The Devil in Beauty: A Lord Trevelin Mystery (The Lord Trevelin Mysteries Book 1)

by Ashworth, Heidi

“So, it would be unlikely that Mister William bloodied his shirt, removed it, and successfully disposed of or hid it all on his own?”

  “Highly unlikely, and not simply due to his physical weaknesses. Mister William is not capable of such deceit. I wish I could say it was always thus, but the truth is that there was a change in him after the accident. I do believe he is as intelligent as before, in spite of his inability to express his thoughts at any length. And yet, there is a profound ingenuousness about him that has never before been his constant companion. It is as if the accident wiped away all desire to do ill, and left only the nobility of his soul.”

  Tears threatened to fill my eyes until the sound of Rey’s sniff brought a smile to my lips. “Thank you, Mr. Bugg,” I said. “My observation has been thus, as well, though I had not the words. When did you first learn of Master John’s death, and what steps did you take?”

  “I was below stairs in the pantry, and heard nothing of Mister William’s cries. That he managed so many steps from the door down to the street on his own shows well how intent he was on acquiring help. He must have fallen, for there were fresh bruises upon his knees already. No, it was not until one of the maids found me that I heard the news. Naturally, I ran immediately to where the young master lay.”

  “So, Mr. Huther did not alert you?” I noted the flare of suspicion in the butler’s eyes at the question.

  “If he claims to have done, I assure you he did not. He was not about at the time. At least, I do not recall seeing him.”

  “Very well. What did you do next?”

  “I attempted to determine for myself if the boy was truly dead.”

  I feared my next question was too callous, but I would have been unable to speak a word if I had not hardened my heart. “And in what state did you find the body?”

  Mr. Bugg blinked as if he had been struck. “He was most certainly dead. The maid brought a mirror to determine if it clouded when held under his nose; it did not. Also, his skin was cold and then, of course, there was so much blood,” he said with a slight gasp, “including where the knife had entered his chest.”

  “I realize these are difficult questions, Mr. Bugg,” I said, full of remorse.

  “I hope that I have not given any sign that I resent your queries, my lord. It is only that the constable posed none of these questions, nor did the other authorities who came to the house later in the day. I had not thought to expect them.”

  “They did not?” I asked, surprised. “I can only assume they felt they had their man, and therefore the answers to such questions were not helpful. However, it is my aim to prove that Mister William could not have committed this evil act. As such, I need ask a few more questions, as unpleasant as they are. For example, did the blood still flow or was it congealed? Also, if you attempted to move his limbs were they at all stiff?”

  “The bleeding had stopped, though there was quite a large puddle on the marble floor. We did turn him from his side onto his back and managed to place one of his hands over the wound before his mother came upon him. However, when they lifted him up to take him away, it seemed that the body was much stiffer. It was nearly as if he were a plank of wood,” the butler added, faintly.

  “Thank you, Mr. Bugg. I am very sorry for your loss. Rest assured that your observations are valuable information as to when Master John met his fate.”

  “I understand, my lord.” The butler’s eyes filled with tears. “I, as well as the entire staff, wish to thank you for all that you are doing for Mister William as well as for Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert. We are extremely hopeful that you will succeed in your efforts to exonerate their son.”

  “And many thanks to you,” I said, “and the other servants. Please tell them how much I appreciate their candor. I hope to not find it necessary to speak with them again, but it might be best if you warn them that I shall should it prove needful.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Mr. Bugg said as he rose, and executed a bow. “I hope that when we meet next, it is under more favorable circumstances.”

  I waited until the butler quit the room before I turned to Rey. “What think you? Have you formed any fast opinions as of yet?”

  “But of course!” Rey insisted. “This Mr. Huther has much to hide. He seems a most unsavory character, and there is much mystery as to why he was let into the house in the first place.”

  “Your thoughts echo mine. Come,” I said as I rose heavily to my feet, “it has been a long day. Will you join me for dinner at my club?”

  “I should like to very much!” Señyor Rey collected his pencil and parchment and readily followed me from the room.

