The Secrets of Scorton Hall: An Historical Regency Romance Mystery

by Kate Carteret

  “Forgive me, my dear, I hope I did not startle you.” Felicia said kindly.

  “Oh no, My Lady, not at all.” The scullery maid curtsied as best she could, but it was obvious that she spent more time below stairs than above.

  “I was just looking for my maid, Meg.” Felicia smiled as she lied. “I am just beginning to pack a few things back into my trunk and thought to have a little help.”

  “Forgive me, My Lady, but I believe that Meg is having a little tour of the rose garden.” She looked fearful and guilty as if she had thrown poor Meg into terrible trouble.

  “Oh yes, of course,” Felicia said, feigning sudden remembrance and tapping her forehead dramatically. “I had quite forgotten.”

  “Is there anything that I can help you with, My Lady?” The scullery maid asked dutifully but looked terrified that the fine lady in front of her might respond in the affirmative.

  “No, it is of little matter, my dear. But thank you kindly for your offer.” Felicia said and gave the girl her warmest and most winning smile.

  “Very well, My Lady.”

  “Actually, there is something,” Felicia said and could see the girl’s eyes widen as she waited to hear the worst of it. “Tell me, have you worked here long?”

  “Four years, My Lady, since I was eleven.”

  “Did you know Daisy Marlow particularly well? I only ask because I was here on that awful night and I have not been able to get that poor young woman out of my mind.” Felicia took a step closer to the scullery maid so that she could lower her voice. “The idea that she did not have any family at all broke my heart. Nobody to mourn her.”

  “Yes, My Lady, it was very sad.” The scullery maid agreed and nodded, clearly relieved that she was not about to be asked to perform a complicated task she knew nothing about. “She was very quiet, as am I, I suppose. We did not speak often, but I heard from her own lips that she did not have any family.”

  “But where did she come from? Where did she work before she came here to Scorton Hall?”

  “I believe she told the housekeeper that she came from a little village called Charlton in Hertfordshire and that was where she worked. She worked with a fine lady there, although I don’t know her name. Mrs. Garner, the housekeeper, would know better for she would have been the one who received Daisy’s references from her former employer.”

  “I see.” Felicia said and thought that the housekeeper would be best avoided.

  “Should I ask Mrs. Garner to come and find you, My Lady?”

  “Oh no, please do not bother with it for a moment. It is nothing more than my idle curiosity if I’m honest. I think I was just hoping to discover that the poor young woman did have family after all; that there was somebody to mourn her. I daresay that it would make me feel better more than anything.” Felicia was neither lying nor telling the absolute truth.

  “You must not keep Lady Felicia with your idle gossip, girl!” The sudden appearance of a well-dressed young woman with a most determined Scottish accent made Felicia draw in her breath.

  “Yes, Miss Morehead.” The scullery maid said and curtsied to the woman and Lady Felicia before darting away, her cheeks flaming red.

  “Forgive me, we have not been introduced.” Felicia said feeling annoyed at the arrogant newcomer.

  Miss Morehead was, without a doubt, the companion who had come down from Scotland with Meredith Mulholland. She had black hair and dark eyes, pale skin and red lips, and would have been quite beautiful if she did not look so fierce. There was something a little bullish in her bearing and Felicia was certain that the woman was a force to be reckoned with. But then, so was Felicia.

  “I am Miss Mary Morehead, Lady Felicia.” She said and barely inclined her head.

  “Ah, you are the Duchess’ companion, I believe.”

  “Yes, Lady Felicia.” Miss Morehead’s accent was so pronounced that Felicia had to fight the urge to ask exactly where she had come from.

  In the end, however, she decided that she could not easily interrogate the woman without creating some suspicion.

  “Well, it is very nice to meet you, at last, Miss Morehead. How are you finding things here in England? I daresay you were very sad to leave Stirling.”

  “I go wherever my mistress needs me, Lady Felicia, it hardly matters to me where that is.” There was a flatness to her tone and her dark eyes were shrewd and unflinching.

