Lucasta

by Melinda Hammond

  ‘No, no, ma’am, I have nothing urgent to attend to, I promise you. I made sure all was in order before I came downstairs today: I believe his grace means to join us, and I would not be thought backward in any attention.’

  ‘Oh I am sure no one could think you backward, sir,’ murmured the viscount. He poured a glass of wine and handed it to Mr Loughton.

  ‘I think we owe you our thanks, sir.’

  ‘I was doing no more than my job, my lord,’ came the modest reply. ‘Although some of your lordship’s plans was perhaps a little unconventional, but we shall say no more o’ that.’ He cast a quick glance at Mr Giggs, whose attention at that moment was given to accepting a cup of tea from the duchess.

  Lucasta felt sure that Giggs would have questioned Mr Loughton further about the viscount’s unconventional plans if the entrance of the Duke of Filwood had not caused a timely diversion. She observed the duke with interest. He was dressed in some magnificence in a green velvet frock-coat with matching knee breeches and a white embroidered waistcoat. Upon his head was a powdered wig and in the froth of lace at his throat a diamond winked when he moved. He had inherited his mother’s height and handsome looks but none of her charm: there was no humour in his blue eyes and no ready smile hovering about his thin lips. He was, she thought, very much aware of his elevated status.

  The duke looked very relieved when the Runner took his leave and it was clear to Lucasta that he viewed his mother’s involvement in Sir Talbot’s murder with abhorrence. Mr Giggs was quick to explain to him the reason for Mr Loughton’s presence.

  ‘So you see, Your Grace, Lord Kennington has been cleared. The dark shadow of suspicion no longer hangs over this family.’

  The duke’s brows rose.

  ‘There never was a shadow of suspicion over this family, Mr Giggs. There is no blood line between the Filwoods and the Kenningtons. Nevertheless, I am glad the matter is now resolved, Adam.’

  The viscount inclined his head.

  ‘Thank you, Charles. That is very gracious of you.’

  ‘Yes, I am relieved that the whole matter is now concluded,’ he announced, when Mr Loughton had taken his leave. ‘Although perhaps I should congratulate you, Mama, upon your choice of operative: that fellow does appear to have been very thorough.’

  ‘Oh he is very good, I am sure,’ agreed Mr Giggs with another titter. ‘But he is not quite as clever as all that.’ He looked about him to make sure that he had everyone’s attention before continuing. ‘He was supposed to talk to anyone who might have some information, but there is one person he missed. Someone who might have thrown a little light on this case much earlier. Myself.’

  ‘And just what do you know about anything?’ asked the viscount scornfully.

  Giggs smirked.

  ‘I would tell you, my lord, only – perhaps it should be some other time.’ His eyes flickered towards Lucasta. ‘We have a guest, you know.’

  ‘Miss Symonds has been party to a great many confidences since this affair blew up,’ the duchess responded with a reassuring look towards Lucasta. ‘I think we may trust her.’

  ‘There you are,’ nodded the viscount. ‘My godmother vouches for Miss Symonds so you may safely divulge your secrets, Giggs. Tell us what you know, although I’ll wager it is nothing of significance.’

  Mr Giggs drew himself up at this, and cast the viscount a look of dislike.

  ‘Oh, I think you will find it is of significance, Lord Kennington. I grant you, my lord that I was not party to the events upon Hansford Common, but I do know something of the mysterious Mr Smith.’

  Lucasta froze. The fingers holding her teacup shook slightly but she dared not put the cup back in its saucer, fearing the clatter would draw attention to herself.

  Lord Kennington was looking intently at Giggs. He said carefully, ‘Loughton informed us that Mr Smith is no longer a suspect in this case.’

  ‘Perhaps not, but he is still of interest to those of us gathered here. You, my lord, because you took the young man up in the first place, and were responsible for introducing him into her grace’s household—’

  ‘Damnation man, be done with your long periods and tell us what you think you know!’

  ‘Yes, Giggs,’ said the duke, flicking away his coat tails and sitting down. ‘If you know something, you should declare it immediately.’

