by Joyce Alec
If only you had acted more quickly, then Atherton might now be closer to life than death.
The removal of his brother from his own townhouse to Stephen’s had been one fraught with difficulty. The doctor had been quite against it and warned that Lord Atherton might become worse if such a thing was to happen, but Stephen had been silently determined. The thought of staying in that house when it was so swathed in darkness had been quite inconceivable and so he had quietly insisted that it be done.
Thankfully, Atherton had shown no signs of worsening, even with the journey to Stephen’s townhouse, and for that Stephen was grateful. He had left his brother in the care of his own trusted staff and had even taken the precaution of having the bedchamber door locked from the inside, so that nothing further could happen to his brother.
“Foolish,” he muttered to himself, throwing open the drapes and letting the morning sunshine stream in through the window. In the daylight, such thoughts of murder and scheming seemed almost absurd, as though taking Atherton from his townhouse had been nothing short of ridiculous. The darkness had made the events of last evening all the worse, it seemed, sending a tremor though Stephen as he thought of it. His brother had almost been taken from him and, as yet, Stephen had very little idea as to who might have done such a thing.
His thoughts returned to the lovely Miss Hawkins. She had been present with him when he had seen Lord Atherton lying on the floor, but had not laughed along with him when he had gamely asked his brother to quit his pretense and to rise. Perhaps she had been wiser than he. Perhaps she had seen the horror in the way Atherton had been lying, had seen the knife and believed it to be real. Stephen himself had believed it was nothing more than an arrogant prank, well thought out and executed by his brother, as it had always been before. Atherton had not been the sort of wise and studious gentleman one might expect of a marquess. Rather, he had been nothing more than a gentleman who sought idle gossip, merry company, and the full attention of anyone and everyone within society. There had been plenty of times in the past when Atherton had done outrageous and downright foolish things in order to have all of the beau monde speak of him. There had once been an incident where he had proudly shown off his mistress at one of the many balls that had taken place, and had gone so far as to kiss her firmly on the lips, inciting gasps of shock from all around him. Stephen, upon hearing this, had silently thought that it had been a ploy to ensure that the mothers of debutantes no longer considered him a viable prospect, whilst gaining the attention of others from within society itself. The news had sickened him, as it had done many times before when it came to his brother.
But now to see his brother lying on the bed, his wound deep and his breathing labored, Stephen almost wished that he was back to those times when Atherton had made a fool of both himself and his family name. He wished he was still up and about, the rogue and rascal, the proud and selfish fool who did what he pleased whenever he pleased without consideration for his own reputation or for others. That would be better than knowing that one’s brother had almost been killed and might still give way to death over life.
“My lord?”
Stephen turned from the window, aware that he was still in his night things despite the time. “Yes?”
The butler looked away, clearly a little embarrassed, but Stephen did not care.
“I did knock twice, my lord,” the man stammered, “But you… you must not have heard me.”
“Indeed, I did not,” Stephen confirmed, not feeling anything other than the cold numbness that had settled over his heart when he had first seen his brother. “What is it?”
The butler cleared his throat. “You have visitors, my lord. I did not know whether to send them away or not, so they are waiting in the hallway until I return with your answer.”
Stephen blinked. “Visitors?”
“Lady Haddington and Miss Hawkins,” the butler said swiftly, handing Stephen their cards which he took without so much as glancing at them. “They are aware it is a little early but—”
“Ask them to wait in the drawing room,” Stephen interrupted, hurriedly looking about for his clothes. “And have refreshments sent there also.”
The butler nodded, his expression blank. “And Lord Haddington?”
Stephen frowned. “He is not here at present?”
“He will arrive shortly, I believe,” the butler said by way of explanation. “Lady Haddington said he was detained early this morning but would be attending also when he is ready.”
Stephen, a little encouraged that he had three very fine callers and that they were clearly very willing in their desire to help him in this turbulent time, allowed a tight smile to tug at his lips. “Have Lord Haddington sent to the drawing room also the moment he appears,” he instructed. “And ensure that the coffee is kept hot.”
