Felicia sat down at Jonathan’s side on the couch feeling suddenly exhausted with it all.
“I think that is the cruelest part of all, Clarence. I think that is the thing which cuts me more than any other. You hand-picked a vulnerable woman and inserted yourself into her life. You made her think she was beautiful to you, that you loved her, that she was finally going to live the brightest of lives at last. What then? You convinced her to sell that fine house and grounds and move her entire being to a county she had never been to in all her life? And then you convinced her to arrive late, to meet you in the summerhouse for a romantic tryst. She loved you enough to leave her only real companion in life, the only person left in the world who truly loved her, and then you took her life. I will never forgive you for this, Clarence. I will never forgive you for being a monster when I had always thought you the finest of men; the finest of friends.” Felicia heard his voice falter just a little with emotion.
How strong he was. In his position, Felicia would have dissolved, and she knew it.
“You do not know what it is like.” Clarence began in a rush and Violet Smith, exposed at last, began to complain. “Violet, it is done. It is finished.” He held up a hand and she simply stayed in her seat and stared at the floor.
“Well?” Lord Beaumont said, ready to have his explanation at last.
“This estate was on its knees before I had ever become Duke. No matter what I did, this whole place seemed to bleed money.” He shook his head bitterly. “I was beginning to feel that I would have to let it go, that the Duchy of Scorton would be no more, or at least not within the hands of the Tavistock family. But then a wonderful thing happened, truly wonderful. Drowning my sorrows in London, a beautiful young woman came to me. She was kind and caring and clever.” He looked over towards Violet Smith with open admiration.
“Clever enough to come up with this plan?”
“I will not have her blamed for it, we came up with the thing between us. I searched for an heiress, one who would not be missed if she disappeared to Oxfordshire never to return.”
“Meredith Mulholland.” Felicia said quietly.
“For goodness sake, she had no life to speak of. She was a tongue-tied wreck of a woman, a husk of a human being, with very little to live for.”
“What a vile thing to say.” Felicia spat angrily. “Whatever you thought of her life, she had a right to hold onto it.”
“I gave her a good life for all those months I traveled up and down to Scotland; the countless hours I spent in her tedious company humoring that ridiculous old crow of a housekeeper.” He had begun to sound a little bitter again and Felicia could hardly believe what she was hearing.
“How could you have taken an innocent woman’s life with your own hands, Clarence? How could you have held her in your arms one minute and then beat her to death the next?” Lord Beaumont was quiet and looked exhausted.
“It was awful, Jonathan. Truly awful. Right up until the final moment, I did not know if I had it in me. Even now, to discover that I did keeps me awake.”
“That is why you looked so pale that morning, wasn’t it? How had I not noticed how you looked before I had even told you of the tragedy downstairs in your morning room? You had sickened yourself with your own depravity and it showed on your face. What a fool I was to take it as shock and dismay, to worry about you, to wonder how it was you would manage when such a dreadful thing had happened in your home.” Lord Beaumont shook his head sadly. “What a fool you have made of me. And not just now, but for a lifetime.”
“No, Jonathan, I was always your friend. Even now, as you sit here and know the truth of everything, you are still my brother, the longest and most important friendship of my life.” Felicia felt a maelstrom of emotions and wondered how on earth Lord Beaumont was managing.
As much as she despised the Duke of Scorton for all the evil he had done, she was certain that, at that moment, he spoke the truth. He did love Lord Beaumont as a brother, and this was just about the worst moment she had ever experienced.
“You would have been better to let go of Scorton.” Lord Beaumont said and finally began to rise to his feet. He lifted the sack from the floor, peering in at the candlesticks inside and looking back at his old friend. “You planned it down to the very inch, did you not? You planned it right down to the candlesticks.”
“I hope you can find some way to forgive me, Jonathan. I do not rest easy with what I did, and I doubt I ever shall. Let that be my punishment, my old friend; a lifetime of misery and guilt.”
“There are other punishments for such things.” Felicia said and Lord Beaumont turned to look at her.
She could not read his thoughts in his face and instead looked at the floor.
“You cannot expect me to…” Lord Beaumont began, glaring at the Duke.
“Nobody else in the world knows of this.” The Duke began in a wheedling tone. “The housekeeper in Scotland is old and will not make a fuss if she does not see her mistress again. Daisy Marlow never existed, there was nobody to mourn her. Meredith Mulholland had no other friend in this world but the housekeeper. Who will know if you do not tell them?” He said, but Lord Beaumont remained silent. “I beg of you, my friend, my brother, my life is in your hands now. Could you really turn me over to the authorities and see me hang? Would you manage my death at your hands any better than I shall manage Meredith Mulholland’s death at mine?”
“And you expect Irene Davies to get away with her attempt on Kitty Foster’s life too, do you?” He finally spoke again.
“Irene is Violet’s dearest friend and it was true when I told you that I could not find a way to part them. And yes, she is an actress from Wales, it is true. She was taking some air in the garden before the play began, panicked by your assertion when you greeted us in the doorway that we were to be to be treated to a theatrical. She had to know if her own disguise would pass muster. It did not, Kitty Foster recognized her and approached her smiling and full of questions. Irene panicked and struck her, that was all.”