  ‘Very well, Your Grace, I will. This mysterious Mr Smith was her grace’s lover!’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  For a long moment Lucasta thought she had suddenly gone deaf. Mr Giggs’s announcement produced a profound silence and looks of frozen amazement upon the faces of his auditors. Then Lucasta’s senses righted themselves, she heard the steady tick, tick of the clock, and the rattle of a teacup in its saucer. It took her a little while to realize it was her own cup that had come to rest. She looked across the room at the viscount. As if aware of her gaze he met her eyes, his own brimful of wicked laughter, but she was too horrified to share it. Using both hands, she carefully put her cup and saucer on the table, afraid that at any moment she might drop them.

  ‘Indeed, Mr Giggs?’ the duchess’s voice held only the slightest tremor. ‘And how came you to this conclusion?’

  ‘By the evidence of my own eyes.’ He said. ‘I knew this Smith for a sneaking rascal the first time I met him, for he was careful never to be alone with me, or to be in my company for more than a few moments. I know not how he prevailed upon Lord Kennington for his acquaintance, but he was a plausible rogue and no doubt he cozened the viscount thoroughly—’

  ‘This is all nonsense!’

  The duke held up his hand.

  ‘We will hear him out, Kennington, if you please.’

  Mr Giggs bowed to him.

  ‘Thank you, Your Grace. As you are aware, I see my position in your dear mother’s household as a protector and mentor, someone to guide her through the pitfalls of her widowhood.’

  The duchess blinked.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Grief can affect us all in different ways, dear ma’am. I am aware of your dear son’s concerns, that without the steadying influence of a husband it is only too easy for a weak female to be led astray.’

  ‘Dear me.’ The duchess drew out her handkerchief and pressed it to her lips. ‘And – and you think I have been – er – led astray?’

  ‘It was plain to me, ma’am, that as soon as this young man entered Coombe Chase he set out to ensnare you. Why, the very first time I met him he had already breached your defences. When I walked into the room you were caressing his face!’

  Lucasta choked.

  ‘And not only that,’ continued Mr Giggs, warming to his theme, ‘her grace was very anxious to pursue the – ah – friendship. A slight indisposition made it necessary for me to keep to my room, but I am well aware that during his brief stay at Coombe Chase the young man spent all his time with the duchess, driving around the country, even accompanying her to church!’

  ‘Well there is nothing shameful in that,’ remarked the duchess.

  ‘But you cannot deny that when the young man took his leave you embraced him most affectionately.’ Giggs turned to address the duke. ‘They were in the hall at the time, you see. I had slipped out of my sickbed in search of a little wine to help me sleep and happened to be on the balcony as this affecting scene took place.

  ‘Just how long did this young man spend at Coombe Chase, Mama?’ asked the duke.

  ‘Two nights,’ she replied. ‘Hardly sufficient time for a torrid affair, Charles.’

  ‘Ah, if only that were true,’ exclaimed Mr Giggs, shaking his head.

  The duchess looked at him, a frown creasing her brow.

  ‘If you have been bribing my servants, sir—’

  ‘No, no, nothing like that. Your staff are all far too loyal to admit any criticism of you, Your Grace. Even when I question them directly they tell me nothing.’

  ‘I am glad to hear it,’ she replied grimly. ‘I pay them very well and th
ey know I keep no disloyal servants.’

  ‘So you are basing your allegations upon a conjecture,’ put in the viscount, his lip curling. ‘A couple of friendly gestures and a day’s driving about the countryside. That hardly amounts to scandalous behaviour, Giggs.’

  ‘If that were all, I would not have written to the duke and begged him to come to Town to confront his mama with on this matter. But there is proof, incontrovertible proof.’

  ‘A love-child, perhaps?’ murmured the duchess.

  ‘Mama, please.’ The duke looked pained. ‘Continue, Mr Giggs.’

  ‘It grieves me to say that her grace was so taken in by this young man that she connived at his plan. She had him placed in the bedroom adjoining her own and’ – he reached into his pocket – ‘if you want even more proof of their dalliance, I found this upon the floor of her grace’s bedchamber!’

  He unfolded a small paper to reveal a lock of honey-brown hair.

  ‘Hell and damnation,’ muttered the viscount, staring at the hair, which lay upon the paper, curled into a perfect question mark.

