The Chaperon (Sisters of Woodside Mysteries Book 2)

by Mary Kingswood

  “Oh, Mr Audley, sir!” Franks said, in visible relief. “Look, sir, Mr Audley is here.”

  “What do you want?” Kingsley said to Leo.

  Leo gestured to the servants to leave, and then closed the outer door behind them.

  “Gussie? Can you hear me, Gussie? It is Leo. Let me see if I can help.”

  The screams abruptly stopped. There was a slithering sound from just beyond the door, as if she had slid down to the floor, followed by gentle sobbing.

  “There, that is better,” Leo said to Kingsley. “All this violent behaviour is not helpful.”

  “This is not your business, Audley.”

  “I know that, and I shall not interfere, I promise you, but there is no need to break the door, you know. You have accomplished what you set out to do, and Gussie is safe enough where she is. Neither she nor the child can come to the least harm now.”

  “I want her out of this house, Audley. I want her miles away from here, and an assurance that she cannot return here, ever.”

  The sobbing intensified.

  “There are many ways of achieving your aim,” Leo said softly. “Let us go to the library and talk about the best means, calmly and rationally, and leave Gussie where she is for now. Good God, man, she gave birth only a few days ago. You do not want her death on your conscience.”

  “It might be better so,” Kingsley said, but all the anger had gone out of him, and Leo could see the anguish on his face.

  By degrees, therefore, he cajoled him into his coat and out of the boudoir. On the landing, Lucy waited in seeming calm, but Leo noticed her hands, clenched so tight the knuckles were white. The servants had been reduced to a handful, gathered at the far side of the stairs awaiting orders.

  “We are going to the library to talk things over,” Leo said to Lucy. “Send the carriage away, will you, and tell Mrs Hapmore that Tom Coylumbroke and I will be staying. If that is acceptable to you, Kingsley?”

  “It is all the same to me.”

  “May I send for the physician for Mrs Kingsley?” Lucy said. “He will call later today anyway but—”

  “I suppose so,” Kingsley said.

  “And she will be less distressed if someone is with her. Mrs Coombs, perhaps, and Lally. Even if she will not unlock the door, they may talk to her, and soothe her a little.”

  “Pft. As you will,” Kingsley said curtly.

  Lucy went off to give the orders, and Leo took Kingsley, unresisting, down the stairs and into the welcoming chill of the library. He reached for the Madeira, then thought better of it and poured brandy for them both.

  “Here. This will make you feel a little better.”

  “Nothing will make me feel better,” Kingsley said. “My own wife… my sweet, beloved Augusta… but it must be done, Audley, it must. I dare not risk a third time.”

  “I understand, but an asylum is harsh, is it not?”

  “She must be locked away securely, you do see that, I am sure. If not, she might easily come back here…”

  “I could take her to Stoneleigh, perhaps.”

  “No, no, I have a place for her, very secure, very… private, you understand. It is not far away, so I could still see her sometimes.”

  Leo sighed. He had never much liked Kingsley, and his obduracy now brought him close to hating the man. “Kingsley, Gussie is a child of the sunlight, who is only truly alive when surrounded by friends. The ball, the rout, the card party, the picnic, the formal dinners — these are where she blossoms like a rose in high summer, beautiful and vibrant and delightful. That is how you first knew her, how you fell in love with her. This year has been the greatest trial to her, to confine herself to her own house and go nowhere, but she accepted it with little complaint because she loves you and she believes it to be for the best for the child. If you lock her away from her friends, her family, her own child, from you, she will become exactly what you fear. She will be driven mad by loneliness and misery, and there will be no helping her. Let her at least stay in this house. There is only one door to her boudoir, bedroom and dressing room, so she may be prevented from leaving by a couple of footmen on the landing. There is no risk to the child, and Gussie will not be torn up by the roots and shut away from all society. Please, Kingsley. For Gussie’s sake, do not send her away.”

  Kingsley stared at him, and Leo could see his indecision. Perhaps he regretted his marriage so much that he wanted all reminder of it swept away, but if there were some vestige remaining of his affection for Gussie, then there was some hope.

