The Late Heiress: The Amberley Chronicles

by May Burnett

  His father would be able to tell quickly enough, but Thomas only had his instincts to guide him. Were they misleading him? Was he biased through the strong attraction he had felt towards this woman from the moment of their meeting?

  And who had Mr. Smith been? A man who married this glorious creature had everything to live for. Why was she widowed at such a young age? It happened, of course … but maybe Smith had never existed. He hoped this theory was true, though it would make her a liar. He did not like to think of any Smith putting his hands on her warm white skin or kissing that lovely mouth. Not Smith, nor any other man than he, Thomas Seymour.

  He shook his head at himself as he took the reins. If one of them was mad, it was not the lady.

  Chapter 7

  Nell sat next to Mr. Thomas in the curricle, watching with approval how effortlessly he handled the frisky pair of bays.

  On the outskirts of Chatterham they passed Mrs. Pelham, sedately walking with Mrs. Remington and Miss Monkton. All three waved at them. After a moment’s hesitation Nell waved back, but murmured, “Don’t stop!”

  The horses increased their pace, leaving the ladies behind. “That will give rise to furious gossip when it is found we do not return, and have taken most of our luggage,” Nell remarked.

  “Let them talk. What is more natural than a young man running off with a beautiful woman? As I suspect neither of us used our real names, it should not do us permanent harm.”

  Nell frowned. “Do you mean to say your name is not Thomas?” Had her decision to trust him been a dangerous mistake?

  “Yes and no; Thomas is my first name. My last name is Seymour, at your service, Ma’am.”

  Nell stifled an unladylike urge to giggle. “And you suspect that I am not truly Mrs. Smith? What makes you think so?”

  “Your speech is that of a lady of quality, while Smith is such a very common name. I suggest that next time you choose an alias you pick something more aristocratic. What I really want to know is whether you are truly a widow. Is there a Mr. Smith in your past or present?”

  “No,” she admitted, deciding on frankness as far as practicable. “I chose the disguise of a widow because of these convenient veils. Besides, a widow is allowed a great deal more freedom of movement than a single woman.” They briskly passed a stand of ash trees. “The truth is very pedestrian and dull. After leaving Colville Hall, as I said earlier, I was sent to a boarding school. I remained there as a teacher after I reached the age when other girls went home to their families. For me there was no family to return to.”

  “A teacher?” He sounded as surprised as if she had admitted to being an actress or rope dancer.

  “Yes, and worse – in thoroughly unromantic Liverpool. You could verify that easily enough. If we drove to the Merleton Academy for Girls, every single member of the staff would tell you that my name is Helen Milding, and that I have spent several years there, as student and junior teacher. I took a leave of absence a week ago, to investigate what had happened to Marian, but can go back and resume my position at any time.”

  “It seems a crime to immure such loveliness in a girls’ school.”

  “Merci du compliment, Mr. Seymour, but it is not an uncommon case. Teachers who live in a girls’ boarding school do not meet eligible men. The Headmistress strictly discouraged unnecessary contact with outsiders.”

  “But surely you did not plan to spend your entire life there? It seems such a waste.” He sounded upset at the idea. Remembering how often she had felt the same, correcting mathematics homework or French composition books, Nell had to smile.

  “I was already planning to give notice in the course of this year. It is time I saw more of the world.”

  “Good. But let’s return to more immediate concerns – why would you have to avoid Mr. Denning, or Robles, if you are a harmless schoolteacher?”

  “When the new Lord Colville dismissed all retainers familiar to Lady Marian, Robles came with the new Earl, and saw me there with my aunt.” It sounded weak. Would he put his finger on the spot where truth met fiction?

  “Years have passed since then. That solicitor would hardly remember you from that one meeting.”

  “There is more.” Would he believe her? “Shortly afterwards I received a strange letter from Marian, on parchment. She wrote that she feared for her life, and was going to hide from her uncle until her majority. It did not give any details where she planned to go, unfortunately.”

  He stiffened. “Parchment, you say? Was the handwriting the same as her earlier letters?”

  “Certainly. Remember that we had shared a schoolroom for a whole year. I knew her handwriting as well as I did my own.”

  “Ah.” He looked very thoughtful. “She was planning to hide from her uncle? How could she possibly manage that?”

  “Marian did not say, but she must have accomplished it at least in the short term. A few weeks later the Earl and Robles confronted my aunt, who was already ailing, and demanded if she knew anything of Marian’s whereabouts. They went so far as to search her lodgings and question the landlady, over my aunt’s protests. Her anger was obvious in the letter she wrote me about it.”

  “That would have been in 1838? What month?”

  “I do not remember exactly, but sometime during the summer.”

  “Did you ever hear from Lady Marian after that?”

  “I am sure she knew it would have been too risky. In her place, I would have avoided any known associate – she had so few, in any case.”

  “This puts a different complexion on matters,” Thomas said, almost to himself. “Do you suppose her uncle found her? If not, how could he have kept her disappearance secret for all this time?”

