The Wicked Wager

by Anya Wylde

  Emma heaved a soft sigh of relief and peeked out. She noticed Mrs Barker’s back disappearing into the gloom. By mutual consent they kept silent, keeping their questions for later.

  They had taken a few steps down the staircase when another figure darted past them.

  Mr Barker must have been behind them all the time. Yet he pretended not to see them as he rushed away. A dying candle on the ledge had thrown enough light to identify him.

  They stood frozen like petrified rabbits. Emma wanted to run back into her room and hide, but her compassion for Prudence won out in the end. They decided to proceed as planned.

  Mr Barker may inform the duke of what he had seen, but that issue had to be brushed aside for the moment. The note was more important. They quickly made their way into the saloon. That was where they had last assembled, and it stood to reason that Prudence would leave her basket there.

  “I cannot find it,” Emma whispered in frustration.

  “Perhaps the morning room?” the earl whispered back.

  “We might as well try all the rooms we can, Richard. I tried to keep an eye on her, but it was hard with so many people tonight …”

  “Hush, did you hear that?” the earl asked, placing a finger on her lips.

  They stilled, straining their ears. At length, she shook her head and raised an eyebrow.

  “Perhaps it was another mouse. I think we should not speak anymore. I feel as if the entire house is awake and prowling tonight,” the earl said quietly.

  She nodded in agreement, and they continued their search. After searching for more than two hours, they gave up, and Emma returned to her room alone.

  She undressed and got into bed, but the moment she closed her eyes a knock at her door had her sitting bolt upright.

  “Richard, what’s the matter, I thought you were returning to your room,” Emma exclaimed, seeing the earl back so soon.

  “I tried, but the entrance to the servant room is locked. I don’t understand it. It has never been locked before. I tried the front door and windows, and they are all bolted shut.”

  “I am sure Lord Raikes will let you sleep on the couch. You can slip out in the morning,” she said nervously, shifting to block the earl’s view of her own bed.

  “On the contrary, I think I need to sleep in a warm bed tonight. I am fed up of my hard mattress.”

  “Will he let you take his bed?”

  “No, but you will,” he replied smiling.

  ***

  Lord Raikes paced the room, and Catherine eyed him warily.

  “I did not invite Prudence into my room. I found her there when I returned from Emma’s room.”

  She gasped.

  “No, no, you don’t understand. I went to Emma’s room to meet the earl to ask him to allow me to tell you everything.”

  “You went to Emma’s room to speak to the earl. That is, you went to her room to speak to yourself? Then you returned to your room to find Prudence in such a state?” she asked sceptically.

  “Look, it is hard for me to explain. It will take some time, so bear with me while I tell you from the beginning,” Lord Raikes said agitatedly.

  “I am listening, My Lord.”

  “I am not engaged to Emma.”

  “She called off the wedding! Finally, she has come to her senses.”

  “No, I mean the earl is engaged to Emma, but I am not.”

  “I see, My Lord. I think … I think London has some fine doctors. This condition you have … is it from birth?” Catherine asked, nervously inching her way towards the door.

  “What? … Oh, you think I am mad! On the contrary, I am as sane as you are. I am trying to tell you that I am not the earl. I am not Richard Hamilton.”

  Catherine’s eyes scrunched up in confusion. She searched his face and then asked, “Can you try and explain this any better?”

  “Yes, I am trying. Look, I am not the earl, I am the marquis’s eldest son, William Raikes. I am Richard Hamilton’s neighbour as well. We grew up together, and after my education was complete, I went travelling. I became an author and recently returned to England since my father has been ailing and requested my presence.”

  He glanced at her to see how she was taking it. She looked like she believed not a word.

  He continued his narrative, explaining how the earl had sent him a letter requesting him to join the farce; how over the coming days, things had become more convoluted as his interest in her increased.

  “I wanted you to know because I could not bear another day of seeing you suffer under the misconception that I was a rake, playing with your feelings, as well as Emma’s. I implore you to believe me.”

