The Lady's Scandalous Secret (The Discreet Investigations of Lord and Lady Calaway Book 7)

by Issy Brooke

  “The Blaisdell Trust?” Bernard said. He looked over at his wife, who raised her eyebrows at him.

  “That sounds very formal,” Adelia said.

  “It – it is a fund which provides for us,” Bernard said. “I let it do what it does. I don’t look into money very much. My man in Norwich sorts that out for us. Cash in and cash out is so tedious. Ah, hello Patrick, what have you got there? Show me! What a fine sword it is!”

  Patrick’s presence surprised but delighted Theodore. He found it unusual to have small children littering the place but he liked it very much. Perhaps it was the difference of being a grandfather; he was allowed, indeed positively encouraged, to be indulgent.

  Anyway, the arrival of the boy made his daughter Anne’s face light up, and that was reason enough to let the tiny noise-making menace stay, he thought. Anne had always suffered quite dreadfully from melancholia, and he knew that Adelia felt frustrated and worried by her daughter’s moods. As for Theodore, he was rather more sanguine about it. Anne was as she was; her nature was her nature, and she was not a problem to be solved. Anyway, it was as if she had grown out of all that – or into it, perhaps, into a more adult way of dealing with things.

  It made him grin to himself. He was the public investigator, the social face of the detecting team, but it truly was Adelia who could not rest unless she had a problem that she had to tackle, a person to improve or heal, a situation that needed dealing with. It was lucky she had found this new focus for her life now, otherwise she would have become a tiresome and interfering busybody in the lives of her daughters.

  Well, more of a tiresome and interfering busybody than she already was.

  “Theodore, darling, we are waiting for you,” Adelia said, her voice cutting into his thoughts. He jumped, startled, and felt his cheeks go hot, as if she somehow knew exactly what he had been thinking.

  She glared at him suspiciously which made him feel even more guilty. He blurted out, “Well, it comes from a place of love, doesn’t it?”

  “What?”

  “Er – when … someone … interferes.” He realised he was answering his own thoughts, not a question that anyone had actually asked. He was making no sense.

  “What on earth are you talking about? Did you catch a chill on the river yesterday? Can you see clearly? What colour is my gown?”

  “Pink?”

  “Red,” she sighed. “Now, let us get down to things. We have a dead man, Walter Spenning.”

  She had already begun writing things down. Bernard and Theodore leaned forward to contribute.

  “Yes. And the suspects include Gordon Macauley, but he claims his alibi was corroborated by the police investigation,” Theodore said.

  She wrote it down anyway.

  Theodore went on. “The person who benefits most from the death appears to be his widow, Florence Spenning, but she is not well-liked and she is not an active member of the community. And we need to be absolutely certain. Did she really benefit? If not, who did? For at the moment, we have hearsay and not facts.”

  “True, true,” said Bernard.

  “And there is Edwin Calcraft who was also in business with him, but that seems to have been a long time ago. And Calcraft himself has not confirmed that yet. He went rather odd when we were speaking with him. Who else is connected? What business did Spenning actually do?”

  Bernard sat back and chewed his cheek. “Various things. There was a charity, years ago. I think both men were on the board? I cannot remember because it didn’t last and it didn’t do anything. And also, when Spenning was involved with Calcraft, the main business must have been import and export, because that’s what the old Colonel does now and has done since he left the army.”

  “Import and export of what? Oh – all that Chinese stuff that was stuffed in his house?” Theodore said.

  “The very same. There are things that China has that we want, and vice versa. We’ve got good ports all along this coast, and since Calcraft spent all his military service over in Hong Kong, he built up a good network of contacts.”

  “So what do you think, Bernard?” Adelia said, tapping the paper. “Is there anyone that we have missed? Other business associates? This solicitor, Mr Hedges? No one has had a good word for him, have they?”

  “He’s got an alibi too; the police made certain to check and anyway, I think we can discount him. And I really don’t think Macauley’s a credible suspect. I believe his alibi and he’s just such a nice chap.”

