Weddings and Scandals: Regency Romance Collection

by Alec, Joyce

  Her legs shook violently as Henrietta tried to drag in air to her parched lungs, feeling fear and dread take over her form. Such a grotesque sight had quite frightened her, making her realize just how little she had known her husband. Over and over, she remembered the sight of blood on her gown and her arms as Francis had told her of what he had found. Had someone used the blood within that jar to spread it across her form, ensuring that she appeared to be entirely guilty of her husband’s death?

  “Maybe Lord Chaucer did not know of it,” she whispered to herself, wrapping her arms about her waist in an attempt to comfort herself as she waited for Lord Wickton and Mr. Newton. “Mayhap this was put here by someone else.”

  That did not make any sense whatsoever, she quickly realized. Why would someone other than Lord Chaucer hide such a thing within the gentleman’s own wardrobe? There was no reason for it which meant that she had no other choice but to discard that idea entirely.

  And then, she recalled the clatter she had heard as she had pushed the drawer closed.

  Not quite certain she could trust her limbs to hold her upright, Henrietta took in a long breath, lifted her chin, and forced herself to find some sort of inner strength. Pushing herself to her feet, she clung to one of the posts that were at every corner of the bed, until she was quite sure she could step away from it without falling.

  “Francis will be here soon,” she told herself aloud, walking carefully back towards the chest of drawers. “You have the strength within you that you require.” Even remembering how Mr. Newton had told her, repeatedly, that she was strong enough to do whatever she wished gave her a sense of hope and determination. She had managed to speak back against her father, had she not? Henrietta knew full well that she was changing inwardly, wanting to become the strong, determined character that she saw in Miss James. She would not sit on the bed and wait until Francis and Lord Wickton appeared! No, she would continue the search until they arrived. Weakness was no longer deep within her.

  Pulling open the drawers, she began to look again at all that was held within, but saw nothing different to what had been there before. Confused, and quite certain that she had heard the sound of something falling, Henrietta checked every drawer again before pushing the lowest drawer back into place.

  It would not go.

  Frowning, Henrietta bent down carefully and allowed herself to peer into the drawer, trying to make out what it was that was holding it back from returning to its correct position.

  She could see nothing.

  Lifting her chin and getting to her feet, Henrietta braced herself as she tugged hard at the drawer, determined to free it entirely so that she might find out what the trouble was. Mayhap whatever was preventing it from closing was what she had heard falling.

  The drawer came free with a jerk, sending Henrietta stumbling backwards. The drawer itself was not as heavy as she had thought and she was able to lift it without any particular difficulty, setting it down on the bed before returning back to the chest of drawers.

  The space gaped open, a low, rectangular mouth that seemed to beckon her in an almost malevolent fashion. Henrietta swallowed hard, knowing that the maid must have spoken to Lord Wickton and Francis by now, then bent her head and looked into it carefully.

  What she saw sent her heart racing. A scream escaped from her throat as she fell backwards, horrified with what she had found within. There was very little doubt as to what it was, for the knife was lying, haphazardly, between the drawer above and the wood beneath, as though it wanted to be seen, wanted to be discovered.

  “Henrietta?”

  She turned around, one hand at her mouth. Francis was by her side in a moment, with Lord Wickton hurrying in after him.

  “What is it?” Francis asked, grasping her tightly so that she would not fall in a faint. “What have you found?”

  Henrietta could not quite speak, gesturing weakly to the drawer.

  “It is in there?”

  Henrietta nodded, leaning into Francis’ strength and feeling his arm about her waist.

  Lord Wickton was there in a moment, looking into the drawer. Henrietta heard his gasp of surprise as he spotted what was in there.

  “A knife, Newton,” he said, turning his head to gaze at Francis. “I must say, it is a fiendish-looking blade.”

  Henrietta felt Francis stiffen slightly.

  “It is the one used to kill Lord Chaucer?” she asked, the horror of what had occurred coming back to her afresh. How easy it had been to forget about it all the last fortnight. How simple life had become. It was as though, in pretending that her husband was simply absent and not dead, she had forgotten the true horror of it.

  “I shall have to see it in order to be certain,” Francis said gravely. “Can you reach it, Wickton?”

  “I can.” Wickton pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and held it carefully in his hand as he reached out for the knife. Henrietta winced and tried to look away, burying her head in Francis’ shoulder. After what she had seen of the blood and the knife, everything had come back to her with such severity that she found it hard to remain standing.

