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

by Ashworth, Heidi

  “They are absurd comparisons, both of them.” I had learned the painter’s view on the matter as a schoolboy. “Da Vinci believed that humans could not improve on nature, the inventions of which he said to be neither lacking nor superfluous.”

  Manwaring shrugged. “If that was his opinion, I can only suppose it was on account of his ignorance. How could he possibly have comprehended the notions of which I have conceived? Mankind did not possess the proper knowledge when Da Vinci walked the earth.”

  Only then did I perceive the depth of his derangement. I realized that I would never leave the wretched place if I did not act immediately. Looking about me, I forced myself to think. Behind Manwaring I saw the outline of a desk, placed where his captives could watch him work on his gruesome plans. “If you are as brilliant as you say, you must have some papers or charts; outlines for your surgeries.”

  His eyes opened wide as he smiled in delight. “Yes! Of course! I could do nothing without drawing it all out, like the builder of a house or a sculptor. There needs must be something to look at, do you see?”

  “No, I do not. Perhaps if you showed me your plans for Miss Woodmansey’s surgery, I might better comprehend your intentions.” It required all of my forbearance to speak such atrocities.

  Manwaring turned immediately to the desk and set the lantern upon it. I saw that it was a mechanical desk with a sloped surface, designed for just the sort of work of which he spoke. It was excessively disorganized, with papers scattered everywhere. As he began to sort them, I took up the lantern and smashed it into his head. He slumped onto the desk just as the captives began to shout for their release.

  “Where are the keys?” I shouted.

  “The top drawer!” Butterworth cried.

  I found it necessary to push Manwaring’s body clear of the drawer before I could pull it out. I hardly took notice of the ensuing thud as he hit the floor. “Miss Woodmansey, I shall first release this big brute so that he may protect us in the case Manwaring comes to.”

  “He’s not dead?” Janie asked as I turned the key in the lock of Butterworth’s cell.

  “I do not wish to assume,” I murmured as I rushed to Miss Woodmansey’s cell. She had managed to stand and now clung to the metal bars. I turned the key in the lock and she fell into my arms. Tossing the key to Butterworth, I quickly untied the gag that bound her.

  She opened her mouth to speak but was too overcome, and began to weep. Gently, I led her to the stool and helped her to sit. Once I had untied the ropes that bound her, I threw them to Butterworth. “Tie him up and go for the constable,” I shouted as I picked her up in my arms and ran.

  Chapter Sixteen

  As I raced to the stairs, I heard a repeated dull thump as a man insisted, “That’s for Johnny.” I realized then that the unknown man in the third cell was Huther.

  I ran up the staircase with Miss Woodmansey in my arms. She was as light as a feather, no burden at all. I kicked open the door at the top of the stairs and dashed down the passage to the kitchen door and out to the bottom of the area steps. I ran up those as well, Miss Woodmansey clinging to my neck so tight I was in danger of being short of air. I continued across the carriage drive and a few feet into the park in the center of the square before I stopped for breath.

  I looked about, thinking on what I should do. My main concerns were the immediate health, safety, and reputation of Miss Woodmansey. As such, I could not bring her to Canning House; there was no comfort to be had for her there.

  “Are you able to walk?” I asked. She nodded and I set her on her feet, then took her by the elbow and led her through the trees of the park towards Hampton House. It was slower going, but at least I was in no danger of having my breath cut off at the throat. When we gained the door, I pounded on it until a sleepy footman opened it just wide enough to peep out through the crack.

  “Beggin’ your pardon, sir, but it is late.”

  “I am Trevelin from Canning House across the square. This young lady is in need of some assistance. She is an especial friend of…of Señyor Rey. Please allow her entrance.”

  “Very well, sir, I shall go and inquire.” He then shut the door upon us.

  I grasped her by the hand and led her to the shadows at the corner of the house. “No one shall see you. Lady Vawdrey will be kind and Señyor Rey shall manage everything. I would take you to my house, but there is no one else in residence. I shall not risk your reputation.”

