A Scandalous Journey: The Amberley Chronicles

by May Burnett

  “Not yet. As he was to be a fellow-guest, my sister-in-law the Countess would have introduced us in due course.”

  They chatted about the local hunt, and mutual acquaintances, till the prisoner was escorted to into the room by two stout constables. His hands were unbound.

  James was favourably impressed by the young Scot. He held his head high, even in his humiliating position, and had a frank, direct look about him. The kind of man who you’d like at your back in a battle.

  “Kinninmont,” Sir Claud said, “Is it true that you were on your way to stay at Amberley as a guest of the Earl and Countess?”

  Captain Kinninmont did not miss a beat. His eyes met James’s in instant comprehension. “Indeed so. I am still looking forward to that honour and pleasure, once this unfortunate misunderstanding is cleared up.”

  “I am James Ellsworthy, Amberley’s brother,” James introduced himself, since the justice had omitted to do so. “My family is also staying there at present, and the earl has asked me to assist you, so you might not be delayed longer than necessary.”

  A faint smile crossed the young officer’s face, but he made no other reply than a polite bow.

  “Most unusual, this situation,” Sir Claud complained. “Normally one knows immediately who is a gentleman, and who is a criminal.” He glowered at Kinninmont.

  “I am certainly no criminal, Sir,” the young man said firmly. “Whoever has laid this charge against me, whatever it may be, is either mistaken or determined to harm me through a false accusation.”

  “Where were you on the night of May 19th?”

  The Captain’s brow furrowed. “That would have been last Thursday? Not robbing any coaches, I can assure you.”

  “If you can prove your whereabouts, provide witnesses, I might be more inclined to believe you.”

  “That will not be easy. I was travelling northwards, by horse.”

  “All by yourself?”

  “Let me suggest, Kinninmont,” James said, as the young man was about to agree, “that you forget your gentlemanly scruples and admit that you were in the company of a lady. She would not want you to endanger yourself, or mislead justice, out of fear for her reputation.”

  Sir Claud stared at James. ”You seem to know a great deal about it.”

  “This witness, who was with the Captain at the time, is well known to me. She is also staying at Amberley. It was she who alerted us that he had been arrested. For reasons that you will appreciate, I tried to persuade the lady not to come forward, but she insisted that she could not bear to see an innocent man imprisoned, if her word could save him.”

  “Please tell her that I honour her for her position, but urge her to forget all about me,” the Captain said to James. “Not another word on that head, if you please. I was alone.”

  Sir Claud looked from one to the other in perplexity.

  “From your own words I deduce that this lady exists, Captain,” he said at last. “How did you come to be in her company?”

  “It is a long story,” James said smoothly, as the Captain remained silent. “It is to the Captain’s credit that he is even now determined to safeguard the young lady’s reputation.”

  “But if she’s his mistress –”

  “Nothing of the kind,” James said sternly. “I have her word that the Captain was a true gentleman throughout, and I believe her. I have known this young lady since she was a babe.”

  “Then she is a lady in truth?” The justice sounded understandably sceptical.

  “Of the highest rank, and rich too.”

  “Very curious,” Sir Claud said. “Most ladies would not dream of sacrificing their reputation for some young officer’s sake. Yet if she’s so in love, how reliable can her testimony be?”

  “It is not a question of love, but of honour,” James disagreed.

  “Neither,” Kinninmont protested. “This nameless lady is not in love with me at all, and her honour will be best served by forgetting I ever existed.”

  “Why don’t you look more closely into the accusation, Russell, before she does anything rash?” James suggested. “We could send to the parish where this crime supposedly took place, to enquire why they believe it was committed by Captain Kinninmont, and who are the witnesses that accuse him. There is a strong possibility that the whole thing is merely an intrigue.”

  Sir Claud frowned. “Why would anybody go to such lengths?”

