by Issy Brooke
The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Sir Arthur, sitting atop a chestnut mare that looked as vicious and untrustworthy as all chestnut mares tended to be, at least in common equestrian folklore. He leaped down and one of the grooms that had been lingering to the edge of the yard rushed forward to take the reins. Adelia leaned slightly against Theodore. “Is that Mackie?” she murmured in his ear.
“It is. And now I do think I can see the resemblance.”
“So can I. Do you think that Sir Arthur knows who the lad really is?” If there was animosity between Sir Arthur and Lord Beaconberg, why would Sir Arthur leave everything to Mackie if he knew of Mackie’s parentage?
Theodore did not have the chance to reply, however, as Sir Arthur was upon them, brushing dust and dirt from his thighs and hands as he came closer.
He had seen the policemen who were waiting by the gate, and he looked with curiosity and just a hint of wariness at Adelia and Theodore. “Hullo, hullo, good afternoon all. What brings the cavalry to my door today?”
“Sir, we apologise for the intrusion but we must access your business records.”
“I think not. Such activities need warrants and – oh. Oh, I see.” Sir Arthur tailed off as Inspector Benn drew out a sheaf of papers with impressive looking seals on them. “Well,” he continued after a pause. “What is it that you are looking for?”
Inspector Benn didn’t answer him. He flicked his hand towards the waiting uniformed policemen who scurried across the yard and into the office. Sir Arthur’s fists clenched but he stayed where he was, and through gritted teeth he said, “Again, what is it that you are looking for? If you just tell me, perhaps I can save you some time, and direct you straight to the required information.”
“Why did you inherit the stables?” Inspector Benn asked. “You, and not his wife?”
Sir Arthur snorted and blustered. “Because we were partners, of course.”
“But not friends.”
“We had been friends and anyway, it is not necessary to be close to work together well as associates.”
“But you wanted to buy him out.”
“Yes. I did want that.”
“And now you have what you wanted without the expense of it.”
“Now look here,” Sir Arthur said, his voice rising. “There are things you don’t know about Beaconberg and I have been a decent chap in keeping quiet about them for the sake of his widow but if you continue to press me, I am afraid I shall have to besmirch the dead man’s name and I am not comfortable with such things, and nor should you be. I do consider myself a gentleman, regardless of how certain other people feel. Now, as to Beaconberg, he made some ill-advised choices in the past and if they are exposed now, the exposure of those decisions could ruin him, well, ruin what remains of his family and certainly tarnish his family’s name. It is better, for all concerned, if you stop digging into the past and let things stand as they are, do you see?”
Inspector Benn sighed. “I can assure you, sir, we already know everything.”
Sir Arthur visibly paled. “Everything?” he croaked.
“Yes,” Inspector Benn said.
Adelia wanted to say – no, wait. There is more. But she could not interrupt. She had to bite her tongue but she nudged Theodore, knowing that would do no good, as he would not understand what she was trying to convey. All she could do was scream internally – he is hiding more than you think, you idiot inspector!
Inspector Benn let his gaze wander across the yard to where Douglas Mackie was brushing down the chestnut mare. He had his back to them all and Adelia hoped that he could not hear them from this distance.
Sir Arthur followed his look. “The lad? What about him?”
“The lad. The lad, we understand, is Lord Beaconberg’s.”
Sir Arthur nodded and to Adelia’s close attention he seemed to exhale and relax a little. “Yes, he is.” He almost shrugged.
“And does he know who his father is?”
“Of course he does. But you need have no fear that he will turn up at Dovewood to demand admittance. He knows his place, well enough. He has always been resigned to it. And I like the lad. So why should he not inherit what could have been his in the first place? I have no one else to leave it to.” Sir Arthur forced out a laugh. “Anyway, that won’t be for a good few years yet, ha! Ha! I am not planning on shuffling off this mortal coil any time soon. Now then. Shall we go into the office and see how your men are faring?”
“Wait,” said Adelia. She couldn’t stop herself.
