A Countess in Her Own Right

by Fanny Walsh

  Her uncle nodded. And she did, indeed, enjoy the rest of dinner. Her uncle began telling her stories of events from her childhood, and the two of them laughed heartily.

  Mary and her uncle rarely revisited family memories, especially since her parents and brother had died. That made the evening all the more wonderful for her. She and her uncle talked well past dessert, and by the time he had departed, Mary could feel the wine making her head swim. S

  he called for Susan to escort her to her room and help her undress for bed.

  As she drifted off to sleep, she felt guilty for lying to her uncle. However, she knew that there would never be anything she could say to change her uncle’s mind. And really, her words held some measure of truth.

  She would stay away from Duncan, just as soon as they had solved the mystery of who wanted to kill her. And as soon as she made her decision about the procedure for…

  …her leg aches more fiercely than it has in months, as if her injury is suddenly fresh once again. Around her, people rush and swirl, buzzing with excitement, the source of which Mary cannot discern. She tries to scan the flurry of people, searching for just one face she recognizes, to no avail.

  She glances down and sees that she is wearing an elaborate white gown. In her hands, she is holding a bouquet of white and red roses.

  She catches a glimpse of her reflection in a nearby mirror and sees that there are also roses in her hair, and there is a sheer white veil delicately covering her face.

  As the realization of what is happening hits her, a man whose face she cannot make out takes her arm and begins ushering her quickly down the aisle of what she can now see is a church. However, as they begin to move, the pain in Mary’s leg intensifies, and she lets out a shriek of pain.

  She reaches for someone sitting near her for help, but the man guiding her tugs her away. Frantic, she looks around for any sign of a friendly face, but she realizes that all of the wedding guests are laughing and pointing at her.

  Overwhelmed with fear and pain, Mary trips over the hem of her gown and falls face-first onto the red carpet of the church’s aisle. She grunts, her face flushing.

  She tries to roll over and reach for a hand to help her up, but she sees that everyone in the church is suddenly standing directly over her. However, they are not there to help her.

  While she still cannot make out clear facial features, she can see lips turned up into sneers and down into scowls. Now, she can hear things the people are saying. She hears murmurs of ‘disgraceful,’ ‘hideous,’ ‘foolish,’ ‘terrible bride,’ and the like.

  She tries reaching for some of the outstretched hands, but they withdraw out of her reach and continue pointing and mocking. Feeling helpless, Mary buries her face in her hands and begins to cry…

  Mary awoke with a start, her heart racing and her hands covering her tear-streaked face.

  Chapter 16

  Duncan glanced around the teahouse, searching for Beatrice and Mary. He knew he was early, but he was anxious to see Mary again.

  It was getting harder to deny his feelings for her every day, and he had looked forward to today for what felt like ages. Even though it was supposed to be strictly business, he secretly hoped to have the opportunity to once again broach the subject of courting to Mary.

  Seeing no sign of the two women, Duncan chose a table and seated himself. He was just making himself comfortable and deciding whether he wanted some tea when he saw Beatrice heading straight toward his table. He rose and bowed to Beatrice.

  “Where is Mary?” he asked, pulling out a chair for Beatrice.

  Beatrice nodded her thanks, then pointed toward the teahouse door.

  “She is coming along just now,” she said.

  Duncan looked at the door, where Mary was walking in. To his dismay, Duncan saw that Kent Hillington was escorting Mary. He wondered if Mary knew anything about the threat that Hillington had issued him the night of the ball.

  He decided that she could not have; that she would have never brought him along to a meeting with him deliberately if she did.

  Duncan stood stiffly, waiting for Mary to reach them, which she did within moments. Kent, he noticed, sat a few tables over, piercing him with his stare.

  For a moment, he considered making a grand display of taking Mary’s hand and kissing it as he greeted her. In the end, however, he decided against it.

  While it would give him pleasure to slight Hillington in such a manner, he knew it would only be Mary who incurred the aftermath. Instead, he simply bowed, as he had to Beatrice, and pulled out another chair for her.

  “It is a pleasure, my lady,” he said as Mary seated herself.

  “Thank you, doctor,” Mary said.

  “How are you?” Duncan asked.

  “Very well, thank you. How are you?”

  Duncan resisted the urge to ask Mary why she had brought her uncle along to this meeting.

  “I am glad to see you,” he answered honestly. Mary blushed.

  Beatrice cleared her throat. Duncan felt a brief moment of shame at having forgotten she was there with them.

  “I trust you are doing well, Miss Beaumont?”

  “Yes, thank you,” she said. Duncan noticed the amused expression on Beatrice’s face, and he felt himself flush.

  He took a seat across from the two women but froze in mid-sit. There, just across the teahouse, sat his cousin, Theodore. From the looks of it, he was deep into a card game taking place with several other men.