  “That is what I mean to find out. Whatever you do, Sir Claud, I shall send an investigator to look into the matter, and ferret out the truth. If this should be the work of some enemy, however, the Captain might not be safe once you sent him to Sussex. People hang themselves in cells, don’t they? Who is to prove afterwards if it was entirely of their own volition?”

  “That is too melodramatic to be credible,” the justice objected. “Yet if the Captain was deemed worthy to be invited by Lady Amberley, it is not the usual open-and-shut case. Hmm.” He fell into thought, absently toying with the tips of his moustache.

  “If this lady were here before me,” he said after a minute, “where would she say that the accused spent the night of May 19th?”

  Captain Kinninmont shrugged, but James said, “According to her account, at a farmhouse somewhere in Oxfordshire. She slept inside with the farmer’s daughters, and he in the stables.” He hoped he had not got the dates mixed up.

  “Is that true?” Sir Claud asked Kinninmont.

  “To the best of my recollection,” the Captain replied unwillingly.

  “Too far from Sussex to have robbed a coach there that same night. Only one of these accounts can be true.” Sir Claud turned to James. “If this lady comes to me personally, and can convince me of her story, I shall revoke the young man’s arrest. He would still have to stay at Amberley until we find out what is behind that accusation against him. If she elects not to identify herself by the day after tomorrow, which I would perfectly understand, then the Captain must remain in prison and will be sent to Sussex to stand his trial there.”

  “Please tell her to reconsider, and let matters be, Mr. Ellsworthy,” the Captain entreated James. “This spurious accusation has nothing to do with her, she has no obligation whatsoever to assist me in refuting it.”

  “I know,” James said. “We can discuss later who is so determined to harm you, once you arrive at Amberley, where your room is kept ready for you. By the bye, do you need victualling? I could arrange regular deliveries from a local inn.”

  “That would be kind, but don’t bother, Sir. It looks like one way or the other I won’t be here long.”

  “You’d better accept the food,” Sir Claud advised him, “if you are sent south, you should keep your strength up.”

  That was almost helpful advice. James was surprised by the justice’s reasonable attitude. To establish the Captain as an acquaintance and guest of the Amberleys had clearly made a difference.

  Monique’s Captain was determined not to let the girl sacrifice her reputation, and throw herself away on what everyone would see as a misalliance. Yet these two might not be a bad fit in James’s eyes. He had always put greater stock in character than birth, and had not hesitated to follow his heart when he discovered that the girl he loved was born on the wrong side of the blanket. Their marriage, and children, had turned out well enough. Monique and this young man might yet be satisfied with the match fate seemed determined to force upon them.

  Chapter 19

  Monique and the twins waited for the outcome of James’s intervention in a small park near the justice’s house. They avoided the subject uppermost in her mind, and passed the time feeding ducks with pieces of stale bread, from a bag an enterprising urchin had sold them for a penny. Monique gave a great sigh of relief when she saw Uncle James approach at last.

  “How is he? What did you learn?”

  He gave her a reassuring smile. “The young man is well enough. I was present while Sir Claud interviewed him.”

  “What is your impression of the fellow?�
� Roger asked curiously. “Do you think he is guilty?”

  To Monique’s relief, Uncle James shook his head. “On the contrary, I am quite certain that he is innocent. The night he is supposed to have robbed that coach was May 19th. If I remember the details of your story correctly, Monique, that was the night you spent in that farmhouse, just after the attack on our old berline?”

  She breathed out deep at this confirmation. Of course the Captain was innocent. “Yes. A miserable rainy night it was, too. I was very glad to spend it in a warm featherbed.”

  “When asked to account for his whereabouts on that date, the Captain refused to name you as witness. He demanded that you should forget all about the matter.”

  “Very sensible,” Violet commented. “You are lucky he is not willing to draw you into his messy affairs, Monique. While it makes him more likeable, unfortunately it does not render the young man any more eligible. Unless he has noble relatives in the background, and turns out to be the heir of some lord? Is there any chance of that?”

