“You are a lawyer, sir?” asked Underwood in surprise. He could not imagine this mild little fellow having the incisive wit to cross-examine, to question, and to wrench the truth from reluctant lips in a court of law.
Wyndham-Rogers laughed pleasantly, “Good Lord, no! I do not follow any profession. I am a man of independent means, as the expression goes. Hanbury Manor will be my third inheritance in as many years. Our family has been singularly unfortunate in losing its members in early life.”
Underwood’s interest was instantly reawakened. Perhaps there was more to this man than was evident in his outward appearance. For three previous relatives to die, conveniently allowing him to inherit was surely more than mere coincidence?
“Unfortunate indeed! Were the other two deaths due to illness or accidents?”
Dr. Herbert grinned wickedly, “My dear Underwood, what a leading question. You surely do not expect a man who makes a hobby of attending murder trials to answer you?”
Wyndham-Rogers smiled at the doctor, but the expression was neither warm nor friendly, “I would not exactly call it a hobby, doctor, but I do occasionally attend sessions, if the subject of the case interests me. Gedney, I must own, I found utterly fascinating. His bravado at the end was rather surprising. He had given the impression throughout of being a rapscallion of the worst sort – and what was even more unsavoury, a coward! If he could have laid the entire blame on his wife, he would most certainly have done so, but Underwood’s evidence took care that he could not. When he faced the Judge, the black cloth on his head, Gedney merely cursed him, refusing to show any sign of remorse, and swearing to die like a man. I might add that he did not do so, at the end. His struggling and weeping on the scaffold was unworthy, but the intention was there.”
Underwood was stunned and appalled, “You attended the hanging?”
“I did – and I fully intend to view the gibbet when Gedney’s remains are placed in it. He is, of course, to be dissected by the surgeons first.”
Francis glanced worriedly at his friend, for he knew these morbid details could have nothing but a detrimental effect upon Underwood – the man who had been instrumental in sending Gedney to the gallows – but he could see no way of cutting short the conversation without making Underwood’s distress and horror obvious to all who heard.
“Mrs. Gedney was transported for her part in the affair, was she not?” he asked, hoping that Underwood might draw some comfort from the memory that only one life was lost on that occasion.
“She was, but that seemed to give her small comfort. Her impassioned pleas for mercy and her begging not to be parted from her child were quite heart-rending. One had to force oneself to recall that she had aided her husband in poisoning her own mother.”
“Oh God!” gasped Underwood, his face as white as parchment.
Lady Cara, covertly observing him from across the room, witnessed his distress and resolved to rescue him, no matter what the cost to her reputation or her pride. She had taken no part in the discussion and indeed had heard nothing of it but Underwood’s anguished cry, but that was enough to convince her that he needed help – and swiftly.
Before he knew what was happening, Underwood found himself being drawn away by her pale hand upon his sleeve, “Gentlemen, pray forgive the intrusion, but I simply must hear the latest gossip from Mr. Underwood. Having a cleric in the family provides access to all the most scandalous titbits. Come Mr. Underwood, you shall regale me before dinner – for I refuse to share any juicy tales with anyone else.”
Underwood was only too willing to allow himself to be led to a window embrasure which contained a spindly-legged settee, anything to escape from the horrors recounted by Wyndham-Rogers.
“I hope you can forgive me for that, Mr. Underwood?”
He took a deep breath and regained control of himself with some difficulty,
“Forgive you? My dear girl, I am forever in your debt! I think if I had had to listen to one more word from that ghoulish little man, I swear I should have disgraced myself by striking him.” He managed a smile, but it was tremulous and she realized he was far more deeply affected than he was pretending.
“I am, of course, incorrigibly curious, but I cannot imagine what Mr. Wyndham-Rogers found to say which could cause you such annoyance.”
“Not annoyance, horror and disgust! What the devil drives a man to want to attend a public hanging? I can think of nothing more barbaric, more… No, I refuse to dwell any further on the subject. Pray divert me, Cara, if you have an ounce of compassion.”
