The Remarkable Myth of a Nameless Lady: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Linfield, Emma

  Owen. The brother of the Duke. The man she was supposed to follow, who was up to no good things at all, according to Elias.

  Behind him the door opened and shut quickly, a hum cut off in confusion coupled with a very female shriek. “My Lord!” followed by a stream of words voiced with all the contempt that could be packed into a handful of syllables ending on a betrayed sob. “Alicia! You dare act the doxy with my love?”

  Which made it the third time that day where Alicia’s morality had been called into question.

  Chapter 24

  “Your Grace, if I might have a minute.”

  It took Jacob a moment to place the giant of a woman in a white mobcap who hovered at his elbow. He had been introduced on that first day, but the name escaped him now, though he remembered clearly the introduction. One did not forget a figure such as hers. She was as imposing, if not more, so than some of his finest fighters.

  His imagination put a broadsword in her hand. No…a battle axe. Something fine and heavy to fight off invaders, only her rule lay within the kitchens, unless he missed his guess. Now what was her name? Something to do with a flower. “Mistress…Daffodil. Yes, of course. I was just finishing.”

  Despite the house party still in full force, Jacob had taken his midday meal in the study again. Truth be told, he had been somewhat hopeful that the beguiling maid might find him here, with a report regarding the movements of his brother, as he’d requested. Of course, he’d only just asked her to perform the task, but he was accustomed to people jumping to when he spoke and getting done what he needed in a timely manner.

  The woman’s face tightened, a hard look coming into her eyes. “Marigold, Your Grace.”

  Jacob blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

  “My name, Your Grace. I am Mistress Marigold.”

  Jacob stared at her, somewhat disconcerted. He could not remember the last time someone had the audacity to correct him. Had her expression not been so serious he might have laughed. “Yes. Of course. Mistress Marigold. What can I do for you?”

  Mistress Marigold drew herself up. Jacob had to crane his neck just to see her face. “Your Grace, you may or may not be aware of my position within this household. I manage much of the staff below stairs, and keep a keen eye on the rest.”

  “Er…right. Of course.” Jacob folded his napkin and placed it upon the tray that had been used to bring him his meal. “And a fine job you are doing of it! I have quite enjoyed my repast these past days.”

  She gave him a look that took in the tray and his solitary placement for the noon meal, one eyebrow raising just enough to for him to feel the sudden urge to promise to eat henceforth in the dining room, if it would please her. Another disconcerting experience, as he could also not remember the last time he had been so thoroughly chastised by a single look.

  She cleared her throat. “Normally, I would not bring so small a matter to your attention, but I was informed that you desired to be consulted in matters of the hiring and firing of staff. To that end, I would inform you that I am letting go a maid I have found to be lax in her duties.”

  He blinked. “Exactly so—” he murmured, relaxing a little. “I trust your discretion in the matter. If that is all, you have done your duty. You might inform the staff that I found today’s meal to be exquisite, and that I will, in fact, be dining at table with the rest of my party tonight.” With that he bent his head over the open book in front of him, where he’d been examining the previous year’s numbers regarding cheeses and making notes on a piece of foolscap.

  Mistress Marigold made no move to leave. “I have perhaps not been clear. There are certain circumstances in the matter of which you need to be made aware. This is quite unknown territory for me, as we have never had an incident of this kind within Ravencliff. I would have had the maid herself here to stand and face charges from you, but I feared she might somehow draw you in by her very appearance.”

  “Her appearance? I fail to understand what you mean,” he said, laying aside his quill and sitting back to look up at woman with quite an astonished expression.

  “Your Grace, she has a rather sympathetic mien, one that quite leaves you off guard. I would inform you that I have found this girl within this very chamber, indulging in the most suspicious of acts. Not only that, I have every reason to believe she was not alone in this room, for I found the window over yonder unlocked, and your belongings disturbed.”

  Jacob sat up straight at that, feeling a cold twist in the pit of his stomach as he became suspicious just which maid this Mistress Tulip was talking about. “Which belongings?” he asked uneasily, casting his eyes over the room, trying to determine which items had been disturbed.

  The woman reached into the folds of her apron and withdrew a long object which she placed upon his desk. “I found this on the floor near the window. I am afraid the lens is cracked.” Her broad face was resolute, her face pale as she spoke. “As I am responsible for the hiring of the girl, I will take it upon myself to have the lens repaired at my own expense. I will send the glass to Dublin myself this afternoon.”

  “Nonsense. I should not have left it out so carelessly. It is little more than a memento of the sea with no real value,” he said, though in truth the damage pained him, for his first Captain had given him the spyglass in praise of an action aboard ship that had required a great deal of courage and no small measure of cunning. “What else?”