The butler nodded and made to withdraw, only to stop and hesitate, looking at Stephen questioningly. “Would you like me to send up your valet?” he asked quietly, as though Stephen had not thought of such a thing. “You are to dress, I presume?” This question was asked without malice or reproof, but rather a touch of sympathy. At any other time, Stephen would have railed at his butler for asking something so foolish, but in this present circumstance, he understood that his servant was doing what he could to express his sympathy. Besides which, he had not been behaving in his usual manner. Normally by now, he would have dressed, breakfasted, and be ensconced in his study, looking over any documents or other matters that affected his estate.
“Yes, thank you. I intend to dress properly,” Stephen answered with a wry look in his eye. “Have the valet sent up at once. I shall do all I can to ensure that I present a gentlemanly appearance.”
The butler said nothing more but shot Stephen a long look, as if he were more concerned for him than he was able to express. Stephen waited until the door was closed before letting out a long sigh and running one hand over his eyes. He had hired this staff some years ago when he had first decided to come to London and since then, they had remained here in order to keep the house ready for him any time he wished to return. Any additional maids or footmen that were required were hired as needed and Stephen knew he could not have asked for a better or more loyal staff. They were clear in their concern for him, obvious in their worries over his wellbeing, and Stephen found himself more grateful for them than ever before.
It was only half an hour later that Stephen presented himself to his guests, having been dressed quickly by his valet and declared more than suitable for any guest. Walking into the room, he felt his stomach drop as Lady Haddington and Miss Hawkins rose to their feet, their eyes lowered as they curtsied.
It was as though everything was quite normal, just as it should be. At any other time, he might be very grateful indeed to have two such lovely ladies of the beau monde calling upon him. Instead he knew that this visit came from his brother’s injury—and there was nothing wonderful about that.
“Thank you both for coming,” he told them, gesturing for them to sit down. “How do you both fare?”
Lady Haddington and Miss Hawkins exchanged a glance.
“We rather hoped to see how you are faring at present,” Lady Haddington replied quietly. “We have heard that your brother is still unconscious?”
Miss Hawkins’ hands were tight in her lap as she looked at him with wide eyes. “He is not recovered at all?”
Stephen shook his head. “My brother has not shown any signs of improvement as yet,” he told them both, his tone grave. “However, the doctor did give him laudanum last evening, so that he would not feel the pain of his wound should he awaken.”
“And you were able to move him successfully,” Lady Haddington said, stating the obvious. “I am glad to see that there have been no difficulties in that regard.”
He nodded. “It is good to have him under my own roof,” he answered truthfully. “I am just to wait now until he recovers for…” Trailing off for a moment, Stephen found himself wanting to be honest wit
h them both and so spread his hands out wide. “I do not know what else I am to do.”
Lady Haddington nodded sympathetically, whilst Miss Hawkins leaned a little further forward in her chair. “Are you still willing to allow us to help you in that regard?” she asked, her voice holding a good deal of earnestness. “There must be someone who knows more than they are saying.”
Stephen nodded slowly, for whilst it was rather surprising that ladies of the ton wanted to help him with this difficult matter, he could not help but agree that Miss Hawkins particularly might be of use. After all, she had been with him when he had discovered his brother and might still recall something useful.
“Lord Haddington is in agreement,” Lady Haddington said quickly. “He is gone to speak to an associate who might know a little more about that house.”
“That is where we think we ought to begin,” Miss Hawkins continued before he could say anything. “We should find out who owned the house before your brother, and who owned it before that. The rumor must come from somewhere and it is important that we discover the truth.”
Closing his mouth tightly for a moment or two, Stephen looked from one to the other, feeling his heart quickening and his questions mounting. He himself had very little idea of what to do, given that he was still quite overcome with shock at what had occurred, and whilst he considered what had been said, Stephen had to admit to himself that there was a good deal of sense in their suggestions.
