone in which to discuss the events and the findings of the night before. However, when he walked into the breakfast room, it was to find himself the first and only diner. Perhaps Lady Felicia would appear in the next few minutes, running a little later than normal owing to the excitement and upset of the night before.

  He went to the sideboard and lifted the lids from the silver platters, helping himself
to bacon, eggs, tomatoes, and toasted bread. He looked up when he heard somebody entering the room, hoping that it would be Felicia, but it was just a maid with a pot of tea and a pot of coffee. She set them down silently on the table and he nodded his thanks before pouring himself a steaming cup of coffee.

  He took a sip, wincing as it scalded his lips and tongue but carrying on regardless. He needed a clear head for thinking and the best way to shake off sleep, as far as he was concerned, was strong hot coffee.

  He thought about everything they had discovered last night and wondered if he ought to speak to Clarence about it. Something awful had happened in that summerhouse, that much was clear. But what good would it do now to upset his friend and his new bride with the news? After all, it was all on the Scorton estate, did the details of it really change anything?

  Of course, it did change the way he looked at it all and he did not forget the promise he had made to Felicia the night before that they would not give up, that they would keep going. However, in the cold light of day, he wondered if he would be able to keep that promise. What would they do next? Who would they ask? Where would they look?

  He sighed and picked up his knife and fork, hoping that a full stomach would go some way to dispelling the morning’s negativity.

  All he really had to do, of course, to dispel the negativity was to remember her hand in his as they hastened through the dark house and across the lawn. Jonathan had held her in his arms to comfort her and he had been genuine in his efforts. However, he could not deny the fact that he had enjoyed the feel of her in his arms, the wonderful moment when he had finally felt that shining chestnut hair beneath his fingers.

  He shook his head, this was not gentlemanly behavior. The fact that Lady Felicia herself had made it very clear that she was not looking for romance had not been lost on him either. She might have approached the thing humorously, and he might well have laughed, but he had been disappointed by it, nonetheless.

  He knew that it could not be an easy thing to have been thwarted in love, to have been usurped in your lover's affections by another. Lady Felicia managed it all with grace and that sharp humor she had clearly inherited from her great aunt, but it must surely hurt her, regardless.

  She had danced with him at the ball, and he had read too much into it. In the hours which had passed since, he realized that she was becoming something of a friend. Lady Felicia would happily dance with him after firmly telling him that she would think twice before involving herself in the foolishness of courtship ever again.

  In the end, perhaps friendship would be all the two of them would ever share. He set down his knife and fork again and reached for his coffee, swallowing it down until the cup was empty. As he poured himself another, he wondered if he could simply be her friend if that was all that would ever be offered him.

  Jonathan smiled, of course, he could be her friend. There was an easiness to their conversation and the burgeoning of witty banter that he enjoyed very much. These were the things that Clarence had provided over the years, real friendship, a person to turn to with whom you could be yourself at all times. Of course, that was not quite where he and Lady Felicia were, but he was certain that it was where they were heading. Yes, he would be her friend if she would have him, but he knew, deep down, that he would always want more than that.

  Felicia woke so late that morning that she wondered if she might have missed breakfast altogether. She sincerely hoped not, for her stomach, used to being fed at seven o’clock each day, was objecting rather loudly. With the help of Meg, she hurriedly washed and dressed and, with her hair put up very simply, she hurried downstairs.

  Felicia did not know exactly what time breakfast would be finished, not in any house in the country, for she was always amongst the first in any household to break their fast. Timidly, she peered around the edge of the partially open door, relieved to find her aunt staring back at her quizzically.

  “What on earth are you doing?” Lady Barton said, tilting her head to one side and narrowing her gaze. “Come in, for goodness sake.”

  “Forgive me, I did not know if breakfast would be over.” Felicia hurried into the room and peered beneath the platter lids to see what was left.

  There was nothing more than sausage meat and eggs and so she took a little of each and sat down at the table opposite her aunt.

  “Is this your second breakfast, my dear, or did you oversleep catastrophically?” Lady Barton was clearly amused.

  “The latter,” Felicia said, hungrily taking a large forkful of the sausage meat and glad that there was nobody but her aunt to witness her savage behavior. “I’m afraid I was…”

  “No, no.” Lady Barton said, hiding the smile as she shook her head from side to side. “I can cope with the bear-sized bite you just took out of that sausage meat, my dear, but I cannot bear to see it rolling around on your tongue whilst you speak. Whatever has got into you this morning that your manners have deserted you altogether?”

