Summerton (Lady Eleanor Mysteries Book 1)

by Becca St. John

  “She never told me what happened there,” he gritted. “Swore me to secrecy, but she was never the same. Never.” He wiped his eyes, shoulders shuddered, tangible ripples of agony.

  Yet he continued. “My Ellie never took to the child. Perhaps he’d have been different if she had, but she didn’t. She gave him to a wet nurse, who kept him on the teat well past time.”

  “Mr. Little,” Sir Michael softly reminded him of the mixed company.

  “My apologies to the ladies, but it’s the God’s honest truth. Worse, Robert Howlett was beside himself. He had a son. Crowed about how his son and Caroline would marry. Keep it all in the family now, right?”

  “I would never marry Roger,” Caroline said with vehemence.

  “No, that became clear. So he had to find another way to make Roger heir to the Howlett fortunes.”

  Summerton rose. Caroline had been expecting as much. He’d be itching to do something, to feel that he could turn to right something that had gone so horribly wrong.

  “Ring for tea, would you, Summerton?” Caroline asked, offering him direction, even as she mulled over Little’s words. “The wet nurse? Would that be Hilda?”

  “Very good!” Eleanor beamed.

  “Is that true?” Sir Michael asked.

  But Little had turned back, stunned. “You know about Hilda?”

  “She’s here, in the area,” Eleanor said. “Obviously helping Roger, but I didn’t know why until now.”

  “Well, if she’s here, that explains everything,” Mr. Little said.

  “Yes, I dare say it does.” Eleanor lifted her needlepoint, as if everyone understood now.

  “Aunt?” Summerton asked, from his spot in the shadows, leaning against his desk.

  “Well, you see, that is why Robert Howlett was so keen to have Caroline marry you, rather than another aristocrat. If his son was a regular visitor to the area, Robert Howlett must have been one, too.” She put down her sewing. “What a boon it would have been to learn you were looking for an heiress to take residence in a community where he and Roger had the freedom to come and go without anyone taking note. They’d be as good as local.”

  Summerton opened the door to Hitches and a maid. “But how did he know I needed an heiress? I’d barely learned of the situation myself.”

  Mr. Little shook his head. “My fault entirely,” he said. “Your man of affairs made a quiet mention to me. It was well known that Caroline offered a sizeable dowry, and I was on the search, anything rather than have her under Robert’s guardianship.”

  “Why was that?” Lady Eleanor asked. “Surely John Howlett would never have allowed such a thing.”

  Mr. Little accepted a glass of port. “Yes, well, to that—” he fortified himself with a sip, “—a will was found, forged no doubt, but I’ve been unable to break it. While it’s in debate, he is considered her closest family and until her marriage, he was her legal guardian.” He offered Caroline a sympathetic smile. “I’ve been fighting it, my dear, but to no avail. That’s why I was so eager to see you married off.”

  “And Robert would be eager, too,” Eleanor offered.

  Summerton signaled Hitches, who had arrived with the tea, to stay in the room a moment. “Your grace?”

  “Had you ever seen Mr. Howlett about the town?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t go into town much, your grace,” Hitches answered. “But Mr. Howlett did seem rather familiar to me when he arrived. There is a similar fellow, a Mr. Telly. Rather a loud gentleman. Story teller. Said he came to town to get gentleman tonics and such from Hilda.”

  “Gentleman tonics?” Caroline asked.

  “Nothing for you to worry about, my dear,” Summerton told her.

  Eleanor’s wink confirmed they would speak later. She slipped the phrase away for clarification after the men were gone.

  “A familiar face?” Sir Michael asked. “Someone you wouldn’t consider a stranger?”

  “No, I wouldn’t consider him a stranger.”

  “So why call in the newspapers?” Caroline asked, as soon as Hitches and the maid left. “If they didn’t stand out in town anyway?”

  “To create chaos,” Summerton offered. “A bigger crowd. They knew there would be a death, so they needed to make the waters as murky as possible.”

  “So Uncle Robert encouraged Roger to murder…”

  “No, no, no,” Eleanor tsked. “Roger tried to hurt you, my dear, but not the others.”

  “They were killed by strangulation!”

  “Your uncle.”

  Sir Michael sat up, blustering. “But he was in Manchester.”

  “Was he?”

  “I saw him on his way…” Sir Michael sat back. “Ah, I see. He knew I was on my way and deliberately met me.”

  “It was a risk, his coming here, but things were getting out of hand.” Eleanor took her tea from Caroline.

  “You were right,” Caroline remembered. “Robert rarely lost his temper. He could be cruel, but he always seemed jovial. But from the moment he arrived, he was very angry.”

  “You didn’t do what you were supposed to do,” Summerton told her.

  “Which was?”

  “Run away or go on the bridal journey, where you would be more vulnerable. You thwarted him at every turn,” Eleanor explained. “He wanted to be rid of you in a place where no one could accuse him of anything. But you were not so easily removed.”

  “But if I were married, it would all go to Summerton.”

  “I think your uncle counted on your displeasure to offer a grace period.”

  “What about the attempt on Summerton?” Caroline asked.