  She nodded, her eyes full of tears. “Yes, yes I understand. Thank you! Oh, thank you! I have never been so frightened in all of my life!”

  I cupped her chin and lifted her gaze up to mine. “What ever happened? How did you come to be in such a place?”

  “It was Mrs. Carrick,” she said, gulping back tears. “Lady Clara invited my mother and I to her salon tonight. I convinced Mama that it was quite all right and perfectly respectable. It was wrong of me, but no one seemed to know what had happened to you.” She dropped her gaze from mine. “I hoped you might have been invited, as well.”

  I thought perhaps she cared for me, even if only a little. A fire burned in my chest at the thought. “And when you did not find me there?”

  “Mrs. Carrick; she was the one in that horrid wig with too much rouge on her cheeks the night we were there together…” She looked up at me and I nodded.

  “She said that she had a message for me. I thought it was perhaps from you.”

  “But, of course,” I said kindly. How else should a disreputable man communicate with a proper lady? It was certainly Evelyn’s way.

  “I felt it strange that we had been invited, and thought perhaps you had arranged it with Lady Clara in order to see me. You did not?” she asked.

  “I have been ill,” I said, apologetic. Inwardly, I was ashamed that I had not so much as thought of her during my week of isolation.

  “I am sorry you have been ill, but ever so glad that you are now well! I suppose it was silly of me, but I did hope for a message from you, so I told my mother I had torn a flounce and wished to repair it. Mama preferred that we depart rather than bother with the flounce. Then Mrs. Carrick said that if I wished to remain, she would arrange for me to obtain an escort home with someone very respectable. Mama looked displeased but, as there were a few ladies present with whom Mama was somewhat acquainted, she allowed me to stay.”

  “Mrs. Carrick deceived us both, but she was no doubt threatened with her life if she did not obey.”

  Miss Woodmansey nodded. “Yes, I suppose that is true. I followed her down the first set of stairs and did not know a moment of alarm. When we arrived at the ground floor, I wondered why she did not simply hand over the letter or repeat the message, whatever the case might have been. And then I realized you must have been present; in the house. So, when she led me down to the kitchen and along the passage, I assumed you waited for me in the mews. She opened a door and there were the horses and carriages. And then she opened another, and before I could speak she pushed me through and shut it behind me.”

  “You did not fall? Are you hurt?” I asked, alarmed.

  “No, that man was there, waiting for me.” This revelation proved too much and she burst into tears.

  I took her in my arms and held her close. Her tear-streaked cheek fetched up against my ribs, her trembling echoing against them. She was so delicate, so much in need of my protection, it nearly undid me. We stood thus in the shadows until the footman opened the door and looked about.

  “Sir!” he hissed.

  We went to the door and he allowed us inside. A woman met us in the vestibule; she no doubt replaced Throckmorton as house-keeper.

  “Sir, what is this?” she cried.

  “This is Miss Woodmansey. She shall explain all. You must take great care of her!

  “Oh, my dear!” she cried as she put her arm around Miss Woodmansey. “Of course I shall, sir! Now, be gone with you!”

  I was tempted to protest my innocence in the matter, but there was not the time. “Miss Woodma
nsey, have the footman carry a message to your parents. Then allow this woman to tend to your needs. I shall call on you here in the morning.”

  She nodded, her expression dazed. I could not be certain that she understood. I gave the footman the direction of Woodmansey House, bolted out of the house, and back across the square. By the time I arrived at Manwaring House, there was nothing to be done. All was dark. I ran down the area steps and tried the kitchen door. It was locked. I could not understand how the feckless constable had been able to clear up that mess so quickly. There was nothing left for me to do but to retire for the night.

  Suddenly more tired than I had ever been, I dragged myself home and rapped on the door. The boot boy opened it and followed me up the stairs to help me out of my coat. I allowed him to unwind my neck cloth, as well. He pulled the shoes from my feet and I removed my breeches before collapsing onto the bed. Finally, he blew out the candle. He crept away, quiet as a mouse, but I roused when he opened the door.

