The Secrets of Scorton Hall: An Historical Regency Romance Mystery

by Kate Carteret

  “At the back of the hall, My Lord.” Dalton began, fighting to gain control of his ragged breathing. “Near where the actors have been rehearsing, just a little out of the way.” He took a few more deep and steadying breaths.

  “What?”

  “The fountain, My Lord.” Dalton did not look well at all. “The fountain behind the rose garden. I think there has been a murder.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Lord Beaumont set off at a running pace without a moment’s hesitation and Felicia, hoping that none of the other guests could see her, lifted the hem of her gown and did likewise.

  She had no idea where the fountain or the rose garden might be, and so all she could do was run as hard as she could manage to keep up with the fleeing Earl. By the time he arrived on the scene, Felicia was breathlessly proud to note that she was not seconds behind him.

  There was so much commotion by the fountain that Felicia was able to straighten her gown, control her breathing, and look quite dignified by the time anybody paid her any heed at all. There were raised voices and one or two hysterical sobs as a large group of people she assumed were the actors gathered around the lifeless body of a young woman on the grass.

  Felicia immediately took in her soaked appearance and realized that she must surely have been pulled from the base of the fountain. She felt a little hot and sick, realizing that the young woman must have drowned in no more than two feet of water.

  “This is no accident.” A large man with a red and round face boomed. “This has been done on purpose. Somebody put her in there.” He flung his arm out dramatically and Felicia wondered if he was the stage manager of the little traveling theatre company that Lord Beaumont had mentioned earlier.

  “Stand back a little, would you.” Lord Beaumont said in a voice that was not quite a shout but extraordinarily commanding. “Let me see her. Stand aside!” He said again when they did not move.

  His tone had finally worked its way into their collective consciousness and all present moved out of the way. Felicia hurried to be with him, shaking a little as she looked down at the woman lying on the grass. She was young, beautiful and, if Felicia was not very much mistaken, breathing a little. Felicia, her eyes wide, stared and strained to listen over the murmuring of the gathered actors. The woman was breathing, it was true, but Felicia could hear gurgling sounds coming from her chest and was sure that her lungs must be full of water.

  Lord Beaumont had seen the movement in the woman’s chest at the same moment and, without further ado, lifted her to her feet, held her in his arms, and pushed her shoulders forward until a torrent of water flowed from her mouth.

  She started to cough and splutter and the gathered actors began to chatter excitedly.

  “Will you be quiet!” Lord Beaumont shouted, desperately trying to get the last drops of water from the young woman’s lungs.

  When it seemed he had managed it, Felicia stepped forward and helped him to settle the young woman back down onto the ground. She was mumbling incoherently, and Felicia knelt at her side and gently began to sweep the wet hair from her face.

  “There is blood in her hair, Lord Beaumont.” She looked over the top of the woman to where Lord Beaumont knelt on the other side. “A lot of blood. She has either fallen and hit her head or…” Felicia did not finish, she simply stared into his eyes as he nodded slowly.

  “I will carry her into the house and set her down in one of the guest rooms.” He spoke directly to Felicia, wanting her to help him and nobody else. “Would you be so kind as to go back to Dalton and ask him to dispatch somebody immediately to have my physician attend as soon as he is able?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “And would you ask him also to have two maids sent to the largest guest room on the first floor. He will know where to send them.”

  “I will do it immediately.”

  “Mr. Hegarty.” He looked up at the stage manager whose eyes were full of excitement as he seemed to dance on the spot. “I take it the play can continue without this young woman?”

  “Oh yes, there is another girl who can take her place, never you fear, My Lord.” He said grandly.

  “Then I would beg you to make your way into the ballroom and begin to prepare for the curtain to open. I will settle this young woman and make my way down to introduce the play in no more than ten minutes.”

  “We will be ready.” Mr. Hegarty had let go of his excitement and replaced it with pride.

  Felicia sighed under her breath; she was not at all sure she liked theatrical types after all.