  “None whatsoever,” Monique said. “That only happens in stories. He told me there is not one drop of blue blood in his veins, and I don’t think he is at all rich, at least as we understand it.”

  “For all that, I think he might suit you,” Uncle James said, to Monique’s surprise. “In the long run, blue blood is less essential than character and reliability.”

  “What is going to happen to him now?” Violet asked.

  “That depends on Monique. If she convinces Sir Claud that the Captain was in Oxfordshire that night, he will be freed to stay at Amberley until the matter is completely cleared up. If she does not choose to do so, he’ll be sent to Sussex, to stand trial, the day after tomorrow.”

  Monique had expected something like that, but now it was stated so baldly, the enormity of the decision held her immobile. If she came forward with the truth, odds were that she would have to marry the Captain. Such news always leaked out as soon as outsiders like this justice and his clerks knew of the matter. Could she risk marriage to a man without any of the qualifications society expected in her spouse? No title, no noble pedigree, nor great wealth – though as to the latter, she had more than enough for two. It would mean spending the rest of her life in a more modest sphere, no longer welcome at royal courts …

  “Consider carefully, shrimp,” Roger said sympathetically. “But if you allow him to be falsely convicted, could you live with yourself?”

  “Of course she could,” Violet declared. “It has nothing to do with her. Any miscarriage of justice would have to be attributed to whoever brought the false accusation and witnesses, and the judges and jury who believed them. It has nothing to do with Monique.”

  “Think it over, take your time,” Uncle James said gently. “You will do the right thing, I feel sure.”

  Monique swallowed. She knew what the right thing was; honour demanded nothing less. “When can I talk to the justice? What shall I say, to convince him?”

  “Think what you are about!” Violet cried. “You are throwing the rest of your life away!”

  “I hope not,” Monique replied, her lips numb. “What good is blue blood and nobility if you prize them above truth and justice? Without honour to back them up, they are worthless.”

  “Well said,” Uncle James supported her, and Roger nodded.

  “Could we not invent some other story, find some other lady with less to lose, to speak in Monique’s place?” Violet asked in an urgent voice.

  “She would have to perjure herself,” Monique objected. “We could not possibly be party to that.”

  “And such subterfuges rarely work out,” Uncle James agreed. “Don’t look so horrified, Violet, there are far worse fates than having to marry a spouse without fortune and title.”

  “Such as being hanged for a crime you did not commit,” Roger said. “There is a mystery here that needs to be thoroughly cleared up before Monique can possibly wed the man.”

  “Indeed,” Uncle James said, “I plan to write to Mr. Hendrickson right away, to ask him to go down to Portsmouth and investigate this matter. I only hope he is free, as he has taken on so many cases lately. The last time I saw him, a month ago, he complained of overwork.”

  “I could go myself,” Roger offered. “Nobody in Portsmouth will connect me with this young man, whom I have never met in my life. I can discreetly investigate his character and situation.”

  “If these people who attacked us so ruthlessly are based there, it might still be dangerous,” Monique said.

  “Do you take me for a fool? Nobody would see through me,” Roger said indignantly.

  “We can discuss it once we have Captain Kinninmont at Amberley,” his father decided. “It seems unlikely that any danger could threaten you, Roger, but then nobody could have expected the attacks on Monique either. If you go, you must take someone to watch your back.”

  “Shall I talk to the Justice of the Peace now? There is no point postponing the matter, after coming all the way from Amberley,” Monique reminded them of their main purpose.

  “After lunch,” Uncle James advised. “Justices are more lenient on a well-fed stomach. Let’s attack him after he has enjoyed his food, and marshal your testimony and arguments while we eat.”

  “Did the Captain look starved, or the worse for wear?” Monique worried. She was not sure how much she would be able to eat while he was suffering.

  “His clothes were a bit rumpled, from sleeping in them I suppose, but otherwise he seemed fine.”

