by Joyce Alec
This brought another gentle smile to her face, her cheeks still warm, but Stephen felt nothing but delight at this. She was truly a lovely creature and he found her to be utterly delightful. There was intelligence and wit there, as well as a kindness to her character and a warmth to her heart that only added to his good impression of her. They had become very close indeed over the last few days, which had come as something of a surprise to Stephen, even though he greatly appreciated her company.
“How is your arm today?” he asked with concern, seeing the faint smile fading almost at once. “Does it pain you?”
“It does,” she answered truthfully. “But I am confident now in my thinking that the footman I saw has had something to do with your brother’s attack and mayhap feared that I was to say something to you about how I had recognized him standing there that evening.” She looked out of the window for a moment, her lips twisting just a little. “It would make sense, would it not?”
“Yes, it would,” he agreed, his heart suddenly climbing up his throat at the prospect of returning to Lord Atherton’s townhouse where the perpetrator of these crimes might be. “But I cannot imagine that a footman would work alone, particularly if there appears to be no reason for his actions.”
Her brows lifted. “What of Lord Bentham?”
“What of him?” he asked, throwing up one hand. “He appeared quite shocked at what happened to you last evening and I cannot see why he would have any need to hurt my brother. After all, he did sell him the house and, having had it for so many years, he would have been glad to have had it gone from him.” He watched Miss Hawkins closely, seeing how she frowned, and felt himself wondering what was going through her mind.
“The staff came with the sale of the house, did they not?” she reminded him quietly. “Mayhap the footman is working with Lord Bentham on some matter or other relating to your brother. Mayhap we have merely not discovered it yet.”
He shook his head and sighed. “Perhaps that is right,” he acknowledged as the carriage began to slow. “Although the list we compiled does not bear Lord Bentham’s name.”
That seemed to confuse her, for Miss Hawkins closed her eyes tightly and rubbed at her forehead with her good hand. “Indeed,” she sighed, sounding a little defeated. “It is a suggestion, only. I do not at all want to blame someone who has done nothing wrong.”
“Nor do I,” he said with a slight tug of worry in his heart. “Come now, Miss Hawkins, do not look so downhearted.” He waited until she had lifted her eyes to his and then smiled, wanting to encourage her. “You have come up with the only information and conclusion that might actually give us some insight,” he told her, seeing the small, sad smile that tugged at one corner of her mouth. “Do not be sorrowful. I am sure that you are correct and that this footman has some things to tell us.” He did not wait for her response but rather turned toward the carriage door and climbed out, shooing the footman away so that he himself might help Miss Hawkins down from it. Her hand touched his fingers as he held onto it carefully, not wanting her to be in any pain from her injured arm but also relishing each moment that he clasped her hand. Her warm smile of thanks lifted his spirits and he could not help but offer her his arm as they walked together up the steps and into the house.
The butler, who had been expecting them, held the door open and took his hat and gloves without a word, quickly accepting Miss Hawkins’ bonnet and gloves also.
“I have laid out tea for you in the drawing room, my lord,” he said with a small inclination of his head. “And Lord and Lady Haddington have only just arrived, as have Lady Catherine and Lady Ann.”
“I thank you,” he said, dismissing the butler and then making his way toward the drawing room, leading Miss Hawkins along with him. Nothing was said but he could practically feel the tension clouding around them, growing ever thicker with every step he took. Without even thinking, he reached across and pressed Miss Hawkins’ fingers so as to reassure her just a little.
“Miss Hawkins.”
“Lady Ann.”
A young lady Stephen did not recognize rose to her feet the moment Miss Hawkins entered the room, hurrying toward her with outstretched hands.
“Catherine told me what happened,” she cried as Miss Hawkins took her hands gently. “You are not badly hurt?”
“No, I am not,” Miss Hawkins replied warmly as Stephen bowed to Lord and Lady Haddington. “I thank you for your concern.”
