Harry saw through his brother’s insincerity but thanked him anyway. Sophie would not have to live with them and at the end of the day, it mattered little to him. She could be comfortable because Northcote Manor in Rothbury was far enough away to avoid them. It would have been nice to have his brother’s genuine blessing but he could live without it. He handed his empty glass to a passing waiter and took his leave, continuing his search for Sophie. He would make his peace with her before the announcement and mark his preferences on her dance card before it got too full. He was determined to enjoy this evening despite this unpromising start.
*****
Harry found Sophie on the arm of young lord Hamilton promenading down the line of a country dance. She was flushed with exertion and laughing and looked everything that was desirable. He waited for the dance to finish and reached out his hand as she approached him.
‘Forgive me, Sophie,’ he begged.
Sophie frowned. ‘You treat me as if I was of no account. I sometimes think that you are like all the rest.’
‘I know,’ he replied contritely. ‘I am a thoughtless cad. Come, forgive me.’
Sophie, who could never be angry for long rapped him on the knuckles with her fan and laughed.
‘Perhaps I may consider it if you tell me all about Vittoria.’
Harry groaned. ‘Believe me, Sophie, you do not want to know. It is nothing I care to talk about.’
‘But you are happy to discuss it with Sebastian,’ she retorted in irritation.
‘That is different Sophie. He was there and there is nothing I could say that would shock him.’
Sophie started to walk away but he caught her arm. ‘Alright, what is it you want to know? That there were death and misery everywhere and when the battle was over then started the hangings. Soldiers who had survived the onslaught of war punished for looting and rape. They may have deserved it but it was not a pleasant sight. And then there was the mopping up to be done. Would you like me to go on? There is not a day goes by where I do not think about it.’
Harry absently put his hand up to his temple as he so often did when he was troubled. ‘I only wished to shield you from the unpleasant truth,’ he added defensively.
Sophie felt sorry that she had pressed him and took his hand. ‘Then I forgive you, Harry, and you must forgive me for being so thoughtless.’
Harry smiled. ‘Come, Sophie, no talk of war, this is a ball, not a funeral wake, and I am sure that this is a waltz that the musicians are striking up.’ He led her onto the dance floor and looked into her blue eyes, searching intently for any sign of wavering doubt.
‘Your Uncle will be announcing our betrothal soon. That is if you still want to marry me,’ he said in teasing accents. ‘You still have time to back out, but I must warn you that I will be sadly disappointed if you do.’
Sophie just laughed ‘Of course not, Harry. I would hope that you do not find me quite so fickle.’
Harry sighed with relief and led her across the dance floor. He had used a tone of raillery but for a moment he had been worried. The sooner this announcement was made the better. Once it was official it would no longer be easy to cry off and after tonight he had no intention of making it easy for her.
*****
Having made the announcement, Lord Wyndholme retired to one of the card rooms where he found sanctuary from the crowds, and everyone crowded around the happy pair to convey their congratulations. There was only one person who looked on with malice and that was lady Northcote.
The dancing had resumed and after capering with Harry through a lively polka, Sophie leant against one of the many pillars to catch her breath and laughed. ‘Oh, Harry that was so much fun. I swear it has made me thirsty.’
‘In that case, my sweet, wait here and I shall seek you out a nice glass of ratafia. I shall be but a moment.’
His back had not been turned for a minute when Lady Northcote approached Sophie. The Countess had a sugary sweet smile pasted on her face. ‘You surprise us all, Lady Trevarren. And here was I thinking that this ball was in honour of your cousin’s homecoming.’
Sophie was not fooled by her polite manners and realised that they were only for the benefit of onlookers. ‘Indeed, it is. I am sure you heard my Uncle mention as much in his speech. This ball is a two-fold celebration. It cannot have come as a surprise to you. Harry advises me that he informed his brother.’
Lady Northcote’s face took on an angry mien. ‘Do not for one minute think that we are reconciled to this marriage. You are not welcome in this family and you never will be. You may think that the Earl and the Colonel have come to an agreement, but you are far out. Winstanley is just keeping Harry happy until he is gone. My husband hates this match as much as I do. Your father was a good for nothing scoundrel and you are no better. Do you understand me?’