  She shrugged, spreading her hands in silent question. “Truly, I do not know. She was behind the desk when I came in, seated upon the floor. I myself performed a thorough examination of the area once she had left, but could not see anything amiss.”

  Jacob glanced around uneasily. Nothing seemed out of order. “What an odd place to be seated…” he murmured, as he bent to open and close each drawer of the desk. So far as he could tell, the contents were undisturbed.

  “I was thinking perhaps the books on the bottom shelf,” she prompted him, with a nod in that general direction. “I had a maid come in who has cleaned this room regularly and she agrees that they do not seem to be in order any longer, though of course we have no way of knowing if you had perhaps rearranged them to your convenience.”

  He turned to look, noting the row of leather spines turned outward. “There do not seem to be any missing,” he said, bending to draw one such volume out to look at it. It appeared to be a ledger from previous years, this particular row dating back to when his father first took over the estate.

  “We had noted that as well,” Mistress Chrysanthemum said primly.

  It had to be Alicia. There were few enough maids who knew their letters, much less had the ability to read. What the devil had she been looking for? “Where is the girl now?” he asked, imagining her already trudging back to the village in disgrace.

  “I have sent her to her room. I had her followed to see that she got there. She went obediently enough. I could have her brought here if you wish it.”

  “Not just yet. I would first do a more thorough examination of the room,” he said, thinking hard.

  The woman bobbed a curtsey. “As you wish, Your Grace.” She turned to go.

  “Wait…” Jacob held up a hand to stop her as something else occurred to him. “How was it you found her? I am under the impression that the door is kept closed when I am not here. She had perhaps made some noise to alert you as to her presence?”

  “I was in the kitchen, Your Grace,” Mistress Forget-Me-Not answered primly. “I was informed that a rather unkempt individual was seen leaving the room through the window. I had not believed it, thinking someone perhaps saw a gardener working on the terrae nearby, but went to investigate all the same.”

  “You went yourself?” he asked sharply.

  “I thought it prudent at the time,” she said sharply, though her eyes evaded his.

  Interesting. She seems to be hiding something, he thought, and waved her on, bidding her continue.

  “She was there, behind the desk when I entered. There can’t have b
een more than a few minutes between the report I was given and my discovering the girl within the room.” The woman seemed to be on more certain ground now, speaking with a grim self-satisfaction.

  “And the man? I expect you likewise had someone look for the intruder?” he asked, his eyes narrowing as he thought this through.

  “I asked one of the men to look but they saw nothing.”

  She answered too quickly. Another lie. “Your conclusions?” he asked sharply.

  “I expect it was one of the stable hands. There is a man, new here, that this particular maid has been seen in rather…intimate…conversation. I expect that what was seen was nothing more than an assignation of a romantic nature.”

  Jacob drew back as if slapped. Romantic! “And how do you surmise that?” he asked, his expression grim.

  “The man was carrying nothing when he left the room, hence whatever thievery the girl intended hadn’t been carried out yet.”

  Her explanation seemed reasonable, but there was still something about her words that didn’t quite ring true. “Which stable hand?”

  The woman’s lips drew back in a sneer. “A rather common sort. Edwards…no, something else. Elias. Elias Moore. He is from the same village as the girl. I expect they came into this together as part of some plot to rob the family, Your Grace.”

  There was a churning in the pit of the Duke’s stomach. The meal he had so recently enjoyed had soured, and for a moment he thought he might be ill. “Thank you. You may go.”

  The woman bobbed another curtsey. She left quickly, there one moment, gone the next, the tray from his noon meal disappearing right along with her; quite a feat for a woman so large. Jacob sank again into his chair realizing he’d never once asked the name of the maid.

  He hadn’t needed to.

  His hands were fisted. He stared at them, forcing each finger to relax. He pictured the girl, seeing Alicia’s amber eyes, wide and innocent. That smile she tried so hard to hide.

  He pictured her in the arms of a stable hand, and felt the fool.

  Without conscious thought he found himself at the door, his hat in hand, checking for his pistol which he had taken to carrying again.

  He needed to have a talk with this Elias Moore.

  Chapter 25

  “Your Grace, if I might have a minute.”

  Jacob had the strangest sense of having been here before. Not to mention, he had already given up one minute, and look where that had gotten him. “Now is not a good time, Tom,” Jacob muttered, brushing past the group of earnest young men who were lying in wait just outside his door.

  “You have not seen her.” Tom grasped Jacob’s coat sleeve, bringing him into the group. Jacob looked up in surprise, noting which of the officers had deigned to confront him thus, seeing every man from the first mate on down ranged about him in somber defiance.

  “Is this mutiny, then?” he asked, giving a significant look at Tom’s hand which he reluctantly removed from his sleeve.

  “It can hardly be a mutiny when we are standing upon solid ground,” spoke Lieutenant Harris, a man Jacob knew well for his keen wits and the ability to use them under fire.

