The Defiant Governess of Rosenhill Manor: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Hamilton, Hanna

  “Such a thing would be hard for a family to recover from. I begin to see why you are so concerned about your own reputation.”

  “Indeed.” He shook his head solemnly. “Now I must not only fight for my honor but for my life as well. Will my father’s curse never leave me? It was he who brought about the Wainwright’s financial ruin before the accident that took Mr. Wainwright’s leg.”

  “That poor family have suffered so much. What you did for them, giving back their money, made all the difference in the world. Mrs. Wainwright was overjoyed when she came to visit me the next day. She was able to pay the doctor to tend her husband. You were their savior.” Miss Bolton paused for a moment frowning in thought as though she were remembering something terrible, then shook her head clearing away the shadows of the past, and smiled at him.

  “It was the right thing to do,” he brushed aside her praise. “I am simply my father’s son.”

  “You are not your father in any way, Your Grace. You take from your own wealth to give to the poor.”

  “It was their money. I have no moral right to it.”

  “If you are giving everyone their money back as you have done with the Wainwrights, perhaps it is your generosity that has brought about your current situation. Men of power seldom tolerate being undermined. You told me you have rebuffed the Marquess of Denlington’s offer of partnership many times, and yet, you do not believe him to be the threat?”

  “No, he is more like an uncle I do not wish to be associated with. He is entirely too fond of my family to ever do any of us bodily harm,” he argued.

  “Are there other possible candidates wishing to take your father’s place in the enterprise?” Miss Bolton asked, her brow raised in inquisition.

  “It is possible. Father and Lord Denlington made massive amounts of money in their extortionist schemes. A man of lesser scruples might see it as a lucrative business opportunity.” Arthur thought over her suggestion and found it to have plausible merit.

  “It is also possible that one of the noblemen your father blackmailed believes you to hold knowledge of his secrets and does not wish to risk exposure. Have you spoken with any of these men?” she asked.

  “No. I felt it was best to allow them their secrets, believing that they died with my father. I assumed that with his death, the notion of his blackmail schemes would die with him,” Arthur admitted.

  “As I said, powerful men seldom tolerate being thwarted, Your Grace. I am sure your father was the same?”

  “Yes, he was. He crushed his enemies remorselessly by destroying their lives and leaving them to live in their bereft misery after he had taken everything they held dear.” Arthur barely stopped himself from shuddering at the memory of his father’s wrath.

  “Did it take much to anger him?” she asked.

  “No, it did not.” Arthur had been punished many times for perceived slights that had been little more than the exuberance of a child at play.

  “So, the list of possible threats is a long one,” she noted grimly.

  “Yes, it is,” he agreed. “If Duncan does not return from Denlington with knowledge of the guilty party, then we have a great many suspects to investigate.”

  The sound of hoofbeats and barking dogs heralded Duncan’s return. It did not take long before his friend was standing in the doorway. “Denlington is a serpent to be sure, but he appears to know nothing of the attempt on your life.”

  “Did he say he would help us?” Arthur asked.

  “He agreed to look into the matter for you on the proviso that you would, at last, take your rightful place as his business partner. Those were his words, not mine. From what I was able to gather, Denlington is having trouble controlling his men since your father’s death. Apparently, it was your father who had kept them in line by sheer fear. He hopes that being your father’s son that the Huntley of Rosenhill name would be enough to inspire fear among criminals and victims alike.”

  “Never!” Arthur jerked his head in an emphatically negative gesture and immediately regretted it as pain shot through his skull.

  “I am inclined to agree with your decision, but I feel bound to point out that you may be purchasing your honor at the cost of your life,” Duncan reminded.

  “I am aware. Miss Bolton has come up with some possible candidates in your absence,” Arthur informed his friend.

  “I will go and get you some paper and a pen so that you can make that list, Your Grace.” Miss Bolton replied and left the room.

  “Making a list of your father’s enemies?” Duncan jested.

  “Yes,” Arthur answered seriously.

  “Oh,” Duncan’s smile faded from his lips. “That will take some time. Do you know the names of all of them?”

  “No, but my father’s ledgers do. I hesitate to be a bother, but would you be willing to send one of your men to Rosenhill and fetch my father’s ledgers from the library?” Arthur asked.

  “Of course, my dear fellow. It is no bother at all, but how will you narrow down who among them wishes you harm?” Duncan asked.

  “A practical question I grant you, but I honestly am not sure. I must keep my family safe, and in order to do that, I need to ascertain the threat. Have you heard back from my men about their inspection of the stables? Did any of them find anything amiss or report witnessing anything out of the ordinary the day of the accident?” Arthur inquired.

  “I stopped by Rosenhill on my way back to Durton to inquire about just that, but according to the groomsmen, there was no unusual activity that day. The only visitor was Lord Denlington, but no one witnessed him entering the stables. No further damage was found among the remaining conveyances,” Duncan answered.

