The Crimson Cavaliers

by Mary Andrea Clarke

  Georgiana’s mind went round in circles, lighting on Sir Brandon Foster. Not yet satisfied of his innocence, she tried to think of a way of approaching him. Not only was there the difficulty of convincing her well-meaning jailers she was fit to leave the house, she needed a plausible excuse to speak to him.

  The thought of soliciting Louisa’s help entered her mind, to be rejected almost immediately. It did not sit well with her conscience, knowing Lakesby’s concern over his cousin’s friendship with Sir Brandon. The fact that Georgiana had spoken to Louisa about it herself would make it difficult to enlist the girl’s assistance in trying to obtain information from him.

  Before another idea could present itself, the young parlourmaid returned, closely followed by Edward. The girl was new to the household, and it had clearly not occurred to her that her mistress would refuse to see her brother after receiving Mr Lakesby.

  Very much shocked by his sister’s appearance, Edward bombarded her with questions. She was glad to have her excuse ready to hand, the lingering grogginess caused by her wound hampering her usual inventiveness. She trotted out the tale of influenza and injuring her arm in a fall from her horse with ready aplomb, standing up tolerably well to Edward’s interrogation. Knowing his sister was an excellent horsewoman, he was anxious for details.

  “You haven’t fallen off a horse since you were fourteen,” he said.

  “I know,” responded Georgiana. “I must have been starting the influenza.”

  Edward looked unconvinced. Georgiana decided to try diverting his mind into another channel.

  “Have you caught the Crimson Cavalier?”

  Edward shook his head. “What made you think of that now?”

  “I just wondered,” said Georgiana. “I thought you were expecting to lay hands on him quite soon.”

  “We were,” said Edward a note of gloom entering his voice. “He seems to have disappeared.”

  “Really?” said Georgiana. “Have your informers learned nothing?”

  “Not a sign of him anywhere. I don’t know if those fellows are even trying, or whether they just spend their time drinking. I suppose it’s possible he’s decided to keep out of sight. Well, he can’t stay hidden forever. In any case,” he continued loftily, “It’s hardly a fit matter for me to be discussing with you, particularly in your present condition. Where is Selina?”

  “Upstairs. And speaking of matters not fit for discussion with me, have you managed to talk to your friend?”

  Edward flushed. “Yes, as a matter of fact.”

  “And?”

  Edward looked acutely uncomfortable. “Georgiana, really.”

  “Spare me the Cheltenham tragedy, Edward.”

  “I thought you said my private life was not your concern.”

  “No more than mine is yours,” she agreed cheerfully.

  He sighed. “Oh, very well. Since you are already so well-informed on the subject, you may as well know. I have ended it. She wasn’t happy, but seemed resigned. I was rather relieved. I must own I expected more of an argument.”

  “Really?” said Georgiana dryly. “I trust you won’t be offended, Edward, but I have never considered you one of Society’s more accomplished flirts.”

  “It’s all very well for you to mock,” said Edward angrily, “but you don’t know the full story.”

  “Very true,” said Georgiana. “Do you think Amanda would understand if you were to explain?”

  “I imagine I would find Amanda a great deal more understanding than you have been,” retorted Edward, “especially once she knew Lady Wickerston was being beaten by her husband.”

  The silence hung between them. “What?” Georgiana said finally, her voice husky with disbelief.

  Edward sat down in the chair lately occupied by Lakesby, head in his hands.

  “Lord Wickerston has a violent temper.” Edward seemed to be weighing his words carefully. “He has on more than one occasion laid hands on his wife in anger.”

  Georgiana felt the colour drain from her face. Lakesby’s words about Lady Wickerston’s fear of her husband returned with disturbing clarity, along with the tale of injuring her hand on the teapot. As well as shock, Georgiana felt shame at blindness to the trouble of one of her own sex. Edward was right. Amanda would have been more sympathetic.

  “How – how did you come to learn of this?” Georgiana thought she could hear her voice shaking.

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Edward. “When I learned of it, I was angry. You know I am not given to calling men out, Georgiana, but I came perilously close. Theresa persuaded me not to.”

