An Introduction To The Eternal Collection Jubilee Edition

by Cartland, Barbara

  Near them and obviously uncomfortable and ill at ease, was the red-faced village constable, mopping the sweat from his brow, and beside him stood the, groom, Jackson. There were several footmen on duty by the front door and Bateson, very much on his dignity and behaving as though nothing untoward was occurring, hovered in the background. Caroline wondered anxiously if Maria had returned from the caravan and it was with a throb of relief that she saw, coming from the passage which led from the back quarters of the house, one of the footmen followed by Gideon and another man whom she had never seen but who she knew from his likeness to his son must be Mr. Hackett.

  They were looking a trifle overawed at the grand surroundings in which they found themselves but when Gideon saw Caroline, he grinned at her and there was something in his cheerful face and in the brightness of his eyes which gave her a sudden hope.

  “Who are these people?” Lord Milborne asked.

  “They wish to see her ladyship, m’lord,” the footman answered.

  “They are friends of mine from the circus, Uncle Francis,” Caroline said quickly. “You will collect that I told you of them.”

  Lord Milborne nodded and then he looked across the room at Gervase Warlingham.

  “You wish to speak with me, Mr. Warlingham? Is it concerning the body which was found in this house this morning?”

  Slowly and yet with a kind of wordless insolence Gervase Warlingham drew himself up.

  “It is, my lord.”

  “And how did you know of it?” Lord Milborne asked.

  “I am not surprised that your lordship asks me that question,” Mr. Warlingham answered in slow and level tones, “as I had left the Castle. As it happens, however, I spent the night with an acquaintance of mine in the village - a Mr. Faken. I had made my plans to depart for London this morning when I was awakened at an extremely early hour by these Bow Street Runners, who wished to see me on a private and personal matter. I was speaking with them when my groom, Jackson - whom you see here - came hurrying to tell me that the tiger I had dismissed yesterday at my cousin’s insistence because he had been rough to one of the horses was not only missing, but that his voice had been heard screaming for help from the Castle in the early hours of the morning!”

  “Who heard it?” Lord Milborne asked.

  “My fellow, Jackson, here,” Mr. Warlingham replied.

  “Indeed,” Lord Milborne said, “and what was he doing lurking round the Castle in the early hours of the morning?”

  “One of my horses was taken ill and he came to borrow a horse-rug from my cousin’s stables. The quickest way from Mr. Faken’s house to the stables is through the park and the gardens, and Jackson, who has stayed here on various occasions, knew the way. As he drew nearer to the Castle, thinking naturally to disturb no one at such an hour, he heard the boy yelling for help, but did not dare to go to his rescue.”

  “Why not?” Lord Milborne asked.

  “Your lordship will understand that it was awkward for the fellow, especially as he realised that the boy’s voice came from the Library.”

  “He knew that, did he?” Lord Milborne asked.

  “Yes, he is well acquainted with the place. He did not know what to do, but after a while the cries ceased and he thought that all was well. Nevertheless, when the boy did not turn up this morning - for although I had, dismissed him, I had promised to take him back to London, as it was from there I engaged him - Jackson got worried and came to me with the story of what he had heard.”

  “And you deemed it of importance?” Lord Milborne asked.

  “Naturally, the boy was my responsibility even though on my cousin’s insistence I had dismissed him.”

  “So you persuaded the Runners,” Lord Milborne said, “to set aside the business for which they had come from London, and instead to escort you here to make enquiries into what might prove of infinitely more important matter and one which deeply concerned you personally?”

  “If your lordship desires to put it that way,” Mr. Warlingham said, “I agree - but of course I had no idea then that murder was involved.”

  “And when did you hear that such a thing was possible?” Lord Milborne asked.

  “Jackson went ahead to ask the servants if ought had been seen of the boy. They told him that the body had been discovered in my cousin’s Library.”

  “I see! And this, of course, was grave news for you.”

  “Very grave,” Mr. Warlingham answered. “I cannot believe such a thing of my cousin and yet unfortunately only yesterday I heard him threaten the lad, as did Jackson, his own grooms and of course - her ladyship.”

