by Louise Allen
‘You know where to find me if you need to send a message before then.’ He retrieved his hat and stood up. ‘I hope we may both find happiness at the end of this.’
And not a monumental scandal, he thought as he slipped a half sovereign into the butler’s hand and went down the steps into the street. Am I out of my mind? But I can’t let her travel all that way by herself and find goodness knows what at the end of it. At least this way I’ll know she’ll be safe and I can run an eye over this officer of hers. None of which was going to be any help if he found himself at dawn on a chilly morning squinting down the barrel of a pistol at Lady Penelope’s brother…
There were architectural quirks with a building that was of two distinct periods, cobbled together. The original outside west wall of the Elizabethan part of Mannerton Grange was now an inside wall and on the old side was the double-height chamber that was now the dining room. Windows and doors on the ground floor had been blocked up when the modern wing was added, but a small, rather decorative, window had been left high up. Now glazed, it provided a feature in one of the upstairs bedchambers.
Perry had the modern window frame and glass removed and Laura found a length of black gauze that must once have been a voluminous mourning veil. When it was fixed to the bedchamber side of the window it allowed anyone inside in the dark to see out and to hear what was happening in the dining room below without being seen themselves.
With five hours to go before the guests arrived Laura set the footmen to dragging carpets across so that a semicircle of chairs could be set by the window with no risk of movement being heard below. She counted as they were positioned. Me, Pitkin, Flynn, Lieutenant Morefleet, Will and Charlotte Hogget. She still had not discovered Charlotte’s real name.
Perry was supervising the laying of the table in the dining room below. With sixteen guests and only six ladies it had been a nightmare to work out, but they had finally arrived at a seating plan that did not entirely throw precedence out of the window, kept relations apart from each other and spread Theo, Gerard Redfern and Jared out along the table. Perry, as the host, had to take the head of the board and he had asked Mrs Giles to act as hostess so she would be seated at the foot.
If Theo comes in time. Or at all, Laura thought bleakly. He had promised to be back on Tuesday at the latest and this was Friday. There had been no word and, since Wednesday, Jared – never a man to show much emotion – had been looking more than usually stony-faced.
Finally, convinced that Theo had met with some accident and Jared was hiding it from her, she had cornered him and demanded an explanation. He knew nothing about Theo he promised her, but he’d received a letter from his wife in which she had mentioned the latest scandal in Town – the disappearing of Lady Penelope Haddon, Theo’s betrothed.
He’s eloped with her. But why should he? They are betrothed. So why? Why… She could make no sense of it and neither could Jared or Perry but the fact remained that there was no sign of Theo. No word.
‘He wouldn’t let us all down,’ Perry said stoutly. ‘He knows how important this dinner could be.’
Jared had simply looked grim and had sent Jed Tucker off to ride to London in search of Theo while Laura somehow walled up the anxiety, and the quite unfair sense of betrayal, in some dark corner of her mind and got on with the preparations and the planning.
Down in the kitchen Mrs Bishop had been working on the dinner since the day before and Laura had to keep popping in to jolly her along ever since she’d discovered that on the night she’d have to share the space with three large Dragoons.
‘They’ll be getting under my feet and pinching the maids and stealing the sweetmeats,’ she grumbled.
‘Ooh, I do like a man in uniform,’ Rosie said on her way through to the cool of the dairy room with a tray of jellies.
‘You mind yourself, my girl, or you’ll find yourself with a bun in the oven and some useless soldier boy denying he had anything to do with putting it there,’ Mrs Bishop snapped.
‘We want to get to the bottom of all this trouble, Mrs Bishop,’ Laura said. ‘And if we discover who has been attacking poor Mr Thwaite and murdering loyal British agents for gold we need to be able to arrest them.’
‘Humph. Well, just so long as they wipe their boots and keep their hands to themselves, that’s all.’ She broke eggs into a bowl and began to whisk them ferociously. ‘And if there’s fighting, you tell them to keep the blood off the carpets.’
‘Yes, Mrs Bishop,’ Laura said as she fled.
Jared and Flynn were fencing in the back yard, neither of them looking as though they wanted to be interrupted, let alone plagued with her worries about Theo, so she went in search of Perry.