  Georgiana remained silent.

  “I felt sorry for her, of course. Any right thinking person would. She came to me for comfort. Gradually, it came to be more than that.”

  Georgiana offered no answer, consumed with guilt over her own behaviour. While concerned over the possibility of Amanda being hurt, she had mocked Edward over his affair with Lady Wickerston, never questioning what could have drawn her respectable brother into such a liaison.

  Georgiana thought about her visit to Lady Wickerston. She herself had been uneasy in Lord Wickerston’s presence. On top of her own problems, the whole situation served to depress her thoroughly.

  “I’m sorry, Edward.”

  Edward looked at her in some surprise.

  “Well, it couldn’t have gone on forever. I’ve been thinking so for some time. There was an opportunity to end it, so it was the right moment to do so. Besides, if Amanda had found out...” He shook his head. “I don’t think I could have borne that. I’m sure there would have been no recriminations, but to have her grow distant, as I know she must have...”

  Yes,” said Georgiana quietly. She looked at him with a frown of puzzlement. “What do you mean, an opportunity to end it?”

  Edward froze. “I beg your pardon?” he said, the dryness of his mouth apparent in his rasp.

  Georgiana closed her eyes, forcing herself to be patient.

  “What was this opportunity to end your affair with Lady Wickerston?” Georgiana grew impatient of her brother’s hesitation. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Edward, I assume it was something out of the ordinary for you to mention it specifically.”

  Edward seemed to be struggling with his thoughts for a moment or two, then let go a heavy sigh.

  “Theresa has been talking wildly, saying she can’t bear to be with her husband any more. She – she has spoken of killing him.” Edward stopped and closed his eyes, moistening his lips as he did so. “I didn’t take her seriously; I thought she was just upset. But when my pistols disappeared...”

  Georgiana’s eyes widened. “She took them?”

  Edward dropped his head in his hands. “I think she may have done. I don’t think it would have occurred to me if it hadn’t been for her uncle’s death.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Georgiana. “When could she have taken them? She could hardly smuggle them out of your house following afternoon tea.”

  “They were in the chaise, under the seat. I kept them there for protection.” He smiled ruefully. “I’m afraid Amanda’s good nature may be partly to blame. She suggested we take Theresa home from Almack’s one night, after Wickerston had gone off with some of his cronies. Perhaps Theresa picked them up when I took Amanda to the door.”

  “Perhaps? Edward, haven’t you asked her?”

  Edward looked horror stricken. “Georgiana, how could I make such an accusation? Imagine how she would feel.”

  Georgiana rolled her eyes. “Do you think she killed her uncle?”

  “I don’t know. It’s possible. I believe he virtually pushed her into her marriage. She may have got upset, or it may have been an accident. I really don’t know.”

  Georgiana regarded him steadily. “So you said you were with her on the night of the murder. Oh, go home, Edward, it seems to me your brain is in a muddle.”

  To Georgiana’s surprise, Edward stood, accepting his dismissal meekly. “Very well. I shall pay my re
spects to Selina and be on my way. I was going to ask if you would have tea with Amanda one day.” He paused awkwardly. “I’ve been rather busy lately. I think she’s feeling rather lonely with only the children for company. However, with your present state of health, perhaps it would be better for her to come and see you?”

  “Yes, of course,” said Georgiana. A thought suddenly struck her. “She won’t bring Lord Bartholomew, will she?”

  “I don’t expect so. He is still staying with us, but has not spent much time at the house lately,” replied Edward stiffly. “He seems to have made some friends among the Macaroni set.”

  “I see,” said Georgiana. This struck her as odd, but Lord Bartholomew’s behaviour always struck her as odd one way or another. She wasn’t sufficiently interested to dwell on the matter.

  Edward bent down and kissed his sister on the forehead.

  “Goodbye, Georgiana,” he said. “Take care. I will call to see you again.”