  Lord Beaumont carried the soaking wet and barely unconscious young woman in his arms as if she were no heavier than a single rose.

  “It was Irene.” The woman said in a voice which was full of exhaustion.

  “I beg your pardon, my dear?” Lord Beaumont said, stopping in his tracks the moment he heard her speak.

  Felicia stepped closer, putting her ear to the young woman’s mouth in case she spoke again, but she had already fallen back into unconsciousness.

  “Irene?” Lord Beaumont said in a low voice and looked at Felicia quizzically.

  “Yes, I think that is what she said.” Felicia was equally puzzled.

  They set off again and Felicia walked closely at his side, quickly locating the now recovered butler as Lord Beaumont made his way up the stairs.

  No sooner had she given the butler his orders than two maids were rushing up the stairs to join their master. With nothing else to do, Felicia waited for him to return. Within minutes, he was back at the bottom of the stairs with her, looking unruffled and as if nothing had happened. She could only hope that she appeared similar.

  “Is she awake?” She whispered.

  “No, but she’s breathing easily. My physician will have her right in no time and the maids are with her now. I thought it prudent to carry on as if nothing had happened in the hope that none of the guests have the first idea of the commotion at the fountain.”

  “The windows of your ballroom do not look out onto the back of the house, do they?”

  “No, I think we are quite safe there. Felicia, I have no idea what this is all about. I cannot tell whether it is an accident, an argument of some kind between the actors, or something more sinister. In the meantime, I think we should keep as much of this to ourselves as possible. Do you think you could help me continue on as if nothing has happened?” He stared intently into her eyes, reaching out suddenly to place a hand on her shoulder.

  “Of course, I will do anything I can to help you.”

  “Do I look damp?” He said, taking his hand from her shoulder and stretching his arms out to his sides so that she might inspect him.

  “No, you look as immaculate as ever.” She said and hurriedly looked down at her own gown to check for any stains where she had knelt on the ground.

  “You look wonderful.” He said in a low voice, as if to answer the question she had not asked aloud.

  Felicia looked up at him, her heart suddenly starting to pound as his bright blue eyes fixed hers.

  “Thank you.” She said, hardly knowing if he had meant to upend her as completely as he had done. “Nobody will suspect a thing.” She added, trying to return herself to normal.

  There were still people standing to chat in little groups as they made their way into the ballroom, and so they were able to take their places without being noticed. The Earl walked Felicia down to the front so that she might take her seat next to her aunt whilst he continued to take the little wooden steps up to the stage.

  Felicia watched as he peeped through the curtains before turning to face the room.

  “My Lords, Ladies, and Gentlemen.” He said in a most booming and steady voice.

  Nobody would have suspected for even a moment that he had just saved a young woman’s life, carried her into the house, and arranged for the physician to be sent for, before confidently announcing the beginning of the play.

  Felicia had never been more impressed with anybody in her ent
ire life.

  The crowd fell silent and all that could be heard was the rustling and movement as those were who had been standing finally took their seats. Lord Beaumont waited patiently, content to silently occupy his own space whilst his guests made themselves comfortable.

  “In honor of the marriage of my dear friend, the Duke of Scorton, and his new bride, obviously,” He paused to allow a titter of appreciation from the crowd. “I would like to present to you all a little comedy. It is entitled the Errant Duke’s Misadventure, and it is my fervent hope that you all enjoy it greatly. So, without further ado, may I present the Lambeth Players.” He stepped to the side as two footmen joined him on the stage and quickly set about opening the red velvet curtains.

  The crowd clapped as the actors, all ready to begin, peered out at them. Finally, Lord Beaumont stepped down from the stage and began to make his way to his seat.

  He paused briefly when he reached Felicia’s seat at the end of the aisle and crouched at her side.

  “During the interval, would you be so good as to sneak away to see how the young woman is doing? By then, the physician will be with her.” He breathed the words into her ear, and she felt that curious sensation of a runaway heartbeat once again.

