A Second Chance for Murder

by Ann Lacey

  She then told Ivey that Lauren’s wedding would probably be the event of the year. Since her engagement to Lord Flemington and having received a free rein from her intended to splurge on arrangements, Lauryn and her mother had done nothing but draft plans for the wedding. It was obvious that Lord Flemington would make a doting spouse and a very good son-in-law. Then lastly, she told Ivey about the emptiness in her heart since Lord Huntscliff returned to London. She asked Ivey to whisper in an angel’s ear to have Garren come back to her.

  On her return to the manor, Thora rode directly to the stables and, after handing her horse’s reins to one of the stable boys, she started toward the house. The fire that Brightington had set had done little damage and repairs were already underway and almost complete. Thora sighed. If only the break in her heart could be mended with such speed.

  Leisurely, she started for the house. Her feet came to an abrupt stop when she spotted a carriage at the front steps. Her heart began to race. Could it be? Had Ivey’s angel answered her prayer so swiftly?

  Just as she lifted her skirts to sprint, the carriage started to move. Still at a distance from the front of the manor, she strained to see whose carriage it was. Then she saw it on the door, the sign of Orion. Garren! But he was leaving.

  “No, wait,” she called out but her words went unheeded.

  The carriage rolled on, taking Garren away. Thora forced every muscle in her long, slender legs to run faster, but carriage sped away quickly. She struggled to call out again but couldn’t. Out of breath and her legs aching, she tearfully watched as Garren’s carriage moved further down the long drive. She stared through waterlogged eyes as the carriage grew smaller and smaller. Her shoulders drooped. She had missed her chance to tell him what was in her heart again.

  Thora shut her eyes tightly and inhaled deeply. She had to compose herself before she entered the manor as she didn’t want Nyle to witness her anguish. Suddenly, the carriage came to a halt. She could barely believe her eyes when it made a wide, sweeping turn. Oh, can it be? Yes, oh thank goodness, he is coming back!

  When the carriage drew alongside the spot where she was standing, the door opened and a muscular arm reached out and dragged her inside.

  Earlier, when Garren had arrived at Mannington Manor, he found himself warmly welcomed by Nyle and the two friends sat down in the study. Nyle offered him a brandy, which Garren vehemently refused.

  “I don’t think I’ll be drinking brandy for some time.”

  Nyle held back a grin. He had little doubt his old school chum must have seen the bottom of many a glass since his departure. He poured a glass for himself and then sat at his desk. For a long moment, they just stared at each other, but he and Garren had been friends too long for subterfuge.

  “Are you in love with my sister?” Nyle’s demanded.

  “Yes, very much so,” Garren replied with equal frankness. “Even more so now that I know she has no plans to marry Lord Flemington.”

  Nyle gave a relieved sigh. “Good, because it would take a blind man not to see she’s in love with you. I think you better wed soon because I don’t want to spend another day watching her moping about like a lost and lonely puppy.”

  “Is the day after tomorrow too soon?” Garren asked, grinning.

  “Day after tomorrow,” Nyle exclaimed. “I don’t know if that’s even possible. What about the wedding banns?”

  “The bishop is a family friend. I went to see him before leaving London to ask for the wedding banns to be waived. I have his letter here in my pocket,” Garren said, tapping the side of his jacket.

  As always Garren was ahead of him. Smiling, Nyle uttered, “Well, I guess the only thing to do now is to propose.”

  “Where is my future bride?” Garren asked, rising from his seat.

  “She went to the churchyard to put flowers on Ivey’s—”

  Before Nyle had finished, Garren was half out the front doors. Nyle called after him, “She should be on her way back!”

  “I’ll find her,” Garren threw over his shoulder as he jumped into the waiting carriage, telling his driver to take him to the village churchyard. As the carriage moved down the long drive, something told him to look back. Through the cloud of dust from the spinning carriage wheels, he saw Thora. Immediately, he ordered his driver to turn the carriage around.

