“I was very foolish, I know, sir, but Ned’s loss came so unexpectedly, so soon after my father’s… I had never thought to inherit. My talents are very different from Ned’s. He was always conservative in seeking for solutions. I have always been a risk-taker.”
“Taking risks is a strange talent,” commented the magistrate sarcastically.
“Not in the army, my lords,” Tony answered strongly. He’d be damned if he’d let them convict him without a fight.
“Yes, well, we have heard Colonel Bain and have seen several letters in evidence testifying to your bravery, that is true enough. So…you took to gaming to win back the family fortune, you lost heavily, you turned to Lady Fairhaven to bail you out. When she wouldn’t continue to lend you money, you killed her in a fit of anger and desperation.”
Tony’s head came up. “That is an absolute lie, my lord. I…cared for Lady Fairhaven. I would never have harmed her.”
“Are you calling this court a liar, Lord Ashford?”
“Not at all. I am, however, calling the charges lies.”
“Do you deny that you were the last person to see Lady Fairhaven on the night of her murder?”
“I was the last to be seen with her, my lord. The last to see her would have been her murderer.”
“Tell us about that last week, Lord Ashford.” It was a soft, smooth, and kindly voice, and it came from the magistrate Tony had thought asleep. He still looked asleep, his hands folded over his stomach, his eyes half closed, but at least he sounded open-minded.
“Lady Fairhaven and I had become very close by then, my lords. Although nothing had been said yet, it was clear that when I proposed, she would accept. I asked her for a sum of money with which to pay off my debts and I promised that I would not go back to the tables.”
There was silence. No short, sharp questions from this magistrate, so Tony continued. “I broke my promise, of course. Lost it all, sold some personal items, and won back three hundred pounds. I decided to go to Lady Fairhaven one more time. This time I was determined to stop gaming. I escorted her home that night. We were in the library. I confessed what I had done and asked her for another loan.”
“Loan?”
“I asked her to help me pay off my immediate debts. She refused. I think it was at this point that her butler came into the library. I am sure he overheard our quarrel. But after she sent him up to bed, we talked further.” Tony paused, seeing Claudia in front of him, remembering how humiliated he had felt, but also how sure he had been that this time he would be able to resist the call of the tables, how grateful he was to her for her generosity and love. But what good had that done Claudia…?
The soft voice came again.
“Go on, Lord Ashford.”
“It was a…difficult conversation, my lord. I had to admit that I was becoming a gamester—that I was letting my brother’s hopes down. Letting her down. But by the end of it, she believed that this time I was sincere, and we had become betrothed. The notice was to have gone to the papers in the morning.”
“And why would Lady Fairhaven have agreed to marry you, Lord Ashford?”
Tony hesitated. “Because she loved me, and knew I cared for her.”
“You do not use the word ‘love’?”
“I didn’t love her in the same way. She knew that. But we both hoped I would come to love her.”
“And?”
“I said good night and I left.”
“With six hundred pounds.”
“Yes. She had given me the money just before I said good night.”
“And who let you out?”
“Jim. The under-footman.” Tony’s face brightened. “In fact, he would be a witness for me, my lords. I gave him a guinea and told him he was the first to wish me happy.”
“How unfortunate, then, that this Jim has disappeared,” commented the first magistrate in his most sarcastic of tones. “Who knows where he is, or indeed, if he still is.”
“And after that you went straight home, Lord Ashford?” The second magistrate continued his soft questions.
“Yes, my lord. My valet can vouch for that.”
“Where you were after the murder is hardly of interest to this court, is it, Lord Ashford?” asked his nemesis on the bench.
Tony just stood there silently, gripping the railing until his knuckles were white.
“What do you think happened after you left, Lord Ashford?” asked the quiet voice.
“I don’t know, my lords. Perhaps Jim is the culprit, although he seemed very devoted to Lady Fairhaven. Or a common housebreaker. There have been a number of break-ins in the neighborhood recently. I only know that Lady Fairhaven was alive when I left.”