  “Nice chaps can be killers.”

  “No, not Macauley! He’s kind and generous, a real decent fellow. I shan’t believe it. He’s a good friend to everyone around here. So is his wife. Isn’t she, Anne?”

  “Mrs Macauley is a paragon and an angel. She has made my life here so much easier.”

  “You see?” Bernard said. “You can’t suspect folks like that.”

  “Then we need to look at Florence Spenning,” Theodore said.

  Adelia tapped the pencil on the paper. “Can we invite her to dinner? I really do want to meet her properly.”

  “She will never come,” Anne said. She added, a little hesitantly, “Anyway, if she did come, well, she doesn’t always act like a lady, if I can be so rude.”

  “How so?”

  “It is hard to really say. I think it is as if she hasn’t quite been schooled in the ways of polite society. She watches and copies everyone. She gets it right, of course, but there’s a delay. She’s not natural. She’s always on edge.”

  “How interesting,” said Adelia. “What is her background?”

  “All we know is that she came from Great Yarmouth.”

  “Someone has to, but I suppose that it can’t be helped,” said Bernard. The laughter broke the thoughtful mood and even though they all returned to stare again and again at Adelia’s list of suspects, no new insights seemed to present themselves.

  Eventually Anne said, “Very well, I shall ask her.”

  “Good,” said Adelia. She stood up decisively. “And after lunch, you and I, dear Anne, shall take a turn about the village – if you will?”

  Theodore looked at her but he had no idea what she was up to this time.

  Adelia thought that it should be quite obvious to Anne that she wanted to go and see Florence Spenning. After lunch, she met her daughter in the hall ready to go out, but was surprised to see Emily alongside, also ready to go out in her walking dress.

  “Miss Johnson, I hope that your headache is quite gone?”

  “Almost, Lady Calaway, and when Anne said she was heading out for a walk, I thought it might be the perfect thing to refresh my mind. If you don’t object to company…?”

  “No, not at all. It will be a pleasure.” Adelia could not say no. But she was anxious now. She didn’t want to upset Emily with the mention of Florence’s name.

  All three of them sallied out. Adelia scanned the sky with concern but today there was no sign at all of any threatening clouds. The brighter weather didn’t make Empton look any more appealing, unfortunately. There were no shops at all, save for a tiny post office alongside the station. Anne went in to pop her letters into the post.

  “You keep up a wide correspondence,” Adelia said in admiration.

  “Yes. I’m in touch with all of my sisters, by and large. It’s why Bernard was so insistent on calling for you and papa; we have heard all about your exploits all over the country.”

  “You must write to them more often than I do!”

  “Possibly. Lottie sends her regards, by the way.”

  “And why can she never write to me directly?” Adelia grumbled. “She’s always one step removed.”

  “Oh, she’s just so awfully busy.”

  “Parties and so on.”

  “Yes. She hasn’t really mended her ways, and I doubt she ever will.”

  “Humph.”

  Anne laughed at Adelia’s grumpy face and Adelia had to laugh, too. “Very well,” she conceded at last, slipping her arm through her daughter’s crook
ed elbow. “You ought to invite some of them to come and see you. Edith came north, you know, the other month, to see us when we were staying with Margaret.”

  “I know! I had two very different accounts of that adventure from both of them,” Anne said. “And I shan’t tell you what either of them said,” she added wickedly. “But it is awfully interesting to have lots of different opinions. Now, dear Em, where do you think we should take my mother next? We have seen the very best of Empton so perhaps we ought to explore the darker side.”

  “Goodness,” Adelia exclaimed. “If these are the best things, I am terrified of what might pass as the worst.”

  Emily didn’t smile but her eyes creased in amusement. “Perhaps we ought to take a turn along the river – upstream this time, away from the village and inland. There are some remarkable little churches that might interest you.”

  “That sounds lovely. But I must now confess, Miss Johnson, that my primary reason for walking out this afternoon was to pay a call upon Mrs Spenning.”