  Had she ever, even once, felt such a sensation in the company of Charles Wilby? She knew she had not.

  “Of course.” She mouthed and nodded.

  As he walked away, she turned her attention back to the stage, determinedly ignoring her aunt whose head was turned to stare at her. There was no way she could give her all the details now and so to even look at her would be to invite a little commotion of sorts.

  She kept her eyes fixed upon the actors and tried to listen as the play began. However, she knew that she would not take in a single word and, by the end of it all, would have no idea what the play had been about in the first place. She was too rattled, and not only because she had stumbled upon a near tragedy.

  The Earl of Beaumont had impressed her greatly, but it was the effect of those tiny little moments of intimacy which were having the larger effect on her concentration. She finally realized, as if she had been struck by lightning, just how attracted she was to the wonderfully handsome, masculine, and extraordinarily capable Jonathan Forbes. He was so much more than intelligent and amusing company, she knew that now.

  Felicia and Lady Barton were still at Beaumont Hall long after all the other guests had left. It had been an extraordinarily long day and Felicia felt tired down to her very bones. Lady Barton, on the other hand, seemed to be in possession of a second wave of energy that left her niece amazed.

  “Do you think any of the guests have an idea of what happened here this evening?” Felicia said as the three of them sat in the drawing room having a much-needed glass of sherry.

  The drawing room seemed different in the evening, less light and bright and far cozier with the curtains drawn and the fire lit. Felicia leaned back against the couch, slouching in a manner that her aunt would have chastised her for had the day not been so long and the sherry not so good.

  “There was not a mention from anybody, and you know what people are like. Any hint of intrigue and they are tripping over themselves to make what they believe are polite inquiries. There was nothing, I am certain that none of the guests have a notion.” Lord Beaumont was sitting in a very easy manner, his hands resting on the arm of the chair as he leaned his head back comfortably.

  “Not so, my dears.” Lady Barton said cryptically.

  It had been almost impossible to get through the entire play without succumbing to the determined stare of her aunt. Before the guests had even left, Lady Barton managed to isolate her great-niece from the herd and question her thoroughly. The woman missed nothing.

  “What do you mean?” Felicia said incredulously; surely her aunt was mistaken. “Did you hear somebody speak of it?”

  “No, much better than that. Or worse, depending upon your viewpoint.”

  “Lady Barton, you are drawing this out to tease us.” Lord Beaumont looked at the aging lady levelly before smiling. “You are incorrigible.”

  “It is just a little revenge for the time I had to wait to hear what the two of you had been up to outside.” She said and sniffed, raising her chin in a most imperious fashion. “But it is important, so I shall get to it.” She laughed.

  “Yes?” Felicia leaned sideways on the couch to be closer to her aunt.

  “When the play came to the interval and you, my dear, darted away upstairs without so much as a by your leave, I decided to stretch my legs and have a few minutes’ conversation with Lady Greystone. She was clear across the other side of the ballroom and so I left my seat and made my way through the guests who were also standing and stretching.”

  “And Lady Greystone said something?”

  “My dear Felicia, you really must not interrupt.”

  “There is an irony in your words, Aunt Agatha.”

  “Is there?” She said with an amusingly innocent air.

  “I wonder if you really listen to everything you say.” Felicia went on and was gratified to hear Lord Beaumont chuckling.

  “Bits and pieces, my dear.” Lady Barton wafted a hand backward and forward through the air. “Bits and pieces.”

  Felicia and Lord Beaumont laughed heartily now, and Lady Barton looked pleased; she did like to hold court and she did like to amuse.

  “Anyway, when the play looked set to resume, I hurried back across for my seat. Quite by accident, the Duchess’ companion… what is her name again?”

  “Mary Morehead.” Lord Beaumont supplied helpfully.

  “Mary Morehead.” Lady Barton nodded. “Well, Mary Morehead, who had taken the opportunity to stand for a moment or two also, had mistakenly settled herself back down on my seat. I smiled at her sweetly and politely asked her if she would move along a place, for there would not be room for my niece when she returned.”