She found him in the stableyard moodily chewing on a straw and gazing into space.
‘Thinking?’
‘What?’ He jumped to his feet, but subsided again when she perched up beside him again. ‘Yes I was, actually. Don’t know what reminded me – seeing Hogget in the drawing room perhaps, but that night when he called round and told us about his father…’
‘What night?’
‘You must recall. No, you’d gone to bed, hadn’t you? He dropped in and Theo and I were with Thwaite. Hogget was in a strange mood, touchy – I suppose things weren’t going well and there was no-one besides Charlotte to talk to about it. Can’t recall how we got onto the subject now, but he was speaking about the Reverend Gilpin’s funeral and how his own father had been dropping hints about how this Rector had died a natural death and some people getting a nasty shock if some other people came back from the dead. How they wouldn’t be so high and mighty.’
‘That is odd, unless he was senile or just spiteful and enjoyed upsetting mourners at a funeral.’
‘He might have been spiteful,’ Perry said, ‘but he wasn’t senile. Hogget said he was only sixty three and in good health. Then he died almost immediately afterwards.’
‘You mean – No, surely not.’
‘We know we’re dealing with a killer,’ Perry said, flicking the chewed straw away. ‘What’s more likely than he snuffs out some awkward neighbour who seems to know one of his deep, dark secrets?’
‘So what is this deep, dark secret? What would someone coming back from the dead be able to do? Make an inheritance void if a second son had inherited when his older brother apparently died? Let me think. Squire Jenner is an only child, isn’t he? I recall Mrs Jenner lamenting that she had only daughters. She told Aunt that her mother-in-law had confided that the Jenner menfolk were notorious for having small families and that she was grateful that her only child was a son. My Uncle Swinburn never had any brothers, not unless someone has done a very skilful job of erasing them from the family Bible.’
‘But he is the child of a second marriage,’ Perry said slowly. ‘If his father’s first wife wasn’t dead when his father married again…’ His voice trailed off as they stared at each other.
‘We’re making a huge assumption,’ Laura said after a moment. ‘Are we just making bricks without straw?’ She scuffed at the wisps around her feet with the toe of her shoe.
‘Let’s go and tell the others, see what they think. Will was there, so he’ll say if I am misremembering.’
Will was watching the fencers and when Jared and Flynn saw the three of them with their heads together they broke off the bout and walked across. Jared had hardly broken a sweat, Laura noticed, whereas Flynn dragged his shirt sleeve across his brow with a grimace.
‘We think we’ve got the thread of a clue,’ Laura said. ‘But we’re not sure whether we are just imagining it.’
‘Let us wash and change and we’ll talk it through.’ Jared was already striding towards the back door.
They gathered in the drawing room and Perry went through the conversation with Hogget again, this time with Will nodding agreement with what he recalled. ‘At the time I forgot about it because he was having a bit of a poke at me about parish registers. His feathers were ruffled over the rumours that he’d di
sposed of his wife unlawfully or that Charlotte was his mistress. But you are right, it does sound as though his father knew something and was silenced to stop him talking about it.’
‘If it was your uncle’s step-mother who was alive eight years ago then the only person with a motive is your uncle,’ Perry said.
‘She didn’t need to be alive in 1805 at the time of the funeral,’ Jared pointed out. ‘Only to have been alive when Swinburn senior married Sir Walter’s mother. And Sir Walter is not the sole suspect. What about his wife?’
‘Aunt Lavinia?’ Laura laughed out loud, then thought again. ‘It would make her own marriage bigamous and it would disinherit her sons,’ she said reluctantly. ‘She is a very determined person… No, I cannot believe it of her.’
‘What about your cousins? How old would they have been eight years ago?’ Flynn asked.
‘Eighteen and seventeen. But Charles simply wouldn’t have the wit to manage an undetected murder.’
‘But Giles would,’ Perry said grimly. ‘And he’d have no qualms about it, I imagine.’
‘Who would inherit the baronetcy and estate if Sir Walter was proved illegitimate?’
