“What is it? What do you fear?”
“There isn’t time,” he breathed. I could see how his heart pounded through his coat.
“What can you possibly fear more than death by your own hand?” I asked in disbelief.
“It is all in there.”
I followed his gaze to the crumpled parchment that I still held tight in my hand. It was then that I heard the shot, the one that put an end to Edmund Throckmorton. I stood for a moment in stunned disbelief.
I returned home from my first ball after the duel, and went immediately to view my reflection in the glass. In truth, it was no different than it had been prior to departing, but instead of seeing a comely man with an unseemly gash in the corner of his mouth, I saw what did everyone else—a villain. It was the end of the life I had known.
“NO!” I cried as I fell to my knees, and gathered him into my arms. I gazed upon his ruined face and wept impossible tears.
The boot boy saw to everything. He crept out of his hiding place in the chamber across the passage, wrested the body from my grasp, and covered it with a sheet. Then he sent the coachman in the curricle to fetch Canning. My little boot boy waited below stairs until Canning arrived, whereupon this taciturn lad trailed the man up the front staircase, regaling him all the while with the tale of what had happened. When Canning entered the room where I remained, seated on the floor, Throckmorton’s blood on my hands, he took one look at me and put me to bed.
I remained in seclusion for a sen’night, the boot boy my almost constant companion. Canning returned to his rooms at the hotel once he had arranged for someone to cook for me, in hopes it would prevent my death by starvation. (He later described the discovery of a corpse in his house as a singular event, one that he dearly hoped should remain so.) The fact that I ate little was of no consequence. I mostly lay in bed and fancied myself on the cot where I had last seen Willy, his head bent over my weakening body, shedding tears of bitter regret. It was no solace.
Eventually I came to myself and looked about. The boot boy was asleep in a chair by my bed. The candle on the night table cast a soft yellow glow against the wall. The rest of the room remained in deep shadow. My gaze drifted until it came to rest on a wad of parchment on the table. It seemed to glow in the light, save where it was stained with Throckmorton’s blood. I recalled that he had said the letter contained the answers I sought. I lay still whilst I considered whether anything mattered now that Willy was dead.
Finally, I remembered what was owed Johnny. I took up the wad and tugged it back into its proper shape. Nothing had changed; it yet bore the nine sentences that did not seem to match up. They told of the fact that Throckmorton wished me to meet him inside of Canning House, that someone was to die (not an improbable prediction, as it turned out), that I must come prior to nightfall, that I would learn the answers I sought. But there were other messages therein that added nothing to the relevant.
With a sigh, I placed the parchment on the table and left my bed to draw back the curtains. There was a hint of light to the east; morning, then. As I had had enough sleep to last a month, I decided I had best be up for the day. The boot boy stirred and I shook him by the shoulder. He opened one eye, very slightly, and when he saw that I seemed willing to live he jumped out of his chair and looked at me, eagerly awaiting my instructions.
“You are a useful lad, are you not?”
He merely looked at me and waited.
“I know that you speak; I have heard you.”
Still: nothing.
“Very well,” I said in defeat. “Go fetch me clean water and something to eat.”
He was off in a flash and soon I was seated in front of the fire, eating bread and cheese just as I had my first morning alone in the house; the day prior to Willy and Throckmorton’s deaths. That they should die the same day seemed monstrously unfair. And yet, I knew that Willy’s fate had been sealed. Had Throckmorton chosen to tell me the truth days earlier, the pneumonia would still have put an end to my friend.
And then I thought better of it: if Throckmorton had confessed when I had first called upon his mistress to discuss Johnny’s death, Willy might not have contracted the illness that killed him. I rose to my feet with my plate in my hands and threw it against the wall. It flew into a dozen pieces and landed on the floor, where it remained until my little boot boy, hearing the clamor, rushed into the room and cleared it away.