Not to be cowed, Sophie embarked on a determined speech of her own. ‘I understand you perfectly well and really, I do not care. I do not know how you dare approach me in such a manner at my Aunt’s ball. I only need to approach my Uncle and he would have you thrown out on your ear. For Harry’s sake, however, I will refrain.’
She turned to walk away but Lady Northcote placed a gloved hand on her arm to detain her. ‘And do not think that by this marriage you will get your hands on the Trevarren emeralds. They are mine now and far beyond your reach.’
Sophie stiffened and then relaxed again. The threat meant little to her. Lady Northcote could not know it, but the brooch was winging its way to her now. She could live without the accompanying jewels as long as she got her hands on the brooch. She needed it for more reasons than just sentiment. She had not told Harry the whole, but now they were betrothed she must remedy that. Disdainfully she removed Lady Northcote’s hand from her arm and dropped it. ‘I do not know why you hate me so. I can only assume that it stems from humiliating guilt. Now excuse me, madam, I have more worthy guests to entertain.’
Sophie stalked away and bumped into Harry who was threading his way through the crowds with a glass in each hand.
‘Whoa!’ He stepped back in an effort to stop the contents from spilling all over his jacket. Balancing a glass in either hand, he recovered his poise and looked into Sophie’s stormy face. ‘Soph, whatever is wrong?’ he asked in consternation.
She pushed him aside. ‘Your damn family. That is what is wrong! Oh, just leave me alone. I need time to calm down!’
He glanced around wondering what could have caused such upset and noticed Cecelia standing there with a serene smile on her face, just like a cat who had licked the cream. He walked across to her. ‘I do not know what you have been saying to Sophie. This is not the time nor the place, but you will answer to me when we get home.’
He pushed both glasses into her hands and went off in pursuit of Sophie. Damn this was meant to be a celebratory ball and up to now it had been fraught with nothing but problems.
Harry searched the halls and corridors for Sophie and it took him half an hour to find her. He eventually found her alone in one of the unused card rooms. She was sitting at a green felted card table with her chin resting on her hands, and once again conjuring up all the Northcote’s iniquities in her busy brain. She groaned. How could she have become involved with such a family? She knew why of course. She loved Harry, but would it be enough? She would have the in-laws from hell.
Harry approached her and put his hand on her shoulder. ‘Tell me, Sophie, what has my sister-in-law been saying to you?’
Sophie sighed and divulged all. ‘Oh, just that she hates me. She also said that your brother is just keeping you happy until you are gone. I do not care if he is your brother. If I were a man I would call him out.’
Her eyes sparkled and Harry witnessed the emergence of his lady rogue. In her wrath, she conjured up all kinds of retribution. ‘In fact, I may do so yet. I still have my breeches and I am more than a match for him and that dreadful wife of his. I shall tell him that I am a distance relative and have come to exact vengeance on th
e deceased Lord Trevarren. I will put a bullet through his treacherous heart and then the Countess will be sorry.’
Harry looked dismayed. Her speech was just rhetoric but if she could hold him up on a moonlight night, she was quite capable of carrying out her threat. He could not have her dwelling on such a plan and convincing herself that it may just be a good idea.
He grabbed her arm and dragged her to her feet pulling her roughly to him. He held her there with is cheek rested against her head. ‘Sophie, promise me that you shall do no such thing.’
‘She put her hands up to rest on his chest and looked into his sombre green eyes. ‘Do not think that I would not dare,’ she said with conviction. ‘Oh, I dare alright. That dreadful woman even taunted me about my mother’s brooch.’
Harry held her and shook her. ‘I know that you would dare and that is what worries me. You must promise me, Soph. Depend on me. I have it in hand and you will have the brooch soon. I promise.’
Sophie hesitated a moment and then made a decision. ‘I promise, Harry, but I also have a confession to make. Now we are betrothed I think you should know about it. I have not been completely honest about the brooch.’