  It wasn’t until after we had walked to Canning House and were safely ensconced in the carriage before I again spoke. “I believe it would best if I returned on the morrow to question Mrs. Gilbert about Mr. Huther. In the meantime, I should like you to follow him when he is turned out of the house in the morning.”

  “I?” Rey asked with such vehemence I found it difficult to determine if he felt affronted or greatly pleased.

  “Yes, you, should you be amenable. As you are aware, my reputation is not the most robust. Should I be spotted lingering in the vicinity of, for example, an opium den, I shall surely never again dance with a young lady.”

  “Dance? I do not understand, my lord.”

  It was incomprehensible that Rey had forgotten his objection to my dancing with Miss Woodmansey. “’Twas nothing,” I said, deciding that Rey wished for the both of us to forget the heated exchange we had endured when first we met. “Meanwhile, you are a stranger here and cannot have too much care for these things.”

  “What is this? I do not care for the good opinion of the peoples of this island? Perhaps not,” Rey said with an airy wave of his hand, “but I do care for the generous opinion of some.”

  Doubtless it was not my opinion he favored so highly, but that of Miss Woodmansey. “I am persuaded that English ladies are quite taken with black curls and eyes,” I said lightly.

  “But this is not in the least satisfactory, my lord.” He lifted his chin and turned his face such that it afforded me a view of his rather regal profile. “It is not for my appearance that I wish to be admired. I wish a lady to admire me for who I am, to see past my face to the heart that beats red for her.”

  I felt a frown crease my brow, but I was powerless to remove it; I had wished for others to see past my face too often to enumerate. “If wishes were horses,” I said.

  “Pardon? I do not comprehend.”

  “It is I who must beg your pardon, Señyor Rey,” I said briskly, trusting that my usual quasi-affable expression had returned to my face. “It is merely a piece of nonsense the English utter. We may wish with all of our might, but it won’t produce the objects of our desires.”

  “What? Do you say that you admire this Miss Woodmansey as well?” Rey demanded.

  I was taken aback. “I failed to assume Miss Woodmansey to be the lady of whom you spoke,” I prevaricated. “She is, however, worthy of admiration by all who encounter her.” I most certainly did. She was one of the few women who seemed undeterred by my scar or the rumored means by which I had acquired it. “She is possessed of much charm and intelligence.”

  “But you have failed to include her uncontestable beauty on your list!”

  “Does not any woman worthy of admiration wish to be so admired for her character rather than her face every bit as fervently as does a man?” I riposted. I failed to add that I did not find Miss Woodmansey especially beautiful, or that her lack of it did not matter to me in the least. “Regardless, the benefit of beauty is somewhat puffed up in the eyes of society, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Perhaps,” Rey conceded, “though, the society in which you associate favors far more than beauty, all of it as undeserved.”

  “All of it?” I did not attempt to hide the amusement in my voice. “Pray, do share with me your observations. I find I am rather curious to learn what it is about our society you find so offensive.”


  “Very well,” Rey replied with a frown. “The high society of England cares overmuch for money. In my mind, property, land, an ancestral home, is enough to earn the approbation of all.”

  “I own if one has a place to lay his head at night, the blunt to pay one’s bills is hardly urgent. Do go on,” I urged.

  “Very well! There is the English obsession with titles. Some of these titles are meaningless, given for paltry favors!”

  “I agree. It was far more seemly when a man was granted land, title, and monies in exchange for his sword arm and that of his tenants. That being said, there is little need for such defenses in this modern age.”

  Rey grunted. “Si, it is poc cavallerós. Where is the chivalry in this?”

  “I’m afraid I could not say, though I suspect you are not yet through proving your point. What else, in your eyes, do the English value far more than is sensible?”

  There was a slight pause before the impassioned Spaniard revealed his thoughts. “Height! I find that the English are dreadfully concerned with height.”

  “You don’t say!” I gibed. “Perhaps this is why your Miss Woodmansey remains on the shelf despite her less than tender years.”