  “Remember that Lady Marian had lived isolated on that estate all her life, and was not yet out when she disappeared. Since her parents rarely came to Lincolnshire, and did not allow guests to visit the nursery, she was only known to a few local people like the short-sighted old Vicar and the servants, and most of the latter were dismissed. If she were to return tomorrow, she might find it difficult to prove her identity.”

  “Now I understand why you doubted that the woman who drowned in Chatterham was actually Lady Marian. But if not, what a devilish plot we have stumbled on! The fact that Lord Colville’s solicitor visited the coroner is also suggestive, though it could have an innocent explanation as well. He might simply have come to settle the bill for sending the body to Lincolnshire, or to make further enquiries regarding her accident.”

  He sounded so reasonable. Nell felt a spurt of exasperation. “When I knew Marian her health was no worse than mine, yet from the first, her Uncle spoke of her to others as though she were an invalid, and mentally unstable. That may have been what alarmed her so that she decided to flee.”

  “If your suspicions of the Earl are justified, this whole matter is far too dangerous for amateurs to investigate. It should be put in the hand of an experienced investigator.”

  “Such men are not cheap, and may not be honest,” Nell warned him. She had considered this course also, but had concluded the risk was too great. Any man she hired might sell his findings to Lord Colville instead, whose purse was so much bigger.

  “I know of one, whom my uncle James has used once or twice with good results,” Thomas said. “A man called Hendrickson. He is getting on in years – but I am not sure …” Her companion fell into a brooding silence. “Even had Robles recognised you, you could simply have said you were looking for your friend,” he remarked after a while. “What could he have done to you?”

  Nell sighed. Why did he have to question everything? Thomas was indeed an apt name for him. “I have a strong conviction that this man was instrumental in killing either Marian, or some other unfortunate young woman. If he guessed that I suspected him, he might not hesitate to do away with me as well.”

  “As long as you have no proof it would be an unnecessary risk, from his point of view.”

  “The mere suggestion that the victim was not Lady Ma
rian could lead to unravelling the plot, and the Earl losing an enormous fortune.”

  “Very well, let’s not argue about it anymore,” he said equably. “What are your plans now that we are gone from Chatterham, Miss Milding? Are you going back to the school? They will be surprised if you arrive in these widows’ weeds.”

  “I left a trunk with my other clothes in an inn outside Liverpool, where I can change back; but I would prefer not to return to the school for the time being. Instead, I shall find some other salubrious seaside resort, and enjoy the salty air. After two years of teaching I deserve a holiday, and I have saved up – I can afford a little time off as long as I am not extravagant.”

  “I have another suggestion, if you will permit me.”

  She tensed. Was he going to insult her with some immoral offer? So far Seymour had behaved as a consummate gentleman, but now that she had confessed to being poor and alone in the world, many men might think her fair game. Could she be so very mistaken in his character?

  “The Yorkshire air is considered equally salubrious. I suggest that you spend some weeks at our estate, Yardley Manor. Among our many loyal retainers you would be perfectly safe, while I return to London and unravel the mystery of Lady Marian and her fortune.”

  She blinked in surprise. An invitation to his family home was not at all what she had been expecting. “But you know nothing of me, – everything I told you might be the invention of a bold adventuress,” she objected. “Though I suppose we could go by way of Liverpool, and you could talk to the staff at the school. I would rather like to pick up my trunk, too. Black is not my favourite colour.”

  “You agree, then? My parents will gladly shelter you until you can make other plans.”

  She hesitated only a moment. The suggestion was perfect for her purposes. “I would like that, but you may be at risk in London. Lord Colville and especially Robles are dangerous. The Earl takes in most people with his pretence of piety and principle. If he is ever convicted, which I fear is most unlikely, everyone will wonder how such a man could have deceived them so.”

  “It would be very useful if you had kept the letter from Lady Marian, the one on parchment,” Seymour said. “Surely you would not have thrown it away?”

  “No, of course not.” She thought quickly – how to explain it was no longer in her possession? “Contrary to what I told you earlier, I never throw any letters away. But sometime in the autumn of 1838, all my papers, including the letters from Lady Marian, were stolen from my trunk in the school. No doubt one of the servants was bribed to find them, in case they contained a clue to Marian’s whereabouts.”

  “In the autumn of that year? Then she would still have been in hiding?”

  “I can only suppose so.”

  “If she is still alive, we have to find her.”

  “Marian will reappear once she reaches her majority, and is no longer subject to her uncle’s authority. It is only a few more months. I see no need to search for her in the meantime.”

  “But if the Earl murdered someone in her place, she would be a crucial witness, don’t you see?”

  “She would also be in mortal danger.” Nell spoke with deep conviction.

  “There is that,” he admitted. “But we could keep her safe. She could stay with you at Yardley Hall until her birthday; the Earl would not find her there.”

  “I would rather Marian stayed in hiding. If you run into the Earl or Robles in London, please do not breathe a word of her survival, or my existence. The less they know the safer for everyone.”

  “I agree. Robles will know I left Chatterham with Mrs. Smith, but he cannot know the true identity of that widow.”

  “He may suspect it was Lady Marian herself. Do be careful.”