  Catherine eyed him distrustfully, “So the earl is the gardener, and you are his friend pretending to be the earl? I find the whole thing too fantastical to believe. Is there any proof?”

  “Emma will tell you that it is the truth.”

  “But why did she not tell me in the beginning?”

  “She was afraid you may tell the duke.”

  “I still might.”

  “Please can you not keep it quiet for a few more days? If not for me then do it for Emma’s sake. It is only a matter of another week. It is a harmless charade, and they mean no harm.”

  “I will think about it,” she said, pulling her robe closer together. “Now it is late, can you please return to your rooms?”

  His heart felt lighter now that the entire secret was out. He stared at Catherine, who stood nervously shifting from foot to foot. Her wary eyes were a shimmering blue, reminding him of a lake he used to visit with his father as a child.

  He knew if he stayed a moment longer, he would kiss her.

  They would both regret it later, he for rushing her and her for kissing him. He eyed her face framed by a riot of golden curls and decided to stay a moment longer.

  She clutched the lapels of her robe tighter wondering why he wasn’t leaving her room. She needed time to think, to come to terms with the fact that Lord Raikes was not Emma’s fiancé. He was single, available, and perfectly acceptable as a suitor.

  More importantly, she was madly attracted to him.

  She stared at his handsome face, and the emotion in his dark eyes arrested her.

  The tick-tock of the clock on the mantelpiece faded, and her head swam as she unconsciously swayed towards him.

  “Oh, I do not think so. I have a lot more to say,” he finally answered her.

  His husky voice seemed to break her trance.

  “You do?” she squeaked, backing away towards the door.

  “We still haven’t discussed us.”

  “Us?” Her heart thundered in her ribs, and her eyes strayed to his lips.

  He smiled in response and said, “You and me and what we are to do about this attraction we feel towards each other.”

  “You are mistaken, I feel no such thing,” she said, panicking at the look in his eyes.

  He put his hands up on the door to imprison her as he spoke, “Then I think it was time I proved it to you.”

  “What … what do you mean?” she asked breathlessly as the scent of him enveloped her, and her eyes fluttered close.

  Instead of replying he bent down to kiss her.

  He kissed her rhythmically and insistently, until she opened up under him. He groaned in satisfaction when her lips parted. He pulled her closer, running his hands through her silky hair. She moaned in response, and he abruptly stopped.

  His breathing was ragged as he asked, “Do you deny the attraction?”

  Her cheeks turned pink, and she nodded.

  He grinned, pulling her flush against him.

  She felt as if she were on fire. She arched closer, and her head tilted up, her lips parting for another kiss.

  He touched her bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, tracing the outline, but refusing to kiss her.

  She whimpered in frustration, and he whispered, “Admit it, Catherine, do you want me to kiss you?”

  She swayed closer, her head
feeling dizzy. He was no longer her cousin’s fiancé; he had never been. She could kiss him, she had every right to kiss him and then … sanity intruded. She was in her bedroom with a man, wearing only her nightgown. She stared at him, growing frightened of the intensity in his face.

  She pushed him away, and taken by surprise he fell back.

  “Please leave,” she whispered.

  He looked at the fear in her face and cursed inwardly. He had not meant to scare her. She had to be wooed gently, and his own passions had made him lose control.

  He gave her an apologetic smile as he left to return to his rooms.

  Chapter 25

  The duke heard his valet murmuring above him. He dismissed it as a dream, but then he heard the louder voice of Pickering calling out to him.

  He irritably opened his eyes, “What is the matter? It is still early, and I have another hour of sleep left. Why have you disturbed me?”

  “Your Grace,” Pickering spoke up from behind the valet, “it’s an emergency.”

  The duke glanced at the tensed faces in front of him and frowned. He had never before been woken up by any of his household staff. He sat up and waited for his valet to hand him the robe.