  ‘I see it now,’ declared Mr Giggs. ‘There they were, late that night, cutting off locks of hair – exchanging love tokens!’

  The duke rose and took a step forward. He raised his quizzing glass to inspect the curl more closely.

  ‘This was found upon the floor of my mother’s bedchamber you say. By whom was it found?’

  ‘By me,’ Mr Gggs beamed. ‘I found it upon the floor, by the dressing table, the very day after this Mr Smith had arrived.’ He was almost jumping up and down with excitement now. ‘It is the exact shade of the scoundrel’s hair! Well, ma’am, what have you to say to that?’

  As all eyes turned to the duchess, Lucasta knew she must speak out.

  ‘Your Grace, this is monstrous. I—’

  The duchess’s hand shot out and gripped her wrist.

  ‘I know what you are going to say, Miss Symonds. You are shocked by these revelations, and so you should be, for you are a young woman, gently reared and not yet married. I, on the other hand, am a widow of many years’ standing. However, I am not in my dotage. If I wish to take a lover, I think that it is entirely my business. I never played your father false when he was alive, Charles, but I do not think he would begrudge me a little excitement now, if I should wish for it.’

  A heavy silence filled the room. Lucasta stared at her.

  ‘You – you are admitting it?’ she asked, her voice scarcely above a whisper.

  The duchess met her eyes, her face alive with laughter.

  ‘Why not? It quite enhances my reputation, to capture such a young man.’

  The viscount gave a shout of laughter.

  ‘Godmama, you are quite shameless!’

  ‘No, in fact I have always been most discreet.’ She bent her smiling eyes upon her son. ‘Well, Charles?’

  The duke did not appear to hear her. His eyes were fixed upon Mr Giggs.

  ‘Do you tell me that you took it upon yourself to enter my mother’s chamber, to invade her private apartments in search of evidence for your tawdry little story?’

  ‘Your Grace, I – I was trying to establish—’

  ‘You took it upon yourself to pry into the personal affairs of my mother – my mother, the Duchess of Filwood, in whose veins runs the blood of royalty?’

  ‘But I thought you wanted – I was trying to preserve your good name!’ Giggs clasped his hands together, cringing before the duke’s wrathful figure.

  ‘And you think that you, a snivelling little cleric, have the right to snoop, to question my mother’s servants on the pretence of preserving my good name? Bah! You disgust me. You are to be gone from this house within the hour, do you understand?’

  ‘Your Grace, I—’

  ‘Enough from you, sirrah. Get out! And if one word of these allegations ever reaches my ears again I shall make sure you suffer for it!’

  Muttering incoherently, Giggs scurried to the door to make a hasty and undignified exit.’

  ‘Oh well done, Charles,’ declared the duchess.

  ‘I am aware that we have not always seen eye to eye, Mama, but I think in this instance I owe you an apology.’

  ‘Thank you, that is very handsomely said. Perhaps now you will allow me to find a more agreeable companion to bear me company.’

  ‘It shall be as you wish, Mama. Although I hope you do not mean to return to Coombe Chase just yet. I have it in mind to find me a wife, and would welcome your assistance.’

  ‘Well, this is a day for surprises,’ grinned the viscount.

  ‘Thank you, Kennington, but it is no laughing matter. And it would do you no harm to be thinking of settling down.’

  ‘Oh I am, Filwood, I am.’ He smiled across the room at Lucasta. ‘I have already set my plans in motion.’

  Lucasta leapt to her feet.

  ‘If you will excuse me, I think I must go home. We – um – we are to go to the play tonight, and I must prepare.’

  ‘Yes, of course, my dear. How selfish of me to keep you here for so long.’ The duchess rose. ‘I shall order the carriage immediately.’

  The viscount was across the room in a two strides.

  ‘I should very much like to accompany you to Sophia Street.’

  Lucasta shook her head. She could not bear the thought of watching him tell Camilla that he was now free to marry her. Not yet.

  ‘No, thank you. You are very kind, but I would prefer to return home alone.’

