by May Burnett
“More than I like,” Duncan responded. “I was deemed suited to the function because of my background – my family is in trade.” The others only nodded, unsurprised. “For the past three years and four months, I have served as deputy quartermaster of the regiment. I suppose I should have been more suspicious, that certain kinds of purchase, and notably the book recording all munitions and arms expenditures, were kept strictly out of my sight. My superior, Major Donforth, locked them up even during his occasional leaves.”
“Donforth? Any relation to Buckley Donforth?” Lord Pell asked. “From Derbyshire?”
“I understand that to be the Major’s home county, but I have no specific knowledge of his family connections. He made no secret out of the fact that his older brother is a lord, however.”
“Buckley, without a doubt,” Pell said. “A baron, with whom I am slightly acquainted. Not a bad sort in his way. He lives only for hunting and fishing.”
“Major Donforth is also passionately fond of hunting. It was a hunting accident that led to a broken leg and a longer absence than he had foreseen. I took possession of the books he had locked away, because the accounts could not wait forever. As soon as I read the previous months’ entries I realised that something was very much amiss.”
“Don’t account books have to be countersigned by two people normally?” Roger Ellsworthy asked. Duncan was surprised he knew that much.
“Yes, mine were countersigned by Major Donforth, and his by Colonel Mossley. In practice the higher officers don’t bother to check the numbers, they simply sign what is put before them, as a routine part of their duty. Certainly Major Donforth never double-checked my work, not that he could have found the slightest discrepancy.”
“What exactly did you discover?” Lord Amberley asked.
“Major Donforth drastically overpaid for certain items, and there were notations for munitions expended in training, that were not true to the facts as I knew them. The training, when it took place at all, did not require half as much as he claimed. There was a deplorable lack of live exercise during my time with the regiment. If it has to face the enemy anytime soon, I fear it will be found ill-prepared.”
Lord Pell’s amiable face darkened. “That’s not something a Quartermaster would be able to control. How much money was he skimming, by your estimate?”
“I cannot be sure that I saw through all the various dodges, but I estimate that at least six thousand pounds per annum were abstracted from the army coffers.”
There was a short silence.
“And what did you do on discovering this crime?” Lord Amberley asked.
“What I was supposed to do, according to Army regulations. I reported to the Major’s commanding officer. As soon as I was sure of what had happened, I explained everything to Colonel Mossley and handed him the incriminating evidence, together with my notes on how the swindle worked and how much it might have cost the army.”
“And how did this Colonel react to such a shocking revelation?” James Ellsworthy asked.
“He was displeased. Which seemed natural enough to me. Nobody likes to learn that they were duped, and he had after all countersigned the falsified accounts.”
“Are you sure of that?”
“Yes, his signature was in the accounts book at the end of every month. The first thing Colonel Mossley ordered me to do, once he had heard me out, was not to breathe a word of the matter until he had taken the necessary steps. He threatened me with instant cashiering, if I talked to anybody at all.”
The older gentlemen looked grave. “No wonder he was upset. Supposing he had truly been duped,” Lord Pell observed, “such a discovery would almost certainly wreck this Colonel’s career. There are several precedents where commanding officers had to take full responsibility for their immediate subordinates’ pilfering. His signature on the accounts would be evidence enough. Your Colonel, whether he knew of the thieving before you alerted him or not, has as much motive to permanently silence you, as Major Donforth.”
“It never crossed my mind that he would not do the right thing,” Duncan confessed, subdued. “I did not want to cause problems to the army. My expectation was that the Colonel would use his connections to arrange for the Major to be cashiered without major scandal or notoriety.”
“Honest people don’t normally expect others to be less honest, especially those placed in authority above them,” James Ellsworthy commented. “Don’t worry about it now. Amberley and Pell have excellent contacts in the War Office. They can ensure that the story reaches the right ears, and that an inspection of your regiment’s accounts is scheduled without advance notice.”
“I am leaving for Portsmouth tomorrow morning,” Roger Ellsworthy said, “to investigate the matter of your supposed coach robbery. It is likely I shall meet Colonel Mossley at some point. Whatever you can tell me of the man, and of Major Donforth, will be helpful.”
So this young man, barely dry behind the ear, was going to beard the lions’ den in his stead. Duncan wanted to protest, but what could he say, except express appreciation for this active assistance?
“I can see from your face that you’d rather go yourself,” Roger’s father said. “Very understandable, but consider how your name has been blackened. If you leave your current sanctuary, and show your face anywhere near Portsmouth, you’ll find yourself arrested again, and the next thing we’d hear is that you have unfortunately hanged yourself on your belt while waiting for the assizes. Sometimes it is necessary to let others act, rather than try to do everything oneself.”
It went against the grain, but Mr. Ellsworthy was right. Duncan nodded reluctantly. “The Colonel is a man of medium size, very energetic, about fifty years old. His wife, Lady Rowena Mossley, is the daughter of an Irish Earl and always dresses in the first stare of fashion. They are said to have private means.” Lady Rowena’s elegance and jewels would hardly have been affordable on a Colonel’s income. “Colonel Mossley is respected but not well-liked, for he has a dry sarcastic manner and can be capricious. Major Donforth, on the other hand, is very popular in the regiment, the heart and soul of every party, fond of drink and card games.”