  The valet stared at the duke’s outstretched hand in confusion.

  Pickering leapt into action, handing him the robe instead, and then ran to fill the basin with cold water.

  The duke glanced at the trembling valet in concern. Something was very wrong.

  “Pickering, get my clothes ready and send Davy down to the kitchens. He looks like he could do with a cup of tea,” the duke said, moving towards the basin and splashing his face with cold water.

  He needed to keep calm and ensure that no one in the household panicked. He understood from Pickering’s barely restrained agitation that the news was bad.

  He gave himself a few selfish seconds to get his emotions under control. Catherine was fine, he chanted over and over. His daughter was safe.

  He forcefully banished his morbid thoughts and finally turned to ask Pickering why he had been woken up at such an unearthly hour.

  “Your Grace, the maid who attends to the fires in the morning always goes to Lady Babbage’s room first, since she wakes up before anyone else in the house. A few minutes ago she entered the room as usual and found her dead,” Pickering replied.

  “Found who dead?” he asked, confused.

  “Lady Babbage, sir.”

  His eyes snapped open. He stared at the anxious faces in front of him. For a moment, he thought it was a horrible joke, the next he dismissed the idea.

  Perhaps the maid had been mistaken, and his sister had merely been taken ill.

  “Come with me,” he ordered, striding out in his robe.

  He walked towards his sister’s room, and with each step his heart steadied as it began to sink in that Catherine was fine.

  He stopped outside the door and felt relieved. He could face anything, but if anything had happened to his daughter, he would have gone to pieces.

  As for his sister … he paused to examine his feelings. After his wife’s death, his biggest fear had been losing Catherine. He spent his days worrying about her welfare, whereas he had always assumed his sister would be alright.

  His hand trembled as concern for his sister overwhelmed him. He steeled himself and knocked on the door. No one answered.

  His trembling increased; his hand pushed the door, and it opened easily and silently on well-oiled hinges.

  His eyes shot to the bed at the centre of the room.

  Lady Babbage was lying on her front, deathly still. A large butcher’s knife protruded out from the middle of her back.

  He leaned against the doorpost in shock. His mind seemed to go numb, and then slowly his brain started taking in the details of the scene. He noticed the blood seeping through the white sheets and the brutal violence with which the knife was embedded in his sister’s back.

  He also realised that his grief would have to wait. Someone must have committed the murder, and that person was still in the house.

  “Get everyone to assemble in the library within half an hour. I don’t care if you have to throw buckets of water to wake them. Pickering, I need to see you before anyone else, so let someone else wake the household members. I want a report from you.” The duke mentioned two more names of people who he wanted assembled along with the family.

  Pickering looked taken aback at the request but left to do as he was bid.

  The duke changed quickly and had a brief conference with his butler.

  Another half an hour went by, before a stranger was shown into the library. By the time he had finished briefing the newcomer, the household started entering the room. A few looked annoyed at being dragged out of bed at six in the morning whilst others looked curious and worried.

  Mrs Barker was the first to arrive. She sat down nervously on one of the few chairs provided.

  He assured her that he would announce everything once everyone was present.

  Mr Barker came soon after and angrily demanded the reason for being unceremoniously woken up like this. Catherine and Emma came running in before the duke could finish soothing Mr Barker.

  Prudence and Lord Raikes entered together. Prudence looked ill, while Lord Raikes was expressionless.

  “Now you can tell us, we are all here,” Mr Barker said irritably.

  “The duchess has not yet arrived, and I am expecting two more people to join us.”

  Everyone assumed one of the two to be Lady Babbage.

  The duchess strode in yawning, wearing a long white filmy robe. She had not bothered to change her night dress.

  No one spared her a glance, each wondering what this great news was. From the solemn look on the duke’s face they knew it would not be pleasant.

  They sent curious glances at the tall, reed thin man standing beside the duke. No one had seen him before. His hair was shocking white and his face heavily lined. His dark beetle eyes raked over all those present, dwelling long enough on each one to have them squirming uncomfortably.