  “How was the driver’s family? I am sure it is terribly hard on them all,” Arthur asked concerned.

  “The wife wished for me to inquire if you would be willing to allow their eldest son to take his father’s place as your driver. Apparently, your mother is threatening to remove them from the estate as they no longer hold any value to Rosenhill,” Duncan shook his head in disapproval.

  “Of course, he may have his father’s place. Mother did not even allow the family proper time to grieve their loss before evicting them?” Arthur was shocked.

  “She is worse than ever before, Arthur. Mrs. Philips said that the moment your mother knew that you and the children would not be returning for a time, she tore through the house doing as she pleased to whomever she pleased. I did not ask for the details, but I got the distinct impression that the sooner you return to Rosenhill, the better for your household,” Duncan relayed.

  Arthur attempted to rise from the bed. “Then I shall return today.”

  “No, you will not. You can barely move without causing yourself further harm.” Miss Bolton commanded as she reentered the room. “Mrs. Philips is a strong woman. She can handle your mother for a time while you heal.”

  “Mrs. Philips said the same when I spoke to her about your recovery,” Duncan added. “She gave direct orders for you to heal fully before you attempt to return home.”

  “I will send a missive to my driver’s widow and to my mother offering the position to his eldest son. As much as Mother hated Father, they appear to have been made for one another. How they could both be so cruel escapes me.” Arthur set to work penning the letters to Rosenhill, then began the list of his father’s enemies. Miss Bolton went to tend the children while Duncan accompanied her as protection so they could play out of doors.

  Shortly after their departure, a scream ripped through the air.

  Charlotte!

  Arthur nearly tore open his stitches in an attempt to get to the bedroom window overlooking the gardens. Looking down over the vast green expanse, he saw his siblings staring down at a dark black shape upon the ground. He caught sight of Miss Bolton and Duncan racing toward them to see what was wrong.

  Arthur watched as Gabriel bent over and lifted the item up over his head to study it in the light. It was a dead black crow with a white tipped
arrow through its chest. Arthur’s eyes widened in surprise as his heart skipped a beat then thumped hard against his ribs. He had seen such a thing before. It was his father’s calling card. The message… death.

  Chapter 12

  “Father is dead. We buried him. I saw the body,” Arthur emphatically argued to no one in particular. He spoke more out of self-reassurance than to argue a point.

  “As did I,” Duncan agreed. “We were both there when they brought his body to Rosenhill.”

  “And you say the only person to have ever used such a calling card was your father when he had sworn vengeance on someone?” Miss Bolton stared down at the revolting thing lying upon a silver tray in Arthur’s lap.

  “Yes. Such a sign was reserved only for his peers within the nobility. It would strike fear in the heart of his enemies. Some even fled the country upon receiving it,” Arthur answered.

  “It was known to be a sign from your father by those who received it?” she asked.

  “Yes, word spreads quickly about such things,” Arthur answered.

  “You said it meant death. How did he evade being placed in the Old Bailey or getting himself hanged for murder?” She was uncertain as to whether to believe what she was hearing.

  “Everyone knew to fear Father, and they believed him responsible, but there was never any proof that it was he who did it. He would always have indisputable proof that he was nowhere near the person at the time of their demise, and there was never any evidence that he had hired someone either. Father’s men were loyal unto death.”

  A knock at the door interrupted his speech and the butler, Mr. White entered. “Your father’s ledgers as requested, Your Grace. Sent with Mrs. Philips’ compliments.”

  “Thank you, Mr. White. Perfect timing as always,” Arthur praised. The butler bowed and left the room once more.

  Flipping one of the books open he turned to the page he sought. “Here, do you see this black mark next to the name?”

  “Yes,” his audience answered as one.

  “Why it is a crow!” Miss Bolton exclaimed her eyes widening in surprise.

  “And I know for a fact the name of the man next to it is no longer living, but did he not die of old age in his bed?” Duncan asked, attempting to remember the details.

  “That is the story, yes. As I said, there is no evidence proving he had anything to do with the death and yet every last one of the men on this list with a crow next to it is dead. I know it was my father’s symbol because I have seen him kill the crows with the very same white arrows myself as a child,” Arthur insisted.

  “Did Denlington ever use them?” Duncan asked.

  “No,” Arthur shook his head. “I believe the point to cause fear and fear mongering was my father’s side of the business.”

  “Well, I must say it works rather well. Lady Charlotte was quite frightened,” Miss Bolton quipped. He could tell by the frown of disapproval on her face that she was less than pleased that the children had been involved in the dark omen’s discovery.