“I suppose there is something in that,” he admitted, seeing the slight flash of relief in Miss Hawkins’ eyes. “I confess that I know very little about my brother’s house and did not know of the rumor until he told me of it yesterday.”
“Do you give it any credence?”
After a moment, Stephen shook his head. “No,” he answered softly. “I am sure that by now, the gossip mongers are throwing the news around London and telling everyone that the rumor has brought its grave consequences down upon my brother’s head… but I do not believe there is any truth in it.”
The look that was shared between Lady Haddington and Miss Hawkins told him that he was correct in his assumption. Sighing, he put his head in his hands for a moment, not feeling any urge to keep his composure in the ladies’ presence. They had seen everything that he had been through thus far and he did not feel any need to pretend that he was doing well when he was confused, upset, and deeply troubled.
“You care for your brother, Lord Stephen.”
With a heavy heart, Stephen lifted his head and looked directly into the sympathetic face of Miss Hawkins—and felt guilt spiral through him.
“I do not care for my brother, Miss Hawkins,” he told her honestly. “I have never been close to him. I have found his behavior to be embarrassing and, quite frankly, rather shameful for a man of his standing. The only reason I came last evening was because I felt compelled out of family obligation rather than out of any true love for my brother.” He spoke harshly but still felt obliged to let Miss Hawkins know the truth about how he felt. “He and I were very different in character and there was no love between us. I do not want you to have the wrong impression.”
Much to his surprise, Miss Hawkins’ expression did not change. “You may think that, Lord Stephen,” she answered gently as Lady Haddington looked on, “but your behavior shows otherwise. You have shown great compassion for your brother. The thought of his passing has brought you pain rather than a sense of gladness, as some gentlemen might be inclined to feel.”
“I have never wanted his title,” Stephen replied gruffly, as though this was something he needed to confirm. “I have never once wished to be a marquess and even now, the thought of it…” Closing his eyes, he shook his head. “I am contented with my own standing, Miss Hawkins. I have my own estate, my own land, and my own wealth. I have no desire to take the title from my brother.”
There was silence for a few minutes as Stephen looked down at the floor, his fingers coupled together as his hands rested in his lap. He did not know what Lady Haddington or Miss Hawkins thought but he prayed that they believed what he had needed to say.
“Might I ask, Lord Stephen,” Lady Haddington began, clearing the air between them all, “did your brother have any specific enemies?”
A hard laugh escaped from Stephen’s mouth and Lady Haddington looked startled.
“Forgive me, Lady Haddington,” he said, waving a hand and closing his eyes tightly in embarrassment. “My brother has a good many enemies, I am sure. Gentlemen who have been cheated out of their funds or who have found themselves swindled during a game of cards. Ladies who have had their affections and their hearts stolen, with no recompense.” He shrugged, his shame mounting. “Men who find their daughters in difficult situations and my brother nowhere to be seen.” Opening his eyes, he looked at Lady Haddington, expecting to see her repulsed, but instead finding a gentle look of understanding in her eyes. “So in short, Lady Haddington, there are many who might want to take their revenge on my brother. But I cannot tell you of anyone specific.”
Miss Hawkins cleared her throat delicately, catching his attention. “Without meaning to be indiscreet, Lord Stephen, might there be any particular information in your brother’s house?” She shot a glance toward Lady Haddington, who was nodding in agreement. “Within his study, within his private correspondence?”
He considered this for a moment, nodding slowly. “There may well be,” he said, wondering why he had not thought of it himself. “In truth, Miss Hawkins, I feel so very lost and confused that I have no real idea of what I should do next.”
Miss Hawkins nodded although there was a tiny smile on her lips. “I understand,” she said, without judgment. “Lady Haddington and Lord Haddington had a very difficult trial last Season and I know just how much it upset things.”
“Indeed,” Lady Haddington added reassuringly. “But with Miss Hawkins, Miss Seymour, Lady Ann, and Lady Catherine’s help, we were able to come to a conclusion that brought our mystery to a swift end. Although,” she finished with a rueful look, “there was no attempt to kill Lord Haddington, at least.”