  ***

  When Uncle James escorted Monique to Sir Claud’s study some two hours later, Monique cursed the absence of her own, far more elegant dresses. She looked like an underfed waif in Amy’s discarded gown, though it was well enough for a schoolgirl.

  “This is the lady Captain Kinninmont was escorting?” The Justice’s surprise was not very flattering. “Miss, may I ask how old you are?”

  “Twenty-one,” Monique said with what dignity she could muster. She had learned long ago not to explain that all females in her mother’s family were small and short. “Mr. Ellsworthy can give you the particulars. He has known my father since before my birth.”

  “Indeed, the Marquis de Ville-Deuxtours has been a close friend since our time in Eton,” Uncle James said. “He was born in England, as his parents had fled from the Revolution, but his castle and estates were restored to him in 1816, after Bonaparte’s defeat. Mademoiselle de Ville-Deuxtours has been a frequent guest at Amberley, and my own estates, since she was just a year old.”

  “Start at the beginning,” Sir Claud ordered, and Monique did so, describing the sequence of events that had led her and the Captain to travel together as far as Kendal.

  “In effect, the Captain acted as Mademoiselle’s courier and bodyguard,” Uncle James concluded the story. “They laboured under the belief that the series of attacks from which they were fleeing were directed at the lady, but now we are wondering if the Captain might not have been the intended victim all along.”

  “Why would anyone want to hurt a young French lady in our country?”

  “She is one of the richest heiresses in France,” Uncle James explained. “There is a possible enemy, a thwarted suitor who has sworn revenge.”

  “Truly?” The justice sounded sceptical.

  Monique raised her chin. “Indeed. But I am inclined to believe now that the attacks were indeed targeted at Captain Kinninmont, and that this accusation against him is the work of the same villains. Having someone hang for a crime he did not commit would be just as effective a murder, as a shot from ambush.”

  “That sounds most unlikely and melodramatic.”

  “If you entrust custody of the young man to me or my brother Amberley, we would be willing to guarantee his staying here until the matter is cleared up,” Uncle James offered. “There is more to this affair than meets the eye. I will engage to present the result of our investigation to you, to fully satisfy you that the young Captain is not guilty.”

&
nbsp; “And if it turns out you are wrong?”

  “Impossible, as I know Mademoiselle de Ville-Deuxtours to be a lady of the highest moral rectitude and truthfulness. If any of this story leaks out she will be forced to marry the young man, although she is completely innocent. Do you suppose a great heiress, born of the bluest blood left in France, would risk that unless she was sure of her man?”

  “Women in love will do anything,” the Justice said derisively.

  Monique had enough of this boor. “In love? How can you suppose me prone to such a vulgar, bourgeois emotion, Sir? Three months ago I served at the French court as a lady in waiting to Her Royal Highness Princess Clementine. I have been presented to your monarch as well, and had private speech with her more than once. I am not some romantic fool, to lose my head over a misplaced passion. I only came here because my honour demanded that I give witness against a wrongful accusation. There is no question of love on either side.”

  “Just so,” Uncle James agreed, though for some reason the corners of his mouth were twitching. “Given the difference in station, such a match would hardly be in my young friend’s interest. Many would call it disastrous. Can I count on your discretion not to mention the story to anyone, Sir Claud?”

  “You really never told the young man how rich you are?” The justice said. “When he learns the truth, he will be the first to insist that you marry him, to preserve your reputation. I shall not speak of it, but such things always come out in my experience. You might as well call the banns now.”

  “We shall see,” Uncle James said easily. “In Amberley, under the eyes of the Countess, they can come to a solution more easily, than if you keep the young man locked up. Will you release him under my cognizance?”

  “Very well,” the Justice said at last, reluctantly. “He did not strike me as a dangerous rogue, it is true. But I shall hold you personally responsible, Ellsworthy, if it should turn out that all this is a hum.”