*****
Harry woke up early the next morning having tossed and turned all night. He waited for the arrival of Rupert’s body which he instructed to be laid out in one of the lower reception rooms and after instructing the housekeeper to take care of the Countess went to the stables to collect Julius. He could not wait to reach Chalcotte Grange and speak with Sophie. He knew in his heart that she was innocent but he just needed to hear it from her own mouth.
On reaching Chalcotte Grange, Harry was greeted by Sebastian who put his hands around his shoulders. ‘I am very sorry about Winstanley, Harry. Please accept my condolences. Such a terrible thing to happen. Have you any idea who could have done it?’
‘No idea at all, Sebastian, but I shall not rest until I find out. Do you mind if I have a few private words with Sophie? I shall not keep her long.’
Sebastian agreed and after calling Sophie down from her bed chamber, he left them alone.
Sophie approached him. She had also had a sleepless night and she looked tired and pale. ‘How are you this morning, Harry. I have to say that I had no love for your brother, but I am truly sorry for your loss. I would not have wished…’
Harry interrupted her. ‘Are you, Sophie. Are you truly sorry? Only last night you wished him dead.’
Sophie frowned and looked bewildered. ‘Whatever do you mean by that? Surely you cannot think that I had anything to do with it?’
‘And yet you had a motive. The death of your father. The acquisition of the brooch, which turns out to have an even greater significance than I cared to realise. You were missing for a whole half hour last night, and in your own words, Rupert died with a bullet through his treacherous heart. Where were you in that half hour, Sophie?’
Sophie was aghast. ‘How dare you. How dare you come here accusing me of such a thing? You know where I was that half hour. I was in the card room exactly where you found me. And as for motive, no-one had a greater motive than yourself. You are now the Earl of Winstanley and have everything to gain. Title, prestige, and power. By your own argument, you could have murdered your brother yourself!’
Harry stopped short. He was now the Earl of Winstanley. His mind was in a stupor and it had not occurred to him. It was not something he could have envisioned. He could never have thought that he would be predeceased by both of his brothers. He stared at Sophie who was still raging in righteous anger. He had not meant to accuse Sophie, but in his grief, his words had come out in an outpour of raw emotion.
Sophie was furious. ‘Oh, how could I have made such a mistake? You are a Northcote through and through!’
She looked up in sheer horror as she comprehended the implications of her misplaced trust. ‘Oh, and I have revealed to you the secret of the brooch. I am undone. I will never reveal to you the sequence of the catch or give you the key. Never! Oh, you are abominable. Go away!’
She sat down heavily on the couch and put her head in her hands and he knelt down beside her. Prizing her hand from her face he looked into her furious eyes. ‘I am sorry, Sophie, I do not really think you did it, but I needed to hear it from you. Surely you must realise that.’
Not the least bit pacified, she wrenched her hand from his grip and pushed him on the shoulder nearly knocking him over. She stood up and paced the floor in a tempestuous rage.
‘I am insulted beyond belief. Please, just leave, our betrothal is over.’
They were interrupted by the sound of a dignified cough coming from the doorway. Sebastian had entered and stood with his back to the door looking from one to the other in questioning silence.
Eventually, he spoke. ‘What is this all this noise? You have not been betrothed for twenty-four hours and already you are at each other’s throats.’
Sophie ran across to her cousin. Oh, Sebastian, Lord Northcote thinks that I murdered his brother. I hated the man but I did not do it. Tell him!’
Sebastian, realising that there must be some explanation, looked across to his friend. ‘Is this true?’ he asked, rather nonplussed.
Harry paced the floor restlessly pushing a hand through his unruly waves. She had reverted back to formality for he was Harry no more. ‘Yes... I mean No. Of course, I do not think that Sophie did it. I am truly sorry but I do need to eliminate her from my enquiries.’
‘You see,’ Sophie responded. ‘How could he even think it? I trusted him and now he knows the secret of the Trevarren brooch.’ She curled her fist in her hand and cursed using the most unladylike cant. ‘Oh, if I were a man I would plant him a facer or better still I would run him through with my sword.’ Realising the difficulty of this she turned to her cousin. ‘You must do it for me, Sebastian.’
