The Lacemaker (Silver Linings Mysteries Book 2)

by Mary Kingswood

  “There is a lady’s hand in the purses, I believe,” Mr Willerton-Forbes said. “These tassels… they look complicated, but to me, all such creations look complicated.”

  “These really are complicated,” Caroline said with a quick laugh. “The netting is straightforward enough — well done, but not anything out of the ordinary. But the tassels, and this stitchery around the opening are very elegant. It grieves me to think of them buried underground, left to rot away.”

  “Ah, but they were not left to rot,” Captain Edgerton said. “They were carefully protected against damp and earth. I should very much like to see precisely where they were found.”

  “Let me show you,” Lin said, jumping up at once. “This way.”

  “I can show you my dear little chickens, too,” Poppy said.

  “Chickens! How charming,” Captain Edgerton murmured, following the two out of the room.

  Mr Willerton-Forbes laughed. “Captain Edgerton does like a mystery to solve, but I do not believe this particular one will tax him too far.”

  “Mr Stratton thought the money was Mr Wishaw’s nest egg,” Caroline said.

  “Ah.” Mr Willerton-Forbes leaned back in his chair, steepling his hands. “A prudent man may well secrete a sum for safe-keeping if he mistrusted banks. But you do not find that suggestion convincing?”

  “That’s just it, he didn’t seem to mistrust his bank. He kept meticulous accounts, which show every penny that went into the bank and every penny that he drew out, and everything balances. There are no spare sums of five hundred pounds unaccounted for. Besides, these notes are drawn on a different bank, from London.”

  “I had noticed the London bank. Also, the netted purses are a curious detail. How then do you explain these sums?”

  Caroline frowned. She had puzzled over it for hours at a time, letting her thoughts meander as she worked at her lace, but she was no nearer a solution that satisfied her. “The one we found in the safe when we first moved here was the full amount,” she said slowly. “It wasn’t as if he was gradually accumulating notes until he reached five hundred, and then he’d bury it. More that it came to him like that, five hundred pounds in a purse, but he couldn’t bury it straight away. Maybe the ground was frozen, since it was the tail end of winter then. So I think someone gave him that money. I just don’t know why.”

  “That is logical,” Mr Willerton-Forbes said. “It cannot be gambling winnings, not with such a regular amount, so perhaps a bribe? Perhaps someone wished to assure himself of Mr Wishaw’s business.”

  “And he kept it off the accounts and buried it… yes, that makes sense,” Caroline said. “A bribe… is that common in business? It seems rather unsavoury to me.”

  “And to me, also,” Mr Willerton-Forbes said. “However, such things do go on. Five hundred pounds to ensure that Mr Wishaw and Mr Salter would buy their hops from one supplier in particular… such things do indeed go on. Mr Wishaw has his nest egg for his retirement, and Mr Salter is none the wiser.”

  A squeal of girlish laughter issued from the garden. Mr Willerton-Forbes smiled at the sound. “Your sisters are enjoying rural life, I think, Miss Milburn, but perhaps it is not such an easy transition for you?”

  She shook her head ruefully. “I imagined a quiet life, not very different from Romsey except with clean air and water fresh from the well. We would continue to ply our trades, as we always have. But that will not do for our neighbours, who are determined to make gentry of us. One of them wishes to take me visiting at Valmont, if you please! As if I have anything in common with a duke! It is ridiculous.”

  He smiled, but said, “But if you go, then you will have succeeded where I failed, Miss Milburn. We are refused admission at Valmont.”

  “But why?”

  “Who can say? These great men have their whims. I thought my name might allow me past the gates, for my head of chambers, another Willerton-Forbes, is the most senior lawyer advising the Litherholm family. But no. Even a letter of introduction from my uncle and another from Sir Lester Markham were not sufficient. Yet I cannot complete my assignment from the Benefactor without transferring one thousand pounds into the hands of Lord Randolph Litherholm.”

  “But he hardly needs the money, does he?”

  “That is not the point,” he said primly. “My terms of reference are to include the nearest relative of every victim of the Brig Minerva, no matter how high or low on the social scale, no matter how rich or poor, so that is what I shall do, however long it takes. Lord Randolph will see me eventually, I am determined upon that.”