  But Kingsley said nothing, staring morosely into his brandy glass and swirling the contents.

  A knock on the door was followed by Lucy. “May I come in? Dr Charlton is with Mrs Kingsley now, and she has allowed Mrs Coombs and Lally in, as well. I have suggested that the outer door to the boudoir be the one to be locked from now on, for the dressing room is very confined.”

  “How is Gussie?” Leo said, when Kingsley made no answer.

  “She is calmer, and seems to have taken no harm from… the incident. She is very distressed, of course, for she does not at all understand why Mr Kingsley should take such action.”

  “Mrs Price, do you think she would harm her own child?” Leo said.

  “Not for a moment,” Lucy said at once. “I understand, however, why Mr Kingsley may have fears in that way.”

  Kingsley’s head shot up at that, taking Leo by surprise. Kingsley had said he had reasons for his fears, but would not share them with Leo. Was it possible that he had confided in Lucy?

  To Lucy, Leo said, “You know, then, these compelling reasons that Kingsley is not at liberty to speak of?”

  “I know of certain circumstances which would give rise to such fears, yes, but I am bound to secrecy also. However, I do not believe that these… circumstances apply to Mrs Kingsley. It is my firm belief that she would never harm her child, and if that is so, then removing her from the infant does nothing to alleviate the risk of injury.”

  “That is true!” Kingsley cried, jumping to his feet. “If it were not Gussie, then it must have been someone else, who could still cause the child harm. Whatever am I to do?”

  “The baby must be watched, day and night,” Leo said. “At least two people in the room at all times. No one must ever be alone with him.”

  “Yes, yes!” Kingsley said. “I shall engage more nurses.”

  “If I might suggest—?” Lucy said.

  “Yes, anything, Mrs Price,” Kingsley said.

  “I am certain there are hidden passageways in the old part of the house, where a person bent on mischief might gain entry. It might be better to move the baby to the newer part, where the walls are reassuringly solid.”

  Leo said nothing, for they had looked in vain for any sign of a secret passage and found none. Still, he trusted Lucy’s judgement and if she thought there was a risk, it was as well to heed her.

  Kingsley nodded slowly, but said nothing.

  “There is one other means by which you might set your mind at rest, Mr Kingsley,” Lucy said. He gestured for her to continue. “My sister is in the household of the Earl of Brackenwood, who has recently had cause to suspect that his previous wife was murdered. He engaged some gentlemen, a lawyer and an army captain, to investigate the matter, which they did to everyone’s satisfaction. These gentlemen are still at Lord Brackenwood’s house in Cheshire, but they may be willing to investigate the deaths of your sons. It is possible that they will discover some detail previously overlooked which would prove how the babies died.”

  “It has all been gone into already,” Kingsley said. “The physician said—”

  “A family physician is not always best qualified to judge such subtle cases,” Lucy said. “These gentlemen who assisted Lord Brackenwood are experienced in such matters.”

  Kingsley nodded thoughtfully. “Give me their names, and Lord Brackenwood’s direction, and I will write at once. I would not wish it to be said that I left any avenue unexplored.”