‘A cousin in Lincolnshire, I think. Peter or Paul or something. I’ve never met that branch of the family,’ Laura said. ‘You know, there’s something niggling at the back of my mind and I can’t quite catch hold of it. Something I can recall my father saying – he was Aunt Lavinia’s brother and he was never terribly enthusiastic about the Swinburns. But I can’t… Oh bother it!’
‘You’ll remember when you aren’t trying to,’ Perry said. ‘I think of all kinds of things at three in the morning.’
‘But even if one of the Swinburns killed Hogget senior because he knew that Sir Walter wasn’t legitimate, how does that relate to murdering British agents for gold?’ Will objected.
‘It might have nothing to do with it,’ Jared said, stretching out his long legs as he sprawled in a deep old armchair. ‘You may have two unrelated murderers in the area – three with the last landlord of the Mermaid – and we’ve stumbled across all of them.’
‘Do you believe that?’ Flynn asked.
‘No.’ He glanced up. ‘Someone is coming.’
‘Mr Redfern, my lord.’ Terence held the door wide for the lawyer.
‘Came early because I thought I needed more briefing than your letter provided, Manners,’ Redfern said. ‘Miss Darke, gentlemen.’
Introductions were made and Redfern settled himself on the sofa beside Laura.
‘We were just about to discuss our plans,’ Perry said. ‘Generally the idea is to get everyone lulled into a sense of security and to get plenty of wine into them. They need to believe this is all about making peace and re-establishing neighbourly goodwill.’
‘And then we try shock tactics?’ Redfern asked.
‘Exactly.’
‘Excellent. Now tell me every last detail.’ The lawyer leaned forward, a black crow spying bodies on the battlefield.
Laura shivered.
‘Where is Theo?’ Laura asked. It was probably the fourth time that evening, and she was trying very hard not to drive everyone to distraction, but the guests were already gathering in the drawing room and he still had not returned.
She was in one of the guest bedchambers with Pitkin, Will, Charlotte Hogget and Lieutenant Morefleet. The men were looking decidedly uncomfortable being in a bedchamber with two females but Laura thought they might as well spend as much time away from their dark look-out point as they could. At least here they could move about and talk.
Flynn, immaculate in valet’s black, was acting as a third footman but actually serving as a messenger between the upstairs and downstairs parties and had just come in to report that everyone, except Theo, was assembled. ‘There’s still no news,’ he said. ‘But Jed Tucker would have let us know if anything serious had occurred.’
If he knows about it, Laura thought. And what would Jed do if it turned out that Theo had, for some bizarre reason, fled with Lady Penelope? She couldn’t imagine the groom writing to explain that. If it was explainable.
‘They are going in to the dining room in a few moments. I’ll tell Edward to announce dinner as soon as you are all settled.’ He held the door open for Laura and grinned. ‘One of the Dragoons has already been hit over the knuckles with a ladle by Mrs Bishop for dipping his finger in the brandy cream.’
They filed into the room overlooking the dining hall and took their places by the window. Then Laura blew out the candle, Flint closed the door and they were in darkness. Below them the space was lit with dozens of candles and the voices of Terence and Edward making the last-minute adjustments to the table settings were clear.
‘The acoustics are good,’ Charlotte murmured.
‘Works both ways, I imagine,’ Pitkin said warningly and they fell silent.
Then the doors were thrown open and Perry came in with Lady Swinburn on his arm followed by a procession of guests. Giles Redfern escorted Mrs Jenner, Charles Swinburn was partnered with the younger Jenner daughter, Jared guided Mrs Gilpin to the foot of the table, Hogget was paired with Mrs Finch and in the absence of Theo, who should have been sitting between them, Gerard Redfern had the elder Miss Jenner on his arm.
Laura tried to gauge the mood and decided that the overtures of peace had paid off. Her uncle’s vanity must have been adequately soothed and Giles had recovered his temper. There were smiles all round and the conversation was clearly flowing easily.
Perry had decided to serve champagne punch in the drawing room and now Terence and Edward were circulating with the wine: if alcohol could achieve it, then the guests were going to be very relaxed indeed.