  “You are very conscientious,” Caroline said. “It must be very dull work, looking up relatives.”

  “Not so dull as you might imagine,” he said, eyes twinkling. “Being conscientious makes it a great deal easier to alleviate the dullness. The sinking of the Brig Minerva has thrown up enough mysteries to please even Captain Edgerton. There is the man who has no history, but appears on the quay in Dublin sprung from the very air, seemingly. He said he had been raised in an orphanage in Carlisle, but, being conscientious, I dispatched Captain Edgerton to enquire, and he found no trace of such a person at any orphanage.”

  “People change their names all the time,” Caroline said, laughing. “It hardly needs explanation.”

  “Ah. You think so? In the circles where I normally move, such things are highly unusual, but I suppose outside the highborn families it is a more common occurrence. Still, I should like an explanation all the same. I believe I may pay another visit to the gentleman, to see if I might winkle out the truth.”

  “Oh, he did not drown?”

  “There were only three survivors, but he was one of them, and there is another curiosity — how was it that he survived, but others, more experienced at sea than he, did not? And yet another mystery that intrigues me, and you may tell me, if you will, if this is also a common event — one of the passengers, travelling under a man’s name and wearing man’s clothing, was in fact a woman.”

  “Oh, that is strange!” Caroline said. “I can’t imagine… perhaps she had to travel alone for some reason and didn’t wish to attract attention. A woman on board ship alone would be…” She broke off, floundering for the right word.

  “Vulnerable?” the lawyer hazarded. “Indeed she might. Perhaps that was all it was.”

  “You sound disappointed,” Caroline said.

  “Not exactly, but I had anticipated some more devious explanation than simple concealment of her feminine nature. Yet I daresay that is the answer. How useful this has been, Miss Milburn. Your practicality is refreshing. You have my gratitude for your assistance.”

  “I’m not sure I’ve been much help,” she said, chuckling. “After all, your mysteries are not all that great, are they? One man travelling under a new name, and one woman pretending to be a man.”

  “Ah, but there are other, greater, mysteries that interest me also. Why, for instance, a sturdy ship manned by an experienced crew and captain, travelling in calm seas and perfect weather, should drift onto rocks? What happened that night aboard the Minerva? I should very much like to know. Why was the Duke of Falconbury aboard, since he should have caught the packet two days earlier? Also, why the new duke refuses to see me… and refuses to claim his title, too. And one that is of the greatest interest to me personally — who is the Benefactor whose largesse I am distributing?”

  “You don’t know?”