  As determined as Felicia was not to be browbeaten by this woman, she could not help but wish that Lady Barton was by her side. As similar as the two women were, Felicia was the one who possessed the sweet nature and Lady Barton, in contrast, was an old-fashioned lady who did not stand for prideful behavior in governesses and paid companions.

  “You must be very fond of her and she of you, Miss Morehead.” Felicia smiled as warmly as she could manage and hoped that the strident Scottish woman could not sense her disquiet. “Have you been together for a long time?”

  “I have worked for my mistress since before her father died. It is some years now, five or six, I suppose.” She narrowed her gaze as if expecting an explanation for Felicia’s inquiry.

  “So, this must be your first visit to Oxfordshire, my dear?” The smile was beginning to hurt Felicia’s cheeks.

  “Neither my mistress nor I had ever been to Oxfordshire before, Lady Felicia. The first we saw of it was when we moved here.” Mary Morehead had a habit of answering a question with nothing more than the bare minimum and then squinting to show her displeasure at having been asked in the first place.

  “Well, I do hope you settle in well and have a happy time of it here at Scorton Hall. It really is a very nice place and the grounds are absolutely beautiful.” Felicia decided not to ask any more questions.

  There was something about this companion that she found unsettling and she would have to think long and hard before she made any other attempt to elicit information from her.

  “That is very kind of you, Lady Felicia.” Mary Morehead said and looked at the stairs significantly. “I’m sure you’re busy, I will not keep you any longer.”

  Felicia bit her tongue, caught somewhere between indignant anger and a sort of wariness. The Duchess of Scorton’s paid companion had just dismissed her, gently nodding towards the stairs to indicate that she should leave the same way she came down and leave now.

  Felicia did not like her one little bit, but she knew that it would do no good to make it known. To indulge her pride would be her only achievement in that case and it could, quite possibly, be detrimental to her inquiries at a later time.

  “Indeed, I am very busy, Miss Morehead.” Felicia smiled brightly, all the while wanting to reach out and pinch the woman until she squealed. “I will leave you about your work.” She added and wondered what sort of work a paid companion would be doing below stairs.

  In the end, she did not have to ask for Miss Morehead finally offered some information for free.

  “Yes, I was just having a few words with the cook about the menu. The Duchess wanted to change something and asked if I would convey the message.”

  “Very good, then I will leave you to it.” Felicia said and turned to make her way back up the stairs.

  There was something very odd about that young woman. She had been most guarded and then, in the end, she had felt it necessary to explain her own presence below stairs. In as much as Miss Morehead had seemed to have the upper hand throughout their brief exchange, Felicia knew without a doubt that she had seen a slip in that young woman’s supreme confidence at the very end.

  She did not know what it meant, but she would certainly not forget it.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Just two days later, back at the Dower House at Barton Hall, Felicia could feel her exasperation finally beginning to dissolve. The rest of the brief stay at Scorton Hall had been unfruitful and she had not even managed to find a few minutes alone with Lord Beaumont to discuss all they had determined to discuss.

  It was not that they had been unable to si
t in company with one another at all, but rather that the subject matter was quite impossible when there was any chance that they might have been overheard. They had both recognized it without saying, their occasional glances into one another’s eyes doing all the talking for them.

  When it had come time for them to leave, Felicia had performed the tiniest shrug when he had bid her farewell, hoping that he would recognize it and act upon it sooner rather than later.

  Well, he had acted upon it sooner, sending a letter which reached her at the Dower House the following day.

  “Lady Felicia,

  I hope you do not mind my contacting you, but I am certain that you would be pleased to speak about our findings at Scorton Hall. I regret that it was not possible for us to discuss it at all and certainly not as thoroughly as we might have liked.

  I am certain that you have more to tell me, for I saw you appear suddenly at the top of the servants’ staircase, although you did not see me. I have no doubt that you continued your inquiries and I am interested to find out the result.