Sebastian frowned. ‘Now if you think I am going to resort to fisticuffs or challenge him to a duel, you have another thing coming, Sophie. Dueling went out with the last century and is illegal. Besides, you cannot call out a man who has just apologised, etiquette forbids it. Harry has just said that he did not think you did it. You must make allowances. He is newly bereaved and has a lot on his mind.’
Sophie glared at her cousin in disbelief. She was too angry to see reason. ‘OOO, I might have guessed that you would take his side. You men always stick together.’ She pushed Sebastian out of the way and stormed out of the room.
Sebastian looked across to Harry. ‘You did not handle that very well did you, old chap and really, I do not blame Sophie for being annoyed, but what is this about the Trevarren brooch?’
Harry sighed. ‘You are right. I have made a right sow’s ear of everything, but I think Sophie should tell you about the brooch. You see, she told me in confidence and I do not wish to break it. Can you tell her, though that her secret is safe and she need have no concerns on that head? Speaking of which, I need to return to Newcastle and collect the damn thing from the jewellers and I also have a funeral to arrange. I am sorry Sebastian. I must go but I will speak to you later.’
Harry made to leave and then hesitated. He turned back to Sebastian. ‘Sophie has a wild streak. Take care of her and make sure that she does nothing prematurely. And Sebastian, she had called off our betrothal. Persuade her to hold off a public retraction until I can sort out this unholy mess.’
Sebastian gave his friend a reassuring smile. ‘Yes, I know Sophie of old. You can rely on me, Harry, and if you need anything you just need to ask me.’
*****
Harry left the funeral directors after having arranged the funeral for three days hence and made his way to the jeweller's shop in Newgate. The jeweller, a bald little man with spectacles, came out of the back of the shop to greet him.
‘And what can I do for you, sir,’ he asked with a professional air.
Harry produced the receipt for the Emerald Brooch and his own gilt-edged calling card.
‘I have come to collect the Emerald Brooch and the paste copy that my brother, the Earl of Winstanley has commissioned and was wondering if they were ready yet.’
The little jeweller looked apologetic. ‘I am sorry, My Lord, but the Countess collected them only this morning.’
Harry was puzzled as Lady Northcote knew nothing about it, and glared at the jeweller in annoyance.
‘You handed over a valuable brooch without a receipt. I could have your head,’ he thundered furiously.
The jeweller wiped his sweaty palms on his apron and looked at the Colonel with chagrin.
‘I am sorry, my Lord, but I know Lady Northcote by sight and I did not think anything of it. I just assumed….’
‘Assumed! Oh never mind,’ the Colonel retorted as he turned and walked out of the shop, wondering just how Cecelia had got wind of the commission.
He was not to remain in ignorance for long for on returning to Winstanley Hall, Lady Northcote emerged to meet him. She had not even given him time to remove his outerwear before she stormed into the entry hall to intercept him.
She addressed him wrathfully under the eyes of the gleeful Metcalfe. ‘If you can spare a moment, Harry, I should like to speak wit
h you in the drawing room before dinner.’
Harry handed his hat, gloves and cape to the Butler and followed Cecelia into the drawing room. It did not take him long to notice the Trevarren Brooch alongside the replica laid out on an occasional table next to one of the fireside chairs.
She pointed towards them. ‘Perhaps you would like to explain this, Harry. I am all agog with curiosity.’
Harry frowned. ‘And pray, how do know anything about that? It was a close kept secret.’
Cecelia produced a letter and handed it to him. ‘This arrived from the jeweller this morning to say that the brooches were ready for collection, so naturally, I was curious and went to collect them.’
Harry took the wafer and turned it over. ‘But this is addressed to the Earl of Winstanley. What business did you have to open it?’
‘You forget yourself, Harry. My husband is dead and as the Countess I had every right to open it. Did you persuade my husband to commission a copy for that…that termagant or was the copy meant for me?’