  He looked across the room at Caroline who felt herself shiver at the venom that she saw in his eyes. But she held herself proudly, hoping that nothing of what she was feeling showed in her face.

  “I have been told what Lord Brecon said,” Lord Milborne answered.

  “My man will repeat it if necessary,” Mr. Warlingham replied. “It was, of course, a crazed action on the part of the boy to take vengeance on my cousin for his dismissal by killing his pet birds, yet I cannot but think, my lord, that the punishment was somewhat in excess of the crime! Incidentally, where is my cousin, or is it presumptuous to ask such a question?”

  “At this stage of the proceedings you will leave the questions to me, Mr. Warlingham,” Lord Milborne said, and turning to the Runners he asked, “Is this gentleman’s explanation of why you are here correct?”

  The older of the men stepped forward.

  “Yes, m’lord. We came in search of Mr. Warlingham, holding a warrant for his arrest for a debt of two thousand guineas.”

  Caroline gave a little start. She remembered that this was the sum for which Gervase Warlingham had tried to blackmail her. He had evidently been in urgent need of it.

  “But before you took him to London he persuaded you to visit the Castle because his tiger was missing and the groom told a sinister story of hearing the boy cry out for help?”

  “That is right, m’lord.”

  “Thank you.”

  Lord Milborne looked towards Gideon.

  “Who are you, boy?” he asked.

  “I be’ Gideon Hackett, if it please yer lordship, and this be me father.”

  The older man touched his forelock respectfully.

  “Have you anything of interest to tell us?” Lord Milborne enquired of Gideon.

  “Yus, m’lord, us gets a message from th’ lady yester eve to keep our daylights skinned as her feared somethin’ might be a-stirrin’ in th’ next night or two. Me father and Oi does as the lady asks. Us were walking through th’ wood near th’ house when us hears a scream. Us hurries on and lays low and us sees the gentry swell there,” - Gideon pointed to Mr. Warlingham - “and th’ other cove” - Gideon motioned his thumb towards Jackson - “a-grappling with a boy. He b’aint but a strip of a lad, but he was millin’ like a tough ‘un, strugglin’ and kickin’ and yellin’ fit to burst.

  “Us waits in th’ bushes. Us didn’t tumble to it then as to what the well-breeched swell was after but all of a sudden like Oi be bubbled if the leery cove doesn’t up and gives th’ boy a custy blow on the back of his head and knock him for six. He falls like a stone and as soon as he’s down the swell kneels beside him and puts his hands round his throat. Us keeps our glims on him, ‘twas dark to be sure, but me old man and Oi thinks he must have throttled the boy for he never squeaks again. Then th’ swell gets up, lifts his whip and fair wallops the body. Oi ain’t never seed anyun flog a corpse afore and it fair turns me belly over! Then th’ other cove says, “That’s done it, sir,” and the gentry swell stops. Seems to Oi he were not far from enjoying it, for there was a grin on his phys right enough. The big cove lifts the boy - dead as a kipper he looks - on his shoulder and they starts walkin’ away towards the Castle. That’s what Oi seed, Guv’nor, and ‘tis Gawd’s truth Oi be tellin’ yer.”

  There was a tense silence as Gideon’s voice died away. Everyone was staring at him. Caroline’s hands clutch
ed the arms of the chair. Then the silence was broken by Mr. Warlingham.

  “Gammon!’ he exclaimed. “A pretty story and the boy has been well coached in his lies, but your lordship is not likely to believe the fairy tales of gipsies and poachers. Doubtless her ladyship, with her well-known powers of imagination has invented this smoky yarn, but she should get more reliable witnesses if she would have them credited.”

  Lord Milborne glanced at him and then spoke to Mr. Hackett.

  “Have you anything to add to your son’s testimony?” he asked.

  “Only this, m’lord.”

  The older man came across the floor. He limped a little and walked stiffly as if his wounds from the tiger still pained him. But he had an honest face and Caroline felt that Lord Milborne must believe him trustworthy. As he reached his lordship, he opened his hand and on the palm of it was a small object.

  “What is it?” Lord Milborne asked.

