Book Read Free

The Candlelit Coffin (Lady Fan Mystery Book 4)

Page 35

by Elizabeth Bailey


  She laughed and tucked her hand in his. “Well, at least Cecile’s felicity is certain, if I go by mine.”

  Francis had left his mother holding court in the Assembly Rooms, and seized the chance to take his wife for an evening stroll along the Esplanade. Ottilia was very willing, feeling all the natural mix of exhaustion and deflation that accompanied the end of a period of high drama. A light breeze accompanied the warmth of the dipping sun and it was balm to be alone with her spouse.

  “Sybilla does not mind you leaving her?”

  “She has the general to protect her. Besides, she is thoroughly enjoying herself relating all the circumstances of the murder and your discoveries.”

  “Our discoveries. This has been a joint endeavour, my dear one, and your part has been especially vital. You were the first to think of jealousy as a motive, whereas I dismissed it.”

  “That? A mere stray notion.”

  “And you tackled the men on my behalf.”

  He threw her a rueful look. “I could hardly do less. It was after all my blame that you were saddled with this affair.”

  She tucked her hand into his arm. “Yes and I am glad of it. It was just what I needed to blow away my crotchets.” She could not resist a teasing look. “How is it you have come to know me so well so quickly? I thought we were to spend a lifetime discovering one another.”

  “When you are so transparent?”

  “Fiend! How dare you? Have I not one shred of mystery left?”

  “None whatsoever.” He lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed them before setting them back on his arm. “I have besides quite enough mystery to contend with in these murderous adventures of yours.”

  Ottilia fairly sputtered. “I don’t know how you have the gall to say so when this was all your doing.”

  He gave her a mocking grin. “You rise so easily to the fly, my darling, I cannot resist.”

  She was betrayed into laughter. “Abominable creature!”

  “But useful withal. You have just this moment past said so.”

  “Oh, stop, you wretch! Is this designed to tease me out of the dismals? I assure you I am not falling back into the doldrums.”

  “Are you sure? You are not feeling flat?”

  The underlying note of anxiety could not but touch her. She pressed his arm and smiled. “A little perhaps, after so much excitement. By the by, did you remark Hemp’s smug satisfaction? He insisted it was Rob all along.”

  “He did indeed. He was certainly delighted to be in at the kill. I dare say he is entitled to feel pleased with himself, since he proved a useful ally.”

  “Yes, and he found Perkin. We could scarcely have succeeded without that piece of good fortune.”

  “Well, you may count me heartily glad that villain is locked up after what he did to you,” Francis said, setting an arm about her and giving her a hug. “For my part, I am thanking heaven it is all over.”

  Ottilia threw a mischievous look at him. “Ah, but we still have George on our hands, don’t forget. With Cecile gone, he is bound to fret.”

  Francis cast up his eyes. “Do you tell me we are to be driven to distraction by my lovelorn fool of a friend?”

  “Well, of course we are. Poor George is so severely smitten and he —”

  “He is, isn’t he? I should never have believed he could fall so hard and so fast.”

  “And for so wayward a creature. I fear he is in for a rough ride.”

  “Do him good. He’s been far too complacent for years. I hope she may lead him a merry dance and I shall tell him so if he comes haunting our doorstep.”

  Ottilia could not help laughing, but she chided nevertheless. “How unkind, Fan. But I think she is just as passionately in love with him, you know.”

  “So she may be, but I should doubt of his succeeding in prising her away from the Grand Ferdinando’s company for some little time.”

  Distracted, Ottilia’s thoughts turned to the players as her spouse tucked her hand back in his arm and drew her onward. “George was right about the impresario. An ingenious solution to persuade Fitzgerald to take the place of Robert Collins. Apparently he trod the boards for years before taking over this theatre.”

  “I gather it is only until Ferdinand can hire another fellow. There must be scores of players in need of employment.”

  “Yes, and Jane Ferdinand said they must find another actress too, although she is convinced there is small hope of a true replacement for Dulcibella Ash.” A little sigh escaped her. “My one regret in this business is that I was not privileged to see her. Or no, perhaps it is better so.”

  “Undoubtedly. You would have become far too personally involved and found some way in which you were to blame.”

  Indignant, Ottilia withdrew her hand from his arm and halted in the middle of the Esplanade. “I have never done so without cause, Fan.”

  He faced her, and his look was tender. “You have a plaguey conscience, my dear one, and it is the bane of my life.” He dropped a swift kiss on her lips. “But I would not have you any other way and you know it.”

  She heaved a resigned sigh and, disregarding any prying eyes there might be in the vicinity, set her hand to his chest and leaned into his strength.

  “You are my rock, my dearest Fan. I hope I may never plague you into deserting me.”

  He set his arms about her and held her close. “Never in this world.” He kissed her again and hesitated. “Are you tired? Do you wish to turn back?”

  Ottilia looked along the lengthy distance they had already walked, but the peace of the evening was too enticing. “Let us go on a little further.” She tucked her hand back in his arm and walked slowly on.