“She pushed her, unconscious, into the fountain and hoped that she would drown.” Lord Beaumont said incredulously. “And then calmly took her seat in the crowd and hoped against all hope that nobody else from the company would recognize her. That is callous. That is cold. What a trio of evil you make.” Lord Beaumont crouched down and picked up the wig, placing it inside the sack with the rest of the evidence. “I will be taking this with me.”
“Yes, of course.” The Duke rose to his feet. “I am at your mercy now, my old friend. It is all in your hands, is it not? Whatever you decide.” He reached out and laid a hand on Lord Beaumont’s shoulder.
Felicia hated the idea that Duke had every confidence that Lord Beaumont would do nothing.
They made the journey back to the Dower House in absolute silence. Lord Beaumont sat stony-faced, his arms by his side, an island of a man with nothing but water all around him. Felicia knew that there was nothing she could say, it really was in his hands now. She could not bear the idea that the Duke, Violet Smith, and Irene Davies would get away with their wicked plan, but she would say nothing to force it.
All she could do was let him be, give him time and space to think, and hope and pray that he would do the right thing in the end.
When they finally reached the Dower House, he jumped down from the carriage and helped her to the ground.
“You know where I am.” She said, hoping that she could convey her love and care for him with nothing more than the look in her eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“The verdict comes today, Felicia.” Her aunt said, coming upon her suddenly in the morning room and startling her.
“How do you know?” Felicia said, looking up miserably as Lady Barton sat down on the couch beside her.
“One of the footmen has seen it this morning down in the town, the newspaper sellers are full of it, apparently. All shouting about the Duke on his last day at the Assizes, each one trying to sell more papers than
his neighbor.”
“I wish I could feel pleased to know that justice is going to be served today.”
“The evidence is damning. You are right, justice will be served today, my dear.”
“But Lord Beaumont; I cannot bear to think of him coping with all of this alone.”
“Remind me again why it is he is alone?” Lady Barton said with a mischievous smile.
“That is how he chose it, Aunt Agatha. He knows I am still here in Oxfordshire, he knows he is always welcome. It was his choice to stay away these last weeks and there is nothing that I can do about it. He wanted to be alone with this, do you not see that? And perhaps, now, there is no path for me which leads to him. Too much has happened, and I shall be nothing but a permanent reminder of the awful decision he had to make, of everything he has lost.”
“Or perhaps you will remind him that he has a better friend in his life than the Duke of Scorton. One who stayed by his side throughout, steeling herself against the sight of murder, assault, lies, and deceit. And perhaps, my dear, nothing more than the sight of you will be reminder enough.”
“He will be at the Assizes today, I’m sure of it. There will be no benefit in my traveling over to Beaumont Hall, he will not be there.”
“Then go to the Assizes, Felicia. Stand at his side and let him know that you are still the fine friend that you have always been.”
“You think I should go to the Assizes?” Felicia said, wondering if she really could do such a thing.
“I will go with you, but I will stay in the carriage. Lord Beaumont does not need to see me today, he needs to see you.”
“I am afraid, Aunt Agatha.”
“Do not be afraid, I will never make any mention of it at all to your father. Why would I, my dear? He would likely forbid you my company ever again if he gets to hear of it.”
“That is not what I am afraid of.”
“I know, I am teasing you.” Lady Barton reached out and took her hand. “You love him, my dear, and you are afraid of rejection. But he is not Charles Wilby; he is not a weak-willed and inconsequential little man. He is the Earl of Beaumont, tall, proud, intelligent and brave. You owe it to yourself to tell him what is in your heart, no matter his response.”
The Oxford Court of the Assizes was packed to the gunnels and the proceedings were already well underway by the time Felicia nervously and gently picked her way through the crowd.
“Having heard all the evidence, every despicable detail, I am bound to say that the verdict passed today is of no surprise to me.” The judge, a man who could not have been a day under eighty years of age, had the loudest, deepest voice Felicia had ever heard.
She stopped in her tracks, she had arrived at the very moment the verdict was to be given.
She looked desperately about her at the gallery where everybody was on their feet lest they deprive themselves of the view of a man who was about to be told his fate. She felt hot, nauseous and a little desperate. Her eyes roamed this way and that until she saw Jonathan’s wonderful dark and somewhat unruly hair. His shoulders were broad, and his back was straight; it broke her heart to see how stoic he was.
She continued to pick through the crowd, smiling and apologizing as she went until she was finally within reach of him.
“Clarence Tavistock, Duke of Scorton, you are hereby found guilty of the foul crime of murder.” The judge said and a ripple of excitement ran through the crowd. “Order, order!” The judge bellowed and hammered his gavel on the bench with surprising force for one so old. “You are hereby sentenced to be hanged by the neck until you are dead.”
The ripple of excitement became overwhelming as the crowd, men and women of all classes, bellowed their enthusiasm and approval of the result.