  “Forgive me, I…”

  “No, the same still applies.” Lady Barton held a staying hand out in front of her. “Finish chewing, finish swallowing, and then respond.”

  Felicia rolled her eyes and chewed hurriedly, swallowing the sausage meat down before it was truly ready to be dispatched.

  “I did not sleep well, Aunt Agatha, but I cannot tell you much here at the breakfast table,” Felicia said, whispering. “Suffice it to say that we have been out to the summerhouse.” By the time she got to the word summerhouse, she was simply mouthing without sound.

  Lady Barton’s eyes flew wide open and she set her teacup down so heavily that Felicia could see the brown fluid swell and rise, almost reaching the rim of the cup and threatening to spill over.

  “In the middle of the night?” Lady Barton said loudly as Felicia waved her hand furiously to quieten her. “It is a lucky thing you did not get caught.”

  “Forgive me, Aunt Agatha, but I realized that there was a greater chance of us being caught in the early hours of the morning when the servants were beginning to go about their business. I had made my mind up after going to bed and was just setting off when I discovered Lord Beaumont. It appears that he had come to the same conclusions and was going on the very same mission.”

  “It is a lucky thing you found him.” For once, Lady Barton looked a little annoyed with her niece. “For goodness sake, it is bad enough that you went out in the middle of the night, but I can hardly cope with the idea that you had thought to go alone. Alone, Felicia! In a house of murder!”

  “Aunt Agatha, I really am sorry, but it was worth it in the end. We did find out one or two things.”

  “Oh yes, what?” As Lady Barton’s interest took over, Felicia held onto a hope that she would no longer be in trouble for her behavior.

  “The floor of the summerhouse had been scrubbed.” She began, barely whispering. “But Lord Beaumont found a little blood on one of the chairs.” She nodded as her aunt set down her knife and fork and pulled a face. “And we found a silver locket, I will show it to you when I get the opportunity.”

  “So, you believe now that it really did happen in the summerhouse?” Thankfully, Lady Barton was now whispering.

  “Yes, although it does not entirely make sense.”

  “Well, I suppose that you are going to get to the bottom of it, if you keep trying.” She gave her niece a knowing look. “Because that is what you intend to do, is it not?”

  “Yes,” Felicia said, thinking that she could do no better than complete honesty at that moment. “And Lord Beaumont said he would help me.”

  “Well, perhaps that is a good thing.” She brightened visibly and Felicia knew why.

  However, she was in enough trouble with her aunt as it was, she would not put herself in any more by arguing the point about her aunt’s romantic notions for herself and Jonathan Forbes.

  “Somebody needs to look, do they not? Somebody needs to care what happened to that poor young woman.”

  “Yes, but you are
not out of the woods yet.” Her aunt said cryptically.

  “In what sense?”

  “You are not yet out of the woods with me, young lady. You may think you have diverted me suitably, but you have not. Any future dealings in this business will involve me also. I cannot have you and Lord Beaumont getting yourselves into trouble.”

  “I’m sure that we would not….”

  “It is not a debate, my dear.” Lady Barton chuckled. “You are both young and you have that single-mindedness and propensity to excitement that could lead you into danger. What is needed in this circumstance is a wise lady of advancing years to oversee things.”

  “Yes, of course.” Felicia said, and felt somewhat resigned.

  She could not help but wonder how Lord Beaumont would feel about being overseen by the Dowager Countess of Barton. She wondered if he would find her aunt quite so amusing then.

  “Well, I suppose you’d better finish your breakfast, Felicia.”

  “Yes, Aunt Agatha.” Felicia said with feigned obedience.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Within an hour of finishing her breakfast, Felicia was already ignoring her aunt’s demand that she do nothing without telling her first. Making a pretense of looking for her lady’s maid, she made her way quietly below stairs.

  She knew, of course, that Meg was enjoying another little excursion about the grounds with one of the other servants who had a few hours off that morning. Meg had asked for permission just hours before when she had helped her mistress hurriedly put herself together after sleeping in.

  It had occurred to Felicia to prime Meg and have her ask one or two questions of the other servants below stairs. However, she quickly came to the conclusion that it was not fair to put her lady’s maid in such a position and, if she was honest, the fewer people who realized that she and Lord Beaumont were making their own little inquiries the better.

  As she made her way down the servants’ staircase, she was careful not to make too much noise. Her slippers made barely a sound, but the creaking wood of the staircase was enough to give her away. By the time she reached the bottom, a curious scullery maid was standing in the doorway of the kitchen staring at her fearfully.

 

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