The three men turned to her with looks that varied between astonishment that she’d spoken, to mild annoyance, to a kind of gentle condescension which was the worst reaction of all. “You have inherited the business and Lady Beaconberg has inherited the debts,” she said to Sir Arthur.
Inspector Benn grumbled at her interruption but Theodore had her back. He said, “This is true, is it not? And very convenient.”
“It was not of my doing – I did not write the will,” Sir Arthur said shortly. “And I had no part in it, and did not know that I would inherit. In truth I did not expect to. As you are all aware, we were not on good terms at the end.”
Adelia was trying to piece things together in her head. She decided to see if she could catch Sir Arthur off guard by changing the subject abruptly. She said, “You know, I’ve heard so much about Golden Meadow that I would love to see him.”
It did the trick. Sir Arthur puffed for a moment and blew out his cheeks, and then laughed in a humourless way and said, “I had not had you pegged as an admirer of horses. One horse is much like another, is it not?”
“Not when the horse is a famous prize-winner,” she said. “And such a sum of money! I should imagine that you are feeling very wealthy indeed.”
“I wish that were so, but the money – well. Here it is.” He flung his hands in the air, sighed, and then folded his arms tightly over his chest, making a dramatic display of the oncoming revelation. “Here is the real issue that I was trying to avoid.” He shot her a slightly irritated look, trying to make her feel bad, as if it were her fault he was having to open up now. “As a business, we have not been doing very well over the past few years. We were lucky to have Golden Meadow when we did.”
“The horse saved your fortunes?”
“In a sense, in a sense,” Sir Arthur said, growing more tetchy by the minute. He began to walk towards the offices, clearly wanting to get away and stop the conversation. They all followed almost automatically and this took them closer to the mare that Mackie was working on. She was tethered to a rail of a fence and swished her tail as Theodore strayed too close. Inspector Benn noticeably kept his distance.
“So he will be racing again?” she pressed.
“That is undecided. I suspect, however, that he will not be.”
“He’s injured, isn’t he?” Theodore said.
Douglas Mackie was bending to pick out the mare’s hooves, and he snorted as they went past.
Theodore stopped. “Have you anything to add, lad?”
“No, sir, sorry, sir. It was the horse, sir,” he added, and he kept his head bent and turned out of sight of them all.
Theodore and Adelia carried on but stopped at the office door. Sir Arthur entered with the Inspector, and the small cramped room could hold no more. Theodore turned, saying to Adelia, “I wish to speak to Mackie.”
But when they looked, he had gone, and only the chestnut mare stood alone in the yard, still tied up to the fence.
Fifteen
Adelia and Theodore discussed the matter all the way back to the Grey House. Uppermost in Adelia’s mind was whether Lady Beaconberg knew about her husband’s infidelity. She made a guess as to Mackie’s age and counted back the years, as much as she could, and decided that Lord Beaconberg was definitely already married when he had committed his indiscretion. And then many years had passed before Elizabeth had been born. As far as Adelia was aware, there had been no other pregnancies, although such things would
have been hushed up anyway. Elizabeth was always spoken of as Lady Beaconberg’s “late gift” and that had undoubtedly contributed to the general spoiling of the girl as she had grown up. She had been told, from an early age, that she was a unique miracle, a special child, a princess in her own realm.
“I wonder if there are many more like Douglas Mackie littering the area?” Adelia said aloud as they approached the house.
“I have not heard so,” Theodore said. “When Mackie is mentioned, there is no hint of others, and if Beaconberg had been a habitual philanderer of that sort, it would surely come up at the same time. Remember old Lord Thomas? There wasn’t a county north of Nottinghamshire that he could set foot in without women demanding payment and recompense.”
“Heavens, yes. He was a vile man. Lord Beaconberg has, at least, done the decent thing. But why has Sir Arthur got so involved? I cannot understand it. And another thing, Theodore, have you yourself seen Golden Meadow?”
“I have. He’s a pale bay, and very fine-looking indeed.”