  “Thankfully they do not remember Father’s reign of terror quite as well as I do,” Arthur noted grateful for the small blessing. “Nor have they seen these ledgers proving his criminal activities, and if I have any say in the matter, they never shall. I wish to spare them at least that much.”

  “It could be a family member seeking revenge for the death of a loved one,” Miss Bolton stated. “If I had found the men who murdered my family, I must admit, I would not have been above it myself.”

  “I have long suspected that revenge was the true cause of his death,” Arthur agreed. “It never occurred to me that I would be held responsible for someone’s death. I have embraced my responsibility to return the money, but I am not willing to die to fulfill a debt of blood.”

  “We are not going to let that happen, Arthur,” Duncan practically growled at the idea of his friend dying. “You have spilled enough of your blood already.” He gestured towards the bandages that covered Arthur’s body.

  “Who would know that you were here at Durton Manor? Should the crow not have been left at Rosenhill?” Miss Bolton asked furrowing her brow in confusion.

  “Denlington knew. All of the servants here and at Rosenhill knew. Your mother knew. The doctor and presumably his family knew. With the nature of gossip as it is, any number of persons could have known by now,” Duncan listed.

  “That does not help us to narrow down the possibilities then,” Miss Bolton replied a discouraged tone to her voice.

  “Could there be a connection to the men that attacked you with the knife and this incident?” Duncan inquired.

  “Those men were after me for thwarting their plan to despoil Miss Bolton, but the notion has occurred to me. I believe they are Denlington’s men. You did say he is having difficulty controlling them since Father’s passing. It is reasonable that one or more of them could be acting on their own, but at what gain?” Arthur was puzzled as to what purpose his death word serve. They had revered his father and had no reason to want him dead.

  “The problem is not that we do not have any suspects. The issue lies in that we have too many.” Duncan noted as he flipped through the pages of the late Duke’s ledgers.

  “Exactly,” Arthur agreed. “To my knowledge, I have not garnered any enemies through my own actions, save the incident concerning Miss Bolton and the ruffians who accosted her. It has to be one of my father’s. I simply cannot settle on a candidate that is more likely than the others.”

  “If the crow is any indication, they will try again, and soon. We simply need to stand guard and catch them in the act. I will post my men in shifts around the house and have someone with you and the children at all times,” Duncan offered.

  “Denlington has the magistrate in his pocket, so if it is one of his men gone rogue, then it should be a fairly simple arrest. If it is a fellow nobleman, it will be much more complicated and require a greater body of proof,” Arthur mused. “We would need witnesses and catch the culprit in the act of attempting to kill me, otherwise there will be no legal recourse.”

  “That is closer than I am comfortable, allowing the dastardly fiend to get to your person.” Duncan negated the idea of using his friend as bait for a trap.

  “I refuse to spend the rest of my life living in fear. I simply will not do it. I say it is worth the risk to catch the villain,” Arthur argued.

  “Your Grace, I disagree,” Miss Bolton stated firmly, “and I cannot condone such an action being taken with the children in the same house.”

  “Miss Bolton is right, Arthur,” Duncan interjected. “The children should not be here if you are going to set a trap. As far as living your life in fear is concerned, there will always be enemies of your father that would dearly love to see his former dukedom fall. It is his unfortunate legacy to all of his children, not just you.”

  “I am not going to send the children away for the rest of our lives,” Arthur protested.

  “That is not what we are suggesting,” Miss Bolton answered. “I protest you purposefully setting a trap with them in the house. I agree there should be protection at all times for you and them, but allowing the murderer access to your bedchambers to catch him in the act is going too far.”

  “How much time between when your father left a crow for one of his enemies and their death?” Duncan inquired.

  “A single night,” Arthur answered.

  “Then let us remove the twins to a safe place for tonight. I will stay here with you, and Miss Bolton can go with the children. I have my doubts as to the safety of Rosenhill given the circumstances. We need a place where no one would think to look for the children.” Duncan fell silent in thought.

  “We do not have any extended relatives that would welcome us after everything Father did,” Arthur informed them.

  “I could take them to be with my family. If it is just for one night and Your Grace approves?” Miss Bolton offered hesitantly. Arthur could tell she wasn’t certain he would agree to the idea. “No one
would think to look for them there, a lord and lady sleeping in the home of a lowly carpenter.”

  “It would work,” Duncan nodded his head.

  “I will agree if the proper precautions are taken and your family is amenable,” Arthur agreed. He did not wish to be an imposition, but he wanted to protect his siblings and save his own life in the process. “I want a trusted manservant of notable size and skill in the area of fisticuffs to accompany you.”

  “I have just the man,” Duncan replied with a twinkle in his eyes. He rang for the butler and stood smiling as he waited for Mr. White’s arrival. Arthur wondered what his friend was up to.

  “Yes, Your Grace,” Mr. White answered the summons.