  “The … murderess?” Emily hissed.

  “You do understand that I am actually here to investigate that murder?” Adelia said, patiently, though that was more for Anne’s benefit than Emily Johnson’s. “It is not such an unusual intention.”

  “I am aware of your purpose, but … I will not go near the place. I feel deceived,” she cried in passion. “You ought to have warned me.”

  Really, thought Adelia, the woman is far too prone to wild extremes out of nowhere. How utterly tiring for her, and everyone around her. She said, in a matter-of-fact voice, “I am not asking nor expecting you to accompany me. If Anne will point out the way, then I will pay a call on my own account. I am sure that she won’t mind. This isn’t London, and from what I hear, she has no reason to be treated as if she is a Duchess.”

  “Or any kind of gentlewoman,” spat Emily. “You cannot trust her. Do not mention my name in any regard, thank you.”

  “Why? Has she taken against you for some reason?”

  Emily looked furious. “I can only ask you to believe me when I say she is a liar. If she dares to mention me, disregard it.”

  Adelia gave up trying to be kind and polite. She nodded at Emily and turned to Anne. “Please direct me the way to go. I shall meet you both back at Litton.”

  Anne sighed. “Very well. Step this way a moment.” She led Adelia away from the station and post office, and pointed along the muddy street. “This is the main street, such as it is. It curls around to the right up there, and if you go past the row of cottages, there’s a stand of stunted hawthorns at the end, and a small opening in a dark hedge. Go through that, and you’ll join a track that runs to the right and takes you to the house. But she’ll not receive you, you know.”

  “I know, but I must try. Thank you. I am sorry about Miss Johnson,” Adelia said, looking back at where the other woman was waiting on the raised pavement. “Oh, for a sleepy village, here’s a sight!”

  “A carriage! There’s no crest – it’s not a well-to-do family coach, then.”

  “Maybe a hired one? Oh, look, they are slowing down alongside Emily. They must be lost and want directions.”

  The man up on the seat was wrapped in a deep blue coat with a high standing collar, and had a dark hat pulled low on his head to keep it from blowing off. He reined in the two black horses and leaned away from Adelia’s line of sight so she could not see his face.

  Her view of Emily was likewise blocked, now, by the carriage itself, but the driver appeared to be talking to her.

  And then Adelia heard Emily scream.

  Anne was already running towards the carriage and Adelia was not far behind. They shot around the horses at the front as the driver leaped down from his seat. He got to the crumpled figure of Miss Johnson on the ground first. He knelt at her side, trying to pull her up into a sitting position. He looked up with alarm as Adelia caught up with him.

  “Unhand her this moment!” Adelia demanded, ready to strike him with her bag, her hat, her glove, or even a rock from the street.

  “I beg your pardon,” he said, in a rich voice. He was of middle age, and well-groomed, with a military bearing and insignia on his jacket. “She fainted. I am aware that it is my fault, of course. Oh, she stirs…”

  Emily groaned and blinked, and then began to squeal and writhe, pushing the soldier away from her. He had no choice but to let go as she scrambled to her feet, with Anne immediately at her side to support her.

  The officer bowed low, an unhappy look on his face. With his hat clenched in his hands, he said, “Archibald Calcraft, at your service, my ladies. But I think she knew that already,” he added miserably.

  5

  There was a great flurry of activity. Mrs Macauley appeared. She had been on her way to the post office, and she took the situation over, with Anne at her side. Adelia felt a little pushed to the side, but she recognised that she did not know Emily like the others did.

  Archibald Calcraft retreated miserably, climbing up into his carriage and driving away reluctantly. They refused all his entreaties to give them a lift and rejected every offer of help that he made. Mrs Macauley accompanied them all back to Litton and it was only Mrs Macauley whom Emily would allow in her bedroom.

  Anne and Adelia gathered with Theodore, Bamfylde and Bernard in the main parlour. Adelia came straight out with her thoughts.