“What was his injury?”
Theodore slowed his pace. “You know, I watched him being exercised in the paddock and I saw nothing amiss though he was only walking and trotting.”
“It all sounds very strange to me,” she said.
“I agree. Ah! Oh – what’s this? Lady Beaconberg is leaving? I understood that she was to stay for dinner tonight. I rather hoped to pump her for information.”
“You would have done no such thing!” Adelia said in alarm, glad suddenly to see that Lady Beaconberg was getting into her carriage. She rushed up to the door.
Lady Beaconberg looked tired and strained, but she smiled. “I have heard the police are now at the stables. One of my maids came to tell me they had left Dovewood abruptly. And while I am so very grateful to your daughter for her invitation to dine tonight, I could not help but discern that such late notice caused something of a flap in the kitchens. I do not wish to be the cause of fluster and annoyance. Furthermore, I can hardly leave my own daughter alone.”
“She can dine with us too,” Theodore said, coming alongside.
Adelia cringed but luckily Lady Beaconberg was resolute. “No, I must return home. I need to see what chaos the police have wrought. I shall be billing them for any damage, you mark my words! And, Adelia, my dear woman, will you return to Dovewood tonight?”
That very night? Adelia was exhausted with all the comings and goings. But she nodded. “If you wish me to.”
“I do.” She lowered her voice. “There are rumours flying around. I hate it. I want to tell you some things of delicate importance, in the hope that once you are armed with the true facts, you might quash and quell such horrible tittle-tattle whenever you encounter it.”
That was a carrot far too tempting to resist. Adelia immediately agreed with more enthusiasm and the carriage had barely rolled off the gravel driveway before she was inside the Grey House and changing her clothes so that she, too, could get over to Dovewood and discover what Lady Beaconberg was so keen to tell her.
LADY BEACONBERG RECEIVED Adelia in the drawing room. She was sitting with some embroidery on her lap, but Adelia had seen the same hoop and fabric in her hands multiple times and the image never changed. There was a scrappy robin that seemed permanently destined to have half a wing. Adelia sat opposite her and asked how she was feeling, and whether the police had really made much of a mess.
“They were rather neat and tidy, as it happens,” Lady Beaconberg replied. “I am almost disappointed that I cannot make more of a fuss.” She smiled at Adelia’s little nod. “I am well aware that I tend to be somewhat ... continental ... in my reactions. It is said that I have an Italian ancestor, and that would no doubt account for my expansive emotions. I do not just feel a thing. I feel it so very deeply, deep within my heart, and I cannot help but express myself. It is both a blessing and a curse. And I know that some people find that I am a little overwhelming and in their own fear of my sensitivity, they dismiss me as some kind of actress, pretending to play a mere part.”
And yet that nice little speech could be part of the act, Adelia thought, but she nodded and smiled in what she hoped was a sympathetic manner.
“Now onto the real matter at hand,” Lady Beaconberg said, with an affected sigh. But Adelia heard a change in her voice, a hardening. The real Lady Beaconberg was about to speak. “When the police arrived to look through my late husband’s effects, they made some unguarded comments amongst themselves referring to certain aspects of poor Talbot’s past. I tried to hurry Elizabeth out of the way and indeed she grew so agitated that my woman and I were forced to dose her and put her to sleep under lock and key.”
Adelia was shocked and it must have registered on her face. Lady Beaconberg nodded. “It was for her own safety and peace of mind. Sadly it is not the first time I have had to do what is best for my daughter though it pains me. She went to sleep peacefully. Then I challenged the odious little Inspector but he riled me so much that I simply gave up and fled and came to the Grey House. I don’t know why but I wanted to be near you. I find you such a comfort in these dark times. You are so steady and stolid and capable.”
Stolid? Adelia found it difficult to hear that as a compliment but that was clearly Lady Beaconberg’s clumsy intention.
“You are the perfect foil to my sensitivity and emotional range,” she went on. “A complete opposite to my finer feelings. We balance, you see.”