‘What do you mean, you have not been completely honest?’ he replied warily.
‘Well, I have not been dishonest precisely. I have just not told you the whole.’
She detached herself from his embrace and paced the floor. ‘I told you I had lost everything, but that is not quite true. My father has a fortune in a secret deposit box in a London Bank. The deposit box contains receipts for various shares along with numerous pieces of jewellery and some random cash. My father was well aware of his penchant for gambling and stored it away for safekeeping and told me about it a year before he died. He gave me a letter outlining all the details along with the key to the deposit box. The letter, however, is written in code in case it fell into the wrong hands, and I do not understand it all. My father put that letter in the secret compartment in the Trevarren brooch. There is one thing they said about him that is true. He was a sly old fox. He had them all fooled.’
She turned to face him desperately. ‘Harry, why do you think I took such a risk holding your coach up on the bridle path that night? For Daniel’s sake, I need that brooch! ’
Harry pushed his hands through his unruly hair. ‘Lord Sophie, you should have told me. I would not have let that brooch out of my sight. I only hope that the jeweller making the copy does not twig on. If my brother gets wind of it, he may claim it all. He is a greedy man and if the strong box holds a fortune the temptation may be too much for him. He claims to be contrite but I do not really trust him. Let us hope that the jeweller remains ignorant.’
‘I hope so but they would have to crack the code first. I do not even know the name of the bank. My only other consolation is that the brooch has a very clever mechanism. My grandfather designed it and had it made by a Goldsmith on the Ponte Vecchio in Florence, Italy. There are fifteen diamonds surrounding the brooch and you have to press five of them in a certain sequence in order to release the back. The back of the brooch is almost flush and you would never guess there was a compartment there.’
‘And where is the key to the safety deposit box,’ he asked.
‘I have it safe in the secret compartment of my jewellery box at Chalcotte Grange. I hid it around my neck when the bailiffs arrived, but as for the brooch, it was listed and I could not retrieve it. They landed on us unannounced and I hardly had time to think.’
‘Leave it with me, Sophie, I will make enquiries at the jeweller tomorrow and see if I can collect the brooch for you and I will ensure that lady Northcote gets the copy. Trust me Sophie and I beg of you, do not to conceal such things from me again. After nearly seven years on the Peninsular, I am a dab hand at cracking codes. I am sure we will come about.’
Harry took her hand. ‘Come, this is a celebratory ball. Let us enjoy what is left of the evening and do not let that infernal woman get to you.’
Harry could not yet know that this was destined to be an evening like no other for unfortunately there was much worse to come.
At precisely half past eleven, a constable arrived at the entrance of the Assembly Rooms and asked to speak to the host, and the porter went to seek Lord Jack Wyndholme from the card room. The Baron left the card room grumbling and wondering which of his guests had been causing trouble. The constable looked serious and pulled him aside with a confidential air. The pair stood for some moments talking quietly and observers could see Lord Wyndholme turn a sickly shade of grey.
Leaving the constable at the entrance, Lord Wyndholme went in search of Sebastian and for the extra moral support, he decided to seek out the Colonel as well. He found the pair conversing with Sophie and a young lady to whom Sebastian had taken rather a shine. Excusing himself, Lord Wyndholme took them aside and led them back to the constable.
He had his head bent low as he whispered to them confidentially. ‘A body has been found a few streets away at the back of Black Friars. He is dressed in full formal evening wear and the constable seems to think that he may have been a guest here at the ball. He has asked me if I could go and possibly give an identification. I would appreciate it if you would both accompany me.’
The three solemnly followed the constable the short distance through the Newcastle Streets until they reached the old monastery buildings that were once the home of the famous Black Friars. Another constable was standing guard over the body and looked up as they approached. His colleague nodded and the constable bent down to remove the cloth handkerchief that he had used to cover the victim’s face. The man was of medium height with sandy brown hair and a portly frame and had been shot through the heart with a pistol. His eyes were open and his face was distorted with fear as if he saw his fate coming and was helpless to prevent it. The three stared down in astonishment and Sebastian looked at Harry with alarmed concern.