  “Boy,” I said. “What is your name?”

  There was a short pause, and then in a small voice he said, “Jack.”

  “You’re a good boy, Jack,” I said. Then I closed my eyes and knew no more. I woke in the morning with an unexpectedly light heart. Miss Woodmansey cared for me, of that I was suddenly quite certain. It was my intention to call on her directly after I had called on Lady Clara and offered her any assistance I could render. I did not know if her husband were alive or dead, incarcerated or escaped. Neither did I know how she would react to each possibility. Nevertheless, I had been present when he met his downfall. I felt I owed it to her to answer any questions she might have about what had happened.

  Short opened the door in answer to my rapping. When he saw who stood on the threshold, he smiled tremulously. “It is good to see you, my lord,” he said in a voice high with pleasure and old age.

  “It is good to see you as well. I trust that the screaming in this house has ceased?” I asked as I stepped inside and handed over my hat and gloves.

  “Oh, indeed, sir,” Short said as he helped me off with my greatcoat. “Lady Clara is in the morning room if you care to join her there.”

  No reply was required. I followed him up the stairs to the first floor and stepped through the doors of the sun-drenched room with some trepidation. I could not guess if I should find a grieving wife or the Lady Clara I had most recently come to know.

  The table still bore the remains of breakfast, but she sat in a chair by the window, the sun illuminating the ways in which a sleepless night had ravaged her face. Her suffering incited in me a plethora of emotions: empathy with all its companions, coupled with a mild revulsion. If it had not been for her, Johnny Gilbert would not be dead, nor would Willy. I took a moment to remind myself that the true villain was her husband, and she another unwilling victim of his cruelty. Nearly everything she had done had been at his express command under threat of great harm, even death.

  I sketched a bow and she turned to me. “Lord Trevelin, how good of you to call.”

  “Of course, how could I do otherwise?”

  “Did you think me in need of comfort?”

  “I cannot say. It depends on what happened after I got away. Perhaps you had better tell me.”

  She sighed. “Mrs. Carrick is a useful sort. She made you believe that she had gone through the door, but she merely allowed the breeze to blow out her candle as she waited at the top of the stairs. When she heard the brouhaha, she hurried to fetch me. I saw you race by with that young lady of yours.”

  “She is not my young lady,” I began, but she put up a hand to forestall me.

  “Huther explained to me what he had done. That unsavory, large fellow assisted Huther in dragging Rober…” She looked away to again take in the view from the window. “His body was removed from the premises. I expect to see neither of those gentlemen ever again. Mrs. Carrick and the girl did their best to clean up the mess, but it is of no consequence. Whatever is found below is the work of none but my husband.”

  The muscles of my arms and legs relaxed before I realized how taut they had been. “Then he is dead?”

  She shrugged. “He shall never hurt anyone ever again.”

  “And the constable? What was he told?”

  She looked at me in faint surprise. “No one went for the constable. What purpose would that serve?”

  In truth, I had done nothing illegal, but I knew that trouble went hand-in-hand with scandal. I was vastly relieved that my name would not be associated with the death of her husband. I sank into a chair at her side. “Please accept my deepest commiseration. And yet, I cannot regret the fact that he is no longer free to hurt you.” I took her hand in mind. “You are young and charming. You shall marry again.”

  A tear slid down her cheek as she turned away. “I do not deserve happiness, my lord. I have greatly sinned, and find I can blame only myself.”

  “You are not responsible for Johnny’s death. That sin lies in your husband’s dish.”

  “But it is I who threatened Throckmorton. He would never have been involved if I had not.”

  I could not entirely disagree. “Then I suppose I must blame myself for Throckmorton’s death. I ought to have taken no thought for my own life and wrested the gun from his grasp.”

  She shrugged. “So that he might hang? Or worse, be taken by my husband? He died in the manner he wished to die. That he deserved death was the fault of no one but me.”