Lady Ann did not look any less distressed. “I have been unwell with a terrible cold this last sennight, so I have been quite lost without being able to go into society,” she said, leading Miss Hawkins toward a chair. “I am recovered now but horrified to hear that there has been so much distress.”
“The tea might be cold by the time we drink it,” Lady Haddington interrupted cheerfully. “Your footman brought the tea tray only a few minutes before you arrived, Lord Stephen. Would you mind if I poured?”
He shook his head. “No, of course not,” he answered, smiling. “We were delayed a little by Lord Steele.” Shooting a quick glance toward Miss Hawkins, he saw how she gave him a small, uncertain smile. “But all is quite well, as you can see.”
“And you have said nothing to the footmen about wishing to see them all?” Lady Haddington asked, and Stephen shook his head again. “They will not suspect it?”
“They will be called once we are ready, without having had any prior warning,” he told her, seeing the satisfactory look on her face. “Let us hope then that Miss Hawkins will be able to discern which one of them she recognized.” A small smile lifted his lips. “Else we shall have nothing else to do but return to the list we have created and attempt to pull names from there.” Remembering that he had met one such gentleman last evening, he let out a sigh and rubbed at his forehead for a moment. “Although that being said, the more I consider it, the more I fear that there is none on that list that would have attacked my brother.”
“No?” Miss Hawkins’ head shot up in surprise. “You think not?”
A small shrug lifted one shoulder. “What would be the reason for someone such as Lord Lustrum to try and kill my brother when Atherton owes him a good deal of money?”
“There is a lack of motivation there, I grant you,” Lady Ann said, still holding tightly to Miss Hawkins’ hand as she sat down next to her. “But sometimes money is no object. It is the slight that must be repaid.”
Miss Hawkins’ lips twisted and Stephen watched her closely, wondering what she was thinking.
“I would not expect someone to try to kill another over the slight of unpaid debts, however,” she commented, her eyes on the floor as she spoke slowly and with great care, making sure to express herself carefully. “That does not seem proportionate at all.”
“So that means we can remove a good many names from that list,” he said as Lord Haddington nodded in agreement. “Which would leave us with only a few that have been wronged in some other way.”
Miss Hawkins looked back at him steadily, her eyes sharp. “That leaves us with only two names, if I recall correctly,” she said, surprising him with just how good her memory was. “Lord Jameson, who was upset over some remark your brother had made to his sister, and one Lord Morrilton, whose daughter had been rather fond of Lord Atherton but whose fondness had come to naught.”
Lady Haddington sat forward in her chair. “And had Lord Atherton done something to either of these ladies that would demand retribution?” she asked without any sort of hesitation.
Miss Hawkins pressed her lips together tightly, thinking hard. She looked back at Stephen, who himself felt his own heart sinking to his toes as the answer came to him clearly.
“I do not think so,” he answered, speaking for both himself and Miss Hawkins. “Atherton had made only a rude remark to Lord Jameson’s sister, and Lord Morrilton had perhaps expected more from my brother’s acquaintance with his daughter. When that came to naught, the girl would have been heartbroken—it would not be the first time that such a
thing has happened—but surely it would not mean that the gentleman would want to strike my brother down?”
“Unless there is more to what happened,” Lady Catherine interrupted softly. “It may be worth speaking to Lord Morrilton.”
Miss Seymour waved a hand suddenly, looking from Lady Catherine to Lady Ann to Miss Hawkins and back again. “Wait a moment,” she said urgently. “Is not Miss Standing the daughter of Lord Morrilton?” Her eyes darted from one face to the other. “I am sure I am correct,” she said with a quick nod to herself. “And if I am, then Miss Standing has only recently married.”
Stephen’s shoulders slumped. “Oh.”
“Ah, yes,” Lord Haddington muttered, one elbow on the side of the chair, his fingers rubbing his chin. “To Baron Tynesdale, I believe.”
A small murmur of understanding ran around the room, as Miss Hawkins looked sympathetically toward Stephen. He tried to smile back at her, hating that he felt so disappointed. It felt as though the more he stepped forward, the more confused he became.
