by Issy Brooke
“Byron!” Mary spluttered. Theodore had to turn away to hide his smile. Grace, still on the upper floor, laughed out loud.
“Oh, all young girls go through a year or so of pining after Byron. Every single one of your daughters did, didn’t they, Theodore?”
“Mary in particular,” he replied.
Mary began to steer Sibyl back to the breakfast room, where there would be tea and coffee and toast and pastries still lingering for them. Theodore glanced up at his mother, but she was already retreated to her room.
He went back outside to resume his watchful post on the wall but he had only been seated for a minute when a flash of inspiration hit him hard. Sibyl’s words collided with all the events of the past few weeks.
Douglas Mackie was hiding a secret.
But it was not the secret they had been looking for.
He hurtled back into the house and burst into the breakfast room. “Mary! You must go to the police in York – yes, you go with her, Mrs Ramsgreave, if you would be so kind. Tell them this, and mind to mark my words exactly...”
“And where will you go, papa?”
“I must get to the stables – immediately!”
THEODORE DITHERED FOR a moment and then his legs made up for his indecision and he set off at a slow jog along the lane. He could have rushed around to the stables and ordered a horse to be saddled for him, but no one was expecting him to do that and it would cause delays as they found a suitable mount, and went through all the rigmarole of tacking up. He couldn’t bear to stand and wait so he left on foot.
Anyway, he realised, as he slowed to a walk within a few hundred yards of setting out, Sir Arthur was not likely to be at the stables this early in the morning. Or would he? Theodore realised that he had no idea where the man lived. Adelia had told him he was a bachelor. Did he have rooms somewhere? A small household of servants? Did he lodge above a stable like one of his grooms? That hardly befitted a man of his rank.
Sir Arthur, far from being a bluff and straightforward sort of man, was actually a series of enigmas and secrets.
One of those secrets was the fact – yes, the fact, Theodore was sure – that Sir Arthur was the murderer, and poor Douglas Mackie was absolutely nothing to do with any of it.
To find the motive behind it, Theodore had to find Golden Meadow.
His energy picked up as he reached the stables and he stormed into the yard, going from loose box to loose box, looking for the bay colt. He found him in a barn tethered in a stall at the far end, peacefully munching at a hay-net hanging from a beam.
The horse was strong, with fine long limbs in proportion to his sleek body, and he looked every inch the prize-winner that he was.
Or was he?
Theodore left the barn and began to cross the yard towards the fields which had been sub-divided into smaller lots to allow different horses to be turned out at different times. He was intercepted by one of the other grooms, trying to stop him.
“Fetch Sir Arthur, if you would, please,” Theodore said, pushing him aside quite roughly. “I am looking for Golden Meadow. The other one.”
The groom fell back.
Theodore walked down a narrow strip of grass between two fenced-off areas and there, at the end, was a small field bordered by hedges. In the middle of the field, swishing his tail, was a bay horse with fine, strong legs and seeming to be quite packed with impressive muscle.
“Hey there! What the devil do you think you’re playing at?” Sir Arthur appeared in a state of disarray, with his waistcoat unbuttoned and one leg of his trousers rucked up as if he’d dressed as he had tumbled down the stairs.
“I came to see Golden Meadow,” Theodore said as innocently as he could, though both of them knew he was playing a game. “I found them both. I should love to see them side by side. Nothing is ever what it seems, is it? And it’s doubly difficult to see the truth when you’re expecting to see something else.”
“I swear to you, that horse will never race again. I mean it. This is all done – it’s over!”
A few more things fell into place then. Theodore nodded seriously. “You never did agree with the switch, did you? This one is the real winner,” he said, pointing at the horse which was walking over to see what these strange humans were doing. “But this one is not Golden Meadow. He’s older. I will be sure of it if I can see his teeth.”
“This horse won that race, yes. And no, I fought the plan every inch of the way, but it revived our fortunes in the end, so perhaps he was right after all.”
“Lord Beaconberg?”