  I know it is short notice, but perhaps you and Lady Barton would care to take tea with me tomorrow afternoon here at Beaumont Hall. I would, of course, be pleased with your company and I am sure that we have much to discuss.

  I trust that you and Lady Barton remain in good health and am in hopes of seeing you tomorrow.

  Yours sincerely,

  Jonathan Forbes, the Earl of Beaumont.”

  Both Felicia and her aunt had been very excited by the invitation, each of them for different reasons. Lady Barton had talked endlessly of the wonderfully handsome Earl of Beaumont ever since the letter had arrived, unable to hide her pleasure at his continued association with her niece.

  However, despite her determination to be sensible, Felicia took a great deal of effort with her appearance. She wore a pale green long-sleeved gown and Meg had brushed her thick chestnut hair until it shone before pinning it up loosely at the back of her head. The result was that she felt well-dressed for afternoon tea, but not overdressed.

  Lady Barton had chattered excitedly all the way from Barton Hall to Beaumont Hall. She talked of what a fine home Beaumont was and how well-respected its master was in the county. Felicia simply smiled and let her aunt’s chatter wash over her in a warm and comforting way as she peered out of the carriage window.

  Autumn was certainly making its presence felt now and the temperature had dropped quite considerably. Felicia did not mind, however, because the shades of autumn, its russets, browns, and faded greens, made it her favorite of all seasons.

  The drive through the Beaumont estate to reach the hall was long and reminiscent of her father’s estate in many ways. In terms of size, Beaumont was comparable to Davenport and the house itself similar in terms of grandiosity and construction.

  It was an immense stone mansion with myriad mullioned windows and outbuildings surrounding it. As her aunt’s driver helped her down from the carriage, Felicia realized that she already felt at her ease. Perhaps it was the shared status, or perhaps it was simply that Felicia and Lord Beaumont just liked one another. Whatever it was, she was glad of it. Felicia was rarely in the mood for awkwardness and newness.

  The Earl’s butler, a smiling man who was a different manner of human being altogether from the dreadful Chester of Scorton Hall, led them through a wide and well-kept entrance hall. Whilst it did not enjoy the same marble statuary of Scorton Hall, Felicia thought she liked it very much better. It was grand without being too grand, large without being too large, and the position and arrangements felt familiar to her; comfortable.

  “The Dowager Countess of Barton and Lady Felicia Markham, My Lord.” The butler said brightly and without that dreadful austerity employed by so many other butlers.

  “Thank you kindly, Dalton.” The Earl smiled. “Would you be so kind as to have the afternoon tea sent in straight away?”

  “Certainly, My Lord, I believe it is already prepared.” The butler smiled again and bowed before taking his leave.

  “Well, how wonderful it is to see you both again.” He said and bowed. “Do come in and take a seat, ladies.” He was smiling broadly and had the most wonderfully welcoming air about him as he ushered them further into the room and indicated a pale ivory brocade-covered couch.

  “Things are looking well here at Beaumont, I must admit.” Lady Barton said firmly. “It has been some time since my last visit and you have made some changes, I think.”

  “Just a little here and there to the decoration, Lady Barton. I am afraid my father liked things rather dark and austere and I am quite the reverse.”

  “Good for you, Lord Beaumont. It is rather nice and light in here.” Lady Barton twisted this way and that in her seat to have a good look around.

  “This is a very fine house, Sir.” Felicia said, agreeing with her aunt that walls and paneling painted in such light colors were very pleasing indeed.

  She had to admit that Lord Beaumont looked rather well also, wearing cream breeches and a dark blue waistcoat and tailcoat.

  “Thank you kindly.” He said and settled himself down in an armchair on the other side of the low table where, presumably, tea would soon be set. “I hope you do not mind me having tea sent in straight away. I thought it would be best if we did not have any interruptions, you see, once we get talking.”

  “Yes, it is best to have all interruptions out of the way before we begin, I think.” She said and smiled.

