by May Burnett
“You will see that it isn’t,” James Ellsworthy assured him, unconcerned. “It would be convenient if we could take him back with us now, in good time for dinner.”
“I am invited to dine at Amberley next week,” the Justice recalled. “I must say I don’t fancy sharing the board with a fellow who is in my lock-up now.”
“You’ll be seated far away from him,” James promised. “Though as he’s innocent, as you’ll see in due course, there is no reason to shun the young man.”
“Very well.” Sir Claude gave orders to have the prisoner brought to them, with all his belongings. While they waited, he made James Ellsworthy sign a written guarantee for the behaviour and presence of Captain Kinninmont at Amberley, until further notice. Monique could scarcely contain her impatience while they discussed the exact wording.
“There he is, your honour,” the constable said at last, ushering Captain Kinninmont into the room.
Monique’s eyes flew to meet his.
The Captain stared back at her, from his frown not at all happy. “Ma’am,” he said, and sketched a correct bow. “You should have let well enough alone.”
“Captain.” Her throat felt unaccountably constricted, and she had to swallow before she could go on. “Sir Claud has agreed to let you continue your journey to Amberley, but you’ll have to stay there until the accusation against you is dealt with.”
“There was no need for that,” the young man said gruffly. “I do not want to impose on your friends, or your own good nature.”
“What’s done is done,” Uncle James said cheerfully. “We can discuss your objections at length on the way to Amberley. It’s a good hour, so we had better get started.”
“Indeed,” the justice added. “In your place, young man, I would kiss Mademoiselle de Ville-Deuxtours’ hands and feet, for risking her good name to free you. You are very much obliged to her.”
“Mademoiselle?” Kinninmont looked at her quizzically, but fortunately did not question her sudden name change. That was best discussed far from the Justice’s ears. “The lady’s good name was never in danger from me, I assure you, Sir.”
“Yes, yes, we are all very high-minded and noble today,” the justice said impatiently. “For all I know it may be true, but nothing to do with me. All that concerns me is your whereabouts on the night of May 19th.”
Monique was relieved that Uncle James ushered them out without engaging in any more exchanges with the tiresome Justice of the Peace. Captain Kinninmont said nothing until they were well away from the latter’s house.
“What were you thinking, Miss Towers!” he chided once they were outside. “Whoever is behind this accusation, I don’t want you involved in this matter. It is as dangerous as it is unsavoury, I fear.”
“They involved me when they shot my maid, and ruined the old berline. These people, whether they are ultimately your enemies or mine, would have killed me and my retainers without a second thought. They deserve to be caught and punished. Indeed, neither of us can be safe until that is accomplished.”
“You think the same people are behind the previous attacks, and my arrest?”
“We can discuss it in the carriage,” Uncle James interrupted their exchange. “There are Violet and Roger, in front of the bakery.”
“Uncle James’s twins,” Monique reminded the Captain.
“Captain Kinninmont, I presume?” Roger asked when the two groups met in the middle of the sidewalk. “Pleased to make your acquaintance. I am Roger Ellsworthy, and this is my sister, Miss Ellsworthy.”
“How do you do,” Violet said to the Captain in a frosty tone.
The Captain bowed.
“You are bound to come with us to Amberley,” Uncle James told him. “Resistance would be futile. Ah, there is the barouche. We’ll be a little crowded, with five of us, but we can manage.”
“Especially as the shrimp only takes up half a seat,” Roger said.
Monique wanted to clout him over the head. Sometimes it was very hard to be a refined lady, to suppress her feelings and remain gracious in the face of ungentlemanly provocation.
Chapter 20
As he sat in the carriage opposite Mr. Ellsworthy, who had liberated him with those unblushing lies, Duncan was silent, feeling his way. What was truth, what falsehood? He certainly had not been expected as a house guest at an Earl’s seat. He doubted that anyone in his family, over many generations, had entered such an estate except in some menial or commercial capacity.