  After bringing her inside, Garren looked down into her upturned face. Holding the woman he would have traveled the ends of the earth to find, he was ready to tell her all the things he had practiced on his way back from London. But first he wanted her promise. “Thora Mannington, will you—?”

  Unexpectedly, Thora covered his lips with her fingertips, stopping his words. “Before you ask me what I think you’re going to ask, there’s something I must know.”

  “Anything, darling,” Garren murmured, kissing the tips of her fingers, his deep brown eyes staring intently.

  Thora fought to keep her thoughts calm. She had a question that needed answering. “The woman who shot you, the woman you said you trusted.” Lowing her eyes, n Thora asked, “Did you love her very much?”

  Silence.

  Rallying her courage, Thora peeked up and found Garren leaning his broad shoulders back against the plush green velvet upholstery. He looked struck by her question. Absently he rubbed his chin, and it seemed forever before he answered.

  “Was I in love with the woman who almost sent me to an early grave? A widow who was old enough to be my mother who had unwisely taken a young rake for a lover, a man who, in turn, repaid her affection by making off with her jewelry and several other valuable articles? When I collared the scoundrel and brought him back, he threw himself at her feet, begging for her mercy and promising never to do it again. She and I both knew he was lying. He was just a handsome thief without a thread of remorse, but rather than see him go to jail, she shot me. Afterward, I learned that she turned the gun on her lover and finally herself.”

  Thora gasped.

  Gathering her in his arms, he buried his face in her hair.

  “That was when I decided to leave the Royal Guardians as I had grown rather fond of living,” he said.

  With the tips of his fingers, he lifted her chin so that she faced him. “Does that answer your question?”

  Thora looked at him through eyes puddled with tears. “Yes, darling, but I’m so glad you decided to take on just one more case to solve Ivey’s murder. I shudder to think what would have happened to me if you hadn’t.”

  Her hand reached up and drew his head down to meet her lips. Engrossed in a kiss, both failed to hear the door of the carriage opening.

  “I take it that it’s a yes?” Nyle said, startling them both.

  “Not yet,” Garren muttered, then reached over and shut the door. With a tap on the roof of the carriage, the driver slapped the rein on the horse’s rump and drove off, leaving a chuckling Nyle behind.

  “Hurry, because I have arrangements to make!” he shouted.

  Taking a small velvet box from his pocket, Garren opened it to reveal a ring, its faceted amethyst stone sitting in a cluster of diamonds. “I picked the amethyst because, according to legend, the amethyst aids the brave and has been known to help the hunter in his captures. Without your revealing how upset Floris was the night of the concert I would have never realized that it was she who’d accidentally caused Cecilia’s death. And when you mentioned how Marquis Brightington told you to be wary of Sandler Leedworthy, it was a lame attempt to cast suspicion on someone other than himself. We made a good team, Thora Mannington, and I would like to make it a permanent union. Will you wear this ring, Thora, and be my wife?”

  Thora took the ring he offered. “A very appropriate choice, since the amethyst is also my birthstone,” she said, slipping it onto her finger. “Yes, Lord Huntscliff, I will be your wife.” With a mischievous t
winkle in her eye, she added, “And helper.”

  They kissed and clung to each other for a very long time, neither one wanting to be the first to break their embrace. It was some time later when Garren gazed out the carriage window and realized they had traveled far from the manor. He ordered the driver to turn around, to which he heard the man grumble, “Make up your mind.”

  He inwardly replied that he had made up his mind the very first time he had seen the lovely woman now in his arms.

  “The vicar can marry us the day after tomorrow,” he told Thora, which surprisingly didn’t seem to ruffle her. He reluctantly added that he could wait if she needed more time for preparation.