  “‘Tis a button, m’lord, which th’ boy in his struggles tore from th’ gentleman’s coat. It fell from his hand among th’ fallen leaves in th’ wood. Us found it after they was gone.”

  Caroline gave a little gasp. Lord Milborne put out his hand and took the button from the man’s hand. As he held it, it was easy to see that attached to it there was a piece of material, and it was of olive-green superfine cloth, such as might be used in the making of a very elegant coat.

  Lord Milborne turned the button over in his hand then he raised his quizzing-glass.

  “A monogram!” he said quietly, and Caroline bending forward saw that the button was in gold with a pattern of diamonds set in the centre of it.

  There was a hush in the hall. Then Lord Milborne said clearly,

  “I read this as the entwined initials “G.W.” Have you anything to say, Mr. Warlingham?”

  Gervase Warlingham’s face whitened, and he licked his lips but even as he was about to speak, there was a sound of the front door being opened by one of the footmen and a man came clumping into the hall. Everyone turned and Caroline saw that it was Jason Faken.

  He was looking more disreputable and unpleasant than usual, and as he came into view, Caroline saw that he was dragging by the arm a middle-aged woman whose face for the moment seemed vaguely familiar. She was dressed in neat, clean garments with a shawl round her shoulders and a black bonnet on her head. Her hands were trembling and her eyes seemed wild with fear.

  Jason Faken brought her into the hall and then, letting loose her arm, he walked straight to where Mr. Warlingham was standing. He went very close to him and said something in a low voice which was not audible, but Mr. Warlingham’s reply was clear to all.

  “Why the devil didn’t you find it out sooner, you curst fool?” he asked furiously. Then looking across at Lord Milborne, he said with a sneer on his lips, “If there is to be a trial, my lord, which I gather from your lordship’s attitude seems likely, then I demand to be tried by - my peers.”

  15

  For a moment there was only an astonished silence, and then Lord Milborne asked quietly,

  “Will you give a reason for your request, sir?”

  Mr. Warlingham drew himself up.

  “My reason, my lord, is that I am in truth the rightful Lord Brecon. The man, who has hitherto styled himself as such, who has lived here in this Castle and made himself master of the estate, is, as I have proof, nothing more or less than an imposter!”

  Caroline gave a little inarticulate sound and would have spoken had not Lord Milborne glanced in her direction, and she knew that he wished her to remain silent.

  “Have you your proof here, Mr. Warlingham?” Lord Milborne asked slowly and calmly seeming by his unsurprised dignity to deprive the situation of much of its dramatic quality.

  In answer Gervase Warlingham nodded to Jason Faken. The hunchback crossed the hall and, seizing the arm of the woman in the black bonnet, he dragged her forward.

  “This woman can supply the proof, m’lord,” he said in a loud, harsh voice.

  “One minute’’ Lord Milborne said. “What is your name?”

  “Jason Faken.”

  “And your profession?”

  The hunchback seemed to hesitate, then sullenly he replied,

  “Lawyer.”

  “In practice?”

  Again there was a moment’s pause before the reply,

  “Formerly in the employment of Rosenberg, Sparrow and Cohen.”

  Caroline gave a little gasp. The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. Now she could see very clearly where Gervase Warlingham had obtained the information that Sir Montagu was blackmailing his cousin. It was Jason Faken who had been the link between Melissa’s indiscretion and the murder by the ruined cottage. And Gervase Warlingham, supplied with the knowledge by a dismissed servant of the farm, had acted without Rosenberg or Sir Montagu having any idea that he was concerned in their affairs.

  It had been just one more weapon to assist him in his plot for ridding himself of his cousin. Caroline thought that somehow Gervase Warlingham must have learnt how the late Lord Brecon had died, and he believed that, if Vane could be accused of murder, it would be comparatively easy to prove that his criminal tendencies were hereditary. Yet this assertion that Vane was an imposter was obviously something new.

  Suddenly Caroline remembered Mr. Warlingham coming into the hall when Vane was showing her the pictures of his ancestors. He had observed then that Vane, being blond, was unlike the majority of his forbears. Dorcas with surprising presumption had joined in the conversation! Had she unwittingly given Gervase Warlingham a clue to some strange secret of which even Vane was ignorant? Caroline felt her heart begin to throb with an almost overwhelming excitement.