  Sitting in the duchess’s elegant carriage, Lucasta considered her situation. She was glad she had been able to help prove Adam’s innocence. At first she had thought it was all that mattered, that there would be no greater joy than knowing Camilla could marry the man of her choice, but she felt no joy now at the prospect, only a searing, aching jealousy. What did Camilla know of Adam? She had not travelled with him for miles in an open carriage, talking of everything and nothing, spent the night in a ramshackle inn, shared such adventures with him. Lucasta choked back a sob. How was she to bear it, having Adam as her brother-in-law? Papa would take great pleasure in parading Camilla’s success before her, prolonging her misery. Some demon inside her head whispered that she should inform her mama of the duke’s arrival and his avowed intention to find a wife. That would be a conquest indeed and one she was sure Camilla would wish to attempt. But no, if Adam wanted to marry Camilla she would put no more obstacles in his way, he had suffered enough. If he wanted Camilla he must have her. But would their marriage be a success? Her demon persisted. Would she be able to read his moods, to joke him out of his bad temper, or enjoy his good humour?

  ‘She will learn,’ she told herself fiercely. ‘She will learn to make him happy!’

  But what of her own future? What happiness was there now for her? At the moment she could see none, only a long, empty future full of loneliness. She gave herself a mental shake. This mood could not last, just because she fancied herself in love with Adam did not mean there could be no happiness in the future, it was merely that she was unable to see it. Suddenly she wanted to go home, to Oaklands, to hide in the tree house with her books and her drawing pad and wait for this crippling pain to ease. She was sure her mama would agree to her leaving. After all, she had done nothing but fall from one scrape into another, and there was no eligible suitor in view to make it worthwhile keeping her in Town. No, her mama would be only too pleased to send her home.

  When the carriage drew up in Sophia Street she ran into the house and made her way directly to the morning-room, silently rehearsing her excuses for leaving Town. She opened the door, words ready upon her lips, but they were not uttered, for she could only stand and stare at the scene that met her eyes.

  Camilla was dancing around the room, singing while her mother was at her writing desk, surrounded by lists and notes. When she saw Lucasta in the doorway, Camilla skipped over to her.

  ‘Oh Lucasta, is it not wonderful? He loves me and we are to be married as soon as maybe – by special lice
nce!’ Camilla kissed her. ‘Oh my dear are you not happy for me?’

  Lucasta dragged up a smile.

  ‘Very happy, for you. But how is this? When was all this arranged?’

  Camilla was off again, dancing around the room.

  ‘It was all arranged this morning, while you were in Bond Street! Oh I am the happiest of women!’

  ‘I – I don’t understand,’ said Lucasta. ‘Pray, Camilla, stop still long enough to tell me the whole.’

  ‘I cannot stop, I am too excited! Adam came and explained everything, and— Oh Mama, have you finished the list yet? Is there not time to go begin shopping for my wedding clothes tonight?’

  ‘No of course there is not!’ Lady Symonds smiled affectionately at Camilla. ‘Silly child, have you forgotten we are promised to go to the play?’

  ‘Oh what care I for plays when there is a wedding to be arranged. Oh, Lucasta, I am marrying the most charming, most handsome man in the world!’ She threw herself into her sister’s arms again and Lucasta hugged her, blinking back her own tears.

  ‘Of course you are, my dear.’

  Detaching herself gently, Lucasta left Camilla to her raptures. A special licence – she should not be surprised, Adam had been forced to hide his feelings for his bride for long enough. A sob escaped her. It was too much, she could not pretend to be happy, so it would be better if she left them immediately. Thankfully it was a new month and her pin money had so far not been touched. She would catch the night mail and go home.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  The tree house was just as Lucasta remembered it, creaking and draughty. It seemed a lifetime since she had climbed the steps, not merely a few weeks. She stacked a pile of books in one corner, proof of the extensive programme of reading she had set herself for the next few months. She had been at Oaklands for a week now and there was still no word from Town. Her father had been delighted with the news of the forthcoming marriage, and had set off for London immediately, leaving Lucasta to run the house alone. There was plenty of housework to be done and with her reading, music, needlework and drawing to fill her leisure time Lucasta tried her best to blot out the memories of the past few weeks. Yet however hard she tried, there was always Adam’s shadow at her side, so real that sometimes she spoke out loud to him, or turned, expecting to find him beside her, and aware of an aching disappointment when she realized he was not there.