by Michelle Cox
She picked up her gloves now, and, as she yanked them on, she angrily tried to force Clive and his insufferable behavior from her mind and to concentrate instead on Elsie and her sad woes. She had no idea how long it would take for her letter to reach her, but she hoped it would be in time for the advice she offered. Poor Elsie, she sighed, successfully forgetting her own troubles for the moment and resolving to take Elsie more in hand once she got home.
Henrietta made her way to the drawing room in search of a companion to walk into town with her, though she was tempted to go alone just to spite Clive. He was positively turning into an old woman! Jumping at every noise and worrying that someone might be after them, or at least her. It was becoming tiresome in the extreme.
She first asked Lady Winifred, but, after a questioning look to her mother, at which the countess gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head, Winifred politely declined, saying that she had the beginnings of another headache. Jane and Sara Fairfax, on the other hand, sitting nearby and having thus overheard her, excitedly volunteered to go.
“I thought you were going to play badminton,” Henrietta pointed out.
“Well, we can’t very well play with no partners. And it would be terribly dull with just the two of us,” Jane said. “Besides, we’ve decided it’s too damp for badminton.”
“Yes, please, Mrs. Howard, let us go with you! I’m sure M’ma wouldn’t mind,” Sara implored.
“Oh, very well,” Henrietta said, trying to force a smile. They weren’t her ideal companions, nor would they have been Clive’s choice of protectors, she knew, but that fact alone was enough to convince Henrietta. Besides, they were pleasant enough, and so Henrietta waited patiently in the foyer for them while they ran to get their hats.
The subsequent walk into Cromford on the path beside the main road was uneventful except for the delightful scenery they passed, though Henrietta found she could not enjoy it as much as she might, given the current state of her irritation. The Fairfax girls were light and bubbly as they walked, helping to distract her from obsessing on her two problems, which threatened to endlessly chase each other for dominance in her mind.
Henrietta shook herself and tried to concentrate on what the Fairfax girls were saying, marveling that they were actually older than her by a few years, as they seemed remarkably silly and immature. Most of their conversation consisted of discussing the eligible men at the reception last night, which accordingly produced a large amount of giggling between them. Sara, Henrietta soon gathered, had been quite smitten with the squire’s son, a stalwart lad by the name of Albert Cooper, about whom Jane delighted in teasing her, adding with savored sternness that P’pa would never allow a marriage such as that, the Coopers being so much lower on the social scale.
“But he does have a lot of money!” Sara retorted, “Which might go far with P’pa.”
“What a goose you’re being, Sara,” Jane said smugly. “He only danced with you; it’s not as if he made a declaration!”
“Yes, but six times!” Sara managed.
“Only because there were so few gentlemen. Of course he was obliged to dance. He at least has fine manners, I’ll give him that,” said Jane begrudgingly.
“And what about Captain Russell, or even Captain Foley?” Sara added with a sly smile. “They both seemed quite attentive …”
“Don’t be absurd, Sara! They’re both too old for me. For the life of me, I’m not sure why Lady Linley asked them! I was hoping that Lord Devereaux would have been asked. He has three lovely younger sons.”
“I suppose she didn’t want any competition for Wallace.”
“Oh, Wallace! She should give up on getting rid of him! He seems not the slightest bit interested in anyone she throws in front of him.”
“If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you sound bitter, Jane,” Sara laughed.
“Don’t be ridiculous! Who’d want Wallace Howard? He’s an old curmudgeon!”
“Yes, but you’d get to be Lady Linley! All of this would be yours,” Sara gestured widely.
“No, thank you!” Jane retorted. “Though M’ma would be terribly pleased, would she not?” she smirked. “I’m sure that’s why we’re here. But Lady Linley would stand a better chance marrying him to some rich Irish girl or possibly an American who doesn’t know better! Oh! I do beg your pardon, Mrs. Howard.”
Henrietta could not help but smile. She found their banter pleasantly amusing, made more so by the fact that they seemed not at all aware that the situation they were so easily deriding was very nearly hers.