  Rey drew himself up as far as he was able whilst seated in a moving carriage. “Miss Woodmansey does not lack in height, my lord. I cannot think why you should believe it to be so.”

  I began to suspect that my little friend was a financially-embarrassed, title-less man, possessed of a large ancestral home on a lovely bit of land, but I dared not say so. “Ah, we have arrived at our destination. I, for one, am famished.”

  “I am most pleased to dine with you, my lord, but must insist that we leave off the subject of murder; at least until the morrow.”

  “Agreed!” I said as I clapped an arm around Rey’s shoulders. “Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.”

  The next morning, I walked from my residence and along the square to Gilbert House. I reflected on how little I had seen of Willy since the duel. In truth, the road into Willy’s presence had seemed long ever since his riding accident. It was the pity that was the problem; I had never landed on a means to hide it from my friend.

  As I took the steps to the grand entrance of the Gilberts’ abode, I caught sight of the shadow of a man’s hat at the far end of the house. It would seem that Rey still waited for Mr. Huther to quit the premises. I gave my accomplice a grave nod and rapped on the door. It was answered in good time by Bugg, who bowed and held out his hand for my card.

  “It seems I haven’t one,” I murmured, so startled that I could barely get my fingers into my pockets in the case there was a lone bit of printed pasteboard about my person. “You know very well who I am,” I prodded, and gave up the search. “I wish to speak to Mrs. Gilbert. Is she in?”

  “If you would wait in the anteroom, my lord,” he said, indicating a room off the hall, “I shall see if she is at home.” He then rolled his eyes in so dramatic a fashion that I concluded that Mrs. Gilbert was most certainly at home and had been the cause of some trouble.

  I waited long, and found it difficult not to pass the time in wondering why I had not been immediately ushered into the first-floor salon. Finally the door opened, and Mr. Gilbert appeared at my side.

  “Mr. Gilbert; it is a pleasure, but I had expected your good wife.”

  “Yes, well, there was somewhat of a fracas this morning seeing Mr. Huther out of the house. Naturally, his services are no longer required,” Mr. Gilbert said as the veins in his neck purpled. “I cannot fathom why he should think we would feed and house him under the circumstances!”

  “It is Mr. Huther I wish to speak of to Mrs. Gilbert. Is she in?”

  Her husband regarded me with some suspicion. I had little time to reflect on how unwarranted such an emotion was when he spoke again.

  “She is busy,” he said shortly. “It seems there is much to do when a member of the household has expired.”

  “Of course,” I said, regretful that I had failed to recall that this was a house in mourning. “Please forgive me for my lapse. It is only that I was persuaded that you wished me to do what I might to prove Willy’s innocence. There was a question in the minds of the some of the servants as to certain actions that were taken, and I am wishful of making matters clear as soon as possible.”

  “What question?” he demanded despite of his softened expression.

  “Ah, well…” I hesitated in hopes Mrs. Gilbert would appear, “for one, there was some question as to Mr. Huther’s suitability and why he was not dismissed when it was discovered he did not monitor his charge as he should have done.”

  Mr. Gilbert’s face turned red, with shame or anger I could not discern. “You shall have to ask that of my wife. I would have seen the back of him many days since.”

  “Touché!” I hoped my bow hid what I feared to be a smile too smug.

  “Very well. However, I should like to be present when you put your question to her. I yearn to know the answer to that one as well,” he replied as he opened the door and motioned to the butler to enter. “Bugg, do have your mistress attend us at once.”

  The butler’s bow was too slow, allowing me to catch his expression of alarm. Again, I wondered what might have happened earlier that morning to cause him such dismay.

  “Has Mr. Huther already quit the premises?” I asked. I remembered the distinct impression I had that Rey yet waited in the shadows, and wondered why he had not followed the tutor as directed.

  “Yes, and my wife is absolutely mindless with grief.” Mr. Gilbert’s words belied his stony expression.