“Wouldn’t a housebreaker have been likely to have hit her with a heavy object? Or even strangled her?” The voice was still sympathetic.
“I would agree that that sounds most likely, my lord.”
“And yet she was not strangled or killed in a painful manner. She was killed swiftly and in such a way as one might expect from a skilled soldier. Have you ever killed anyone in that particular way, my lord? By exerting pressure on the carotid arteries?” The magistrate’s eyes opened slowly, and he leaned forward to hear Tony’s answer.
Tony was silent.
“Have you, Lord Ashford?”
Tony let out a deep breath. “Yes, my lord, I have. Once. In Spain.”
“Well, I think we have heard enough, don’t you?”
The first magistrate nodded in answer to his colleague’s question and Tony was led off, his mouth hanging open. That was it. He was a goner. He’d sit and rot in Newgate until the trial and then be convicted on the evidence. But there really was no evidence. Couldn’t they see that? Why weren’t they out looking for Jim? Why would he have wanted to kill Claudia for six hundred pounds instead of marrying her for thousands? And why in God’s name hadn’t he had the wit to say that?
He only had to wait a half hour before he was brought back.
“Anthony Varden, Lord Ashford, His Majesty’s Court at Bow Street has decided that you are to be released,” said the first magistrate. Tony started to shake uncontrollably.
The second voice continued, mellifluous as honey. As sweet as honey. “The evidence against you has been deemed largely circumstantial. And while the immediate motive, angry desperation, is convincing, it would seem you would have had a stronger motive to want Lady ‘Fairhaven alive. At least, on the evidence before us. If, however, new evidence should appear against you, you will be immediately taken up. Have you anything to say, Lord Ashford?”
Tony had a hard time just getting out a “No, and thank you, my lords,” through his chattering teeth. His hands were uncuffed and he realized that he was indeed free. He could go home and wash the smell of Newgate off him. He stumbled down the corridor and out the front door, feeling a mixture of euphoria and despair. He would send John to collect his few things from his cell. He could eat a decent meal. And he could prepare to return to Ashford. But he might as well throw his evening clothes and whatever invitations he might have received last week out the window. The court had judged him innocent. For now. But Claudia’s murderer still went free. And until he was found and convicted, Tony Varden would be tainted by suspicion and shunned by society.
Chapter 23
Joanna had sent a note to Gideon Naylor on the morning of the hearing, asking him to call on her afterward. By this time her parents were aware that she had hired a Runner and were reconciled to the fact, if not happy about it. It wasn’t that they wanted her to abandon an old friend and neighbor. But there was something not quite respectable for a young woman to be paying for a man’s defense, even if they had known each other for years. At any rate, her father had decided that it was more appropriate for the family to be funding Naylor, rather than Joanna herself.
When Gideon arrived, he was shown into the drawing room where Joanna sat with both her parents. After introductions, Lord and Lady Barrand left him with Joanna, having satisfied them
selves that he was competent and not out to take advantage of their daughter.
“I am happy to tell you, Lady Joanna,” said Gideon, “that Lord Ashford was released this morning.”
Joanna, who had been sitting very straight, relaxed and gave Naylor a joyous smile. “Thank God, they saw he was innocent! However did you do it?”
“I have done nothing so far, Lady Joanna. The witnesses gave their evidence and the magistrates decided that there was not enough concrete evidence to bind Lord Ashford over for trial. For now.”
“What do you mean, ‘for now’?”
“He was very lucky Lady Fairhaven’s will has not yet been read.”
“Why?”
“Because could it be proved that Lord Ashford knew about it, it would provide a motive. I understand from her solicitor that he will benefit. By how much, I don’t know.”
“But he is free?”
“Oh, yes, he was free to go immediately. But since no one else has been arrested, Lord Ashford will still draw suspicion. An arrest always marks a man, you know. The public is always sure, unless there is absolute evidence to the contrary, that where there is smoke there is fire.”