Felicia, finally standing at his side, silently slid her hand into his. He turned sharply to look at her, his face a picture of the most abject misery.
“Come.” She said, hardly knowing if he could hear her at all over the din.
She tugged at his hand and he followed her.
The crowd was becoming raucous and the court officers were struggling to keep them under control. Seeing a closed door ahead of her in the far corner of the Court, Felicia headed for it, gently pulling Lord Beaumont along in her wake. She opened it and peered inside, pleased to discover that there was nobody sitting at the little desk, the only piece of furniture the room contained. She closed the heavy door behind them, the sound of the crowd becoming dull in a way which provided her with a great sense of relief.
Lord Beaumont stood with his back against the door, his eyes shining as the first of his tears began to fall.
Felicia cried also, not for the man in the dock, but for the man standing before her. This fine man, a great friend, a wonderful human being.
“There was nothing else you could have done, Lord Beaumont.” She faltered. “Jonathan.” She reached out and took both of his hands in hers, looking up into his face and doing nothing to hide her own tears.
“In every sense, he was my brother.” He said, his voice surprisingly firm.
“I know.”
“And I am the man who has brought him to his death.”
“No, he was the only one who took this path, Jonathan. The day he decided to look for a lonely woman to murder was the day he took his first step on the road here, the road to this very day, this very moment.”
“Thank you for being here, Felicia.” He said and she freed her hand to gently wipe away his tears.
“How could I be anywhere but at your side on this awful day?”
“Even now, I love him like a brother.” He said, staring into her eyes. “For everything he has done, still I love him. But I could not hide the truth, not when that poor young woman had suffered so terribly. It was not a spur of the moment thing, a loss of control, it was a long and well thought out plan, something which he could have turned back from at any time over the preceding months.”
“You did the only thing you could do, Jonathan, you are the bravest man I know. You are the finest man I know, and I love you with all my heart. I always shall.”
Now that she had said it, Felicia felt relieved. Whatever his response, she had told him the absolute truth. She really would love him forever, no matter what the future might hold now.
“And I love you, Felicia. I have loved you for so long and I need you with such ferocity it is almost a physical pain.”
“I am here, Jonathan. I am here with you now.”
Without another word, he pulled her firmly into his arms. He dug his hands into her thick hair, and she could feel his fingertips moving this way and that on her scalp, making it tingle. He leaned towards her and finally kissed her with such passion and urgency that she almost cried out. But she did not pull away, she knew how much he needed her at that moment. She could feel it in her bones.
Epilogue
“My dear Jonathan, your daughters are quite the most spirited creatures I have ever met in my life.” Lady Barton said as she walked stridently towards the terrace pulling a three-year-old child along in each hand. “And double the trouble, for I do believe they work together.”
“They certainly know how to exasperate their nurse, that is the truth. But my dear Aunt Agatha, I cannot think you can downplay your own part in their characters.” Jonathan chuckled before crouching down to lift his twin daughters up from the ground. “Do sit down, you look exhausted.”
“I am exhausted.” Lady Barton said with mock annoyance. “And where is my niece, pray tell? Hiding from these two beautiful little goblins?”
“No, she is just finishing a letter to Mrs. MacDonald. She will be joining us shortly, hopefully about the same time as the tea arrives.” He sat down at the wrought iron table with his twin daughters wriggling on his lap.
“It has been such a long time, nearly five years.” Lady Barton said gently. “I wonder if that poor woman will ever come to terms with it.”
“I think not, Agatha. In her heart, Meredith Mulholland was as good
as a daughter to her. The pain of it will never leave.”
“You speak from experience, my dear boy.” Lady Barton was not given to such displays of affection and Jonathan found it affected him far more because of it. “But time heals a little, does it not?”
Jonathan sighed and held his daughters to him a little more tightly than either one of them cared for. Time had healed a little, it was true, but he was certain he would never entirely shake the feeling of having betrayed a man who was as close as a brother. It had been easier to be pleased about the verdict of guilty of assault and conspiracy to commit murder in the case of Irene Davies and Violet Smith; easier because they had each been sentenced to a life in prison, not death by hanging. But he knew he could not have it both ways; he could not have identified his friend as a cold-blooded murderer and expect that he would have been spared the noose.
“Yes, time does heal. Time and knowing, in the end, that I did the right thing. It bothered me for a long time, Agatha, it tore at me. But I was lucky, I had the finest woman in all the world to comfort me and heal my heart.”
“You pay me a great compliment, my dear.” She said, smiling mischievously and returning fully to her ordinary self.
“You really are quite the most ridiculous woman I have ever met, Agatha Stonewell.” He said, laughing heartily. “You know very well I meant Felicia.”
“What about Felicia?” Said the woman herself as she made her way out onto the terrace to join them.
“I was just telling Aunt Agatha what a wonderful woman you are.”
“In spite of your wayward children.” Lady Barton added and pulled a face at the beautiful, chubby twin girls. “You are my little goblins.” She said and they both squealed with delight.
The Secrets of Scorton Hall: An Historical Regency Romance Mystery Page 20