  Thora shook her head. “It’s more than enough time. There’s only one thing I will need for my wedding, besides you, of course.” For the time, she found she could speak of Ivey without pain, “Although, I spoke lightly of it at the time, I promised Ivey that on the day of my wedding I would wear the hair comb she had given me. Oh, Garren, I wish you could have met her. She was pretty and fun and such a good friend. Wearing her gift, will make me feel that she’s somehow with me. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, darling I do,” he said. “And I hope one day you will share all your secrets with me.” Thora gave him a smile but remained silent causing his brows to furrow. Noticing, Thora laughed, “Oh Garren, a woman may share some secrets, but not all with a man.”

  “And why pray tell, it that,” he asked somewhat slighted.

  “Because if you knew everything about me, you’d eventually find me boring.”

  “Boring! Good God woman.” Garren exclaimed incredulously. “When you are as unpredictable as the wind, when your logic follows a path all its own and when you can make my heart spin faster than a carriage wheel how could you ever believe I could find you boring?”

  Thora reached up to his hair weaving her fingers into the silken, chestnut locks and gently urged his head down until their lips were a breath apart, “I think you ask too many questions, my lord,” she softly murmured then pressed her lips to his. She and Garren rode back to the manor without uttering another word.

  Chapter 11

  On the day of her wedding, Thora awoke early. Unlike most brides, she didn’t have the normal flutter of butterflies in her stomach and that she owed to Nyle. Being raised by a brother, Thora had always been taught to keep things simple and to always be on time.

  For her wedding dress, she selected an elegant gown, one she had never worn. She had purchased it in London on, unknown to her, the very day Nyle had gone to see Garren. It was an ivory silk gown with small puffed sleeves. Its only embellishment was a trim of white, baby ostrich feathers on her scoop-necked bodice. She wore her mother’s diamond necklace and matching teardrop earrings.

  Molly had coiled her hair in an intricate braid atop her head, which was held in place by her most precious possession—the pearl and diamond hair comb Ivey had gifted her. Wearing the comb gave her the feeling that in some way her friend was with her, watching over her. Without a mother to insist on all the traditional wedding trivialities, it was a tearful Molly who supplied her with the customary sixpence to put inside her shoe for good luck.

  “Oh, miss, Mannington Manor won’t be the same without you!”

  Thora hugged her maid. “I’m sure my brother will say it will be a lot more peaceful.” She took Molly hands in her own. “Do see that he’s taken care of.”

  “I’ll do my best, miss,” Molly promised.

  Thora was putting on her gloves when there was a light tap on her door. Nyle. Punctual as always, he had come up to tell her the carriage to take her to the church was ready and it was time to be on their way.

  When Nyle entered his sister’s room and saw Thora standing in her wedding gown, he swallowed hard. At that moment he sensed what every father must feel on the day of his daughter’s wedding, a mixture of pride, happiness, and a touch of sadness. Pride at seeing that the girl he raised had blossomed into a beautiful woman, happiness seeing the joy in her eyes that she had found her true love, and sadness that she would be leaving his home and protection to go to another. His eyes started to mist as he went over to Thora and placed a kiss on her forehead.

  “You look beautiful. Garren is a lucky man,” he told her, his voice cracking.

  “He most certainly is,” Thora replied with a snicker, breaking Nyle’s poignant mood and causing him to give a hardy laugh.

  If anyone had butterflies in their stomach, it was Garren. To those inside the church who had gathered early for the wedding, Lord Huntscliff was a typical groom. Standing next to the vicar, he nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the other, repeatedly pulled out his pocket watch to check the time, and turned his head more than a few times to the rear of the church to glance at the open doors leading into the church. Inside the church, Garren took his place at the front and checked his watch. Knowing what a stickler Nyle was for punctuality, Thora would not be fashionably late for her wedding. In five minutes, Thora would be walking into the church. Only five minutes to endure this torturous, nerve-racking wait. To pass time, he looked out over the seated guests.