It was with a sense of profound relief that I walked out of the house a short time later. I had had no means of recognizing the pall that had fallen on it until I was no longer under its roof. The frigid air chilled my nose and ears as I stood in the center of the square, gazing at Hampton House. It was my first call of the day. The butler ushered me up to the first-floor salon, and opened the door to reveal Señyor Rey giving Lady Vawdrey her lesson in Catalan.
“My lord!” Rey cried as his face suffused with joy. He jumped from his seat and rushed to my side. “How good it is to see you!” He wrapped his arms around me and buried his nose in the folds of my waistcoat. “It is high time that you joined the land of the living!”
“So that’s where I am,” I said faintly as I looked about. I felt that I somehow still dwelt in a world of dreams.
“Come and sit, Trevelin, and tell us how you are getting on,” Lady Vawdrey crooned.
I had not expected her sympathies in the least. That she should be at home to me so soon after her Edmund had died in my arms was astonishing. I sketched a bow and seated myself on the sofa opposite her. “I wish to express my deepest sorrow at the loss of your man, Throckmorton.”
Her expression hardened. “Thank you, Trevelin. He was, after all, but a servant.”
I looked to Rey who shrugged, his expression wary.
I offered her a faint smile, forgetting entirely how much like a sneer it would appear. “He was quite agitated at the end. He loved you as a mother. He felt that he had disappointed you.”
Lady Vawdrey’s face fell and she turned away as if to gain command of herself. “Is that what he told you before you failed to pry the gun from his hand?”
I frowned, and looked again to Rey. His expression was full of sorrow, as if he understood her sentiments all too well.
“I assure you,” I said, leaning forward in my earnestness, “it was my greatest desire to prevent his…doing as he did. I had only just paid my final respects to Willy Gilbert earlier in the day and I could not bear to see another death; neither for my sake nor for his. Nor yours,” I said in perfect sincerity.
She bit her lip and nodded. “Thank you for that. I should not have presumed to know your intentions. I am grateful that you have come to explain.” She lifted her gaze to look me in the eye. “Finally.”
I drew a deep breath. “I most humbly beg your pardon. I ought to have come sooner. I have not been well.”
“But, of course you have not been of the sound mind and healthy body,” Rey said in hearty tones. “I am pleased that you have recovered!”
I gave him a nod. “Thank you. I hope that you have been keeping well in my absence.”
He smiled, and inclined his head in return. At least he was still my friend, even after my betrayal with Miss Woodmansey. It was the first time I had afforded her a thought since that terrible day. I refused to question as to why it was so, and turned again to Lady Vawdrey. “You charged me with the task of learning what has happened to your diamond necklace. I have come, in part, to share what I have discovered as to its fate.”
She looked at me in astonishment. “Fate? That does not sound as if you have found it.”
“Not precisely, though I have learnt what happened to it.” I drew another deep breath. “Throckmorton stole it. He took it to fund his new home with Sally.” I refrained from mentioning Lady Clara’s role in the matter.
“What a parcel of lies!” Lady Vawdrey snapped. “He would never betray me thus! I suppose you shall claim that Edmund himself has told you this.”
“He has. He also told me that the
necklace was but paste. Were you aware of this?”
She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at me. “What if I were?”
“Then this proves that I speak the truth; I could not have known the necklace was paste if not from him.”
She looked down at her hands. “It didn’t matter to me in the least! I have lived enough years to learn that beauty is that beauty does. Heaven knows it sparkled just the same.”
I rose and went to stand at her side. “Again, I am very sorry for your loss. As to the necklace, it was sold. I imagine it could be tracked down and restored to you. Do you wish me to make an attempt?”
She looked up at me with an expression of hatred. “You? Why should I ask you to do anything whatsoever? You have failed at all with which I have tasked you: courting Miss Leavitt, retrieving my necklace. You could not even save your friend.”
I could hear Rey’s gasp, crisp and loud as a slap. I was too stunned to be angry, not at first. I did, however, stalk to the door of the room without so much as a word. Rey followed me out into the passage, down the stairs, and into the study on the ground floor.