“Then I think, Lord Stephen, it is time to summon your footmen,” Lady Haddington suggested, and he rose to ring the bell. “Let us hope that we will be able to find out something of use.”
“Indeed,” he agreed, pulling the bell rope and waiting for his butler to appear.
“He is not here.”
Stephen wanted to throw his head back and groan aloud but instead, he remained standing precisely where he was and looked steadily back at Miss Hawkins. “You are sure?”
“Quite.” Her voice was sharp, as though she was irritated with him for asking her such a thing. “The footman I saw here last time I visited is no longer present.”
Stephen swiveled his gaze back to the butler. “One of the footmen is missing, I believe.”
The butler frowned, coming further into the room to look at the four footmen in turn. Stephen watched him closely, seeing how the butler’s frown deepened. Evidently, he had only just realized that there was someone missing.
“Where is Mr. Thompson?”
“Thompson?” Stephen repeated as the butler turned back toward him. “That is the missing footman’s name?”
The butler nodded. “Yes, my lord,” he said, inclining his head. “I am terribly sorry. I do not know where he is gone.”
Miss Hawkins let out a long breath and he almost felt some of the tension draining from her. Seeing how her hands remained tight on the arms of her chair, Stephen felt his heart swell with sympathy, wishing that this might have been brought to an end at this present moment. Now, without the footman being here, there could be no immediate end to her fear that she might be attacked again at any given moment.
“And this footman, Thompson,” he heard Miss Hawkins say, her eyes fixed on the butler, “he has been with the house for some time?”
The butler nodded. “He was taken on once Lord Bentham bought the house,” he confirmed. “I have never seen him put a foot out of line, my lady, and I can only apologize for his tardiness.”
“You will inform me the moment he returns,” Stephen said firmly, and the butler bowed to evidence his agreement. “Thank you, you are all dismissed.”
He waited for the footmen and the butler to file out of the room before turning back to the rest of his guests, sighing heavily and holding up his hands. “I am very sorry to have disappointed you,” he said regretfully, seeing how Miss Hawkins shook her head. “I did not give them any warning as to what I would request. I cannot understand where he is gone.”
“It is not your fault,” Miss Hawkins replied with a small smile that did not reach her eyes. “I—”
She was interrupted by a shout that came from the hallway, followed by the sound of running feet. Everyone seemed to tense as all eyes turned toward the door, which, as they watched, was thrown back, crashing against the table that was in its path. Stephen caught his breath as none other than Lord Bentham burst into the room, his eyes wild, his face red with evident exertion and a frantic look in his expression.
“Lord Stephen,” he cried, hurrying forward. “I have only just come from your townhouse. When I entered, there was all manner of commotion and I confess that I found myself involved.”
Stephen’s heart began to pound as he looked back at the gentleman. “What happened?” he asked, his mouth going dry as Lord Bentham shook his head. “What commotion was there?”
Lord Bentham sucked in air before replying, whilst yet more shouts came from the hallway. “Some of your servants appeared to be fighting with each other,” he said as Stephen stared at him in astonishment. “Your butler was quite embarrassed and attempted to bring this disturbance to an end, only to realize that your servants had a hold of a man that they did not know.” He swallowed hard and waved a hand in the direction of the door. “He had been attempting to smother Lord Atherton.”
Stephen stared at Lord Bentham for a few moments, hardly able to take in what had been said, before dropping into a chair. Lord Haddington rose and poured three brandies in quick succession, handing one to Stephen and then the second to Lord Bentham before going back for his own.
“You have that man here, I presume?” Lord Haddington asked as Lord Bentham took a mouthful of his brandy. “How did you know that Lord Stephen was here?”
“The butler told me,” Lord Bentham replied, his breathing still ragged. “Once I had helped secure the fellow, I insisted on knowing where Lord Stephen was so that I might take him here at once.”