“Yes. God, he always was a gambler – a gambler with money, with risk, with our very livelihood!”
“I am guessing that the real Golden Meadow, the younger colt in the barn, raced a few times and did relatively well?”
“He did. He showed a little promise but nothing that would win big, and I ought to know. I’ve broken and trained enough horses over the years to have a good eye for these things. Then Talbot saw this one, saw the resemblance, and bought him up at a stupid price – for far more than we could afford. More debt.”
“You were angry?”
“I was livid. Mackie saw it. He saw everything. He knew what we were about.”
“Did he agree with it?”
“Hell, no. Not a bit of it. We became allies, me and the lad. I disagreed with Talbot and so did he. I knew his parentage, of course; I’d argued in favour of having him work here because I thought Talbot ought to take a bit of responsibility for his actions. And that worked out well because Mackie’s a decent lad. Well, he was. Now...”
“Yes, now you’re letting him fester in a prison cell taking the blame for something you’ve done,” Theodore said.
Sir Arthur’s face changed and grew furious. “We were talking about the horses and yes, I will admit there was some wrong-doing, and yes, I knew about it and didn’t raise the alarm. I let the fake horse race and win. Everyone betted as if it were the original Golden Meadow and his odds were poor because of his history. We knew better, and we laid our bets to rake in the winnings. So we won twice over – once from the prize money and then from the bets themselves on the long odds. And that is that. This will be an honest stable from this moment forward.”
“That was a neat change of the subject,” Theodore said. “Yet are you really happy to have a young man face the noose for something you have done?”
“Talbot’s death was nothing to do with me! Nothing! Can’t you see that? Mackie is the one who benefits from Talbot’s death in the end. In fact, until his arrest, I’ve been in danger all this while. Who do you think was next on Mackie’s list? He killed Talbot and the stables came to me in the will; all he has to do next is kill me, and the stables are his!”
“If that is true, and you believe it, you will have already changed your will.”
“I – was going to, yes, but now he has been arrested and I am safe.”
Theodore took a step towards him. “Sir Arthur, you are not safe from the law.”
“You’re out of your mind. I am sorry, Lord Calaway, but I am going to have to ask you to leave.”
This was what Theodore expected. He folded his arms and said, “No. I can only advise you to contact the police and have me forcibly removed.” He felt smug at the way his plan was unfolding just as he had imagined it would.
Then Sir Arthur ruined it all. He didn’t summon the police, which was what Theodore wanted. He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t rant, rave, or throw insults. He didn’t make threats or lunge wildly towards Theodore to force him off his property.
Instead, something seemed to snap inside him.
He simply turned around and ran, as fast as he could, with his dishevelled clothes flapping, and headed for the five-bar gate which was standing open at the exit of the yard.
Theodore gaped for a moment, then shouted to no avail.
There was nothing for it.
He was going to have to go after him.
Twenty-four
&nbs
p; Marguerite was not the most ideal travelling companion. When Adelia had been accompanied only by Smith and Roberts, everyone had moved quickly and in a streamlined way, as well-organised as an army on campaign. Now they were burdened with a woman whose priorities were somewhat different to their own. For Lady Beaconberg, simply booking a few beds in the nearest respectable-looking coaching inn was not an option for a quick overnight stay. One had to find what she considered to be a suitable establishment although Adelia was never quite sure what criteria was being used. It was, often, something to do with the taps and how the bedding felt. Adelia was scarlet with embarrassment as Lady Beaconberg swept into the rooms they were proposing to rent, insisting on fondling the sheets before committing one way or another.
So it seemed to take twice as long, in the end, to get from Lancaster back to York. It infuriated Adelia beyond belief that they ended up stopping overnight in a very pleasant place when they were only an hour, at most, from getting back to Dovewood and the Grey House; but Lady Beaconberg declared herself to be “too tired to go another step – I declare I shall expire upon the spot!” and began to sway alarmingly, although she perked up as soon as they were ensconced in an inn and facing a pretty decent dinner.
It was also notable that Adelia was paying for everything and Lady Beaconberg had no concept of frugality when it came to other people’s money.