By this time Harry was quite angry, especially since he was now privy to the brooch’s secret and was concerned on Sophie’s behalf. Provoked by Cecelia’s portrayal of his intended and annoyed at her audacity to open correspondence not addressed to her, he replied icily. ‘No Cecelia! You forget yourself! Now that Rupert is dead, I am the Earl of Winstanley. That letter was addressed to me and you had no right to open it.’
‘Not quite,’ she rallied. ‘I am with child. You will have to wait to assume your title and it will put an end to your ambitions if the baby is a boy.’
Harry surveyed her trim figure and did not believe her. If she had not conceived in seven years, it would be unlikely that she had conceived now unless the father was someone else. She was playing her last card and he knew it.
He scoffed. ‘If you are with child, I doubt very much that it is a Northcote and if by some miracle it was, I would still be the trustee. If you are still adamant that you are with child, I shall arrange for the doctor to attend to you. Do you need me to arrange it?’
Cecelia hesitated. She had not expected such a ready reply. That told Harry all he needed to know. ‘I thought not,’ he continued. ‘Now if you will excuse me, madam.’
He walked across to the table and since he could not tell at a glance which brooch was the original he pocketed them both.
‘What are you doing?’ she gasped as she reached for his pockets. ‘Give those back to me, at once. You cannot just come in here and confiscate all my jewellery.’
He grabbed her wrist and grappled with her before she could reach for his pocket. Finally, holding both her wrists in a strong grasp, he looked into her tempestuous face. ‘I have no desire to confiscate your jewellery. You can keep what is yours, but I shall retain these brooches if you do not mind. And while we are at it, can you bring to me the matching emerald necklace and earrings and any other piece that once belonged to the Trevarren family. And Cecelia, I shall know from the inventory if there are any missing so do not try to fool me.’ He dropped her wrists and let her go storming out of the room.
After leaving an incensed Cecelia, Harry retired to the study. It was not unlike him to be unkind but he did not trust his sister-in-law one little bit. He wrote out a missive and called for a footman. It was Thomas who answered the call. Harry looked up. ‘Ah, Thomas, I have a task for you to perform. I wish you to go into Newcastle and search out a locksmith.’ He handed him the note. ‘Give him this note and tell him that I want him out immediately. I wish him to change the lock on the safe and the study door and I want it done today, no matter what the cost.’
Thomas bowed. ‘As you wish, my Lord. And may I say how sorry I am about the Earl. I shall endeavour to serve you well as the previous Lord.’
Harry thanked him. ‘I am sure you will, Thomas. Now hurry along and fetch that locksmith and do not fail me.’
No sooner had Thomas left, Metcalfe the butler entered the study to tell him that a constable had called to see him. Metcalfe ushered him in and Harry asked him to take a seat. ‘Well, I take it that you have news for me?’ he asked politely.
The constable was regretful but reached into his pocket. ‘We have not been able to discover very much, but after a thorough search of the vicinity, we found this, sir.’ He unfurled his hand. ‘I do not know how it could have been missed because it was found very close to where the Earl’s body was discovered. It may have a bearing on the crime. I was wondering if you could enlighten me.’
Rested on the constable’s palm was a large mother-of-pearl button. A very distinctive button that was worn on the ankle length drab coats of members of the famous Four Horse Club in London. Harry took the button and turned it over in his hand. It did not belong to his brother so it probably belonged to his attacker. The button obviously belonged to someone wealthy and a talented whip. Someone who travelled regularly to the metropolis and was a member of the Four Horse Club. Possibly someone who liked to attend the London season. That could narrow things down considerably.
The constable was watching him closely. ‘Newcastle is plagued with footpads, although I have got to say that looks like a very expensive button to me. I doubt it belongs to any footpad. It does not appear to be part of the Earl’s clothing. Do you know who it could belong to, my Lord?’
Harry sighed. ‘Unfortunately, No, but one thing is certain. He was not murdered by a common thief.’