“That was wise,” Lady Haddington murmured as Stephen threw back his brandy in a few mouthfuls. “And is Lord Atherton all right?”
Lord Bentham nodded, sending a spiraling relief all through Stephen. “Yes, he is unharmed,” he answered. “But this fellow, Lord Stephen, what should I do with him?”
Stephen felt every eye on him as he looked from one person to the next, seeing how they watched him intently. The butler suddenly appeared at the door, which was still ajar, looking at Stephen questioningly. “Bring the fellow in,” he said, wondering if this would bring him all the answers he required. “And stay with us, if you would, Lord Bentham. I am in your debt for what you have done.”
All thoughts of Lord Bentham’s involvement in his brother’s attack began to fade away, swept aside by what the man had done. He shot a glance toward Miss Hawkins and saw that, whilst she was pale, there was a firmness about her expression that told him she felt just as he did. They had to see the fellow who had attacked Lord Atherton, had to see his face and question him as to why he had done such a thing. This might be the end to the mystery, the end to all his difficulties. Perhaps then, he might be able to consider the future without any fears or doubts tugging at him.
“My lord.”
Stephen rose to his feet, as did Lord Haddington and Lord Bentham, as a man was brought into the drawing room. Instantly, Miss Hawkins gasped aloud, one hand clamped over her mouth as she stared at the fellow—and another look at the butler made him realize that his servant also knew the identity of the man now standing before them.
“That is the footman,” Miss Hawkins whispered, her voice barely loud enough for him to hear. “The one that I spoke of. That is he!”
Stephen, a little irritated that he did not know his brother’s staff as well as he ought, looked toward his butler, who nodded his agreement, his expression grave.
“This is Thompson, my lord,” the butler murmured, his eyes fixed to the floor as though the man had brought shame on the whole household. “I cannot understand or explain why he was…” He swallowed hard and looked down at his feet, clearly ashamed.
“This does not reflect badly on you,” Stephen said as a ripple of shock ran around the room. “I thank you. You are dismissed for the time being. Put a man by the door so that this… ruffian… cannot even attempt to escape.” There was very little chance of such a thing happening with Lord Bentham, Lord Haddington, and himself being present, but still, Stephen was to take no chances. His heart began to pound furiously as he looked at the footman st
anding in front of him, feeling anger swirling through his chest as he realized that this man, this footman, had tried to smother and kill his brother.
What Miss Hawkins had surmised had been quite correct, it seemed. This footman had been standing near Lord Atherton when his attack had taken place and had then tried to intimidate Miss Hawkins when she had recognized him.
Did that mean that he had been the one to attack her last evening? It would mean that the footman would have had to sneak out of the house and somehow make his way into Lady Horsley’s home, but such a thing might not have been too difficult to manage.
He held his breath for a moment, forcing his temper and his anger below the surface. If he were to lose his temper now and explode in a ball of anger and fury, then most likely, Thompson would remain silent and refuse to say a word. There had to be a better way to deal with this matter.
“You were the one who attacked me.”
Miss Hawkins spoke before he could. Her voice was quiet yet assertive and there was no question in her voice but rather an assertion that she did not expect Mr. Thompson to deny.
“You knew that I recognized you,” she continued, each word clear and crisp, “and you were afraid that I would say something.”
Mr. Thompson said nothing but glowered in Miss Hawkins’ direction, his dark eyes hitting her face without hesitation. There was no shame there, Stephen realized. No shame or upset, but rather a hardness, a cold anger that he feared would prevent him from saying anything.
“You were protecting yourself,” Lady Haddington added, when nothing more was said. “You tried to silence Miss Hawkins for fear of what she would say.”
“And then you have gone on to try and kill my brother,” Stephen continued flatly. “Is that because you failed the first time?”
“I did not stab Lord Atherton.”
They were the first words that the footman had said since he had entered the room and they came with such force that they filled Stephen with surprise. To his astonishment, his impulse was to immediately believe him, to immediately trust that such a thing was true.