He carefully closed the doors behind us. “My lord, I beg your pardon for her sake. She is not herself.”
“If you believe that, it is only on account of the brevity of your acquaintance,” I said testily as I dropped into a chair. “She is more herself than ever. What I cannot understand is how she expected me to do other than what I have done. I did not put the gun in Throckmorton’s hand; I did not steal the necklace.”
“Si, my lord; indeed, it is her dear Edmund with whom she is angry.” He moved to stand in front of the fire. “He has hurt her, very badly. However, he lies in state in the family vault, whilst you are alive. She resents it oh so very much!”
I barely heard the last of his remark. “In the family vault? A self-murderer?”
“The coffin has not been interred. It merely sits until she can be persuaded to part with it. She will not allow any to take it away. I find I cannot find fault in her for that,” he said sadly.
“Does she know that he is a killer? Johnny’s, to be specific.” I realized that I had no idea what anyone had been told of Throckmorton’s confession.
“Your friend Mr. Canning very kindly paid a call and explained the circumstances. He said that he had not yet spoken with you about it, but that a young boy in the house told him what he had overheard.”
“I cannot account for what that one has said. To me he has yet to speak a word!” I wondered if the lure of gold was the boot boy’s only motivation in serving me. Perhaps he feared me, or at the very least, did not like me. Few did in those days. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair as I considered my next words. “And what of you, Señyor Rey? Do you resent me?”
He looked his surprise. “For what, my friend?”
I considered my reply with care but, in cowardly fashion, selected the one that promised the least risk of a falling-out. “That I did not include you in the discovery of Johnny’s killer.”
He nodded gravely. “I should have liked to be there, if only to comfort to you. I have walked across the square to call on you twice a day since it happened, but no one ever came to the door.”
I grunted my appreciation. “The servants have all gone away, save one, and we were neither of us in a position to play footman.”
“I merely wished you to know that I should have offered you my assistance as well as my loyalty, had I been allowed.”
His words smote me in the breast. I wished to express my gratitude, but words did not come.
He gave me a gentle smile. “I am so very sorry that Mister William has been taken from this world.”
He was the only one to have said such words to me. I forced away the tears that threatened with a change of subject. “I pray you have had more to do than comfort Lady Vawdrey for the past week.”
At my words, Rey looked down at the floor. “I fear that I have not been a very good friend. I have been to balls and other entertainments whilst you were abed, and often in the company of,” he said as he looked up, his eyes bright, the expression therein challenging, “Miss Woodmansey.”
Chapter Fifteen
It was a depth of betrayal I had not yet known. It was not a matter of his having chosen to court Miss Woodmansey; there was no secret in that. It was that he was not in the least grieved at the pain he knew his admission would cause me. And yet, I could not bear to let him know the depth of my agony. Willy was gone; Lady Vawdrey, upon whom I had counted to restore my good name, was angrier than ever; the Cannings had moved out of the house. Rey was the last to remain of all my friends.
I stood and reached out to shake his hand. “I offer my congratulations. When is the wedding to take place?”
He took my hand and shook it, though his face reddened. “Matters have not yet progressed that far. I am hopeful, however. And I am grateful that you wish to remain my friend.”
“Beggars cannot be choosers,” I said lightly enough.
“I understand this idiom. I wish that I did not,” he said regretfully. “It pains me that a man such as you should need beg for anything.”
“Thank you, my friend.” As I turned to quit the room, the gnawing in my belly was so severe that I nearly felt faint. The sensation seemed to prompt the recollection of a question that remained unanswered. “Señyor Rey, I find there is something that yet troubles me. Who killed Sally, and why? And why the slashes in her lips? I should be honored if you were to accompany me in an attempt to discover the truth.”
“I should like that as well. However, I find that I suddenly have many more engagements than I had prior to this past week.” He came to my side and clasped me by the elbow. “Do not allow this to stop you. You must keep looking until you find the truth, whether I am there to assist or not.” He looked frankly into my eyes. “Can you make me this promise?”