I am a dumb rock, in your opinion, Adelia thought, and pressed her lips together. How utterly delightful.
Lady Beaconberg continued her blundering conversation. “You are the only person I feel I can trust,” she said, and thankfully this time did not follow it up with “because you lack the intelligence or wit to spread any gossip” although Adelia imagined her saying it and took umbrage anyway.
“Of course you can trust me,” Adelia said through tight lips.
Lady Beaconberg leaned forward, her hands gripping the embroidery frame fiercely. She spoke softly. “There is a young man at the stables who goes by the name of Douglas Mackie. He is ... connected to this family.”
In spite of it all, Adelia wanted to spare her the pain of an explanation. “I know who he is and I know his past. I did not realise that you knew. Have you always known?”
Lady Beaconberg’s face twitched and she closed her eyes. She drew in a deep breath and seemed to relax. “Thank you for not making me say it aloud. And yes, I heard the gossip from the day the lad was born, and in my own way, I have kept an eye on him. I was unable to fulfil my duties as a wife for many years and that pained me beyond measure. I was, indeed, prepared for the possibility of this lad becoming some kind of heir – not of the title, which would be impossible – but certainly to perhaps take on the stables and the business if he proved himself able. I myself would never have acknowledged him. But I would not have stood in Talbot’s way. He was, after all, a gentleman, who knew his responsibilities.”
“He was, and this is to your credit and his own,” Adelia said. “What about Elizabeth?”
“Our miracle child was a surprise which ... complicated everything even while she made my life complete,” Lady Beaconberg said. “I thought she was a sign that whatever curse I had been labouring under was lifted, and that a positive brood of children, sons for preference, would soon follow. Alas, that has not happened. She remains, of course, my absolute world.”
“But does she know about ... the other?”
“No. Absolutely not. And she must never know. Her father’s reputation must not be sullied in her eyes.”
“I see. Lady Beaconberg – Marguerite – if I may, while we are touching upon difficult subjects – do you still believe your husband to have met his death under suspicious circumstances?”
Lady Beaconberg went very still. Eventually she said, “Yes, I do. But the police here have taken against me. I begged your husband to help me and then I find he has joined in their investigation. I feel beset on all sides, Adelia, utterly b
eset.”
And then Adelia realised with a jolt that Lady Beaconberg didn’t trust Theodore at all, and that was one compelling reason why Adelia had been asked to stay at Dovewood. Adelia was not spying on Lady Beaconberg: Lady Beaconberg was keeping Adelia close to spy on the investigation through her!
Not that she had been able to either discover or reveal much information either way.
“The police are not against you,” Adelia said. “They only seek the truth.”
“No, they will find the easiest explanation and go with it. Who benefits from Talbot’s death? I do. Our marriage was not always straightforward. The fact of this young lad’s existence proves that there were complications between us. I look guilty and I know that I do, and I have more enemies in this area than I do friends. Look at me, here, alone save for you!”
That’s of your own doing, Adelia thought uncharitably. But she reached out and laid her hand over Lady Beaconberg’s, though the other lady did not relinquish her grip of the wooden frame. Adelia said, “When the will is read, I am sure more things will come to light. And Sir Arthur has inherited the business, according to those who know; do you not think that he looks guilty?”
“He does,” Lady Beaconberg said with a snarl. “I would not put anything past that man. I know that he and Talbot were ...”
“Were what?”
“Were at loggerheads, I was going to say,” Lady Beaconberg said.
No, thought Adelia, that was not what you were going to say. “Sir Arthur claims to not have known about the will. Do you believe him?”
Abruptly, Lady Beaconberg stood up, letting embroidery floss tumble to the floor, and she made no effort to tidy up. “I believe nothing he says. I must have an early night,” she said, already heading to the door. “It has all been most wearing. You do understand. Good night.”
She was gone.
Adelia picked up the threads from the carpet, and wondered about Sir Arthur and Lady Beaconberg.