On the final morning, Lady Beaconberg seemed to be moving even more slowly than usual. Adelia surmised that the woman simply didn’t want to return to Dovewood, and Adelia could understand why.
They took a train into York and arrived at around ten in the morning. Roberts and Smith organised the baggage while Lady Beaconberg stood on the station platform and looked uncharacteristically forlorn. Adelia reached out to touch her arm. “Marguerite, it’s all right. Everything will be well if you can only tell them the truth.”
“I am not convinced about that,” she replied, and there was definite fear in her voice. She hugged her coat tighter around her body in spite of the summer heat.
“Well, if you will take my advice, I would suggest that we actually go directly to the police station and speak to Inspector Benn if we can.”
Lady Beaconberg’s eyes widened. “They will surely arrest me on the spot.”
“If you go to Dovewood, they will come after you, and there will be a scene, possibly played out in front of your daughter and your staff. It will be better all round if we can settle this matter directly.”
“I suppose there is sense in what you say. It will get the inevitable over and done with,” Lady Beaconberg agreed glumly. “Very well. You!” She clicked her fingers at Roberts. “Take my things to Dovewood.”
He glanced at Adelia, who rolled her eyes slightly and then nodded to bid him go on. Smith huffed and Adelia asked her to return to the Grey House and inform everyone what was happening. The two servants disappeared with the luggage, and Adelia led Lady Beaconberg through the throngs of people at the station, ignoring her sudden pleas for a hot drink and some cake in a café – it was only more stalling, like a child would do if they didn’t want to go to bed.
Adelia marched them both to the police station.
And she was horrified when she was led into Inspector Benn’s office and found that Mary and Sibyl were already there.
MARY WAS DELIGHTED to see her mother enter the room. Lady Beaconberg usually swept into places before anyone else had the chance to get through the door first but on this occasion she was hanging back, unwilling to be noticed. Her chatter had grown markedly less inane over the hours. Now she was utterly silent and this, more than anything else, sparked sympathetic feeling for her in Adelia.
Adelia grabbed her daughter’s hands, the closest they would get to a hug in public, and gazed at one another, both checking each other for signs of damage or trauma. Mary looked well, and Adelia hoped she looked nothing worse than slightly travel-worn.
Inspector Benn coughed and Adelia was returned to the matter in hand. She beckoned the reluctant Lady Beaconberg into the room.
“Ah, excellent,” Inspector Benn said, trying to offer all the ladies a seat at the same time. As there were now four women and only two chairs, he seemed at a loss to work out who might have precedence. Lady Beaconberg settled the matter by sitting down immediately and Adelia took the other one, deciding that as she was the oldest person in the room, no one was going to argue with her. No one did.
“I want to make it very clear, right at the start, that I am entirely innocent of any crime and I merely popped over to Lancaster to visit some friends,” Lady Beaconberg announced.
No one merely “popped” to Lancaster from York. But Inspector Benn seemed disinclined to argue. He nodded and said, “Yes, of course. I am glad to see you are here now. You can help to corroborate Mrs Parker-Grey’s story.”
That infuriated Lady Beaconberg; she was brushed aside, nothing more than a mere add-on to someone else’s turn in the limelight. She didn’t have the chance to make a scene, as Inspector Benn urged Mary to retell her side of things.
She had urgency in her voice as she said, “You really must send men to the stables right now! My father might be in danger.”
“My men are first checking what you’ve told us with Douglas Mackie. If they come back and his story matches yours, then I shall certainly send my men out to apprehend Sir Arthur. But we must wait.”
Mary hopped from foot to foot, looking as if she were about to leap out of the room herself.
“Mary, tell us what’s happened,” Adelia said. “Where is your father? Why are you here, and not him?”
“Papa has gone to the stables to intercept Sir Arthur,” she said, shooting a look at Inspector Benn which said that Theodore was doing the job of the police. “It’s all about Golden Meadow, you see.”
Inspector Benn groaned. “Horses!” he muttered with distaste.