  “I bet you did.” Felicia said quietly and bit her bottom lip as she imagined her aunt succumbing to her own strident nature and tacit dislike of the woman she had never been introduced to; she very much doubted that a polite request came anywhere near describing what had actually occurred.

  “And she moved. Shortly thereafter she was joined by the Duchess and the Duke. Finally, you returned, my dear, and we sat through the rest of the play. A very good play, as a matter of fact.” She inclined her head in Lord Beaumont’s direction and he acknowledged the praise with a smile and a nod.

  “Are you anywhere close to the point of the story, Aunt Agatha?”

  “Patience, child.” She really was drawing it out. “For we have now arrived at the point. I had not been sitting in my seat from more than a minute or two before I realized that it was a little damp. Obviously, at the time, I had no idea of the importance of it all except to wonder what on earth Mary Morehead had been doing to make her gown wet.”

  “Good Lord!” Lord Beaumont said, sitting bolt upright in his seat. “Are you both thinking what I am thinking?”

  “That Mary Morehead had a hand in the awful event at the fountain? Yes!” Felicia said, feeling strangely excited despite her confusion. “But why? What possible reason could a paid companion from Scotland who has never been to Oxfordshire before have for injuring an actress from a traveling theatre company?”

  “Once again, we have more questions than we had to begin with.” Lord Beaumont said.

  “And the biggest question of them all, my dears, is does the near-tragedy here today have any connection to the absolute tragedy at Scorton Hall?” Lady Barton held out her empty sherry glass, not one to stand on ceremony when she was in the company of a person she knew. “Would you be so good, Lord Beaumont?”

  “Certainly.” He said and rose to his feet to refill Lady Barton’s sherry glass. “Lady Felicia?” He turned and raised his eyebrows.

  “No thank you, I am afraid it does not help me think.” She said, remembering how the brandy she had taken for shock at Scorton Hall had stopped her comin
g to any sensible conclusions at the scene.

  “Lady Felicia, what was it the actress said as I carried her into the house? Irene, was it?” He said as he sat back down.

  “Yes, she said it was Irene.”

  “I wonder who Irene is.” Lady Barton said. “And I wonder if the actress is awake.” She looked a little furtive. “Perhaps a little gentle questioning now that all the guests have gone, what do you think?”

  “Yes, but you must stay here, Aunt Agatha. You are my beloved relative, you know you are, but you are not the person to be questioning somebody who has been hit on the head and nearly drowned.” Felicia said and held her breath as she waited for her aunt to say her piece.

  “Quite right, my dear. I am probably better at hitting and drowning than gentle questioning. Well, I shall wait here and finish my sherry and leave you both to see what information you can prize out of the poor thing.”

  “Very well.” Felicia said and immediately rose to her feet before her aunt changed her mind.

  “I think you rather got away with that.” Lord Beaumont said moments later as the two of them walked up the stairs side-by-side. “I would not have dared.” He chuckled.

  “You know how forceful she can be, Lord Beaumont, and she has no patience whatsoever for delicacy. She would frighten the life out of the poor woman.”

  “I do hope she is awake.”

  “So do I, Lord Beaumont. Tell me, what is her name?”

  “Kitty Foster, apparently.”

  “This is all getting rather confusing, is it not?”

  “I hope you are not thinking of giving up, Lady Felicia?” He said when they reached the top of the stairs; turning to look at her, his eyes issued a friendly challenge.

  “Most certainly not. The more confusing it gets, the more determined I become to unravel it.”

  “Well, shall we begin the unraveling?” He said, leading her to kitty Foster’s room.

  Felicia was pleased to find that the young actress was awake, albeit barely clinging onto consciousness and extraordinarily groggy. Her skin was so pale it was almost translucent, and the dark rings around her eyes look like bruises. Perhaps they were, she had clearly been hit very hard on the head before finding her way into the bottom of the fountain.