Though simpler clothing differentiated her from the others, Miss Towers was at complete ease in their company, and acted as their equal in every way. For some reason they addressed her as Monique, the French form of her name. It suited her. And had not the Justice also used a French last name, de something-or-other?
“Ma’am”, he said to Miss Towers during a momentary lull in their talk, “what is your true name?”
“Monique Marie Louise Antoinette de Ville-Deuxtours,” she replied. “I’m afraid it is rather a mouthful.”
“Deuxtours…two towers…ah, that’s how you derived Towers,” he realised. “Then you are French?”
“Indeed. I must apologize for misleading you. When we first met it was so dark, and the circumstances not exactly propitious. I was not sure I could trust you with my identity.”
“I see.”
“No, you don’t,” the young man at his left side, Roger Ellsworthy, contradicted him. “Mademoiselle de Ville-Deuxtours is one of the greatest prizes on the marriage mart, an heiress in her own right as well as related to half the high nobility in Europe. She is a familiar face at the Bourbon court as well as ours. In such circumstances, prudence was highly advisable.”
“You won’t get any argument against prudence from me,” Duncan said drily. “I am grateful to all of you for extricating me from that lock-up, but it was not necessary. It must have emerged eventually that the accusation was a mere fabrication.”
“I fear you underestimate your enemies,” the older Mr. Ellsworthy said with a grave look. “If they attempted murder without caring who else was hurt, they will hardly shy back from perjury. Once you appear in court as the accused, it will take a miracle to save you. It seemed essential to cut the scheme off here, in the absence of your accusers, even if I had to employ some strategic untruths.”
“That I was expected as a guest at Amberley, when the Earl and Countess have never met me, and probably have not the slightest wish to house and feed me? I would prefer not to accept their hospitality, but you gave your word to the Justice of the Peace. How do you know I won’t abscond at the first opportunity?”
“I have no concerns on that score,” Ellsworthy said calmly. “Give me some credit for judgement; or if not to me, then to Mademoiselle Monique, who vouched for you.”
He bowed. “Thank you, Mademoiselle.”
Ellsworthy went on, “Now that the civilities are out of the way, Captain, we need to consider who has a motive to wish you ill, or remove you from the living. Monique said you were subjected to harassment before you decided to sell out, to vicious gossip. Do you have any suspicion as to who might have reason to harm you?”
“There is a Major Donforth, who might wish to silence me,” Duncan said. “But he is home in Derbyshire, with a complicated fracture of the leg.”
“He might still have hired someone to do his dirty work,” Miss Ellsworthy suggested. So far she had regarded him with evident disapprobation, but the mystery seemed to interest her. “From whom did you learn of his infirmity? You cannot rely on third-hand information in such a case.”
“No, indeed,” Monique supported her. “Even if he can only hobble about with a stick, Donforth might have confederates in Portsmouth. Those officers we met at the inn look like prime candidates for the role.”
“What kind of gossip was it, exactly?” Miss Ellsworthy inquired.
“Nothing fit for the ears of a young lady,” Duncan said. “Suffice to say that any allegations were completely unfounded and untrue.”
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“I see,” Roger Ellsworthy said, and from his expression, it was clear that he had guessed at what Duncan had left unsaid. “In all the years of your military service, that was the first time such accusations were made against you?”
“Yes. And they were not accusations to my face, merely behind my back.”
“What I want to know,” James Ellsworthy said, “is what they intended to accomplish. You decided to sell out and leave Portsmouth, and the army, far behind. If that had been the objective, the matter would surely have ended there. Yet they would not simply let you go, and tried to murder you from ambush, if our theory that the same people are behind all attacks is correct.”
“They may have wanted to drive you to suicide,” Miss Ellsworthy said to Duncan. “If the allegations were what I think you meant, and had there been any truth to them, it would have been a likely outcome. Certainly a coroner would not have questioned it.”
“Self-murder is a coward’s solution, that I would never have chosen, no matter how true or false the rumours,” Duncan said indignantly.