She noticed his use of her name and her heart gave a happy little skip. In these circumstances, she was only too happy to oblige, “Avenging Rogers is taking up all your time, Mr. Underwood. I have not seen you in the Pump-rooms for days and days. You have been missing a great deal of amusement. Major Thornycroft is behaving with more than his usual insanity, and poor Adeline is at her wit’s end!”
“What is he doing now?”
“His new saddle is finished. It is a strange looking contraption, but it seems to work. A basket seat has been specially woven and fixed to a saddle. His thighs fit into leather strapping to hold him upright. He must be in agony, but he is determined to use it. Once the others have lifted him up and strapped him in, he has to guide the horse using the reins only, for he has not the strength yet to use the grip of his legs. I think Adeline is beginning to regret the whole enterprise. She told me that the stumps of his legs were blistered and bleeding after the first session, but he refuses to give up. She is really terrified what will happen if the horse stumbles, because he cannot easily get himself out of the saddle. I suppose it is similar to a side-saddle for a woman. I know from experience how a fall from one of those feels. The bruises defied belief!”
Underwood smiled, “Poor Adeline. I would perhaps be better for her if she did not adore Thornycroft quite so much. He has been attempting to send himself to perdition since the day his legs were severed.”
“You would imagine that the possession of a lovely young wife and a daughter would give him a reason to live,” suggested Cara tentatively, wanting desperately to know his opinion of the prospect of a wife and child.
“Family responsibility has gone some way towards calming him, but I don’t think he will ever entirely accept that he is not the man he once was – and of course, the child is not his own flesh and blood, nor Adeline’s. She is an … orphan.” He hesitated over the last word, for Melissa was the child of the murderous Gedneys. Cara had tried her best to divert him, but all unknowing had raised the spectre of guilt in his breast yet again.
“I had no idea,” she continued, unaware that she had struck an unpleasant chord, “But then I know so little about anyone here. You all seem very intimate with each other.”
“I suppose we are, but it is a small place when compared with London, or even Manchester. And though there are entertainments here, they tend to be sporadic and we are forced into each other’s company rather more than would be the case elsewhere.”
“I find it very curious that should enjoy life here, Mr. Underwood. I should have thought you would find it stultifying, to say the least.”
He raised a quizzical brow, “Stultifying? Harsh words my Lady! Are we to assume that it will not be very long before you are forsaking us for the rather more edifying atmosphere of our capital city?”
She blushed slightly, sensing the edge of sarcasm behind his jocular words “Not at all. Hanbury has hidden charms for me. I think I shall remain a little longer – though I must own, my parents are growing increasingly unhappy with the situation. They feel I should be in London trying to find a husband, not in the wilds of Derbyshire with only a maidservant for company.”
“They are probably right!”
She fluttered her eyelashes at him and gave him a flash of her devastating blue eyes, “How very ungallant you are, sir! Do you want me to go away?”
Even the insensitive Underwood realized that it would be quite unacceptable to voice his fi
rst thought; that it was of continuing disinterest to him what she did or where she went! Carefully he rephrased the comment, “I was merely suggesting that one ought to heed the advice of one’s parents. It must be assumed that they have your best interests at heart.”
“No, they do not! They merely want a troublesome child taken off their hands.”
“Are you troublesome?”
She smiled flirtatiously, “I have been called many things, Mr. Underwood, but troublesome was not prominent amongst them. Many men have told me that I am anything but. High-spirited, vivacious, beautiful – all these things and many more, but never, ever troublesome!”
“I imagine any young woman who listens to such nonsense from men is infinitely troublesome to her parents. They have all my sympathy.”
She tapped his arm playfully with her folded fan, “You are an odious creature! I cannot believe you think so badly of me. I ought to punish you by walking away and leaving you severely alone for the rest of the evening.”
“You need not bother putting yourself to the trouble – I see the butler is about to announce dinner.”