  “He was frightened out of his wits, and so were you. What would Manwaring have done if you did not produce the money you had lost? The card parties were his means of hiding the screams from the others. It can be no one’s fault but his.”

  “I should have thought of another way. I should never have told him about Johnny Gilbert and what he saw,” she insisted, her voice growing in volume with each sentence. “I should have been the one to suffer. I should have been the one to die.”

  “We none of us can know what might have happened if we had each chosen a different course.” I patted her hand in mine. “I only know that we must make the best of what is left to us.”

  She turned to face me. “I wish to thank you, my lord, for what you have done. Goodbye.” Then she drew her hand from mine and turned her gaze to the view beyond the window.

  I had been dismissed, but from what? I could not say what it meant, and it was with a deep foreboding that I quit the room. When I gained the ground floor I was met by Short, who produced my things.

  “You shall keep a close eye on your mistress, shall you not?” I asked him as he handed me by hat.

  “I shall endeavor,” he said with a deep bow.

  As the door to Manwaring House shut behind me I turned my face towards Hampton House, the dwelling wherein Miss Woodmansey abided. My heart lightened again and I made my way down the pavement and through the park. When I rapped I was met by the butler, Hoagland.

  “Lady Vawdrey is not at home today to visitors,” he said with a bow.

  “I pray that she is not ill. However, I have come to call on Miss Woodmansey.”

  “I shall ascertain if she is at home,” Hoagland intoned. He allowed me entrance and I waited in the vestibule whilst he determined whether Miss Woodmansey wished to see me. I knew that she did.

  Once he had disappeared, I sauntered down the hall to peek into the study. Señyor Rey was not therein, nor was there a fire made up in the grate. I wondered if it meant he was out or in the upstairs salon with Miss Woodmansey.

  When Hoagland returned, he informed me that she would see me. For the second time that hour I was led up to the first-floor morning room. I found her standing by the fireplace and when I came through the door, she delivered a splendid curtsy. I gave her my best bow and then took her hand and kissed it tenderly.

  She smiled, but I could see that she was troubled.

  “I pray that you are fully recovered from the events of last night,” I said.

  “Mostly,” she said, “though I fear that I shall never compl
etely overcome the fear. I shall always be afraid of the dark, I do believe.”

  “You must give it time, my dear. In the meantime,” I said, retaining possession of her hand, “there are candles, the fire in the grate, the stars in the sky, and the moon to light your way.”

  “You are very kind, my lord. I wonder; have you spoken with Señyor Rey?”

  “No, where is he this morning? I did not see him in the study below stairs.”

  “After you departed,” she said as she moved away, forcing me to free her hand, “Lady Vawdrey took charge of me. It was decided that he should take the message to my parents and that he should then seek rooms in a hotel. She did not think it seemly for the two of us to abide under the same roof.”

  I felt as if I had been slapped. “Why ever not? He is honorable, as are you!”

  “Of course, but one’s reputation cannot be given in exchange for convenience. You know how vicious people can be.”

  “Yes,” I mused as I fingered my scar. “I suppose your parents shall come to fetch you soon. I am delighted to have this opportunity to speak with you first, however.”

  She glanced up at me from the corner of her eye through the sweet curve of her lashes. “Am I not worth the slightly longer journey to Grosvenor Square?”

  “Of course you are, only…” I bit off the remainder of the sentence. This was not the moment to point out that her parents might refuse me entrance. “I am grateful that I have been allowed to speak with you in private, though I had expected Lady Vawdrey to stand over you like the virago she is.”

  She gave me a sad smile. “Lady Vawdrey has made her feelings about you abundantly clear. However, I asked to be allowed to speak with you in private and she agreed.”

  I had no need to hear what those feelings were. “Why should we care what Lady Vawdrey thinks? The woman hates me. She blames me for Throckmorton’s death, and more besides. She simply resents being thwarted. That does not mean we should not do as we wish.”