  Georgiana gave her brother a weary smile and wished him goodbye. After he had gone, she leaned back against the cushions thoughtfully provided by Emily. Fighting the inclination to doze, she tried to focus her mind. She found it difficult to concentrate. Edward’s information about the state of Lord and Lady Wickerston’s marriage had seriously disturbed her.

  The door opened and Emily looked around cautiously. She entered when she saw Georgiana was alone, and went to draw the curtains.

  “How are you feeling, miss?” Emily asked.

  “Fine,” replied Georgiana. “Very much improved.”

  Emily eyed her suspiciously.

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, indeed,” said Georgiana brightly. “I am glad I decided to leave my room today, one starts to feel too sedentary lying in bed.”

  “Of course,” said Emily. “Will you be having your dinner with Miss Knatchbull, miss? Cook wasn’t sure if you’d feel up to it and suggested a tray in your room.”

  “In my room, I think,” said Georgiana.

  “Yes, miss,” said Emily, suppressing a smile. “I’m sure Miss Knatchbull will understand.”

  Selina, when the decision was put to her, was all concern and affability, her solicitude prompting her to offer to plump dear Georgiana’s pillows and read to her if she desired. Dear Georgiana did not desire but thanked her cousin solemnly, assuring her she had no wish to burden her with this programme. She recommended Selina get some rest herself.

  Safe in the haven of her own room, Georgiana at last felt able to relax, more tired than she had realised. She agreed readily enough to Emily’s suggestion that she undress before her supper was brought. Georgiana decided the best thing she could do would be to retire early, in the hope that the following day would see her with energy renewed to pursue her investigation.

  It was as Georgiana was tying the belt of her dressing gown that Emily’s voice drew her attention from her own thoughts. She looked up to see her maid holding the ring which had been stolen from Sir Robert Foster.

  “Good grief, Emily, where did you find that?”

  “In your drawer, miss. Were you meaning to keep it?”

  Georgiana recalled how she had said she was tempted by it. On finally removing it from her hand after the teapot incident, she wanted rid of the thing. In her hurry to bandage her hand and return to her uninvited guests, she had tossed it in the corner of a drawer, where it had lain forgotten until this moment.

  “No,” Georgiana responded with a shudder. “I’d forgotten I’d put it there.”

  Emily looked uneasy as Georgiana came to take it from her. “What do you mean to do, miss? Take it to the Lucky Bell on its own?”

  Georgiana shook her head. “No, it’s not worth the risk of riding down there with one item, especially now. I’ll give it to Sir Brandon, tell him his father lost it the night he stopped here.” She frowned as she held it, studying the gold of the setting around the stone. “Emily, am I imagining things, or does this look dull?”

  Emily looked unsure. Georgiana peered more closely, scratching the edge slightly with her thumbnail. Flecks of gold paint came away to reveal a grey band underneath. Emily gasped.

  “Well, well,” said Georgiana. “It’s paste.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Emily. “Why would Sir Robert wear a piece of fake jewellery? His pockets weren’t to let, were they?”

  “No, but those of his son were. Perhaps Sir Robert didn’t know. Fetch me some notepaper before my supper, would you? I mean to ask Sir Brandon to call upon me tomorrow.”

  A rather puzzled Sir Brandon Foster waited upon Georgiana shortly after eleven o’clock the following morning, Miss Knatchbull having been conveniently despatched to procure some barley. The discovery of there being none in the house led Georgiana to declare, through gritted teeth, that barley water was just what she needed to make her feel more the thing.

  “Sir Brandon, thank you so much for calling on me,” said Georgiana with her most charming smile. “I do hope I haven’t inconvenienced you?”

  “No,” he responded. “Your note said you had some personal business you needed to discuss?”

  “Yes,” said Georgiana. She held out the ring on the palm of her good hand, noting the pallor of Sir Brandon’s face as he sank into an armchair. “I believe this is your father’s,” she continued smoothly as if she noticed nothing amiss.

  “Where did you get that?” Sir Brandon asked, his voice hoarse.

  “One of my servants found it while dusting. Your father must have lost it the night he came here. I’m sorry for the delay in returning it to you.”

  “It was my mother’s.”

