Secrets of a Fair Lady: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Abigail Agar

“I was not lying!” she insisted, although this, too, was a lie.

  “My dear, you have heard what I said. Return to your room,” her mother said.

  Storming off towards her room, Georgiana was angry and wanted her mother to know it. After all, this was something so small. Why would her mother not let her leave? It wasn’t as though she had given her any reason to know that Georgiana was lying.

  Once she was in her room, she realised that she had but one choice, if she could not go and see the Inspector.

  She had to write a letter in reply.

  Dear Inspector Brock,

  Thank you for your letter. I was very happy to have received it into understand what it is that led you to the decisions that you had made.

  I want you to know that I understand. I believe, in many ways, I understood it even then when I was angry. However, we have spoken before about how frivolous I can be. I do believe that I am petty as well. I fear that you saw some of the worst sides of me then and you must think very ill of me now.

  However, that is not the sort of woman that I wish to be. Therefore, you are now seeing my growth as a person.

  What I meant to say, is that I am sorry. I am sorry for having been so rude and not understanding you. I am sorry for behaving like such a child.

  Although I wish that it had not taken your letter for me to come to this point, I appreciate the apology that you offered. It was kind and certainly filled with grace towards me.

  Which is why I wish to apologise to you in return. I know that you were only doing your job. I had asked you to investigate this and that was precisely what you had done. There was no reason for me to be so angry.

  I do hope that you’ll forgive me and that we will see one another soon. As it is, today, I was unable to get away. I had very much hoped to come to you so that I might tell you these things in person, which would have been so much better for my soul.

  I hope that you are safe and that all is well. I have seen Rachel and she is doing well. I do, however, hope that she returns to the house soon enough so that we may be close once more.

  Thank you again for your words.

  Your friend,

  Georgiana Reid

  As soon as she was able, Georgiana would send the letter. She hoped that when he received it, they would be at peace.

  Of course, more than that, she also hoped to see him again.

  That seemed to be proving the trickier thing to ask for.

  Chapter 36

  Hamish and John arrived at the Reid residence with a great deal of eagerness in their steps. Hamish, in particular, could hardly wait to get all of this over with. He was ready to have the whole ordeal finished and done.

  After all, this had taken up so much of his time, energy and emotions. He could hardly understand why it was such an incredible issue when the case had begun so different from any other.

  But, alas, it was almost completed. He was about to make an arrest on a murder charge, as well as solving the truth behind the disappearance of Miss Smithfield and who it was that had continued to harass her ever since.

  “Are you ready?” he asked John.

  “Of course I am,” John said.

  With that, they knocked at the door of the home.

  Mrs. Buckley answered, her eyes wide with worry at his arrival, and Hamish greeted her.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Buckley. Is the younger Mr. Reid present?” Hamish asked.

  “Mr. William?” she asked.

  “Yes, Mr. William,” he confirmed.

  “Indeed, he is, Inspector. Please give me just a moment. Would you care to take a seat in the drawing room?” she offered.

  He nodded and Mrs. Buckley led him and John to the drawing room so they could sit and wait for their meeting with Mr. Reid.

  “I shall go and fetch Mr. William. But…if you do not mind my asking, Inspector, please say nothing of me. And, as for the lady of the house, Mrs. Reid, I would recommend that you do not allow her to see you here. She is all manner of displeased with her daughter and I think she knows what Miss Georgiana has been doing in coming to see you,” Mrs. Buckley warned.

  Hamish nodded, firmly. He did not want to be distracted in that moment, he was also glad for the warning.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Buckley,” he said.

  “Certainly, Inspector,” she replied. “Now, I shall just go and fetch him for you.”

  Soon enough, he entered.

  In that moment, before another thing could be said, Hamish stood and went for him.

  “Mr. William Reid, you are under arrest. I am charging you with a count of murder and another count of theft,” he announced.

  “What? What are you talking about? I did nothing wrong!” William insisted.

  The commotion of his shouts led to a near instantaneous gathering of those who were within the household.

  Mrs. Reid, Mr. Reid, and the beautiful Miss Reid all came rushing to see what was going on. Hamish could also not ignore the heads of the two maids poking out to look at what was happening and observe the image of their master being taken by the police.