  They wondered what an outsider was doing in their midst, and they were further amazed to find the head gardener enter the room along with another strange man. Emma knew him to be the under-gardener, Joe.

  The duke stood up and came to stand in front of the desk. He looked around the room and said, “Now that everyone is present, I can begin.”

  “Father, Lady Babbage is not here yet,” Catherine spoke up.

  Mr Barker shot her annoyed look. He wanted to go back to bed.

  “This is why I have called you here. It is about Lady Babbage. There is no easy way to say this, so I must simply say it. My sister … she died this morning.”

  A collective gasp went around the room.

  The duke watched the faces as they digested the news. He was unhappy to note that most looked relieved, Prudence being the most transparent.

  “There is more, which is why I invited Mr Nutters to join me this morning. He arrived last night and was staying at the village inn. He had an appointment with me this afternoon, but the urgency and the nature of the situation forced me to request his presence early. He is a private detective in London,” the duke said, indicating the man standing to his right.

  Mr Nutters bowed formally and smiled a smile of a shark baiting its prey.

  This time the shock was slow in coming. It took them a moment to realise what the need for a detective was in such a situation.

  “I see you have come to the obvious conclusion. She did not die a natural death but was brutally murdered.”

  “Is there no mistake, uncle?” Emma asked.

  “No, she was stabbed,” he said shortly.

  Catherine burst into tears and turned to bury her face into Lord Raikes’ shoulder. Apart from Lord Raikes, no one gave the gesture a second thought. Their minds were whirling as they tried to assimilate the facts.

  “I am the duke, and hence the magistrate as well in this surrounding area. It is up to me to
find the culprit.” His eyes turned cold as he scanned the faces in front of him. He continued, “Unfortunately, the murderer is one of the people present in this room.”

  “But it could be the servants!” Mr Barker said angrily.

  “No, it is not. The passage from the servants’ room was locked last night on my behest. I also had a man placed among the servants, for a month ago something was stolen from my study. I wanted to make sure it did not happen again.”

  “You cannot seriously think one of us murdered her? You have your family present as well. You cannot think to blame them?” asked Mr Barker.

  “I am the law, and hence I have to be impartial and suspect everyone. I will not favour members of my family above any guests present.”

  He paused to let that sink in, and then continued, “Emma, please escort the women to the breakfast room. I would like to interview the earl first,” he said, looking at Lord Raikes, “and the head gardener. The rest of you will not be allowed to leave this house until the matter is resolved satisfactorily. Please wait until you are called.”

  Mr Barker started arguing again, but Prudence caught hold of her father’s arm and dragged him out. The rest left quickly, each wanting some time to reflect.

  Emma sent a last nervous glance at the head gardener before exiting the room.

  “Now, Mr Nutters will remain here during the questioning and aid me with his expertise. I hope the two of you have no objections to my asking a few crucial things?”

  Richard and Lord Raikes shook their heads.

  “Why don’t you take a seat, Lord Hamilton?” the duke asked, pulling out a piece of paper from his desk.

  Lord Raikes moved to take a seat when the duke looked up and said with a hint of a smile, “You, too … Lord Raikes.”

  The earl glanced at him in shock, while Lord Raikes looked resigned as he sat.

  “You knew? How?” The earl asked.

  “Please, give me an account of your nightly proceedings. After that, I will answer all your questions.”

  The earl paused, wondering how he could admit that he had been in Emma’s rooms. He decided to edit a great deal as he spoke, “We had reason to believe that Lady Babbage was blackmailing Prudence,” he started cautiously. The duke remained expressionless, so he continued, “Emma and I knew that your sister was planning to leave a note in Prudence’s work basket to arrange a time and place for them to meet. We had planned to steal that note last night. We believed she would write enough in the note to implicate herself. We wanted to bring the proof to you before accusing her.”