  “Surely, it is because of her sons that she grieves,” I insisted. “What could Mr. Huther have been to her?” My tone was dismissive, but I realized that I wished to know the answer to the question almost as much as, I was beginning to suspect, Mr. Gilbert. “Were you aware he was given no reference upon his dismissal?”

  Mr. Gilbert cast me a look of aspersion. “That is most certainly untrue. I wrote one myself. I should not like my friends and associates to learn that Johnny’s former tutor was thrown out into the street with no place to go.”

  “I do beg your pardon. I should have said that it is only rumored that it was so. I wonder where he has gone.”

  “I cannot think what it is to you,” Mr. Gilbert said, his expression sour.

  At that moment, Mrs. Gilbert appeared in the doorway. Her eyes were red and swollen. I had not seen her so sorrowful.

  “Mrs. Gilbert, how good of you to join us,” I said as I gently took her by the elbow and led her to a chair. “This must be difficult for you.”

  “Indeed it is,” she murmured as she sat. I noticed that she did not spare a glance for her husband and kept her eyes downcast. She clearly suffered from some discomfiture, but whether it was due to her disheveled appearance or something else I could not say with any certainty.

  “I shall ask my questions straight out so that I may leave you in peace as quickly as may be. Are you aware that there is a belief amongst your servants that Mr. Huther was dismissed without a reference?”

  “I am unaware of such talk.” Mrs. Gilbert’s reply was low and nearly unintelligible.

  “Madam, it is not my desire to shame you,” I said gently. “I merely wish to know if perhaps Mr. Huther had any reason to put a period to your son’s existence.”

  Her head snapped up and her eyes blazed with anger. “Naturally he had nothing to do with Johnny’s death! Mr. Huther was often negligent in his duties; he sometimes left the house when he ought to have been teaching lessons, and I wager he daydreamed during instruction time more often than did Johnny. However, he is not a killer. Of that I am most certain.”

  Mr. Gilbert’s dismay at her words was palpable, but he said nothing.

  I decided it wise to alter my course. “Might I ask why you did you not dismiss the tutor before now if he were unsuitable?”

  “I do not know,” she insisted, as if she had given the answer to this question many times a day.
“I suppose,” she said slowly, “I wished to keep Johnny happy. He did not endure change well. This is precisely why I kept him home from school and sought the services of Mr. Huther in the first place.” She sniffed and put a much-used handkerchief to her nose. “I would give anything I possess to find Johnny safe at Eton or Harrow this very moment,” she murmured.

  “Naturally, Mrs. Gilbert. No one doubts your love for your son. If I could trouble you to verify one more matter: you are certain you gave him a reference when he departed?”

  She flicked a look in my direction and pressed her lips together in what I felt to be apprehension. “Of course I did! It would be wrong to do otherwise. My husband wrote it himself. There is already such a cloud over Mr. Huther’s head with the death of his only charge. That is more than enough with which to contend when presenting yourself as a candidate for a new position.”

  Mr. Gilbert nearly jumped to his feet and paced angrily to the other side of the room. Clearly the tutor was a sore point.

  Before I could pose another question, Mrs. Gilbert also rose from her seat. “If that is all,” she said stiffly, “I am needed elsewhere.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  I rose and proffered a bow far deeper than her due. “Thank you for your tolerance. I pray that I shall have no cause to ask further questions.”

  She inclined her head and swept from the room, utterly ignoring her husband who sat with his arms crossed against a chest, heaving with indignation.

  “Mr. Gilbert, does something trouble you?”

  “Other than the fact that Johnny is murdered and Willy wrongfully incarcerated for his death?”

  “I, too, find it intolerable,” I said quietly. “My sole desire is to see that this wrong is righted, and as soon as may be.”

  There came a scratch at the door, and Bugg admitted himself. “Sir, there is a missive for my lord, just delivered.”

  “For me?” I asked, greatly surprised that any should believe me to be anywhere but abed at such an hour. I took the note and skimmed its contents. “Mr. Gilbert, do excuse me, but it seems that I am also needed elsewhere. However, should you learn anything new, anything at all, please send word ‘round to Canning House immediately.”