“You know that,” James Ellsworthy said, “and so may close family members or friends. Yet if you were found shot by your own pistol, after a wave of humiliating whispers, who would have been in a position to say with certainty that it was not by your own hand?”
Duncan felt cold. He had never been popular among his mess-mates, but to think that any of them would have plotted such evil went against the grain, even now. “We cannot know that for sure.”
Mr. Ellsworthy nodded. “True, we are only weighing possibilities. But if your death and simultaneous discrediting was their objective, you may have upset their plans by leaving Portsmouth at short notice. They would have to regroup, and may have decided then that a stray poacher’s shot on your way, or an unfortunate carriage accident, would suit them even better. There would have been no reason to connect your death elsewhere with your regiment.”
“Is your Colonel particularly close to that Major?” Monique asked. “Do you consider him capable of participating in such a vile plot?”
Duncan forced himself to ponder the matter with what calm he could. “I don’t know how close they may be; certainly they were on better terms with each other, than with me. They come from similar backgrounds, went to similar schools, or even the same one, I would not know. They constantly attended the same dinners, balls, parties, but in a small place like Portsmouth that means very little.”
“What is the name of this Colonel?” Roger Ellsworthy said. “We may know the family.”
“Elijah Mossley.”
“Mossley? I don’t think they are among the peerage,” Violet Ellsworthy mused. “At least I don’t recognise the last name.”
“There is a baron of that name, but not in the House,” her father said. “Somewhere in Devon, unless my memory fails me.”
“I do believe Colonel Mossley hails from there,” Duncan said. “This baron may be his father or brother. He certainly never let anyone forget that he came from a higher class, or that his wife, Lady Rowena, is the daughter of an Irish earl.”
Monique threw him a sympathetic glance, but said nothing.
“I am going to Portsmouth to find out what truly happened,” the younger Ellsworthy announced.
“Thank you,” Duncan said, “but this is not your fight. If your father’s suspicions are true, my opponents are extremely ruthless officers with everything to lose. I gather that you believe I was to be killed to shut me up, and allow Major Donforth to continue his career unmolested. If they are so willing to commit mayhem, it might not be a salubrious place for you either.”
“There are other means,” James Ellsworthy said. “My brother George, that is Lord Amberley, is acquainted with some of the highest army authorities. Through him we can send an affidavit about your discoveries to the War Office, requesting they look into the matter. They will not want to risk a question in the Lords about it.”
“But would he be willing to concern himself with the matter, just on my word?” Duncan asked doubtfully. His experience of aristocrats did not predispose him to put any credence in the proposed scheme.
“Of course he will,” Miss Ellsworthy said. “Any taxpayer wants to know his money is going into actual army requisitions, and not diverted to some thief’s pocket.”
“And if all else fails, questions could be put in the lower House as well, by my brother-in-law Sir Henry Beecham,” her father said. “Henry is always on the lookout for government malfeasance.”
“We are also friends with the proprietor of a gossip rag,” Roger Ellsworthy added. “Who would not hesitate to put the scare into your enemies, if we put the matter to him.”
“You must accept help, Captain,” Monique said in her melodious voice. “I cannot bear the thought that the villains who shot at us, and wounded my poor maid, should go unpunished.”
“You certainly have reason to hate them too,” Violet said to her sympathetically. “Your whole life will likely be impacted by these rogues.”
Miss Towers bit her lips and blushed, averting her gaze from Duncan.
Duncan stared at her. “How can that be? You are safely restored to your friends, to your own station in life.”
“For now,” Roger Ellsworthy said. “But if the story of her unchaperoned flight should become known, she may be forced to marry you.”
Duncan was speechless, and the young lady’s blush deepened.
“Unless you already have a fiancée or wife of whom we don’t know?” Violet asked. “That would make this muddle complete.”
“Will you stop talking of this!” Miss Towers rounded on the twins with surprising vehemence. “The Captain will do as he sees fit, and so will I. Nothing will leak out, and we can each go our own way.”