  “I have not the least idea. Curious, is it not?” And he beamed at her happily.

  ~~~~~

  There was no relief from the stream of calls from their neighbours in the three Bursham villages, which Caroline felt obliged to return, and after that the invitations began to arrive. These were not landed gentry, like the Alsagers and Leathams, but even so Caroline was reluctant to accept.

  “We’ll be obliged to hold parties of our own if we go to these,” she said. “I’m not sure—”

  “It’s only the Christophers, and Mrs Christopher says it’s pot luck and j
ust family,” Poppy said. “Please may we go, Caro?”

  “The Pierces’ card party is very informal, and we can walk there,” Lin said. “It will be great fun.”

  After pot luck at the parsonage and cards at the house with the cheerful red door, there was dinner with the Wenman sisters, the widows of two brothers who lived at the far end of the village. Poppy was deemed to be too young for that, but Lin and Caroline went, and Caroline had to admit that it was pleasant to be in company again, as they had not been since Papa had died. It was not elevated company, but it felt very fitting for the daughters of a linen draper. Their peers were an unassuming clergyman, a former attorney and the widows of two coach builders. If they wished to widen their circle of acquaintances, there was Mr Ascot, the apothecary, Mr and Mrs Dunn, the innkeepers, and Miss Porter, the former governess. And so, inch by reluctant inch, the sisters found themselves pulled into the upper level of society in Bursham St Matthew.

  It was not long before Caroline felt the pressure to return the hospitality extended to them. Molly said enthusiastically that she could happily cook for a dozen or more if she had a bit of help in the kitchen, and Martin was happy to pretend to be a footman for the day and polish up the silver, while Susie opened a new jar of beeswax polish and set about the dining room furniture with a will. So it was that Caroline, who had never wanted to be anything but a lacemaker, found herself obliged to don an evening gown once more, and play hostess to a dinner at her own table. She chose a Saturday night, so that Mr Stratton could be of the company, and she sent out cards of invitation to the Christophers, the Wenman ladies, the Pierces and Tim Carter, their gamekeeper cousin, and his wife. By the time all was settled, they sat down fourteen at table, with two full courses, wines provided by Mr Wishaw’s extensive cellar, fish by courtesy of Tim Carter and cheese from the Bursham All Saints dairy. The vegetables were not, sadly, from their own kitchen garden, for Lin said there was nothing ready, but there was no shortage, and all agreed that everything was cooked to perfection. Or, if they did not agree, they were polite enough not to mention it.

  Lin and Poppy were in alt, Lin probably because Mr Stratton was there, and Poppy because it was her first ever grown-up dinner and must be accorded the accolade of perfection on that account alone. Caroline was forced to admit that the evening was a pleasant one, the food good and the company in lively spirits. The Mrs Wenmans could both play the pianoforte, so there was music after dinner and then cards, with tea and a light supper at the proper hour. Everyone left in time to be home before the onset of the Sabbath, and Caroline retired to bed with the comfortable feeling that they had, at last, found their proper level in society and might quietly forget about the grander folk at Corranwater and Starlingford.

  This pleasant sensation lasted all of half a day, until they attended church and met with Mrs Leatham.

  “My dear Miss Milburn,” she called from some distance away. “Halloo there! Miss Milburn!”

  Caroline broke off her conversation with the Mrs Wenhams to turn and make her curtsy, as Mrs Leatham bore down on her. “How delightful! Mr Christopher tells me you have begun entertaining at last. What a fine thing, to be sure! You should have let me know, for Charles would have brought you some game and fish for the table. He is always out shooting things, or fishing. Are you not, Charles? Where has he got to now? Foolish boy! He is always wandering off. But next time, do let me know and Charles will provide whatever you need.”

  “Thank you, Mrs Leatham, but Mr Carter is well able to provision us.”

  “Timothy Carter? The Valmont gamekeeper? You know him, do you?” Two elegant eyebrows lifted in surprise.

  “He is our cousin,” Caroline said patiently, wondering if she could escape in time to have a word with Mr Ascot, the apothecary. But Mrs Leatham was far from finished.

  “Your cousin? But how—?” She stopped, worked it out and blushed slightly. “Well… well… that is very good.” She cleared her throat, and renewed her smile. “Indeed, it is splendid that you are making so many new friends in the village, and having the courage to entertain. But now that you have got into the way of it, I hope you will not neglect your other friends.” As she spoke, she simpered, so that Caroline was left in no doubt as to which other friends were referred to.

  Not for the first time, Caroline heartily wished that the Leathams attended a different church, or that they were less regular in their observance of the Sabbath, for every Sunday she must endure the blandishments of Mrs Leatham. It was an effort to be civil to her.