Underwood had overlooked the fact that since he had been the one to request a meeting with Wyndham-Rogers, he would be placed at the man’s right hand. Desperately he searched for a topic of conversation which would draw attention away from his involvement with the execution of Adolphus Gedney, and happily he hit upon the subject of property, and his own recent purchase, whereupon his companion began talking and he found very little need for intervention.
“When do you come into possession of Hanbury Manor, sir? I am a little vague on the laws which govern these things.”
Wyndham-Rogers served himself from a proffered platter, “An interesting question, Mr. Underwood. I suppose, in theory at least, I own the house from the moment of my unfortunate cousin’s demise, but there are some small niceties to be observed, and then I feel that delicacy dictates that I do not hurry Mrs. Rogers into leaving her home. There are many things which need to be settled, not least her plans for the future, but I like to think I am neither impatient, nor entirely without principles.”
“I trust not. Mrs. Rogers has been through a particularly harrowing time of late – even before the deaths of her husband and son. I fear Godfrey was not a son who made his mother proud.”
His companion gave a wry smile, which had not the least warmth in it, “You are outspoken, sir. Most people would be reluctant to ‘speak ill of the dead’, but I see you have no such scruples.”
Underwood returned the smile, with equal measures of chilly civility and sarcasm, “I have always thought it curious that death should endow even one’s worst enemy with previously unrecognized virtues. Rogers was a dreadful boy, and had he not died in his youth, he would undoubtedly have developed into an equally dreadful man. I refuse to let the tragedy of his murder alter my opinion.”
“I fear you are right, sir, though I admit I try not to voice such opinions in his mother’s hearing.”
Underwood was mildly irritated that the pompous little man should attempt to teach him manners, but he let it pass, “You display a very proper discretion. Now, tell me about your other properties. I find your good fortune fascinating. I own I belong to a family who are notoriously long-lived, but who also have barely two farthings to rub together. I inherited a goodly sum from my father, but I strongly doubt I have any other expectations.”
“You are right to be fascinated, Mr. Underwood, for the route to my riches has been tortuous to say the least. My cousin Godfrey’s property was a simple case of being the next heir, but the two previous bequests were arrived at via relationships which were removed two and three times. Allow me to explain …”
And explain he did – for two interminable hours. The only comfort Underwood could draw from the wasted evening was that once set in motion, Wyndham-Rogers needed no further input. Occasionally, across the table, he caught the eye of Lady Cara, who smiled a warm, secret smile at him, fully sympathising with his situation.
When the ladies withdrew, leaving the gentlemen to smoke over their port and brandy, Underwood made good his escape and went to consult doctors Russell and Herbert, whilst foisting Wyndham-Rogers on Gratten – he felt they richly deserved each other.
Francis had garnered much information over the meal, and wished to discuss his findings with his friend, “I have satisfied myself that Mrs. Rogers is quite content that I perform a post mortem tomorrow morning, but I feel we should not attempt to remove the body to another venue. Too much time has been lost already, though I understand the game larder where Rogers lies is extremely cold – especially at this time of the year.”
“I would say so, though naturally I know very little of such things – and I would add, have no desire to expand my knowledge.”
“Very well. Now tell me about Gil. I hear he has married a young woman who is most seriously ill.”
“Not merely ill, my friend, but dying. That was the reason for the hasty nuptials – otherwise you would most certainly have been invited to attend.”
Francis waved a hand, as though to dismiss so trivial a thought, “My dear fellow, you must not imagine Ellen and I were offended. We knew there must be a good reason for the haste. Poor Gil must be frantic with worry. Naturally I shall offer him my services. Perhaps I can find some hope where others have failed?”
“I sincerely hope you may, for it is not only Gil who will be devastated. She also has a young son.”
“Yes, Dr. Russell mentioned him. I understand he too has not enjoyed the best of health.”
“Consumption, I understand.”
“But that is not what ails the mother?”