  It was an odd choice of words. Jacob had felt more solid and sure of his footing aboard any ship than he ever had at Ravencliff. “You speak with boldness, sirrah,” Jacob growled, making as if to push past them again.

  To his surprise, not a man yielded. Jacob found his hand seeking out his pistol and for a single heart-wrenching moment he wondered what show of force they would use to stop him. He could only shoot one before they were all upon him.

  “What you have to say is that important?” he asked, fastening his eyes on Tom, whose face had gone pale.

  “Aye, Your Grace.”

  Jacob’s hand moved away from the pistol. Tom nodded at the rest, and in the visible relaxation of arms that followed, Jacob realized that he was not the only man who had been armed.

  “You are all clearly mad,” he muttered, and gestured for them to step into the parlor which was opposite his study. He wasn’t sure but he might have heard a mumbled agreement among the dozen men who followed him.

  He turned and waited for them to come fully into the room before speaking. “You will tell me what this is concerning and be quick about it.”

  “The girl,” Tom said without preamble. “I saw her as she left your office, her face sore bruised. She was trying not to cry, but fled past me so fast I cannot be sure. Someone has hurt her badly, and not for the first time, unless I miss my guess.”

  “The cur!” Jacob made as if to go, but Tom was quicker. “Do you not think it is a bit of a coincidence that she was discovered in the moment that she was? Or that now she is to be removed from the estate in disgrace?”

  “What do you know of it? I have only just been informed of the matter myself,” Jacob burst out. “I have told you nothing, and unless you have been listening at doors then…” He stared at the men a long moment and to his chagrin found the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. “Perhaps I should have expected as much from an assemblage of spies. You might as well tell me what you know.”

  Tom exchanged glances with the others. “Little enough. I enlisted the men after speaking to you the other day. They worked with great care so as not to arouse suspicion.”

  “I had thought that you all had a rather sudden interest in riding out each morning. I expect there has been a certain amount of investigation carried out on these excursions?”

  “We are aware of a plot, Your Grace,” said one of the men quietly. “Though we have not the full nature of it.”

  “’Tis connected to that blasted ball,” Jacob said, pacing shortly around the room, feeling the eyes of his men upon him. “And you chose to keep me in the dark until now?”

  “We have only had vague suspicions until now,” Tom said, and the men murmured their agreement. “Something has changed in the last few hours, but we have not been able to ascertain just what. A trap has been sprung, and your Irish lass is right in the thick of it. We had thought to warn you of her, but now we are not so sure.”

  Jacob’s eyebrows rose. “You think she is not part of it?”

  “We know she is,” Tom corrected him. “That they would remove her from the household tells us her loyalties might be conflicted.”

  “Or that she knows more than she realizes.” He glanced up toward the ceiling briefly as though he could see all the way to the servant’s quarters on the third floor if he did. “I expect she is safe enough within her own room. In the meantime, I was given the name of a stable hand, an Elias Moore.”

  “We have met him,” Tom said with a glance at two of the men who looked somewhat shamefaced. “There might have been an altercation…”

  Jacob looked hard at the two, noting for the first time the bruise upon Peter’s cheek, and the awkward way that Davy stood. “I daresay you have. Care to elaborate?”

  “I tried to engage the chap in a…political discussion…to see where his loyalties lay,” Peter muttered while beside him Davy winced.

  “He is part of the plot?”

  “He is Irish,” muttered one of the men. “Is that not reason enough to fight?”

  “I will not have that kind of talk aboard this ship!” Jacob snapped, then caught himself. “Er…”

  “Understood,” the man said, as around him the others nodded. “This estate is as good as a ship to us, Your Grace.”

  Jacob smiled grimly. “Then I would have you each to your posts. Tom, I want you with me. We need to talk to this Elias Moore.”

  Chapter 26

  There was an unusual amount of activity in the courtyard. It seemed that a tinker had arrived at the same moment that a man delivering grain had, the one wagon blocking the other in the narrow opening that led into the stable yard itself, with an argument ensuing over who had rite of first passage into the estate proper.

  Both drivers were swearing mightily, with their carts pressed haphazardly against each other with little consideration
for the horses, as Jacob and Tom approached.

  “Your Grace, allow me to handle this,” Tom said, with a certain wicked gleam in his eye as he waded into the fray. Within minutes the matter was resolved, the farmer lying stretched out on the pavement with the tinker slung half over him.

  “I daresay neither will be of much service,” Jacob muttered, as men ran from the stables to sort out horses and carts, where previously they had been hanging back. Jacob suspected from the foul looks on many of the faces that there had been considerable wagering taking place on the outcome of the situation, with none taking odds that the Duke would have the matter resolved before them.