  “If you mean yourself, Mrs Leatham, we wouldn’t presume to invite you to dine at the cottage. We don’t have the standard of accommodations for a lady such as yourself.”

  “Nonsense!” she trilled. “Next time you entertain, I do so hope you will extend an invitation to us. I am not sure that Mr Leatham would wish to leave his own house unless the weather be particularly favourable, but Charles and I should be delighted to attend.”

  “And Miss Beacher, too, I trust,” Caroline added.

  “Oh… of course, Mildred too. Now, my dear, I am so glad I caught you because our arrangements for the visit to Valmont are all in place. Thursday is to be the day, and—”

  “But—”

  “—it is all settled with the Narfields, so we shall be expected. Is it not exciting?”

  “But—”

  “You need not be overly concerned about your gown. Just wear the best you have, but nothing too elaborate. The Valmont ladies would not like it if we were to dress too fine, you see. One must have the distinction of rank preserved.”

  “Mrs Leatham, I—”

  “The carriage will call for you at ten o’clock sharp, so be sure to be ready. Elinor may come too, if she pleases, but Poppy is too young for such company, I feel sure you will agree. Oh, I must just have a word with Mr Ascot about Mr Leatham’s tonic. Forgive me if I dash away, Miss Milburn. Remember — Thursday at ten o’clock sharp!”

  With those words she was gone. Caroline stamped her foot in frustration.

  A low chuckle made her turn her head. Mr Charles Leatham stood not five paces away, grinning in delight at her discomfiture.

  “You may protest as much as you please, Miss Milburn, but Mama is not a lady to be denied. No point making yourself miserable over it. In my experience, it is far better to accede gracefully from the start than to wage a long campaign and be forced in the end to surrender. Mama will have her way.”

  “Oh, so you always give in without the least fight, do you? How craven! A fine soldier you must have been.”

  He bridled at once. “I was an excellent soldier, if you must know, madam, in battle or elsewhere, but I had a thousand times sooner take on the French than Mama.”

  “Then you’re foolish as well as cowardly, sir. Are you afraid of one woman?”

  “When that one woman is my step-mother, yes.”

  “Why? You’re a man, and may do as you please. What can she possibly do to you?”

  “She can torment me,” he said glumly, his irritation subsiding. “In desperate cases, she can cry, and there is nothing more horrifying than female tears.” He quirked a rueful smile. “I know you think me a poor creature, Miss Milburn, and perhaps I am, but I like a quiet life. Since I have no idea what to do with myself, I am perfectly happy to let Mama order my life for me. It is what I am used to and trained for — to obey orders.” He sighed, and she wondered if he were regretting the loss of his army career again. “So there it is. Mama tells me I am to accompany her to Valmont, and therefore to Valmont I am to go.”

  “Well, more fool you,” Caroline said. “I shall not surrender so tamely.”

  “I have no objection to seeing one of our great families in their natural habitat,” he said thoughtfully. “The house is magnificent, and the gardens— I have heard much of the wonders of the lakes and waterfalls. And…” He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “I am greatly looking forward to seeing Mama cowering in the splendour of Valmont. How else can we know our place in
society, if we see nothing of those far above us?”

  “I know my place in society perfectly well, thank you,” Caroline said tartly. “I wish you joy of your visit to Valmont.”

  He chuckled. “Are you not even the slightest bit tempted? Is it my presence which deters you? If you come, I promise not to quarrel with you.”

  She gazed at him in amazement. “You could never keep such a promise. I’d wager you would be in a pelt inside five minutes.”

  “Oh? What would you wager, then, madam, if you are so certain of it?”

  “Ten pounds,” she said, without the slightest hesitation.

  “Tame! Make it fifty,” he said. “That would be more interesting, would it not?”

  “Fifty! I cannot afford to throw away so much money.”

  “Come now, Miss Milburn, how hard can it be? Forget the five minutes — I will give you the whole day. Can I really last so many hours without quarrelling with you?”

  “Of course you can’t. Fifty pounds it is.”

  It was only after he had left, with a smug smile on his face, that she realised he had achieved what his step-mother could not — he had made her agree to go to Valmont.

  14: A Visit To Valmont (July)

  “Lin, you must come with me,” Caroline said desperately. “Don’t leave me to a whole day all alone with the Leathams.”

  “It was your own fault for allowing Mr Leatham to goad you,” Lin said. “I’d rather be assaulted with red hot pokers than go to Valmont.”

  Caroline laughed. “No, you wouldn’t. Red hot pokers… the horrors of the Leathams and Valmont can’t be that bad, and I would have thought you’d have wanted to see the gardens there.”

  “Oh… these grand gardens… there’s not much I can apply here, and I’ve enough to do with the herbs at the moment.”

  With a sigh, Caroline said, “Well, if you won’t, you won’t. Just don’t go into the village on your own, will you? And keep an eye on Poppy. She hasn’t wandered off for a while and—”

  “Heavens, Caro, stop worrying!” Lin said crossly. “You’re always fussing over us. I’m almost twenty and Poppy will be sixteen next Sunday. We’re not children, you know.”