“Say, Mrs. Howard, you don’t have any rich friends back in America, do you? Or maybe a sister?”
Henrietta laughed. “You both seem decidedly keen to be rid of poor Wallace.”
“Then we wouldn’t have to come to Derbyshire so very often and be made to make pleasant conversation with him. It’s dreadfully dull here. But M’ma and P’pa are quite in earnest, you know. Why won’t he take up with Lady Winifred? She’s more his age, anyway.”
“Lady Winifred! You can’t be serious, Jane. She’s a dull dolt if I ever saw one!”
“But didn’t you notice that she was the only one he danced with?”
“Only because he was obliged to, most probably.”
“For shame, Sara! She’s all right in herself when you get her away from her mother. Fancy having the Countess of Ashforth for your mother-in-law, though! No wonder Wallace runs the other way!” Jane laughed.
They had reached the village now, and Henrietta paused to take it all in. It was delightfully quaint, with white plaster buildings trimmed with dark, thick planks of wood. It was like something from a storybook, and Henrietta wished Elsie could be here to see it, too. It reminded her of the novels Elsie was always reading aloud to her, back when they lived on Armitage and shared a bed. Suddenly, Henrietta missed home very much. Somewhat wistfully, she looked over at the Fairfax girls but saw that their gaze had drifted to two men lounging outside what seemed to be a pub. “The Three Jugglers” was written on a thick wooden sign hanging from an ancient, weather-beaten pole.
“It’s Captain Russell!” Sara whispered excitedly. “What’s he doing here? I thought he had gone home this morning.”
“Obviously he got diverted!” Jane said, giving the men, who were already making their way toward them, a little wave. “Or perhaps he has a secret!”
As the two men came up, they lifted their hats in deference. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Howard,” Captain Russell said with a genuine smile. “What a pleasant surprise.”
Captain Russell had asked her to dance several times last night, and Henrietta had been taken by his easy manners and charming repartee. His large dark eyes were his best feature, Henrietta had concluded, as he was not what one would call traditionally handsome. He had a large nose and a scar running down his cheek, and yet there was something about his manner that both charmed and soothed. She could quite easily understand why Jane Fairfax— despite her protestations to the contrary—might be attracted to him. The man standing next to him eyed the two girls shyly. He was very broad across the shoulders, with light brown hair and soft gray eyes, and he was dressed well, if not expensively. He had a pleasant, ruddy face to him.
The captain, perhaps observing her gaze, said quickly, “Where are my manners? May I present my cousin, Maxwell Fielding. This is Mrs. Howard, Miss Jane Fairfax, and Miss Fairfax,” he said, nodding at each of them in turn.
“I’m delighted to make your acquaintance,” Maxwell said. He spoke well, but his Derbyshire accent was thick, and Henrietta remembered that Captain Russell had said last night that he had family in this area. Obviously not wealthy or important enough to have been invited to Castle Linley, however, Henrietta noted.
“I thought you’d already left, Captain,” she commented. Several of Wallace’s friends had caught the early train back to London.
“You’ve quite found me out, I’m afraid, Mrs. Howard. I did leave Linley this morning, but I couldn’t leave the area
without stopping to see my aunt and uncle. They live in Matlock Bath. Country house parties are not really my game, present company excepted, of course,” he said, looking at Jane briefly, which caused a blush to creep across the poor girl’s face. “I only came as a favor to Wallace. That and to see Maxwell, of course, though I was delighted to find so pleasant a party assembled.”
Henrietta smiled affably, and Sara stifled a giggle.
“I say, would you care to take tea with us?” he continued. “It seems a shame not to, given that fate seems to have thrown us together in this way, does it not?”
“Oh, no, Captain, we couldn’t possibly impose on your time with your cousin. I’m sure it’s very limited, indeed,” Henrietta said, wanting to get to the post office and possibly some shops to buy some souvenirs for everyone back home. The last thing she wanted to do was to sit politely with Captain Russell and his cousin and make conversation.
“Not at all. I assure you, we would be improved by the company.”