“Is he in debt?” Lord Amberley asked.
“Not to my knowledge. I always supposed that he received a generous allowance from his family. Now, of course, I know how he could afford to order rounds of drinks for everyone several times per week, or have his boots and hats ordered from the best London establishments.”
As everyone contemplated this, Duncan took another sip of the whisky, welcoming the warmth it spread in his throat and guts.
“A bad business, but it must and will be cleared up,” Lord Pell said at last. “Let the chips fall where they may. The War Office will not be happy that the news of the matter is already known outside the army. I will bring it up in the Lords, unless they quickly put order in their house.”
“How soon after your interview with the Colonel did those rumours start?” James Ellsworthy asked.
“Less than a week. When I first realised they were claiming I had an amorous interest in men, I was outraged and puzzled … that there was no evidence, no truth in it, did not seem to matter at all.”
“That was the gist of the rumours, then? Nothing to do with the army, the accounts, or money?” Lord Amberley asked.
“Obviously I would be the last person to hear what exactly I was accused of, but from what I could gather, that was the essence. And bad enough – buggering is a capital offense.”
“So is robbing a coach,” Roger pointed out. “The purpose would have been to pre-emptively destroy your credibility, in case you decided to confide your knowledge of the falsified accounts to anybody else. This is not the kind of honourable behaviour I would hope for among her Majesty’s officers.”
Duncan did not comment. Looking back, he remembered a great many less than honourable acts and decisions he had witnessed during those seven years. Outsiders rarely had a clear idea what went on inside a closed institution lik
e the Army.
“I am grateful if you will see to it the matter is reported higher up,” he said to Lord Pell. “As a lowly Captain I could not bypass the regiment’s commanding officer, though I see, now, that it might have been more prudent.”
“When all this is over, and your name cleared,” Lord Amberley asked curiously, “do you plan to return to the army? I understand you are selling your commission, but nothing prevents you from purchasing another, in a different and perhaps more fashionable regiment.”
Duncan stared at the earl. Did he have the least notion how difficult it had been to buy a commission at all, for the son of a draper? His regiment had been infantry, and undistinguished. Even so he had been made to feel every day of those long seven years, that he did not truly belong.
“It is premature to think about the future,” he replied. “The army has been my ambition since I was a young boy, but recent experiences made me question if it was the best path for me after all. The long peacetime did not help.”
Lord Amberley fixed him sternly. “You had better think of the future, while you are staying here. What are your intentions with regard to Mademoiselle de Ville-Deuxtours?”
Duncan blinked. “Intentions? Did you not hear that my family is in trade? Not to put too fine a point upon it, my late father was a prosperous draper, and my older brother continues his business. I myself was raised in the expectation that I would go into trade. Given the young lady’s station and wealth, it would be utterly presumptuous of me to entertain intentions or hopes of any kind.”
“True,” the earl said, “and I am glad you are aware of it, but by telling that magistrate that she travelled about the countryside alone with you, the poor girl put her honour in jeopardy. If the justice blabs, if anyone guesses or gossips about those days you spent together, she’ll need to marry right away. Are you prepared to do your duty in such an event?”
“If Mademoiselle de Ville-Deuxtours indicates the smallest desire for me to wed her, I would believe myself blessed by fortune,” Duncan said. “She is an admirable and beautiful young lady, for whom I have the greatest esteem and admiration. But she must have other, far more eligible suitors she could turn to in the event that gossip forced her into matrimony.”
“No doubt she could find one of those,” James Ellsworthy agreed, “but under the circumstances, she would have to start her marriage with a moral debt to her husband. It is not easy to find a compatible spouse even among one’s own class, perhaps less easy for an heiress than for other girls. Your birth is not what one could wish for her, but in my view a genuine regard and a kind heart are more important requisites.”
Duncan could not believe his ears. He looked from the earl to the marquis to the young man at his side. None of them looked shocked, or contradicted this revolutionary gospel.
“In the end, it must be as the lady herself wishes,” he said only. “If there is anything in my power in which I can serve her, anything at all, I stand ready.”
The two lords exchanged a look that he could not interpret, and young Roger grinned at his father. A strange family.
The earl got up and reached for the whisky decanter. “Very well then! This calls for another round of drinks.”
Chapter 24
Monique could tell from small signs – the rigidity of his stance, the lashed power of his gestures – that the leisurely routine of Lady Amberley’s country house party was chafing on the Captain.
“Is it very bad?” she asked him during the fourth day of his stay, on one of the rare occasions when they could talk without being overheard. By the luck of the draw they had been assigned as partners in a treasure hunt, and had found their third clue in the boughs of a pear tree. “This sort of life, I mean?”