  “Ah, well, you two were growing closer. Thankfully, between your quick thinking and Jeremy’s presence, Howlett only had the one thwarted opportunity. He had to get away or risk capture.”

  “Couldn’t Jeremy identify him?”

  “Oh, my dear, your uncle would not have left himself open to be seen. He might have worn a scarf, a hat, any number of items to hide his identity.”

  “How do you know this?” Caroline asked.

  “Observation and logic,” Eleanor admitted. “And we don’t know all of this as fact. It is pure speculation until we speak with Jeremy and Biggs again.”

  “Two people dead, a whole community terrorized, because he wanted me out of the way.” It didn’t seem fair. So many hurt, frightened.

  Caroline looked at her husband, only to find him already studying her.

  “It appears your father’s enterprise will need you,” he said.

  Too true, but with Robert out of the way, they had a chance.

  “Mr. Little, how bad are things at the mills?”

  “Ah—” Mr. Little brushed his hands, as though shaking off the earlier conversation, “—your uncle turned everything upside down. It’s not the business your father ran. His ideas burdened the workers without earning more. In fact, production has dropped. There have been more accidents.”

  “I’d heard as much.”

  “Did he reimburse families? Find new work for injured…”

  Little shook his head, stopping Caroline from asking more. “No, he stopped all those policies the moment he got you out of there. But I’ve kept track of who was injured, how, and why. With your permission, I can follow up.”

  “Absolutely.” She leaned forward. “And Jeremy, he can oversee the actual running of the mills.”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  Eleanor looked up. “But I thought you said Jeremy had been released because he stole money.”

  Little cleared his throat. “He left at the same time as Howlett and Roger. I had men investigating, but we didn’t know if Jeremy had joined forces with Roger or not. They may have offered him a lucrative arrangement.”

  “Howlett had you chasing him?” Summerton asked.

  “Howlett liked his shell game, baiting and switching, so you never knew where you’d be hit,” Little admitted.

  “If the man was so evil, why didn’t he
just carry out his threats about Caroline’s animals?”

  With a very unladylike snort, Eleanor said, “I rather think he liked the idea of you suffering with them.”

  Little nodded, chuckling. “That was his favorite part of the negotiations. Cheered him immensely, especially the parrot.”

  Summerton rolled his eyes, as Little turned serious.

  “The installments, for the dowry—” he cleared his throat, “—I’m afraid that was my fault. I told Howlett that it was in the paperwork.”

  “What?” the other four all asked.

  “But I added that to the dowry arrangement to ensure you left the country, went away, beyond his reach.”

  “And he let you do that?”

  “He liked the idea of you not receiving the full jointure. I believe he never thought it would reach the point of you getting more.”

  “And now?” Summerton asked.

  “I think you’ve proven yourself. I’ll sit down with your man of affairs and release the whole of it.”

  The money. It was always about the money.

  “Well,” Caroline stood, a bit disheartened. “I guess that’s all there is.” She smoothed her skirts.

  “Caroline?” Summerton’s voice slid over her like rich velvet, “You truly believe that’s it?”

  “There aren’t any more questions, are there?”

  “You tell me.” Summerton caught her arm and pulled her back to the settee.

  “Really, Summerton, this is not the place.” Eleanor objected.

  “Then why don’t you all leave? It’s time my bride and I had some time alone.”

  “Alone?” she asked, as everyone rose, busy straightening vests and skirts, looking anywhere but at the settee. Sir Michael murmuring about how he’d best have Old Hilda questioned.

  Summerton ignored them. His soft words for Caroline alone. “Yes, like a bridal journey without the travel.”

  “We aren’t going now?”

  “We’ll go,” Summerton promised. “We’ll go, once everything is set to rights.”

  The door clicked shut behind the last of the others.

  “But,” the words whispered along her neck, followed by a kiss, “I have another little journey planned, for just the two of us.”

  “Now?” She smiled, curious, willing.

  “Yes,” he stood held out his hand. “It means traversing the wilds of a hidden staircase…”

  “A frightening place.” She whispered against his neck, willing it to affect him, the way he had affected her.

  “Ah,” he said, “then you will have to stay close, very close. I will keep you safe.”

  And he did, through the whole adventure, and many to come. Adventures in the hall, adventures along their journeys. A duke and his duchess’ quest for life, until their explorations led to two sons and three daughters.

  Ah, the grand scheme—a wonderful thing they would never take for granted.

  THE END

  About Becca St. John

  An Accidental Writer ~

  Writing was a tool, not a toy, until a stay in a haunted hotel. Howling wind and creaking floors sent Becca to a bookcase full of dog-eared romances. Fascination swept away sleeplessness. Hooked, she read old romances, new romances, both sexy and sweet, until her own tales begged to be written.

  Living in Florida, Becca divides her time between dreaming up stories, diving deep into history, kayaking, and swimming. Her husband gives her the space she needs by fishing mangroves and waterways, or watching football (the English sort) with his British buddies. Becca and her hubby break the routine with adventure travel; though, at heart, Becca is a homebody believing there is no greater playground than inside the mind.

  Find Becca St. John online:

  www.BeccaStJohn.com

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  Other Titles by Becca St. John

  The Handfasting

  Seonaid

  An Independent Miss