“Papa says that Lord Beaconberg wanted to make more money. The stables were not doing very well, and he himself was in a lot of debt. Sir Arthur wanted to work hard and make his money the right way, but Lord Beaconberg was impatient. They had been training a colt, Golden Meadow, but he wasn’t quite as good as they had hoped. Then Lord Beaconberg saw a horse that was very similar, a little older, and much better than Golden Meadow. So he bought him or obtained him, somehow. He was too old to run in the Epsom race under his official name.”
“Oh my goodness!” said Adelia, as it began to make sense to her. “So they ran the original Golden Meadow in the races before the Epsom, and people grew to know his form – which was not stellar – and then they switched the horses for the big race?”
“Yes. Papa doesn’t think they really expected this fake Golden Meadow to actually win. He says they just wanted to make money on the betting. But the fake horse was just slightly bigger and stronger so he did win, you see.”
Lady Beaconberg was shaking her head. Adelia thought she was going to protest her husband’s innocence but all she said was, “The bloody fool.”
For trying the trick – or for getting caught, now? Adelia could not tell.
“But why would Sir Arthur kill Lord Beaconberg for this?” Inspector Benn asked.
It was a good question. Mary said, “This is where Mackie will give his side of things. He has seen everything. Papa suspects that Sir Arthur didn’t like being involved in the tricks, and he wanted to dissolve the partnership between them. In fact, he made no secret of that.”
“Yes; he’s admitted it all along,” Inspector Benn said. “But Lord Beaconberg wouldn’t agree to let him go. Ah! So is that it?”
“Not quite,” Mary said, speaking more slowly now. Clearly she was taking pains to remember what she had been instructed to say. “So, papa thinks that on that fateful evening in the club, he saw Sir Arthur continually pursue Lord Beaconberg with the paperwork to sign the stables over to him. Sir Arthur might have been threatening Lord Beaconberg with exposure if he did not sign, but that could have backfired on him, as Sir Arthur would look equall
y guilty in the fraud to do with the horses.”
Everyone nodded.
Mary went on. “Papa suggests that Sir Arthur didn’t mean to kill anyone. It is a fact that Lord Beaconberg left the club in the carriage, driving himself, in a very drunken state. He went past papa and off into the night.”
Lady Beaconberg’s lips were a thin line of disapproval and, quite likely, sadness at having to remember that terrible evening.
“Papa spoke to all the people on the route and he did get word from someone that at some point, the carriage stopped. The horse was spooked by a rag in the hedge by an old tollbar house. And we also know that Sir Arthur did leave the club after Lord Beaconberg and he set off on foot. We have been convinced until now that Sir Arthur could not have caught Lord Beaconberg up. But what if he did?”
“A man on foot against a horse?”
“A horse pulling a carriage, and driven by a drunk man. When has a drunkard ever taken a straight line anywhere? And we know that they stopped.”
Inspector Benn smiled slightly. “True. So you are suggesting Sir Arthur found Lord Beaconberg by the hedge, persuading his spooked horse to go on – then what? Ah. It fits, now; they must have argued once again, and tussled with one another. If Lord Beaconberg fell, the plant matter got into his hair at that point.”
Mary nodded. “Yes. And papa would like to suggest to you that perhaps Lord Beaconberg died accidentally. He knows Sir Arthur and he still can’t quite imagine that he killed anyone deliberately. After all, he’s a clever man, and the death of Lord Beaconberg has made everything far more complicated and difficult for him.”
“For him?” Lady Beaconberg interjected with an indignant snort. “What about the complications and difficulties for me?”
“Generally we find that murderers don’t think the consequences through very logically,” Inspector Benn said. “Although in this case, I can follow Lord Calaway’s reasoning. That said, regardless of the intention, a man is dead and Sir Arthur has not helped himself by denying it all. And not only denying it – it now looks as if he has thrown Douglas Mackie under the wheels of the oncoming carriage of justice!” He smiled at his visual image but no one else seemed particularly impressed.