  “I demand to know what this is all about! How can you simply charge me with two crimes which I did not commit? Murder? Theft? I have done neither of those!” he insisted.

  “Oh? Allow me to enlighten you, Mr. Reid. You and those around you,” Hamish said, securing his wrists.

  “Stop this at once!” the elder Mr. Reid shouted as John stretched out his arms in an effort to keep the mother and father at bay.

  Miss Reid, however, stood by, a sad look in her eyes, bordering on acceptance of what was happening.

  “Please, let our son go,” Mrs. Reid said.

  “I cannot. Not when there is so much evidence against him. Not when I am certain that we are doing the right thing, that we have the right man,” Hamish said.

  “Then tell me! Why are you charging me like this?” he asked.

  “I know about the ring, Mr. Reid. The ring which you gave to your maid, the woman you had hoped would be your secret lover. I am aware that you had an infatuation with her,” Hamish said.

  “No! You cannot mean that she is dead. Murdered? I would never harm her!” William insisted.

  “Oh, William. You did not get involved with the maid, did you?” Mr. Reid asked.

  “No, Father. I liked her is all. But she refused me. I never harmed a hair on her head, though. I was perfectly respectful of her at all times. I promise you. You are mistaken in your aspersions. I promise you that I am not guilty,” he insisted again.

  “Mr. Reid, you have not even heard the full extent of what you are being arrested for,” Hamish reminded him.

  “Then tell me,” he said.

  “Very well. I know that you gave Miss Smithfield this ring. But the ring formerly belonged to a gentleman by the name of Virgil Clydemoor. He was a good man, from a small family. They had a decent fortune, although it was not so vast as many others,” Hamish said, recalling everything he had read about the man.

  “I do not know how or why you did it, but you murdered him. I presume, based on his death, that you got him drunk and then threw him into the waters. His death was considered to be potentially suspicious. And then? You took his ring from him and kept it,” Hamish said.

  “That is absurd!” William said. “I never did such a thing.”

  “That is what you say, but the evidence proves otherwise. How else did Mr. Clydemoor’s ring come to be in your possession? How else did you get it? And how else did he happen to die?” Hamish asked.

  “I do not know. I just…I cannot say! It isn’t what you think, though. I promise. Mother, Father, do not listen to him. He is lying. I never did anything to hurt anyone,” William insisted.

  Hamish saw genuine fear in William’s eyes. He was terrified and looked as though he might break at any moment. He very nearly looked like a little boy desperately seeking his mother for help.

  But Hamish had a volley of evidence and reasonable doubt to use in an effort to bring this a
ll to a conclusion. He could not very well ignore the evidence. Although William was convincing, the truth had to be told. The truth, according to the evidence that Hamish had, pointed to the fact that William had killed Mr. Clydemoor and then had given Rachel something he was proud of.

  “Miss Smithfield had the ring next. You gave it to her. You gave it to her because you knew that she would take care of it. You would no longer have to worry about being caught with it and she would believe that she had a token of your affection,” he said.

  “And then, when you decided that you wanted that token back, after sending her away so that she was no longer a distraction to you—or whatever your reason might have been—you stole from her right in the middle of the street,” Hamish said.

  “How can you accuse me of this? I never did any such thing,” he continued to insist.

  “Please, do not accuse our son of something so vile! He did not do it, can you not see his honesty?” Mr. Reid pleaded.

  “He may seem honest, but the evidence is quite clear. Everything points to it. With the evidence that we have, I may at least make the arrest. It is enough to charge him for the murder and for the theft of the ring,” Hamish said.

  “No! Please do not take him,” Mrs. Reid begged, nearly sobbing with worry over her son.

  Hamish had never seen her show such great emotion, but it was clear that she was upset and did not want to see her son arrested. Hamish understood that, but this was his duty and he had to do it. He knew that it was the most likely possibility as to the existence of guilt. It had to have been William who had done this. He had to have been the one to take the ring, to kill Virgil Clydemoor, and to send Miss Smithfield away because of it.

  When Hamish looked back to Miss Reid, he saw that her countenance had changed, dramatically. No longer was she resigned to the possibility and sadness of her brother being a criminal. She was upset, distraught as the rest of them.