The door opened, not on Terence with the soup but on Flynn, poker-faced and balancing a small silver salver on his outstretched fingers. He proffered it to Perry. There was a folded note on top.
Laura felt the faint rustle of surprise from her fellow watchers. This was not part of the plan.
Perry took it. ‘Excuse me, this must be urgent.’ He read it, appeared to read it again, then looked around the table. ‘Lord Northam has arrived, very belatedly, after a carriage accident.’ He paused, staring at the note. ‘Returning from Portsmouth, it seems. He is not seriously hurt and would join us if the ladies will not be offended by the sight of his bandaged head.’
‘By all means,’ Lady Swinburn said.
‘One would worry at the thought of him all alone while we enjoy ourselves,’ Mrs Gilpin added.
‘Quite,’ Mrs Finch said from her seat on Perry’s left hand.
Flynn went out and returned a minute later with Theo.
‘I do apologise,’ he said, his smile lopsided below a bruised cheek and a rakish bandage. ‘But I found myself assisting at an elopement and then had an unpleasant encounter with a milestone. Less haste, more speed, as the saying goes.’
‘An elopement?’ Mrs Finch repeated, her tone Arctic.
Chapter Twenty One
‘A friend I felt I had to support,’ Theo said. ‘A commitment to someone’s happiness I was honour-bound to see through.’
From her perch above Laura felt a quiver of hope run through her. Surely that meant he had somehow freed himself from Lady Penelope? She tried to push the thought away, it was too distracting.
Theo was still talking. ‘But enough of my travels, I hope I have not delayed the meal. Ah no, here comes the soup.’
‘Pottage de Crécy,’ Mrs Finch observed approvingly. ‘Excellent.’
Again that faint wisp of memory stirred in Laura’s mind. But what was there in carrot soup of any relevance?
Soup was followed by an array of small savouries and the wine continued to flow as the buzz of conversation grew louder. Snatches of explanation for Theo’s accident floated up – a shying leader, a milestone hidden in long grass, a broken axle. Waggett had been thrown clear, fortunately, and the horses were unharmed. Theo had been asleep and had been tossed from one side of the carriage to the other, hitting his
head on the window frame in the process.
The savouries were cleared, the roasts brought in, red wine was poured and the level of conversation dropped as the guests focused on the serious business of eating.
‘The sauce de la moutarde is delicious,’ Miss Jenner declared.
‘Simply sauce moutarde, dear,’ Mrs Finch corrected and the vague memory that had been tormenting Laura finally took shape and meaning.
She turned to Flynn, made urgent writing gestures and he moved silently to the door, beckoning her to follow. ‘You must take a note down to Perry,’ she whispered as the door closed behind them. ‘I think I have remembered something important.’
Theo glanced from Miss Jenner at his side to Flynn coming in with the salver and a note for the second time that evening. He was looking so expressionless that Theo felt a frisson of excitement down his spine. Something’s afoot.
‘Excuse me,’ Perry said and picked up the note, stared at it and refolded it. ‘Flynn, this is for Lord Northam, not for me.’
‘I beg your pardon, my lord.’ Flynn circled round, passing behind Mrs Finch, Hogget and Miss Jenner to where Theo sat with Gerard Redfern on his other side. He offered the salver between the two of them so that when Theo opened the note it was easy for Redfern to glance at it.
Papa told me Uncle S’s 1st wife – French, merchant class, anti-establishment sympathies. L.
He gave an exasperated sigh. ‘I do apologise. It’s my coachman. He’s decided he’s worried about one of my horses, Manners’ man is suggesting a patent remedy and Waggett won’t make a decision without my agreement. Take this to Lord Ravenlaw for his opinion would you, Flynn? Has anyone had any experience of Macauly’s Strengthening Plaster for a cracked hoof?’
Considering he had just invented the remedy off the top of his head it was hardly surprising when the other men shook their heads, although Jenner suggested applying warm Stockholm tar.
Jared opened the note and raised one eyebrow. ‘I had not thought of this as a solution, but it sounds plausible to me. I suggest trying it.’ He dropped the note back on the salver as Theo waved Flynn from the room with agreement to try the plaster.