  “Oh.” Georgiana was unprepared for that. She looked at the ring again. The single stone could be worn by either a man or a woman. Georgiana had been attracted by its simplicity. She recalled it had been a loose fit when she had tried it. Sir Robert had worn it on his little finger, but now that she thought about it, the late Lady Foster had been on the plump side.

  “I – I didn’t know my father had it. I thought it had been lost.”

  “Really?” said Georgiana. “Since your mother’s death?”

  Sir Brandon looked ill at ease. “What? Well, I don’t know, just that it wasn’t among her things.”

  “Oh? It’s unusual for a gentleman to be so familiar with his mother’s jewellery.”

  “She wore that ring often. It belonged to her mother.”

  “I see. Then of course it would be important to her. You never noticed your father wearing it?”

  Sir Brandon shook his head. “No.”

  “Well, perhaps he only wore it occasionally,” Georgiana said, turning the ring around in her fingers as she studied it.

  “Yes. Thank you for returning it.”

  Sir Brandon rose, reaching out his hand as he moved towards Georgiana to take the ring. She made no attempt to give it to him but continued to study it, a slight crease appearing across her forehead.

  “Sir Brandon, I’ve just noticed, the ring seems to be damaged.” Georgiana held it out for inspection. “Look there, the gold is flaking away; there seems to be some other metal beneath it.”

  The muscles around Sir Brandon’s mouth grew noticeably taut.

  “I expect it’s a trick of the light.”

  “No, I don’t think so,” said Georgiana, examining the item more closely. She looked up at him with eyes wide with innocent surprise. “Sir Brandon, this appears to be a cheap bauble. It can’t be your mother’s ring.”

  “No, it’s just old. You forget it’s been handed down.”

  Georgiana shook her head. “No, Sir Brandon, this is clearly paste. The original must have been stolen and replaced. How shocking! You should notify the authorities. My brother is a magistrate. Perhaps he can help.”

  “No!”

  Georgiana raised an eyebrow.

  Sir Brandon drew a breath. “It was my mother’s idea at first,” he said, looking up to face Georgiana. “I was in Dun territory. My father refused to pay my debts. I was desperat
e, so my mother gave me a piece of jewellery to sell. She thought if it was copied, my father would never know. It worked; he didn’t find out. She gave me a few more baubles after that.”

  “A practice you continued after her death?” observed Georgiana.

  “My mother wouldn’t have minded. I didn’t touch anything of my father’s, so I didn’t think he’d notice. I didn’t know he had this ring. It was one of the first pieces my mother gave me.”

  “I see.”

  “It hardly matters now,” said Sir Brandon.

  “Now your father’s dead.”

  “I didn’t kill him.”

  Georgiana made no comment.

  “I didn’t,” insisted Sir Brandon, his voice taking on a petulant quality. “In fact,” he continued, “I can prove it. I was with friends – well, acquaintances – at a card game. They will remember I was there.”

  “Did you see your father on the day he died?”

  “No.”

  “So you wouldn’t know what he was doing on the Bath Road that night?”

  Sir Brandon shrugged. “He was robbed on the previous night, wasn’t he? Maybe he thought he could get his trinkets back. Perhaps he offered a reward.”

  “Perhaps,” said Georgiana. “Though would someone with such strong views on highwaymen negotiate for the return of his property?”

  Sir Brandon shrugged again and said in a surly tone that he had to go, thanking Georgiana for the return of the ring as though the words were forced from him.

  Georgiana lay back against the cushions of her couch as Sir Brandon departed. She could not rid herself of the feeling she was missing something. Her face wore a thoughtful frown as she rang for Emily.

  “What is it?” Emily looked at her mistress in some concern.

  “I don’t know,” said Georgiana frankly. “Something doesn’t fit and I can’t think what it is.”

  “Did Sir Brandon have anything useful to tell you?”

  “I’m not sure,” said Georgiana. “It seems the ring was his mother’s, although Sir Robert was wearing it. Sir Brandon’s been selling her jewellery and replacing them with paste to pay his debts. He said it was his mother’s idea.”