Harry took a deep breath and eventually found his voice. ‘That is Lord Northcote, The Earl of Winstanley,’ he faltered. ‘He is... I mean…he was, my brother.’
Chapter Thirteen
At the eleventh hour, Lady Wyndholme’s ball had transformed from a resounding success to an unmitigated disaster and was destined to become the talk of the neighbourhood for months to come.
After giving a full statement, Lord Wyndholme escorted his family home leaving Colonel Northcote and Sebastian to deal with the aftermath. It was after two thirty in the morning when Harry escorted his sister-in-law back to Winstanley Hall. She did not say a word but stared out of the carriage window all of the way home. Harry was used to the sight and smell of death but the sight of his own brother lying prostrate on the pavement had turned his stomach. He had been shot in cold blood and could not have stood a fighting chance. Harry could only guess how Rupert had been lured to the Black Friars in the first place.
He looked across the carriage at Cecelia. He was inordinately angry with her but he could hardly confront her about her behaviour when she had just lost her husband. He had made arrangements for Rupert’s body to be brought to Winstanley Hall first thing in the morning.
Harry turned his mind to more important things. Who had murdered his brother? He recalled the start of the evening. Rupert had been decidedly uncomfortable. His brother had not wanted to be there and felt that he had landed in a hornet’s nest.
Harry took out a notebook and began to make a list of all those present who had motives to see him dead. His eyes then scanned down the neat list of names he had entered. The list was a long one and included, Lord Dereham. Lord Ashenden. Mr Redesdale and Mr Featherstone. These were not people who his brother had cheated, but if they thought that Rupert was about to expose them for their part in the downfall of Lord Trevarren, one of them may have been inclined to murder. He could not even be sure which of them were implicated. He thought that Lord Dereham and Mr Redesdale were innocent but he could not rule them out completely.
He has also listed Mr Ranleigh. Mr Fairbanks and Mr Pen
dlesham and a few others Rupert had swindled.
Harry had personally returned Mr Ranleigh’s painting so surely his motive was diminished, but what about all of the others. He had trusted his brother to make recompense, but he had not continually looked over his shoulder to make sure that he had done so. He would need to check the accounts when he got home because he suspected that Mr Fairbanks had not yet been recompensed. Miss Fairbanks had said as much at the Dereham’s garden fete. At the time he just thought there had been some slight delay. Was there substance to Cecelia’s malignant words that Rupert was just trying to keep him off his back so that he would not expose him?
Harry’s pencil hovered. The next name that came to mind turned him cold. He gingerly lowered his pencil to the page and reluctantly wrote down the name. Sophie.
She had been angry tonight. What were her exact words? He tried to remember. They were something like, ‘I would like to put a bullet through his treacherous heart.’ And there was no denying it. That is exactly how Rupert had died.
Harry sighed, he could not discount her and would need to speak with her on the morrow, if only to clear his own mind. He snapped his notebook shut and lay his head against the cushions, shutting his eyes. He was almost ashamed of his thoughts but he could not deny that Sophie was an anomaly, different from any other female he had encountered. Her young brother was right. She could be the perfect paragon one minute and turn into a hellion the next. Not that this particular fact worried him as he liked Sophie’s unfettered and independent spirit. And he had to agree, Sophie had a good reason for feeling and acting the way that she sometimes did.
He opened his eyes again to find Cecelia watching him curiously. She could not see in the dim light but no doubt she was wondering what he had been writing. She did not say a word and as he caught her eye, she looked away again, staring out of the carriage window into the darkness. Harry thought that for a woman who had just lost her husband, she was strangely devoid of emotion. Her face was like stone and she remained silent. As he looked at her he frowned. Taking out his notebook again, he slowly and deliberately wrote down another entry. The entry simply read, Cecelia.
Lady Trevarren and the Emerald Brooch: A Regency Romance and Murder Mystery Page 14