  “I shall do my best.” He expertly guided the team through a turn. “Onwards to Liverpool and Yorkshire, then. It is a long way. We need a chaperon for you.”

  More evidence that he was honourable and thought of her as a lady, but Nell was not keen on having a stranger watching her every movement. “Not as long as I remain a widow. When I change back, you can be my brother.”

  “It is not the role I aspire to,” he muttered. “But in the interest of travelling swiftly, I can pretend for the length of the journey.”

  “Then you had better call me Nell, and I shall call you Thomas.”

  Chapter 8

  Thomas felt reckless, impatient to get on with his investigation as soon as he had hidden the beautiful girl at his side from any possible pursuit. Bringing her to his family home had been a sudden inspiration, but it felt right. He wanted to see her there. She might come to like it enough so… but he must not let his hopes run too far ahead.

  The parchment letter must have been from Lady Marian after all. That unexpected detail had convinced him that Helen Milding was speaking from knowledge, and not just making up a story. She could not possibly have invented that. Thomas had been very careful to avoid any mention of the letter in the Home Office files.

  Why would the heiress have sent such a letter to a politician? If she had sent a similar letter to her friend at the Liverpool school, might there be other letters in existence? For what purpose?

  He remembered the seal from her father’s ring, placed under the signature. That had to be it - Lady Marian had wanted to prove her identity by way of witnesses above doubt, when she resurfaced after reaching her majority. It might be the court fight of the century, if the uncle pretended not to recognise her. Having buried his ‘niece’ in the family crypt months earlier would greatly strengthen his hand.

  But in that case, how had Lord Colville persuaded the victim to co-operate, to pretend to be Lady Marian in Chatterham, to climb into a leaky boat? He might have deceived one woman, but there had also been the maid and the companion. Were they accomplices? Only a very sloppy, reckless murderer would rely on the discretion of so many. And there was the coroner as well…

  “What will you tell your family about me?” Nell asked. “I would not want them to jump to the wrong conclusions.”

  “You could be my fiancée, invited to spend time with her future in-laws.” He waited for her reaction with bated breath.

  After a startled moment, she laughed. “That might neatly catch you in my noose, Mr. Seymour. Your parents may have other ideas for you than an orphaned schoolteacher.” Before he could voice a vehement objection, she went on, “I could pretend to be a governess, like my aunt. Is there any need of such at your parents’ estate?”

  “Only Matthew and James are the right age, but they are at a boarding school. My two sisters, Amelia and Charlie, are too old – Amelia is twenty-five, and Charlie nineteen.”

  “Twenty-five? And she still lives at home?”

  Thomas grimaced. That was the usual reaction, and he could only imagine how it must irk his proud sister. “Not for want of suitors, I assure you. Amelia is as pretty as our mother was in her younger years. My sister claims she has not met anyone who truly interested her, despite two seasons in London with our well-connected relations.”

  “She must have very high standards.”

  “We are in no hurry to lose her. As my mother is blind, Amelia has taken over most of her household duties. She is very capable.”

  “Your mother is blind? How terrible for her, and the whole family.”

  “She would not want your pity; please do not show such a reaction when you meet her. My mother is happy and secure. One does not think of her infirmity in her presence, and she manages her life very well despite it. She was already nearly blind when she married my father. I have never known her otherwise.”

  “I see,” Nell said, adding after a moment, “or rather, I don’t, not really. I suppose it is impossible to truly put myself in her place, or even yours. If I should say or do anything tactless, please correct me at once. I would not want to hurt her for the world.”

  “Don’t worry, you won’t. Just behave as naturally as you would with any other person.”

  She nodded. “Your fat
her is a physician, you said? Is that how they met?”

  “Indeed, she was his patient when they fell in love. Mother has a sister who resembles her strongly, Aunt Charlotte. Charlie is her goddaughter. She lives mostly in Sussex but visits on occasion, with our cousins. We are all close.”

  “If I cannot be anyone’s governess, maybe I could be a friend of Amelia’s from one of her seasons, come to pay a visit? Would your sister agree to such a pretext?”

  “She would not lie to the family, but what we tell everyone else is a different story. You are closer in age to Charlie than to Amelia. Charlie has had one season, and more recently, so she had better be your friend. She can be somewhat tactless, but I hope you will like her.”

  “I am sure I will, the question is rather, will she and the rest of your family like me?”

  “Of course they will.” Thomas could not see what she was worried about.

  “They may want to save you from a dangerous adventuress.”

  “Let them try. After travelling together like this, we really ought to marry, if only for propriety’s sake. But I would prefer not to marry for such a reason.” Would she guess that behind his joking tone, he was deadly serious? For the present, he was constrained by their situation, but when the time was right he would try his luck.

  “I would never consent to marriage for such a paltry reason either. What strangers think of my conduct would not influence such a life-changing decision.”

  “Fortunately there are many other possible motives,” he went on boldly. “We can discuss them further once you are safe. I shall not risk a discussion now that may well end with you chasing me to the devil.”

  “Sensible of you.” Her mouth twitched. “After all, our acquaintance is very recent as yet.”

  “I am giving you notice that the subject will be resumed, sooner or later.”