  Lord and Lady Langless were there with their daughters. The youngest, Miss Emily, smiled up at him, which momentarily helped to put him at ease. Her older sister, Lady Floris, was sitting with Mr. Sandler Leedworthy, who seemed to be gazing at the church’s stained-glass windows, undoubtedly ready to give the young woman a detailed description of the artist who crafted it.

  Lord Avery Flemington, looking proud as a peacock, was sitting with his betrothed, Lauryn, and his future mother-in-law, the Lady Mayfield.

  Sitting alone and off to the side was a smirking Mason, who was no doubt took great pleasure in seeing his beaded brow.

  He started to check his watch again when he heard it. Starting at the back of the church and working its way upward to the altar, a murmur arose. He turned and spied a young boy in the church’s open doorway who suddenly turned and raced up the side aisle to the organist. After the youngster whispered a few words into the man’s ear, the organist began to play.

  Garren’s heart gave a nervous jump. Thora was here. At last, his wait was over. The assembly of guests rose and turned in their pews to see the bride. His bride. Garren took in a quick breath as he watched Nyle lead her into the church. God, she looked beautiful! Walking slowly down the carpeted center aisle, her hand resting her on Nyle’s arm, she smiled at the guests. When finally their eyes met, calmness washed over him.

  It was a proud Nyle who presented his sister and then stepped aside to sit in one of the front pews. Garren could feel his own chest swelling as he took Thora’s delicate hand in his.

  As he and Thora softly spoke their vows, a darkly clad figure stealthily entered the church and slipped unnoticed behind one of its pillars.

  To Thora, the ceremony seemed to go on forever, with the vicar taking advantage of a nearly full church to deliver a seemingly unending sermon. Her ebbing patience was bolstered when she sneaked a peek up at Garren, who smiled and gave her a playful wink.

  When the ceremony concluded, Thora discovered that Garren was far more traditional than she expected, following the church’s custom not to kiss his bride. Instead, he leaned over to whisper in her ear.

  “Later, my love, and often.”

  His words brought more color to her cheeks than if he had kissed her. As she turned to walk back down the aisle with her husband, Thora was smiling so broadly her lips began to ache.

  She and Garren were now man and wife, and Thora knew her life had changed forever. While the organist was busy putting away his music, the darkly cloaked figure silently emerged from its hiding place. Keeping a safe distance so as not to be seen, the lone figure trailed behind the happy procession.

  The path to the vicarage’s well-tended garden was a short one. The Mannington manor servant
s had done an impressive job of setting up the linen-covered tables and arranging the chairs. Baskets and vases of white roses were everywhere. Servants carrying silver trays filled with glasses of champagne mingled among the arriving wedding guests. Others stood soldier stiff behind the food-laden tables, ready to serve the wedding breakfast, which consisted of sliced lamb with jelly, ham and egg tarts, sausages and potatoes, crispy bacon salad with brown bread and butter, and asparagus and wild mushrooms.

  When all the guests had been served a glass of champagne Nyle called for their attention. With his eyes resting on the newly married couple, he raised his glass for the wedding toast. “To Thora and Garren may your future be filled with unending love, good health and happiness. Any difficulties you face may they be few, may your coffers always stay full and your children_” he paused then with a grin and a playful wink to Thora added, “and may your children favor their mother, because, Garren, you know the Mannington side of the family have always been the better looking.” While the guests chuckled and Garren pretended to be slighted, Nyle softly whispered, “Bless you both.” Then drained his glass. The guests drank to the toast, then, gathered around the newlywed couple offering their own best wishes.

  After accepting the well-wishers congratulations, Garren turned to his new bride, “Darling, please excuse me a moment. I have something for the vicar,” he said, slipping a thickly stuffed envelope from the inner breast pocket of his jacket. He left her side and cut a path through the sea of guests to find the vicar. While Thora gaily chatted with Floris and Lauryn, she turned to take a ham and egg tart from one of the trays the servants were carrying. Gazing across the garden, her eyes fell lovingly on Garren. How handsome he was—so tall, so well formed, so charming as he spoke with the vicar.