  “Very well, Mr. Faken,” Lord Milborne said, “you may now continue.”

  “I have here beside me,” the hunchback said, “Mrs. Jenks, who will give your lordship irrefutable proof of my client’s statement that he is indeed the rightful and lawful Lord Brecon.”

  He gave the woman’s arm a shake as he spoke. She gave a little whimper of fear, at which he turned to her and put his ugly, evil face near to hers.

  “Speak up! Tell his lordship what you know.”

  The woman began to sob. Jason Faken shook her arm again then suddenly there was an interruption.

  “Stop!” a voice said.

  Everyone turned and looked towards the top of the stairs whence the voice had come and Caroline saw that Dorcas stood there, her gaunt face almost awe-inspiring in its severity and anger The woman in the black bonnet covered her face with her hands. Dorcas came swiftly down the stairs and, crossing the hall, stood beside her.

  “Martha Jenks!” she said furiously. “Have you taken leave of your senses? Do you dare to break your most solemn oath to speak on things that you have vowed should never cross your lips?”

  The woman gave a loud sob and taking her hands from her face clasped them together.

  “‘Tis no use, Dorcas,” she wailed. “I had to come – they made me. They caught my Tom with – a hare in his hand and a net in his pocket. ‘Tis transportation for him – unless I does as the gentleman commands.”

  “Then let him be transported,” Dorcas said, and there was a world of scorn in her voice. “Better that than that my own sister should turn traitor.”

  Mr. Jenks wrung her hands together.

  “Tis all very well for you to talk, Dorcas – but Tom is my son – ‘tis more than flesh and blood could stand – to see him sent away – for what was naught but a boyish prank.”

  Dorcas would have spoken again, but Lord Milborne interrupted.

  “Silence for a moment,” he said clearly, looking at Dorcas. “What is your name?”

  Caroline thought that Dorcas would not answer, for in her anger she seemed oblivious of everything, save her sister who was sobbing now almost uncontrollably. But the habit of a lifetime in service asserted itself. She curtsied as she answered.

  “I’m known as Dorcas, m’lord, and I’m personal maid to th
e Dowager Lady Brecon.”

  “It is obvious, Dorcas,” Lord Milborne said, “that you know things that have been kept secret for some time, but which now must be revealed. We are concerned at the moment with the saving or destroying of two men’s lives. One is his lordship, Lord Brecon, and the other is his cousin, Mr. Gervase Warlingham. Furthermore, apart from a charge of murder which will be laid against one of these gentlemen, Mr. Warlingham asserts that he is the rightful owner of the title, of this Castle and its estates. His proof, so he says, rests with this woman whom you have called your sister. But it appears to me that she is in no fit state to tell her story clearly. Would it not be better, as obviously you know it full well, for you to relate what you know, Dorcas? It is too late now to hide anything, for all is bound to be revealed sooner or later.”

  Dorcas stared at Lord Milborne all the time he was speaking, yet the expression on her face was difficult to read. Only when he had finished did she turn once again to her sister standing beside her and ask in a low voice,

  “How much have you told, Martha?”

  “Ev – everything,” came the answer and now the woman in her agony seemed about to collapse on to the floor, so that both Dorcas and Jason Faken put out their hands to support her.

  “Take her to a chair,” Lord Milborne commanded and when they had done so, the woman bent her head almost to her knees and continued to cry, but quietly.

  “Now, Dorcas,” Lord Milborne said.

  “Yes, let us hear the unvarnished truth,” Mr. Walsingham sneered.

  Dorcas looked across the hall at him.

  “I’ll tell the truth, sir,” she said, and her tone was ominous, “but poor comfort will it bring you now.”

  She turned to Lord Milborne.

  “In speaking, m’lord, I must reveal not my own secrets but those of my mistress. Is that in order?”

  “I am afraid so, Dorcas,” Lord Milborne replied, “for I take it these secrets concern your mistress’s son.”