“Mrs. Simpson’s down the street does a capital tea!” Maxwell suddenly put in eagerly.
“Max is just up from Oxford, revising,” the captain explained. “So you must forgive his rather shameful use of the vernacular.”
Henrietta smiled.
“He’s the family scholar, you see,” the captain went on, patting him jovially on the back. “Come now, what do you say? We’d be delighted if you’d join us.”
“Oh, please, Mrs. Howard!” begged Sara.
“Yes, let’s, Mrs. Howard!” said Jane. “We’ll only be forced to play bridge if we return too early!”
The captain laughed. “A fate worse than death, poor girls.”
Henrietta hesitated. It was obvious that the four of them wished to be together, though Henrietta couldn’t think why, as the aging captain and his young cousin couldn’t possibly be potential suitors, if Lord and Lady Fairfax had anything to do with it, which, of course, they did, but Henrietta didn’t want to disappoint them all. She astutely realized that as the married woman in the group, although the youngest, she was required to be the chaperone. The girls were looking at her so pleadingly that she finally gave in.
“Thank you, Captain,” she said, then, trying not to audibly sigh. “We’d of course be delighted to join you.”
The little group accordingly walked to Mrs. Simpson’s tea shop, where a cream tea was ordered and promptly delivered. The conversation unfortunately, thanks to the perhaps impropriety of the Fairfax girls, quickly turned to the story of the murdered man and the surrounding circumstances, such as they knew them to be, which were sketchy at best.
“It seems I missed all the excitement,” Captain Russell said as he took a scone from the plate held out to him by Henrietta.
“Yes! A detective inspector came to the house and everything!” Sara exclaimed. “Asking all sorts of questions! They even interviewed Jane and me, didn’t they, Jane?”
“Yes, they did. And he was ever so severe!”
“Was it Inspector Hartle?” Maxwell asked.
“Yes, I believe that was his name,” Henrietta said, trying to remember.
“He is rather severe,” Maxwell agreed. “He has a bit of a reputation around here. But then, again, I suppose all inspectors have to be a bit brutish. Goes with the territory, I’d say.”
The captain cleared his throat. “Mrs. Howard’s husband is a former police inspector. In America.”
“You don’t say!” Maxwell said with admiration. “I thought I detected an accent! I knew an American once—studied for a while at Kings. Jolly good laugh, he was. I do beg your pardon, Mrs. Howard.”
Henrietta smiled. “No offense taken, Mr. Fielding,” she said, though she did not appreciate being reminded of Clive just at the moment.
“And do you know what else?” Sara said, eager to bring the discussion back to the murder. “They think it might be Mr. Wallace!”
“Sara!” Jane exclaimed. “For shame! That’s not true!”
“Why else would he be missing? And, anyway, Jane, it’s no use taking the moral high ground; you were listening at the door, same as me!”
Jane blushed a very deep shade of red and took a sip from her tea.
“Wallace Howard?” Maxwell asked.
“Do you know him, Mr. Fielding?”
“Not well. He’s a friend of my older brother’s. You wouldn’t think, I know, us being common sorts,” he said with a sideways glance at Captain Russell. “My brother works at the Masson Mill. Don’t know how he came to be friends with the likes of Wallace Howard, but Howard doesn’t go in for all the ever-so’s, prefers to socialize with the lads. Rory’s always going on about how Wallace tries to get them to organize. But, God love ’em, that sorry lot just wants a pint at the end of each day and they’re happy enough. Don’t want anything more, though Howard’s always trying to stir them up. Even brought in some foreign chaps one time to speak to them. He’s missing, you say?” he asked thoughtfully as he took a drink of his tea. “For the money, I’d say he’s at the Merry Bells,” Maxwell said hopefully.
“The Merry Bells?” Henrietta asked.
“It’s a pub in Matlock proper. Place where the mill workers go usually.”
“For myself, I can’t believe Wallace had anything to do with it,” Captain Russell interrupted, clearly upset by the news. “He has strange ideas, but he’s honorable to a fault. Robbing and killing a man goes against everything he purports to stand for.”