Stephen considered this for a moment, then let his eyes drift back toward Miss Hawkins. She was sitting forward in her seat, an eagerness there that he knew came from a true willingness to help him. How could it be that they had only been introduced yesterday? It felt as though he had known her for a long time, as though they shared a deep friendship that had been built over months of acquaintance. And yet, he had only been introduced to her last evening. He realized that he knew very little about her. He knew nothing of her family or her situation in life. She was friends with Lady Haddington, who was very respectable indeed, so in that regard, there was nothing of concern. However, aside from that, he did not know her at all. Was she seeking a husband? Was she engaged or betrothed? Or was there something more to her situation that he did not yet know?
“Miss Hawkins and I, as well as the rest of our friends, are more than willing to help you in this,” Lady Haddington continued when Stephen did not say anything. “Miss Hawkins in particular will be of assistance to you, should you agree. She was there last evening and saw exactly what happened.”
“And you stepped into the difficult situation and took control of it without even a momentary hesitation,” he remembered aloud, seeing the slight pink that bloomed in Miss Hawkins’ cheeks as a swell of gratefulness rose in his chest. “I thank you for that, Miss Hawkins. I believe I was too overcome with shock to know what to do.” He closed his eyes, screwing up his face. “Did the ball continue?”
“It did,” Lady Haddington said with a wry shake of her head. “There was all the more interest in remaining given that no one knew what occurred with Lord Atherton. The blood on the floor was cleaned up very quickly and the orchestra began to play again within minutes.” She sighed as Miss Hawkins looked away in evident disgust at society’s willingness to find out as much gossip as they could. “When Miss Hawkins, Lord Haddington, and I returned to the ballroom, we told everyone
that Lord Atherton was resting and would recover very soon.”
A long breath wheeled its way out of Stephen’s chest. “I thank you for that,” he answered softly. “And yes, Miss Hawkins, Lady Haddington, I would be glad of your aid in this matter. To go to my brother’s townhouse and look through his things would be a good place to start, I agree.” He looked at Miss Hawkins hopefully, wondering if she would be willing to attend with him, willing to help him further. “Mayhap we might go together?”
Miss Hawkins hesitated for a moment and then nodded. “Of course,” she answered resolutely. “Lady Haddington might attend with us and if not, my companion, Mrs. Law, will be with me.”
“But of course,” he said quickly, a little embarrassed that he had not thought of that. “You might make a pretense of taking tea with me, if you prefer to keep your true reasons for calling from others.”
“I will,” she said, a firm look in her eyes. “When should we go?”
He looked at her for a moment, wondering if this afternoon would be too soon, only for the door to open and Lord Haddington to stride in.
“Lord Stephen,” he said with a quick bow. “I am sorry to hear that your brother is still unconscious but I am glad that he still lives.”
“As am I,” Stephen answered sincerely, getting up to greet Lord Haddington. “Miss Hawkins has just suggested that I look in my brother’s particulars to see if there is anything of note that might lead us to whoever has done such a thing.”
Lord Haddington nodded, sitting down as the maids brought in tea trays and trays of cakes and other small delicacies for them. “That is wise,” he agreed as Miss Hawkins reached forward to pour the tea, taking on a duty without hesitation just as she had done last evening. “And I have some news for you which may also be of interest.” He waited for a moment, lifting one eyebrow as though he knew that everyone in the room was waiting for him to speak. “You mentioned that your brother spoke of the Dearley family? They owned the house some time ago.” There was a momentary pause before Stephen nodded. “Lord Dearley was killed during his first soiree that he held in the house. No one is quite certain how it occurred, for it was some time ago, but it was from his death that this rumor of a curse grew. There was no successor to his title from within his own immediate family—he left a wife and two daughters—so some distant relation took it on. The house was sold very quickly and I have discovered that the name of the gentleman who owned the townhouse before your brother was Viscount Bentham.”