  Of course she would be. She had worried all along that there might be something criminal under all of this, but she had certainly never believed that it would be murder.

  Hamish could see that in her eyes. She was terrified for the sake of her brother. She did not believe it. She would not. There was a determined resolve that told him she was not going to be able to accept what it was that he had told her.

  “Please,” she asked, that single word a begging on her lips.

  “Miss Reid, I must,” he said.

  He wanted desperately to listen to her, to listen to all of them and do what they wanted.

  But Miss Reid’s sad plea was more upsetting to him than any of the others. It was a sign that there was a reason for him to think again. That he ought to consider whether or not he was really doing the right thing.

  But why was he thinking like that? He had to be stronger than his affections for her. He had to do what he knew was right.

  The right thing was to arrest William Reid. The right thing was to solve this murder once and for all for the sake of Virgil Clydemoor.

  Although Hamish knew nothing about the case of the man’s death, it all fit together and he had to bring it to an end for everyone’s sake.

  Even if that did make things even more difficult between himself and Miss Reid.

  “Mr. Reid, is there any way that you can prove you did not do these things? You must see that I have some very compelling evidence,” Hamish said.

  “That evidence which you present is all a matter of circumstance. How can you see a ring that I gave to a woman out of affection and determine that I am a murderer because of it?” he asked.

  “I told you. The circumstances surrounding Virgil Clydemoor’s death were suspicious,” he said again.

  “But I do not even know this Virgil Clydemoor! Why do you keep mentioning him? I had nothing to do with his death!” William shouted, repeatedly.

  It was clear that he was unwilling to settle, unwilling to accept anything aside from leniency.

  But leniency was not what Hamish could offer.

  “You did not know him? I find that difficult to believe since you had his family crest upon a ring that once belonged to the man himself,” Hamish said.

  “I have always had that ring. I do not even know where it came from. Perhaps I found it in the street as a child. For all I know, it made its own way to me,” William said, exasperated.

  “Made its own way to you? Good heavens, whatever do you mean by that?” Hamish asked, nearly mocking William for his wording.

  “I do not know, but you cannot take all of this to mean that I killed him. And what of my affection for Rachel? I did not steal from her. Did she claim that I did?” William asked.

  “She did not. But we did wonder if you had a friend of smaller build with a narrower frame who might have been involved in the theft,” Hamish said.

  “I have a great many friends. How am I meant to say who is and isn’t smaller than me without lining them up? I do not know of any of them who could have done that, who might have stolen from her,” Hamish said.

  “Regardless of what you say, this is done, Mr. Reid. As I said, I have all the evidence and all the reason. I believe that you are the one behind all of this and I am arresting you for the murder of Virgil Clydemoor and the theft of a ring from Miss Rachel Smithfield,” he said.

  Instantly, a riotous noise ensued and all was chaos. Miss Reid begged him, pleading Hamish to investigate further. She was determined that her brother could not be a murderer.

  Mr. Reid was shouting and raving that he wanted Hamish and John out of his house. His face was beat red and there was spit flying from his lips with every demanding cry.

  Hamish took it in, the sight of them all. But what he had not prepared for was the quiet resolve of Mrs. Reid, who opened her mouth with a mighty roar.

  “Stop!”

  Chapter 37

  Startled, Georgiana leapt back and then froze, along with all the others. She had never heard her mother speak in such a firm, angry way before.

  But the cry for everyone to stop had been a success as they had all done just that.

  Silence rang out in the room, as though louder than any noise that might threaten to interrupt it. There was a new and sudden tension in which no one felt the freedom to shift a single sinew within their body.

  “The ring had nothing at all to do with Virgil’s death,” her mother said in a steady, even tone.

  Her face was still and unemotional, just full of fact. The only hint of feeling that Georgiana could see was the detection of a sadness in her eyes as she would not look up to meet the face of anyone in the room.

  “As far as I am aware, Virgil passed away through an accident. He had always been a drunk. I would not be surprised in the least if he was out on his own at the pier, where he so often went, and stumbled into the water,” she said.

  There was a moment when the silence seemed to stretch a very long way before anyone spoke. However, when the words did come, they came softly and they came from Georgiana’s father.

  “H-how do you know this? How do you know anything about this man? This…this Virgil?” he asked, in wonder.