“I had flattered myself that my feelings were better hidden than that,” the Captain said. “It is very pleasant and peaceful, to be sure, but so childish. We are adults, and so are our fellow guests. Yet we are spending our hours in amusements that seem more suited for half-grown boys and girls, instead of doing any useful work.”
“Many people like play, regardless of age. What harm is there in innocent enjoyment of such pastimes? They do not hurt anyone.”
“No, and for a few relaxing days in between a busy and productive life, I see no harm either. But when entertainment becomes the main object of existence, it must lead either to more and more extreme forms or to ennui – if not both.”
He had a point. Yet she was glad he had confessed this to her, rather than to their fellow guests, who would have been taken aback at such unwonted censure.
“You miss your work, the responsibility. I can understand that. And you must resent having to wait for a solution of your problems by the hands of others. That is entirely natural.”
“I should not have mentioned it. What is the clue? I suppose we should hurry to beat the others to the next one.”
“Never mind about the clue. I wanted to ask you, now we have a moment alone, if the Earl or Countess, or Uncle James, has said anything to you about their notion that we might have to marry?”
His expression became remote. Was the notion so unpalatable to him, then?
“The earl asked my intentions, as though I had the right to entertain any.”
His tone was grim. Monique felt even smaller than usual, the sunny gardens took on a dimmer hue.
“So far, I am grateful to say, nobody has gossiped about our unchaperoned journey,” she said, as neutrally as she could manage. “But there is still a chance that sooner or later people will find out and talk.”
“Nothing happened of which either of us need be ashamed.”
“Of course not. I know what is due to my honour, and you behaved as a perfect gentleman. But if scandal arises, I may have to save my reputation by marrying sooner rather than later.” She kept her eyes on his face with an effort. It really was too humiliating, for both of them, that they might have to wed for such a paltry reason.
“From what I hear, you have numerous admirers and suitors in your own class. The very idea that you would need the protection of my name is absurd. But of course I would extend it instantly, were that your wish.”
“My previous suitors would be far less eager once a scandal arises,” she spelled out. “Some would retire from the lists altogether, and the rest would be more interested in my fortune than my person. At least you have never shown any particular interest in my dowry.”
“I don’t care about it, compared to your happiness and ease. Banished from your natural sphere, you would sooner or later grow to resent your situation and me as its cause. I would ask for nothing better than to woo you, if we were equals in fortune and birth, but it cannot be.”
“Would you? I was wondering if your lack of enthusiasm was because of my small stature.”
“That ceased to matter within the first hour of our acquaintance. The woman who lives behind your pretty dark eyes is fascinating and alluring. Wonderful things can come in small sizes.”
The afternoon was brilliant once more. She felt her lips extend in a wide smile.
“It does not matter how I feel, you would not be happy with a commoner husband. My father was a draper. In Portsmouth society, which is as nothing to the circles in which you move, I was never allowed to forget that circumstance for a moment. Would you want that fact to dog you and your children for the rest of your life?”
“Not particularly,” she said frankly. “But we would not have to associate with rude people who kept throwing it into our faces. My friends, like the Amberleys and Uncle James, are not so high in the instep that they would cut us. My family will stand by me, whoever I marry. Father promised me that.”
“I entreat you not to paint a picture of an impossible future.” His voice sounded rough. “It will only give me pain when it comes to naught. Remember that I am staying here in the character of an accused felon, even if you know that I am innocent. In every respect I can think of, a union between us is utterly unsuitable.”
She stop
ped under a flowering tree. “Is it? Perhaps you are right. But would you like to kiss me?”
He stared at her, his eyes darker than usual. “Of course I would. I am not made of stone. In that pretty yellow gown and straw hat, you look utterly delectable. But a responsible man restrains his impulses when honour demands it.”
“Forget honour for a moment.” She looked around. Nobody was near, and the other trees shielded them from sight. “A quick kiss in a sunny garden is not a mortal sin.” She tipped her head to the side and peered up at him provocatively. Or at least that was how it worked for attractive girls like Verena and Violet.
“You are a rogue, Monique,” he said. “I fear this is going to cost me dear, in sleepless nights and guilt, but if you command it…”
Her lips tingled from the moment they touched his firm, warm mouth. His strong arms held her securely, as though he would never let her go. He kissed thoroughly, expertly. She thrilled at the sensation from the top of her head to her toes. A wave of warmth enveloped her, and she knew she was blushing all over her body. Drat. The Captain had to notice. How was she supposed to play the sophisticated, indifferent lady of the world if she was betrayed by her fiery cheeks and lips?
“You taste sweeter than peaches or honey,” he said, a little hoarsely, when they separated at last. To her relief, he did not mention her unladylike panting and flush. “I’ll never get the taste out of my mind, or my dreams.”
“You kiss very well.” She strove for the blasé tone of one who had kissed dozens. It was not quite true – perhaps eight or nine, and nobody lately. Not one of her suitors had kissed as well as the Captain.
“We should look for the next clue, or give up and return to the house,” he said, “otherwise the gossip you fear may yet arise, and put you in a difficult position. I do not want anyone, ever, to speak ill of you, Mademoiselle.”