Joanna sighed. “I know you are right. Until we find the real criminal, Tony is ruined. Society is merciless, you know.”
“Well, I have not given up all hope. In fact, I am rather optimistic,” Naylor told her. “I have found out that Jim Tolin is really Jim Rooke and before Lady Fairhaven hired him, he was employed by Halesworth Limited.”
“So Lord Fairhaven knew him?”
“Possibly. It seems too much of a coincidence to me. The young man’s parents say that he was trained as a clerk to keep him out of service. The question is, why then did he end up as Lady Fairhaven’s footman?”
“Perhaps he was an unsatisfactory clerk?”
“Perhaps. Or perhaps Lord Halesworth sent him into the household to act as a spy.”
“Or Lord Fairhaven fired him and Jim is an unstable young man who wished to revenge himself on the family and killed Lady Fairhaven when she found him stealing from her,” Joanna suggested, getting carried away by her scenario and convincing herself it was the answer.
Gideon smiled. “That is a possibility, certainly, but there has been no indication that Jim is in any way disturbed.”
“How ever will you find him?”
“First, I intend to question Lord Fairhaven and some of his employees. Then it will be footwork,” said Gideon, smiling again. “All those years in the infantry and I again am unable to put my feet up.”
“When is Lady Fairhaven’s will to be read?” Joanna asked thoughtfully.
“I believe not until next week, so I have some time to find this Jim.”
“And is there really a possibility they could arrest Tony again?”
“If no other suspect is found, yes.”
“Then, please God, you will succeed.” Joanna stood up and extended her hand. “You will let me know as soon as you find anything?”
“Of course, my lady.”
“And in the meantime, I will do whatever I can to salvage Tony’s reputation,” said Joanna, with far more optimism than she felt.
* * * *
Joanna might have been able to summon some optimism in the afternoon, but after hearing the gossip flowing around her that evening, she realized how difficult her task would be. She made the effort to begin every conversation with a wide-eyed announcement of Tony’s release. “Isn’t it wonderful that they could find no evidence against Lord Ashford? It was disgraceful for a peer of the realm to be subjected to such treatment.” It would hardly have been polite for her partners or acquaintances to disagree with her. And most of them did feel that an earl, no matter what the reason, did not belong in a public jail.
But Joanna’s words were like stones in a stream. The gossip was halted for a moment, but then flowed on around them.
The next day she was hoping that Tony would call on her and was disappointed when the announcement never came. On one hand, she hadn’t hired Naylor to earn undying expressions of gratitude, but on the other, a call from a friend to say “thank you” and let her know how he was faring wasn’t too much to expect. She assumed she would see him that evening, but he was at none of the events she attended, which, of course, gave the gossips even freer rein.
She decided she was disappointed in him. He could have—no, he should have—called on her. And he certainly would have been wise to make an immediate appearance in society. His absence only made him look guilty. And so she asked her parents to send him an invitation to join them in a private supper and excursion to the theater the next evening.
“Are you sure you wish to do this, Joanna?” her mother asked.
“How can you say that, Mother? You have known Tony all his life. He needs every bit of support he can get. If old friends desert him, whom does he have?”
“I suppose you are right, my dear. It is only that a parent thinks of her own child first. I don’t want you to suffer from your association with him. But yes, I will invite him,” said Lady Barrand. “I am very fond of Tony too, you know,” she added with a smile.
The invitation was returned with a polite refusal. Joanna was home alone when it was delivered and she was furious. Why was Tony being so stupid? She sat down and penned him a note, informing him that to refuse Lord Hunt was one thing, but to refuse old friends quite another. “If you will not come for your own sake, then please do so for the sake of my parents, who will be hurt by your refusal. If I do not hear in the affirmative,” she added in a postscript, “I will have to come and persuade you in person.”