  “Miss Johnson is seriously unwell,” she said. “Her emotions are unregulated, her passions too wild. Has she been under the care of a physician at all?”

  Bernard sighed. He was no longer the jolly man he had been when they had first arrived. He looked at Anne, and something passed between them.

  Anne nodded. It was a permission to speak.

  Bernard began to explain. He said, “You are aware, I think, that Miss Johnson is the unmarried sister of my first wife, Maria?”

  “Yes. And may I say, I am sorry for your loss,” Adelia said.

  He waved away the platitude. “It was very long ago. Miss Johnson was never quite like this when she was a younger woman. She was outspoken, yes, and she was direct. It was one of her best features. She was admired for it. Well, there were those who didn’t care for her forthright manner but most of us respected her. However, it ought to be said that she was also beautiful, and a good-looking woman can get away with more than a plain one might. Now she has lost her looks, alas, and the world is less kind to her and her passions.”

  “She has changed, too,” Anne said. “You just said so yourself.”

  “What changed first? The world’s attitude to her, or her own self? It is a conundrum. We are what the world makes us – we can only be as the world presents ourselves to ourselves, don’t you see?”

  “In part.”

  “Well. Anyway,” Bernard went on, “Our dear Emily … Miss Johnson, I should say, though she is Emily, I confess, in our own little household, our dear Emily was sorely mistreated in the matter of a marriage contract.”

  “In what way?”

  “She was jilted, in short. Right at the altar, if you can imagine. There she was, all dressed in the most beautiful dress, with flowers in her hair and the church full of joy and light, waiting for her beau. But he did not make it to the church. She was outside, waiting for him, so that she might go up the aisle to him. And he never came.”

  Anne took up the story, saying, “And the man who jilted her was Archie Calcraft.”

  “Archie? That man we just met? Archibald Calcraft?” Adelia gasped. “I assume that he is Edwin Calcraft’s son, and the military career must run in the family. And yes, they are of a similar age, Archibald and Emily. Where has he been? Have she ever seen him since that fateful day? Did he ever come back until now?”

  “No.”

  “No wonder she fainted!”

  “He was disowned many years ago,” Bernard said. “He has not been seen around here for long, long years. I have no idea why he has returned now.”

  “What caused him to be disowned?” Bamfylde a
sked, rather obviously not making eye contact with either his father or Adelia.

  “Again, I have no idea about that,” Bernard replied. “But it could well be to do with his atrocious treatment of Miss Johnson. He showed himself to be a man of no honour.”

  They were interrupted then by the appearance of Mrs Macauley.

  “Miss Johnson is asleep now,” she said. “Thanks to you and your draught, Lord Calaway, she seems to be slumbering easily. Thank you all for your help.”

  “Mrs Macauley,” Adelia said. “I have just learned a little of the connection between that man and poor Miss Johnson. Perhaps you can shed a little more light on what happened. I understand that Mr Calcraft the younger left her in the lurch at the altar … do you know why?”

  Mrs Macauley glanced behind at the door, as if she were afraid that Emily would come in. She lowered her voice, and said, “He was arrested not one hundred yards from the church. He had every intention of marrying her, as far as I know. Every intention. But he was hauled away by the police, you see.”

  “Oh yes,” Bernard said. “The arrest. I remember that. But you say he still wanted to marry her?”

  “So I believe but as you can see, under the circumstances… well, he was taken into custody and did not come back to the village ever again.”

  “Good heavens! What on earth were the charges?” Theodore cried.

  “I never did find out,” she replied, “and you may rest assured that I did my utmost to discover the truth. Whatever charges they were, they were summarily dropped, quite out of the blue, and young Calcraft never had his day in court. Old man Calcraft hushed it all up, of course, and no one has ever dared to speak of it near to him. The magistrate that ordered the arrest was implicated too.” As she said that, she smiled with one corner of her mouth. “He was found to have been acting irregularly. The charges made against Archibald Calcraft were without any basis, in fact.”

  That made Adelia immediately suspicious. “And who was the magistrate?”