I realized then that I had been blessed to know such a man. “Thank you, Señyor Rey. I can and I shall.” Then I turned and quit the room.
I stepped out into the square and thought on what I should do next. I was more tired than I could remember ever having felt, but the Gilberts required my presence if only for a few moments. I knew that, though Willy’s burial should surely have taken place, they would still be in deepest mourning. Realizing I might be turned away, I pressed on to Gilbert House.
I rapped on the door and was asked to wait in the hall whilst Bugg determined whether or not the Gilberts were at home to me. His tread, when he returned, was brisk and strong. “Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert shall see you,” he said with a bow.
I followed Bugg up the stairs and was ushered into the salon, where sat Willy’s parents. They were dressed in unremitting black, especially Mr. Gilbert who had donned even a black shirt for his mourning of Willy. Their heads were bowed in sorrow, and the tears gathered in my eyes as I looked upon them. I bowed deeply and took Mrs. Gilbert’s hand in mine. She, however, snatched it instantly from my grasp.
I swallowed my dismay, making allowances for her grief. “Mr. Gilbert, Mrs. Gilbert, please allow me to express my deepest sorrow for the loss of your sons,” I said, choking on our mutual wretchedness. “It was my dearest wish to see Willy exonerated. I did all within my power. In point of fact, I was able to discover who took Johnny from you. Perhaps you have been informed.”
Mr. Gilbert looked up. “We have.”
Bewildered by his cold demeanor, I reminded myself that the man had lost both of his sons in little more than a week, and in dreadful circumstances. “I have no words to console you.” My breath rattled in my throat. “I can barely console myself. I have failed to do as I promised. I blame myself entirely. I hope that one day you shall forgive me.”
Silent, Mrs. Gilbert buried her face in her handkerchief.
“Come now, my love,” Mr. Gilbert said. “At least he did not say ‘How grateful you must be that Willy is free of his afflictions,’ as have so many others.”
“It is a notion that has never crossed my mi
nd,” I insisted. “It would not do to pretend he did not suffer, but his suffering could never amount to more than his love for you.”
Mr. Gilbert seemed not to hear me. “To say such things is to imply that our feelings, as his mother and father, are of no account. He was our boy! We loved him! It did not matter to us that he could not walk as he ought, talk as he ought, or properly feed himself; he was still our Willy!”
I wanted nothing more than to concur, but I was restrained by bonds of shame. He had not been the same Willy to me, not until I had cause to look beyond his afflictions to the man who bore them. “I wish that I had landed upon a means to determine who was to blame from the outset,” I said, my voice gurgling in my throat, “so that Willy would have been away from that place before it grew too late.”
Mrs. Gilbert quit her handkerchief and looked at me. “You promised. You promised you would see him free! I shan’t ever forgive you! Never!” she cried.
Mr. Gilbert put his arm around his wife’s shoulders and pulled her to him. To me he said, “I think that you had better leave.”
I stared at them, aghast. I had not expected them to be grateful, but I had not pictured this level of disdain. I lingered so as to find the words that would remove some of their pain, but there were none. Finally, I rendered another of my deepest bows and departed.
There was nowhere for me to go but Canning House, where my boot boy most likely fretted at my absence. He opened the door when I rapped and I stomped up the stairs, the anger of earlier that morning returned. The boot boy shrank away, and did not follow me up to my room as was his wont. This meant I had not the opportunity to ask that he bring me something to eat.
The fire yet burned in the grate. I fell into an overstuffed chair placed there for the purpose, and put my feet to the flames. I reviewed my choices and decided that the deciphering of the note from Throckmorton could wait. I took up the hat I had tossed onto the bed, and stalked out of the house and along the square until I arrived at Manwaring House. I was not sure what benefit could be had from once again interviewing Mrs. Carrick, but I could feel relatively certain that she would at least feed me.
The Devil in Beauty: A Lord Trevelin Mystery (The Lord Trevelin Mysteries Book 1) Page 21