  Duncan blanched, thinking how his cousin’s timing and location could not be more poorly timed. He could not suppress a groan of dread.

  “Are you alright, doctor?” Mary asked, her eyebrows furrowed with concern.

  Duncan cursed himself.

  “I believe it is highly irregular for the patient to inquire that of her doctor,” he said, giving her what he hoped was his most charming smile.

  Mary smiled.

  “Perhaps that would be true, if we were nothing more than doctor and patient,” she said.

  Beatrice looked at her, her eyebrows raised. Mary seemed to reconsider her words, color creeping up her neck and into her cheeks.

  “That is, if we were not working together on such a serious matter,” she amended.

  Duncan jumped in, wanting to spare Mary the discomfort she appeared to be feeling.

  “Now that we are here, to which order of business should we tend first?” he said, smiling broadly.

  Beatrice snapped her eyes from her friend to Duncan.

  “I wanted to introduce the two of you to someone,” she said, her eyes leaving her companions and wandering around the teahouse. “However, it seems that he has not arrived just yet.”

  Duncan found himself also searching the patrons of the teahouse, even though he knew he would not recognize the man of whom Beatrice spoke.

  He was, in part, wanting to keep a nonchalant eye on his cousin at his card game. While it appeared that the stakes in the game were not very high, he was still angry that his cousin had broken his promise to stay away from gambling until Duncan was in charge of his family fortune.

  He had to admit to himself that although he was upset with Theodore, he was not surprised. He was also unsurprised to see that Theodore noticed the group’s presence and immediately began glaring at Kent Hillington.

  If Kent noticed Theodore, he did not react. However, Duncan began to worry that one of the two men might engage the other in a nasty altercation, despite the growing crowd of patrons in the teahouse.

  While apprehensive, Duncan used this as an excuse to glance at Mary’s uncle occasionally.

  He expected to see the man pretending to not notice him or returning Theodore’s glare. But as Duncan’s eyes scanned the room, he saw Kent staring right at him, as though he were trying to penetrate his very flesh with his eyes.

  Duncan wrestled the urge to give Mary’s uncle a disrespectfully exaggerated bow from his seat.

  Just then, Beatrice rose quickly from her seat and wav
ed her fan delicately in the air. Duncan turned his head in the direction Beatrice was waving and rose from his seat reflexively to greet the new guest.

  He noticed Mary struggle briefly to stand, and he fought the desire to rush to her side and help her from her seat. As if reading his mind, she gave him a pointed look before turning her attention to the man approaching the table.

  Duncan observed that he was a younger man than he was expecting, perhaps three or four years older than himself, if a day. He also noticed the blush in Beatrice’s cheeks when the gentleman took her hands and kissed them.

  Beatrice turned to her companions.

  “Lord Tornight, I would like you to meet Mr. Cody Langdon,” she said, giving a slight curtsey as she moved from between the two men and to Mary’s side.

  Mr. Langdon bowed deeply before addressing Duncan.

  “It is an honor, my lord,” he said. The warmth and sincerity surprised Duncan. He was expecting a man with cold, sharp eyes and a clipped voice. Duncan liked him at once. He just hoped he was as skilled as he seemed to be kind and courteous.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Langdon,” Duncan said, returning the man’s bow.

  “And this,” Beatrice said when the men had finished their introductions, “is Lady Hillington. She is the friend I told you about.”

  Mr. Langdon bowed and took Mary’s hand as she curtsied, but Duncan noted that he made no move to kiss it as he had done with Beatrice. Duncan could not help but smile. He believed that he and Mr. Langdon would get along well, indeed.

  “It is wonderful to meet you, Lady Hillington,” Mr. Langdon said.

  “Likewise,” Mary said, smiling.

  For a moment, Duncan feared that she might blush as Beatrice did. Mr. Langdon was what many women would consider quite handsome. However, Beatrice seemed to be the only lady at the table affected by the young investigator’s charms.

  “Please,” Mr. Langdon said, gesturing to the table as he moved to hold out Beatrice’s seat for her.

  Duncan followed suit, easing Mary’s chair close to the table again once she sat.

  “Thank you, my lord,” Mary said. Duncan saw her blush as she spoke, and hope rose in his heart.

  The two men then took their own seats, and Beatrice sat staring at Mr. Langdon expectantly.

  “Well, Miss Beaumont, where should I begin?” Mr. Langdon said.

  “Is there anything you have learned since you wrote to me?” Beatrice asked.

  Mr. Langdon nodded.

  “I recall that, in the letter, I mentioned that the blade of the knife used on your father was incomplete, meaning that the tip of it was broken.”

  “Yes, you did,” Beatrice confirmed.

  “Well, shortly after I sent off your letter, I learned exactly what kind of knife it was from the broken piece that was left behind in your father’s body.”

  Beatrice gasped and fumbled for Mary’s hand. Mary took her friend's hands in hers and patted them. Beatrice nodded for the investigator to continue.