  His
face still bore its grim expression, but a touch lighter. Leo allowed himself a sliver of hope.

  ~~~~~

  Leo made no attempt to speak privately to Lucy. He was consumed with curiosity to know how she had come to be privy to the same information that Kingsley held against Gussie, but she was sworn to secrecy and he could not press her on the matter. Besides, he did not want to be alone with her again. It was too dangerous to his composure, and it might also be uncomfortable for her. So he spoke to her as courtesy demanded, but no more.

  It was enough to be under the same roof as her once more, to sit at the same dining table, even, once, to partner her at whist, although they both played badly. He had some skill at the game, as a rule, but her nearness made it impossible to fix his mind on cards.

  The evenings were tense for everyone. Gussie’s presence was badly missed, there were no guests from the town, and no invitations to take the twins out, for most of their acquaintance were gone away for the start of the shooting season. They sat, six of them around a table large enough for twenty, and extendable enough to seat forty eight, making desultory conversation, which rarely strayed beyond a discussion of the food before them, or the weather. Whatever would the English find to talk about, he wondered, if not for the weather? Yet Leo could look at Lucy’s smooth cheeks and the hair that somehow never quite stayed in place, and was content.

  Deirdre and Winifred dealt with the upheavals in their life according to their different temperaments. Deirdre was all sweetness, running errands for her mother and doting on her new brother. She had pleaded to be allowed to hold the child, and had been permitted to do so, under Lucy’s supervision.

  Winifred grumbled at the attention the baby received. “He is only a scrap of a thing!” she cried one day. “He might be of interest when he grows up, but all he does is wail constantly. So small, to make so much noise! I hear him all day, crying and crying until my head is like to burst. Papa, you should send him back to the lying-in room, so that we need not have the disturbance when we are trying to concentrate.”

  “If he were in the old house, he would disturb you at night,” Lucy said.

  “I should not mind that so much,” Winifred said. “I sleep well enough not to hear anything that goes on. I never even heard when a shutter blew loose in a gale one night, and banged incessantly. Deirdre got not a wink of sleep, but I never heard a thing. It would be much better if he were in the old house.”

  “Does nothing keep you awake at night, Miss Winifred?” Tom said in his quiet way.

  “Very little,” she said, turning to him with a quick smile. Astonishing how swiftly the clouds blew away and Winifred’s sunny mood was restored. “I lie down, put my head on the pillow and away I go, and I do not dream, either. Then I awake early the next morning, perfectly refreshed.”

  “How lucky you are!” Tom said. “I should love to be able to sleep so readily, but the least thing preying on my mind keeps me awake.”

  “You should take more fresh air,” Winifred said. “Fresh air and plenty of exercise. That, combined with a good dinner, will see you ready for sleep, Mr Coylumbroke.”

  “Then, if I am not needed about the house, I shall go for a long walk tomorrow, Miss Winifred. Perhaps you and Miss Kingsley would care to join me? Where would be the best route to take, do you suppose?”

  Leo admired Tom’s patience. For himself, he found Winifred tedious, and her clear jealousy of the baby worrying. In a younger child it might be understandable, but in a young woman of eighteen he would have expected greater self-possession. He wished he could discuss it with Lucy, for perhaps she understood it better than he did, but he dared not approach her. Sometimes he caught her eye, and thought he detected the tiniest smile of understanding, but at other times she would look away again at once. He had no idea what it meant, and he no longer wrestled with such quandaries.

  He had accepted his fate, that she would never look kindly on him. All that remained to him was to enjoy her company as best he could and try not to grieve too deeply over what might have been. He could not regret her loss, he reminded himself, because she had never been his to lose. She had always known precisely what she wanted, and she had never wanted him.

  Perhaps one day, many years from now, he would learn not to care, but for now nothing dulled the pain, so he made no effort to fight it. He had surrendered to his love, as to a stream bearing him onwards at its own pace, towards the sea. He could not fight it, and he could not save himself, so he let the current bear him where it would. Perhaps he would be washed up on a distant strand, or perhaps he would drown… it was immaterial to him. So he watched her and savoured every second in her company and gave himself entirely to the hopelessness of unrequited love.

  25: Discoveries

  Lucy was subdued. Her simple little task of chaperoning two well-brought-up young ladies about had become uncommonly complicated. The tensions between the two girls, the looming tragedy of their mother and the revelations about West End House had left her very down. Never had she felt so helpless!