  In no time at all, a very fine afternoon tea was laid out for them. Felicia was pleased to note that there was some simple bread and butter as well as a number of very pretty and colorful little cakes. Felicia liked cakes, but she adored bread and butter.

  “So, if you will forgive me for getting straight to the point, what were you doing below stairs at Scorton?” He said with a laugh. “What did you find out?”

  Knowing that the subject would come up, Felicia had been careful to tell her aunt every part of her deviation from her orders before they had set off. Fortunately, Lady Barton had been more interested in the haughty behavior of the paid companion than she had been in lambasting Felicia for immediately disobeying her orders.

  “Two things of note, really. First being that Daisy Marlow had told her fellow servants that she came from Charlton in Hertfordshire and that she worked in the home of a fine lady there. I’m afraid I could not get to the bottom of who, but Charlton sounds like a rather small village and I am certain that fine ladies will be easy to discover.”

  “What do you mean easy to discover?” Lady Barton said, squinting.

  “First things first, Aunt Agatha.” She said with a smile. “I was going to tell Lord Beaumont about Miss Mary Morehead.”

  “Oh yes, that dreadful creature.” Lady Barton took over despite the fact that she had not met the woman herself. “Really, such behavior from a paid companion.” She went on and Felicia caught Lord Beaumont’s eye and saw the amusement there. “She would not answer a single question properly, Lord Beaumont, acting as if my niece had no right at all to be asking.”

  “It is true, Lord Beaumont. I have to admit that I found her rather intimidating.”

  “Felicia, please, a paid companion is intimidating to you?”

  “You did not meet her, Aunt Agatha,” Felicia said and shook her head. “That accent of hers is truly the most strident Scottish accent I have ever heard, and it is most flatly delivered.”

  “Indeed, it is.” Lord Beaumont added.

  “Oh, you have met the woman?”

  “Briefly.” He nodded. “Not briefly enough for my liking.” He looked rueful, but it was clear from her braying laughter that Lady Barton was impressed with his hint at unkindness.

  “It struck me that she was not at all pleased that I was in conversation with the scullery maid. I cannot tell if it was simply the fact that we were talking or if it was the conversation itself. I do not know if she overheard me asking questions, you see, and I can hardly think that it would matter at all. I was ca
reful to make it clear that I was simply saddened by the events of our last visit to Scorton Hall and that the idea of Daisy Marlow being without family played on my mind. Even if she had overheard the whole thing, I cannot think that Miss Morehead could have drawn any inferences from the conversation.”

  “What was she doing below stairs?” Lord Beaumont asked cleverly.

  “That is a very good point, Lord Beaumont. She was keen to have me know that she was on some errand from the Duchess. That was one question I did not have to ask, and it left me a little intrigued.”

  “When a person offers such information freely, it is generally to hide something else altogether. I wonder at her reasons for truly being below stairs.” Lord Beaumont said thoughtfully. “Perhaps she had some questions of her own to ask of the servants. Or perhaps she had followed you, Lady Felicia.”

  “Goodness,” Felicia said and felt a shiver run down her spine. “Why on earth would she be following me?”

  “Perhaps nothing more sinister than wondering why on earth it was that you were making your way down the servants’ staircase.”

  “But how would she have got down there without me seeing her?”

  “There is more than one staircase, Lady Felicia. As a matter of fact, there is another one at the side of the main staircase, not ten feet from where you had made your own entrance.”

  “It is awfully useful that you have such an encyclopedic knowledge of Scorton Hall, Lord Beaumont.” Lady Barton said as she reached for another little pink cake.

  “You are very kind as always, My Lady.” He smiled broadly and easily, and Lady Barton raised the tiny pink cake as if in a toast to him before she popped it into her mouth.

  “Whatever her reason for being below stairs, I think we must do what we can to find out a little more about that woman. I know she was not at Scorton Hall on the night of the murder, but there is something not quite right about her.” Felicia said.