  “It seems that the blade used was of a rather special variety. They are difficult to obtain, even among the most elite of society. The blade of the knife was carved of ivory,” Mr. Langdon said, suddenly lowering his voice.

  Mary’s eyes grew wide and her face pale.

  “Are you saying that it could not have been some penniless street thug who killed Beatrice’s father?”

  Mr. Langdon dipped his head solemnly.

  “I am saying that, if a street thug possessed this knife, he would likely never need to rob or murder again in his life.”

  Mary seemed to be trying to process what they had just heard. Then, she turned to Beatrice, and Duncan saw tears in her eyes.

  “I am so sorry for not believing you sooner,” she said.

  This time, Beatrice patted Mary’s hands. She smiled at her friend.

  “Darling, I know how mad with grief I must have sounded,” she said. “To tell the truth, until Mr. Langdon here first spoke with me, I was beginning to think that was true.”

  “I should have never doubted you,” Mary said.

  “You are here with me now, dear friend. That is all that matters.”

  Movement from a nearby table caught Duncan’s eye. He spared a glance from the others to quickly scan the room. He saw that Mary’s uncle had seemed to move his seat a little closer to the table, not pretending to hide his increased interest in the group’s conversation.

  He let his gaze continue to wander but made a mental note to ponder the reasons for such interest later.

  The moment his eyes fell on his cousin again, a memory struck him with such force that he let out a little gasp.

  “My lord, is something wrong?” Mr. Langdon asked, concerned.

  He dragged his eyes, which he then realized had widened to a considerable degree, back to his companions. Both Mary and Beatrice were also watching him, matching looks of fear and confusion on their faces.

  “It seems that this news caught me quite off guard, as well,” Duncan said. “Please, do not let my brooding prevent you from this important discussion.”

  Mr. Langdon nodded and smiled warmly again at Duncan. Then, he and Beatrice began talking quietly again. Mary, however, was more reluctant to believe Duncan. She furrowed her brows at him, her unasked question clear.

  Duncan smiled weakly. He could not tell her that he had just remembered that his cousin had had a knife matching a quite similar description to the one Mr. Langdon had just detailed. Nor did he feel this was the proper to mention, or dwell on, his cousin’s recent money troubles, or the terrible notion that perhaps it was his cousin who had murdered Beatrice’s father.

  His heart sank further as his mind flashed back to Mary’s story about the fire. Duncan knew that Theodore had no love for the Hillington’s, but Duncan could not imagine his beloved cousin ever becoming so desperate as to resort to murder.

  He had known Theodore all their lives, and he could surely never do something so atrocious. Could he?

  “Do you have any leads as to whom the murderer could be?” Beatrice, the hope clear and tangible in her voice. Duncan found his own hope rising.

  He prayed that Mr. Langdon would say that he did, in fact, have a solid suspect, and could exonerate his cousin before these terrible notions threatened to drown Duncan’s rational thoughts.

  “Beyond the kind of weapon that was used, I do not know anything definitive. It could be any number of men wealthy enough to obtain such a valuable knife. I will need more time to study the evidence and your testimony before I can draw any sound conclusions.”

  The feeling in Duncan’s stomach intensified, and the blood pounded in his head. He struggled to keep his face stoic and steady while the thoughts raced madly in his mind.

  “Please, do forgive my ill manners, but I believe I see my dear cousin a few tables over,” he said, his voice smooth but flat. He winced, hoping only he had noticed.

  Mr. Langdon looked terribly confused, but far from insulted.

  “Of course, my lord. Thank you for coming. It was a pleasure to speak with you,” he said. Duncan nodded, offering his best smile.

  Beatrice seemed to have hardly heard him, for which he was grateful. Mary, however, stared at him, white-faced and wide-eyed as he rose from the table.

  “I shall speak with you soon, my lady,” he said, bowing to her, carefully avoiding her eyes.

  With that, he moved quickly to the table Theodore occupied. He intended to have a word with his cousin and find out exactly what he knew about these incidents.

  Chapter 17

  Mary watched Duncan depart from the table with deep concern. She could not read the expression on his face, but his eyes were troubled.

  She started to rise from her seat to follow him, but she caught sight of her uncle from the corner of her eye. His gaze was following Duncan with keen interest, and she knew he would notice if she chased after Duncan.

  He would most certainly think that her doing so meant that she had feelings
for him, and she had no wish to upset him in such a way, especially in a public teahouse.

  She silently wished, not for the first time, that her uncle had not come along.

  When she had discussed the meeting and expressed her suspicions about the incidents which nearly took her life, her uncle had laughed at her. He had told her that she sought conspiracy where none existed.

  “You are allowing hysteria to cloud your judgment, my dear,” he had said. “You cannot see that these things were nothing more than terrible, coincidental accidents, and you are overreacting.”