In her mind, Henrietta had to agree with Captain Russell, even from the little she knew of Wallace, and yet why did he stay away? Perhaps he was in trouble, too? Or worse, what if he, too, was lying dead in some ditch?
The conversation drifted then to more pleasant topics before Henrietta decided they really must be getting back. The captain offered to drive them in his motor, causing the girls to look plead-ingly at her yet again. She preferred to walk, but she was anxious to tell Clive about the Merry Bells in Matlock … perhaps they could make it there yet today if they hurried … so she accepted the captain’s offer, stopping briefly at the post office to deposit her letters, before allowing herself to be helped up into the car.
Chapter 17
Clive felt certain Foley was holding something back as he stood across from him now in Lord Linley’s billiard room, having finally cornered him here, but he of course couldn’t prove it.
Foley, as it turned out, had remained quite elusive, causing Clive to embark on a bit of wild goose chase to find him. After searching fruitlessly throughout the house and grounds, he had finally gone below stairs to seek out Stevens, who had hurriedly got up from his chair by the servants’ fire to attend him. Captain Foley, a flushed Stevens had reported, had breakfasted in his room and had then gone out riding. No, he had not left the estate, Stevens said, thinking carefully in response to Clive’s question, as his things had not been packed, nor had he asked to be driven into town, where he would have had to go to presumably catch the train back to London. Clive had no choice, then, but to wait for Foley’s return and had employed his time by instead seeking out Lord Fairfax and the honorable Mr. Sedgewick to ask them a certain few questions regarding the card game last night. He would also have liked to talk to Captain Russell, whom, he was informed, had also joined in the game, but he later learned that Captain Russell had taken his leave very early this morning.
Not having anything else to do, Clive occupied himself by searching the nearby woods for any clue of Wallace’s possible whereabouts but found nothing besides a well-worn path through the tall grass. Clearly, Wallace made this trip often. Clive was pretty sure it led down to the village and was sorely tempted to follow it, but he was eager to catch Foley upon his return, so he forced himself to make his way back up to the house. Stevens was nowhere in sight, so he inquired of the footman who seemed to perpetually stand at attention near the front doors and was told that Mr. Wallace had not yet returned, nor had Mrs. Howard and her party. Clive felt agitated as he paced around the house, trying to avoid other g
uests, as he was in no mood for idle chitchat, and finally tried to settle in the library with a book. He was beginning to regret his decision to separate from Henrietta for the day, as it had so far come to nothing. He closed the book he held limply in his lap and took out his pipe instead.
It was midafternoon when Stevens discovered him in the library and informed him that Captain Foley could presently be found in the billiard room. Accordingly, Clive hurried through the house and, upon entering the heavy, masculine room, indeed found Foley alone, lazily shooting balls about the table.
He seemed pleasantly surprised to see Clive as he quietly entered the room.
“Ah, Howard. Just the man. Didn’t expect to see you away from your lovely wife. Care for a game?” Captain Foley said, indicating with his cue stick toward the table.
“Not just now,” Clive answered aloofly, trying to read Foley.
“Heard you got mixed up with the DCI,” Foley said, bending down to take aim. “But then again, that’s right up your alley, eh?” he said, taking the shot. “Ghastly business, this.” He walked around the table for his next shot. “Don’t know what Blighty’s coming to; a man can’t walk home from a pub without being murdered and robbed.” When Clive didn’t respond, he looked up at him questioningly. “Everything all right, old boy?”
“Where did you go last night after I went back in? I recall you stayed out for a bit of time.” Clive said disinterestedly.
“Just around, you know,” Foley said, puzzled by the question. “Felt like I needed some air; frightfully stuffy in there, wasn’t it?”
“How did you know the man had been robbed?” Clive asked steadily.
Foley slowly stood up straight now. “Look here, old boy,” he said, the realization of what Clive suspected seeming to dawn on him. “I rather think I don’t appreciate your tone. Just what are you implying?”
“Just answer the question.”
“You can’t really think I had anything to do with this … this murder business!” he said, incredulously. “You’re coming unhinged, man!”