  “This has been a particularly sad event, but for George’s good fortune.”

  Francis murmured agreement, but the tease was back in his voice.

  “Though I cannot help wondering what horrid debacle may next fall into your lap, my inquisitive Lady Fan.”

  *****

  Join our mailing list for the latest releases, eBook deals, author news, and much, much more!

  SIGN UP HERE

  A NOTE TO THE READER

  Dear Reader

  The setting for The Candlelit Coffin provided scope for my story in several ways. The Duke of Gloucester, George III’s brother, had a house there, and when the king came to recuperate from an illness in the sea air, Weymouth took a leap in popularity and an already thriving resort became suddenly fashionable.

  Grouped about the front where the gentry congregated were the Assembly Rooms (presided over by the real Mr Rodber from 1784 right up to 1815) where the gentry could enjoy balls, whist and a general saunter to chat with friends and acquaintances of a morning; a circulating library with a reading room and a supply of daily journals; and, crucially, a theatre.

  The Theatre Royal, built in 1771, was “elegantly fitted up, and the performances are very respectable. The boxes are sufficiently large to accommodate 400 spectators.” Touring companies came for a week or two, performing up to 3 times a week with their repertoire of plays. A perfect venue for The Company of the Grand Ferdinando.

  The Assembly Rooms, built in 1785 were “Lofty, light and spacious; and very handsomely decorated, as well as delightfully situated”, whereas St Mary’s Church, despised by Perkin for its central location and patronage by the gentry was a “low, uninteresting structure” despite boasting three aisles.

  Bathing was for health rather than pleasure. Bathing machines did not yet abound and informality prevailed with men bathing nude and woman wearing a loose but voluminous garment described as a chemise sack. The women, “rise early, put on our bathing dresses, with a loose wrapper and shawl over, slip our feet into warm slippers, and with a bonnet on our heads our toilet was done. The servant girl with a bundle containing our linen and petticoats, with sheets and towels followed us to the shore.” One or two are hurrying to the shore when Colonel Tretower knocks on the theatrical lodging house for his early morning raid.

 
; Early risers could also benefit from the best of the night’s catch, haggling with the fishwives who sold their wares directly off the boat brought in by the fishermen. Fish might be scarce, or of poor quality, or simply badly cooked like the fish stew Francis rejects with loathing.

  Playing perhaps the largest passive role in our story, we have the newly built Esplanade, “about a half mile long and 30 feet broad, beautifully bordered with turf, and a grass slope of nearly 8 feet which leads to the sands.” Our characters either saunter gently like Ottilia, or bustle out of the wind like the dowager and General Godfrey.

  Outside the fashionable quarter the town as a whole in 1791 was “a little, narrow, dirty place, ill-paved and irregularly built…” Licence for me to invent the conveniences I needed like Mrs Horniman’s coffee house, along with The Black Dog and The Old Fiddler.

  All in all, Weymouth proved to be a thoroughly useful setting for my temporarily downhearted couple, Francis and Ottilia, to recuperate and revive the charm and magic of their marital and sleuthing partnership.

  If you would consider leaving a review, it would be much appreciated and very helpful. Do feel free to contact me on elizabeth@elizabethbailey.co.uk or find me on Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads or my website www.elizabethbailey.co.uk.

  Elizabeth Bailey

  ALSO BY ELIZABETH BAILEY

  The Lady Fan Mystery Series

  The Gilded Shroud

  The Deathly Portent

  The Opium Purge

  Brides by Chance Regency Romance Series

  In Honour Bound

  A Chance Gone By

  Knight for a Lady

  A Winter’s Madcap Escapade

  Marriage for Music

  Damsel to the Rescue

  Widow in Mistletoe

  His Auction Prize

  Disaster and the Duke

  Taming the Vulture

  Georgian Historical Romance

  A Fragile Mask

  A Lady in Name

  An Angel’s Touch

  An Undesirable Liaison

  Fated Folly

  Friday Dreaming

  Hidden Flame

  Just Deserts

  Mademoiselle at Arms

  Seventh Heaven

  Sweet Sacrifice

  The Conqueror’s Dilemma

  The Viscount Besieged

  Short Romances

  Mad, Bad and Dangerous

  Out of the Desert Sands (historical)

  To Catch a Thief (historical)

  Edgy Women’s Fiction

  Fly the Wild Echoes

  For One More Tomorrow

  Silence of a Stranger (suspense novella)

  Non-Fiction

  What’s Wrong with Your Novel? And how to fix it

  Musings from the Writer’s Desk

  Published by Sapere Books.

  11 Bank Chambers, Hornsey, London, N8 7NN,

  United Kingdom

  saperebooks.com

  Copyright © Elizabeth Bailey, 2018

  Elizabeth Bailey has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places and events, other than those clearly in the public domain, are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously.

  Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales are purely coincidental.

  eBook ISBN: 9781912786527

 

 

 


‹ Prev