‘No, I did not think so myself, but I must warn you, my Lord, that we have very little hope of apprehending the murderer. Unless they are caught red handed it is usually a nigh-on impossible task.’
Harry was well aware of this but the evidence of the button gave him something to work on. He sighed wearily. If only he had possession of this button last night. He would not have charged in with both feet questioning Sophie. The Four Horse Club was definitely a male domain.
*****
The funeral took place three days later on a cold and miserable day. Amongst the mourners were Baron and Lady Wyndholme with their son, Sebastian. Sophie refused to go and stayed home with Daniel after a huge row with her Aunt for not paying her respects.
‘Damn it, Aunt, you cannot expect me to pay my respects to a man who ruined my father.’
Aunt Caroline grumbled. ‘Language Sophie! Oh, you are an unnatural child. Your absence will appear most peculiar.’
Sophie was saved by the interference of her cousin, Sebastian. ‘Leave her alone, mother. I should imagine there will be a lot of people attending and Sophie will hardly be missed.’
In that he was wrong. Harry missed her, but he could hardly blame her for her absence. Lord and Lady Dereham were there with their eldest daughter, Emmaline and also Viscount Ashenden. Lord Ashenden stood attentively at Lady Northcote’s side, something for which Harry was extremely grateful for he had lost all patience with his sister-in-law. Other members of the gentry were there together with the Earl’s gambling associates and many of the tenants.
To be fair it would have been inaccurate to call the tenants mourners. Most of them had just come to ensure that their detested Landlord who had exhorted such high rents was definitely six foot under. Many were also curious to clap eyes on his successor, hoping that he would be an improvement on the last incumbent and some of them came away with a favourable impression, but murmuring amongst themselves that only time would really tell.
Harry observed the crowd. It was a well- known fact that a murderer would often turn up at his victim’s funeral and he meant to keep his eyes and ears open in search of a clue. The wake took place in the huge large dining room of Winstanley Hall and just consisted of an informal buffet and drinks.
Lord Dereham came forward to pay his condolences but Harry did not hear a word he said. His gaze was fixed on the beautiful pin adorning Lord Dereham’s lily white cravat. It was made of Stuart crystal and embedded with a ruby, obviously, a compliment to the cufflink that he had found in the clearing the night he was attacked.
Harry cut off Lord Dereha
m in mid-speech. ‘Dereham, a moment of your time will be appreciated. Can you accompany me to the study?’
Lord Dereham looked surprised but willingly agreed, and putting down his glass on a nearby table followed in Harry’s wake. On reaching the study, Harry opened the safe and pulled out the crystal cufflink. He held it out to him. ‘Do you recognise this, Dereham?’
Lord Dereham took the cufflink and examined it. ‘Why yes, it belongs to me. Where did you get this?’
Harry looked at Lord Dereham with contempt and explained the exact circumstances of his find.
Lord Dereham looked shocked. ‘But my dear Colonel. You do not think that after having lost this cufflink in such a manner, I would continue to wear the pin. I would not be so stupid. No, this cufflink was stolen from my dresser at the garden party by someone who was obviously wanting to implicate me. I wondered where it had got to.’
Harry sighed. Lord Dereham’s reasoning was sound. He was a man of intelligence and Harry doubted that he would make such a crass mistake, but still, he could be lying. He showed him the pearl button.
‘This was found near Winstanley’s body. Are you a member of the Four Horse Club, Dereham?’
‘Indeed, I am,’ he replied. ‘But so are some of the others, including yourself, I believe.’
‘My membership lapsed. Unfortunately, the war got in the way. Can you enlighten me as to the others?’
Dereham gave it some thought. ‘Well, there is young Wyndholme, although like yourself he was never present. You have young Hamilton, Ashenden and Mr Redesdale. They have all shown their faces at some time during the seasons. Why it could be anyone!’
Harry looked at Dereham suspiciously. He could have been telling the truth, but there was still an element of doubt. Dereham seemed to sense his uncertainty.
Lady Trevarren and the Emerald Brooch: A Regency Romance and Murder Mystery Page 15