  The two girls had settled into a sniping discontent, where every attention from Mr Exton towards Deirdre sent Winifred into floods of tears, while Deirdre tried, unsuccessfully, not to gloat. Yet if the poor man so much as spoke to Winifred, Deirdre sulked for a day, at least, and Winifred was unbearably smug. Lucy could not work out whether Winifred really cared about Mr Exton, or just wanted her sister not to have him. Fortunately, Mr Cherry had relinquished the field altogether, and had gone to stay with relatives in Hampshire. Lucy was very thankful for Mr Coylumbroke, who devoted endless hours to cajoling Winifred out of her ill-humours.

  Lucy could not decide whether she was better off knowing the whole story of the Audley sisters or not. It was a dreadful situation, but she could quite understand why Uncle Arthur and Aunt Laurel had acted as they did. It was surely better for all to keep the sisters together, and not lock away the two madwomen, the one who awaited her long-dead betrothed and wielded a knife, and the one who could not restrain herself from taking the most unsuitable lovers. And Martha, who hid away in the kitchen, seemingly content with her mixing bowls and saucepans. It was bizarre, and oh, how she wished she could talk about it to Leo… or anyone. Secrets were very difficult.

  As for Leo… here Lucy’s thoughts always became disordered. On the one hand, he was a womaniser, and such men did not change their ways. Even though the clergyman’s daughter had lied about him, he had freely confessed to other such entanglements. Not with innocents, perhaps, but even so, his behaviour had been very bad. She could never marry such a man. Not that his offer had been serious, naturally, and he must surely have thought better of it by now.

  On the other hand, he embodied every ideal of manhood to her inexperienced eyes. He was handsome, charming, well-mannered and so kind! She could not enumerate all his little kindnesses to her, and his offer of marriage was not the greatest of them. She cherished her letter from the Moretons, telling her about Jeremy’s final days, and had copied every word in a fair hand for each of her sisters, the effort taking her several days.

  And then there was that kiss… She still smiled when she thought about it. Before that moment, she would have said she was indifferent to him. She liked him well enough, and accounted him a friend to whom she could speak about almost any matter. But afterwards… He haunted her dreams, there was no doubt about it. When he had gone away, she had discovered just how much her spirits had depended upon his company. And now that he was come back, she could not decide how she felt. No, that was not true. Her somersaulting heart whenever she saw him, and her soaring spirits whenever he spoke to her told the story. It could only be love, this trembling delight in his company. When he was absent, she was in misery, longing to see him again, and when he was there, she longed for him to speak to her. And when he spoke to her, she longed to kiss him. It was all very unsettling. And the worst of it was that he looked so serious. There was no sign now of that fire she had seen in his eyes, that way he had of looking a
t her as if she were all that mattered in the world. All of that was gone. And while she told herself that was best for both of them, still it made her want to cry.

  Two days after Augusta had been separated from her child, the gentlemen who had assisted Lord Brackenwood arrived to begin their investigations into the deaths of the previous two babies. Mr Willerton-Forbes was a lawyer of around thirty, ostentatiously attired in the style favoured by the London leaders of fashion. He was, he told them all, the son of the Earl of Morpeth. Captain Edgerton was a very small man, flamboyantly dressed in the garish blue and yellow striped waistcoat of the Four-Horse Club.

  Whatever the eventual outcome of their deliberations, Lucy was glad they had come, for they added immensely to the pleasure of the evenings. Captain Edgerton had a bottomless well of exotic stories from his days in the East India Company Army, and the addition of two men saw Lucy relieved of any necessity to join the card players. Mr Kingsley, Leo and the visitors generally played whist, while Mr Coylumbroke amused Deirdre and Winifred. Lucy generally took up her sewing, but she rarely placed more than a few stitches before being drawn into whatever game Mr Coylumbroke had devised. Sometimes she would glance towards Leo, and as often as not he was watching her, his expression grave. She had no idea what to make of it, but eventually she decided that he merely watched her to congratulate himself on his lucky escape from an unfortunate marriage.

  Mr Willerton-Forbes and Captain Edgerton set about their investigations with energy. Within two days they had interviewed everyone in the house, from Mr Kingsley down to the still room maid. Even Lucy herself was summoned to be questioned.

  They had commandeered the armoury as their interview room, and it gave Lucy the shivers to sit amongst so many suits of armour and half-rotted banners, the walls lined with rusty swords and pikes and maces. Even the table they sat around had a glass top to reveal odd items within — a pair of duelling pistols, a button torn from a uniform, a blunderbuss with a neat pile of balls in a box, a bejewelled dagger. Captain Edgerton ambled about, taking down one or another weapon and slashing the air with it a few times before replacing it on its hooks. It was disconcerting.