She summoned a footman and sent him off, instructing him to wait for an answer.
* * * *
Tony had spent the first hours of freedom soaking in a tub and letting the hot water relax him. He had sent his man out for spirits, and after he was out of his bath, had been shaved and dressed and splashed with lime-water cologne, he had put his heels up by his fire and drunk himself into a stupor.
He didn’t awaken until noontime and was actually glad of the aftereffects of the last night’s drinking. He would rather attribute his lethargy and depression to a hangover than think about the real reasons behind it.
John had placed a tray full of invitations in front of him when he sat down for coffee and a roll.
“Take them away, John.”
“My lord, if I may be so bold—”
“You have never shrunk from it before, so I don’t know why you hesitate now,” said Tony with a smile.
“If you do not go out, people will be convinced of your guilt, despite the magistrates’ verdict, my lord.”
“Let them. If I do go, they will only avoid me or smile hypocritically while they turn down my invitation to a dance or supper. I wouldn’t be surprised,” said Tony, lifting one card and then dropping it back down into the pile, “if old Hunt refused me admittance entirely.”
His valet gave up for the moment, knowing it would not work to push his employer when he was in this mood.
“What do you have planned for this afternoon, m’lord, so I can lay your things out?”
“Do I have any clothes left, John?” joked Tony.
“Enough to get by for a few days, my lord.”
“Well, you may put out my buckskins. I’ll ride this afternoon, before the crowds.”
* * * *
Tony’s ride cleared his head. Other than pacing his little room at Newgate, he had had no real exercise for days. As he was leaving the park, he spied Colonel Bain coming in, and he guided his horse over, wondering what the response would be.
“Good afternoon, Colonel. I am greatly in your debt.”
The colonel smiled and fell in beside him. “Nonsense. I was very happy to be a witness for you. It was ridiculous that they suspected you in the first place.”
“I don’t know, Bain. Now that I am free, I realize how reasonable their suspicions were, given the information they had. I was very fortunate.”
> “What are your plans?”
“Spend a few more days here, clearing off my immediate debts, and then taking myself back to Ashford. It is time I assumed my responsibilities.”
“No more gaming? I am glad to hear that, Tony. Too many young men have been ruined at the tables.”
“I think I have learned that lesson, Bain.”
“We will miss you on the Continent, Captain Varden,” said Bain, extending his hand as Tony began to turn his horse around.
Tony took it, grateful for the expressions of friendship and trust. “Thank you, sir,” he said with a catch in his throat as he rode off.
* * * *
That evening, however, after he finished dinner and dismissed his valet, he wondered if he had learned his lesson. He had picked up one of the books Joanna had sent him, which John had brought back from Newgate. Unfortunately, it was Aurelius again. He had finished Miss Austen and supposed he was stuck with philosophy. But his attention would not stay on the page. All he could see in front of him were numbers, not words. “Thirty. One après.” He could hear the calls, see the hands of the dealers as they turned the cards, feel the excitement at the table. He had the money back. The six-hundred pounds that the court had held had been returned. He could take a hundred pounds and spend a few hours at St. James Street. Surely a few hours would do no harm. And at least he knew he would be welcome there.
But he had promised Claudia. A promise he had intended to keep. But things were changed now. What did his promise matter, now that Claudia was dead? When there was no way but his brother’s torturously slow solution to save Ashford. Why not spend a few hours in forgetting?
He sat there for a long time, the book forgotten in his lap, the struggle an internal one. Every time he was about ready to fling the old Roman into the fire, dress, and get the hell out of his depressing rooms, his depressing situation, he would see Claudia’s face in front of him. She had believed in him and she had loved him.
But she’s dead, so what possible difference does it make to her what I do? a part of him would say. And then he would see Joanna’s face. His old friend who had the same faith in him, though only God knew why. Joanna had risked her reputation to visit him in that hellhole. Joanna had hired Naylor. How could he let either of the women down?
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