“We have just discussed how unfounded rumours were able to derail Captain Kinninmont’s career and life,” Roger Ellsworthy pointed out. “As an unmarried young lady, you are even more vulnerable than he is.” He turned to Duncan, a challenge in his blue eyes. “What do you say, Captain? Are you prepared to do the right thing?”
“It matters not what I am prepared to do, or what my wishes might be,” Duncan said stiffly. “I cannot suppose that marriage to me could be the right thing for a lady as well-born and rich as I now understand Miss Towers – I mean, Mademoiselle de Ville-Deuxtours – to be. Her parents would horsewhip me, when they return from their journey abroad. Such a match, however much it might fulfil my own desires, cannot possibly be in her best interest.”
“We don’t have to decide anything now, and if the story remains secret the whole discussion may be moot,” his father said smoothly. “Marriage is a very serious matter. I suggest we wait until we know more, and know Captain Kinninmont better.”
Duncan was relieved when this sensible suggestion was followed. Marriage to Miss Towers? When he had just been freed from prison, and was still under suspicion of highway robbery? These people might be well-meaning, but they did not know what they were talking about. When they learned that his father had been a draper, that he had no noble or wealthy connections at all, they would quickly change their tune.
If only things were different … Duncan would love to marry the interesting young female who sat opposite him, strangely tongue-tied for once. She was never boring, and possessed a level head and a brave heart. But to entertain any hope of such a match would only lead to disappointment and regrets. For Monique’s sake, he must make it clear that it would never do.
Chapter 21
A footman fetched Duncan for dinner. He had met Lord and Lady Amberley upon arrival, but there had not been time for anything but a brief and polite welcome, during which Duncan admired, despite himself, the couple’s aristocratic poise. They must surely wish him to the devil, and had to know he came to them straight from prison, dishevelled and unshaven. Yet they had not indicated their reluctance to host him with as much a twinge of their elegant brows. Lady Amberley, a slim brunette with luminous green eyes, even smiled at him as t
hough she really meant it.
After that Roger had born him off towards a perfectly appointed guest room, and discreetly directed and supplied him, in the most tactful manner imaginable, so that he was now wearing correct evening clothes that fit almost perfectly. Duncan appreciated the young man’s practical assistance, contrasting so pleasantly with the hostile attitude of his twin, Miss Ellsworthy. Duncan could not hold her reticence against the lady, however, as it grew from her protective attitude towards Miss Towers, whom she treated as a younger sister.
Idly he wondered why Miss Ellsworthy, one of the prettiest young women he had met in a long time – prettier than Miss Towers by conventional measures – was still unmarried. She must have been knee-deep in suitors from the moment she came out. Perhaps she was betrothed to some sailor or soldier on a mission to some far-away country. It was hardly something he could ask about.
Besides, he had no interest in the stately blonde. He was still reeling from the startling suggestion that Miss Towers and he might have to marry.
Had she been aware of the possibility – the danger – when she gave her testimony in his favour? Possibly. She was too honourable to shirk what she saw as her duty. But what kind of marriage would result if every one of her family and friends would lament for the rest of their lives, how she had thrown herself away? She would bear it with dignity and outward composure, but little by little the succession of slights might poison their union, and make her regret the match. However Duncan might rejoice in such a wife, for her sake he had to hope that the journey could be hushed up successfully.
It probably would be; hushing matters up at any cost was a way of life for the aristocracy. They did as they pleased, never counting the cost. Monique was the exception: nine out of ten ladies in her position would have kept their silence.
If he were some spoiled lord Duncan would grasp at the chance, marry the girl as soon as he could get her to an altar, and spend the rest of his life ensuring that she never should regret it. They could be happy together, if only their station and birth were more equal. But to even imagine such a future was a dangerous indulgence. He had to keep his wits about him and slip his head out of the noose in which it was still half stuck, as long as the arrest warrant against him stood.