“I think not. She has some trouble with her throat. The first diagnosis suggested a quinsy, but draining it failed.”
Dr. Herbert looked thoughtful, “I shall certainly call upon them when my work here is finished – but for now I think I will return to my lodgings. I have been travelling for almost two days – and posting houses and wayside inns are not my favourite resting places. I am longing for the crisp white sheets which I noticed upon my bed in Hanbury.”
“I do regret the necessity of imposing lodgings on you, dear fellow, but Dr. Russell occupies the guest room in Windward House – and of course, Gil is in no fit state to be thinking of entertaining visitors at the vicarage.”
“Think no more about it. I can assure you, Mrs. Todd had all the makings of being the perfect hostess – with the added attraction of standing totally in awe of the medical profession. I shall be treated like a king – though I shall have to consult for my supper.”
Soon after his announcement of departure the party broke up. Lady Cara was to stay the night with Mrs. Rogers, as was Wyndham-Rogers – it was, after all, his own house. The Grattens had their own carriage, but Dr. Herbert’s hired conveyance was to be used to take him back to town, after having first dropped Underwood and Dr. Russell at the end of the lane leading to Windward House.
On the walk up the rutted and now frost-rimed lane, the hedges on either side of them glittering coldly in the moonlight, Dr. Russell took a rare opportunity to speak alone with his erstwhile pupil, “You would tell me, dear boy, if I was in the way? I feel I should not still be with you at such a delicate time, but this business with Rogers has distressed me more than I ever imagined it could. I’m loath to leave Mrs. Rogers at such a time, and your house is the nearest I can be for her convenience.”
Underwood, who had been planning a speech of the sort which politely told his visitor it was time he left, immediately denied any such notion, “In the way? Theodore, what a thought! You are more than welcome to stay for as long as you wish. I know Verity has grown fond of you, and I am certainly enjoying your company. I’m only sorry your visit has been marred by this tragedy.”
“Well, that could not be helped, but I did need to know that you understand my desire to stay in the vicinity, and that you do not object to my presence.”
“Pray think no more about it, o
ld friend. You shall stay for as long as you need.”
“Thank you, my boy.”
The house was quiet when they entered, only Toby waited for them. Ever patient and loyal, he could not rest until he knew all the family were safely gathered in for the night.
Slowly all the candles were extinguished, and the silent watcher outside in the moonlight felt that he too could leave the household in peace – for that night, at least.
*
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
(“Memento, Homo, Quia Pulvis Es Et In Pulverem Revertis” – Remember, man, that thou art dust, and to dust shalt thou return)
Since Verity had had a good night’s sleep and showed no sign of starting labour, Underwood felt he could safely leave her once again in the charge of Toby, whilst he met with Dr. Herbert to hear the results of the dissection of Godfrey Rogers’ earthly remains.
Mrs. Rogers had made her smallest drawing room available to them for their discussion, but she herself was absent. She had gone to see her dressmaker with Lady Cara, who felt she ought to be distracted from the grim occasion. After all, her half-mourning of greys and lilacs now needed to be returned to deepest black – probably never to recover.
Mr. Gratten arrived in the best of good spirits, convinced that this final act was to be the end of the affair. He had behaved very properly in allowing the doctor to make his examination, though it had hardly seemed necessary, and the result was academic – he had his murderer, and the case was now closed. He rubbed his hands together gleefully as he greeted Underwood, “I don’t suppose Mrs. Rogers left word we were to be offered refreshments? The weather has turned suddenly and I’m chilled to the bone. I don’t mind admitting a small brandy would be most welcome just now.”
“If you ring the bell, I’m sure the staff will oblige you, sir,” Underwood looked and sounded cold. There was a curious sensation of depression hanging over him, and nothing he could do would shift it. He supposed it was due to the knowledge that Dr. Herbert was about to confirm young Patrick Carter’s guilt.
Behind The Horseman (The Underwood Mysteries Book 3) Page 13