  No longer was she the strong, confident, determined young woman she had tried so hard to be. She had to depend on Francis’ strength at this moment, although Henrietta knew he did not think less of her for it.

  “You have done very well, Henrietta,” Francis murmured, as Wickton wriggled his arm to retrieve the knife. “You have discovered something of great significance, I believe.”

  “There is something more,” she whispered into his neck, squeezing her eyes shut. “In the bottom of the wardrobe, the maid found…” She trailed off, unable to get the words from her mouth.

  “What did she find?” Francis grasped her shoulders gently and peered into her face, still careful to hold her as he did so. “Is it still there?”

  Lord Wickton let out a cry of triumph, catching Henrietta’s attention for a moment.

  “Yes,” she said, trying to force her voice to work instead of whispering. “It is still there. Oh, Francis, I cannot make sense of it!”

  Francis nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on hers as he tried to encourage her. “You have done more than enough, Henrietta,” he said, leading her towards a chair by the empty, cold fire. “You have found two items of significance, which is more than can be said for myself and Lord Wickton.” There was something flickering in his eyes that had Henrietta wondering whether he was frustrated with his lack of success, only to hear Wickton calling Francis to come and look at the blade he had found.

  “Do excuse me for a moment, Henrietta,” Francis said, letting her hand go from his. “I must just go to confirm if this is the knife that I saw.”

  Henrietta nodded, swallowing hard as she watched him walk towards Lord Wickton. Telling herself that she had nothing to fear from a simple knife, she forced her eyes to rest upon it as Lord Wickton held it out for Francis to inspect.

  It did not take more than a few seconds for Francis to nod, and Henrietta felt her stomach swirl with both uncertainty and fright.

  “Yes, that is the blade that fell from Henrietta’s lap,” Francis said heavily, rubbing his hand over his forehead. “I would not mistake it easily. And look here.” He pointed to something Henrietta could not see, only for Lord Wickton to shake his head gravely, his expression deeply serious.

  “What is it?”

  Henrietta rose unsteadily and made her way towards them, seeing Francis and Lord Wickton exchange glances.

  “Please.” She saw Francis’ eyes darken, her stomach tightening with fright all the more.

  “It is a smear of blood, Henrietta,” Francis told her honestly. “I have no doubt that this was the knife that I saw on your lap that day.”

  Henrietta swallowed the lump in her throat, telling herself that she needed to be strong and not give into the fear that was swirling around her. “I see,” she replied, her voice shaking. “And someone has placed it at the very back of my husband’s drawers?”

&n
bsp; Francis looked at her. “How did you come upon it?”

  Briefly, Henrietta told them what had occurred, how she had heard the clatter as she had closed the drawers the first time she had looked through them, and how the lowest drawer would not close properly on her second look.

  “I would suggest, then,” Lord Wickton said, setting the blade back down on top of the chest of drawers, “that the blade itself was wedged underneath one of the drawers. There is space for it there and, if we inspect the bottoms of the drawers, I am quite certain we will find the gouges in the wood where it was placed.”

  “Then, when Henrietta closed the drawers tightly, it dislodged itself and fell to the back.”

  “Yes,” Lord Wickton said, nodding. “That is correct. My assumption only, of course.”

  “But it makes sense,” Henrietta replied, walking to the bed and sinking down into its softness, unable to remain standing any longer. “And along with the blood—”

  “Blood?”

  Both gentlemen turned to her at once, their expressions equally astonished.

  She nodded, spreading her hands. “I have no explanation for it, I fear. This is what I was telling you the maid discovered, Francis. It is in the bottom of the wardrobe. The maid discovered it first and was pulling it out only to see what it was. She then let it go for fear that it was cursed or the like, and I could not bring myself to remove it, either.”

  Francis moved quickly, crouching down at the wardrobe’s open door to look at what was within. She heard his startled exclamation but turned her face away as he lifted the jar from within.

  “Good gracious!” Lord Wickton exclaimed, one hand now pressed against his heart. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “Blood,” Francis said, his footsteps taking him away from Henrietta and Lord Wickton. “Here, I shall set it down on the table and cover it with a cloth, Henrietta. You have no need to fear it.”

  Henrietta nodded and turned to see him doing just that. “It is not that I fear it, more that I cannot bear to look at it, such is the revulsion that fills me,” she said, a little breathlessly. “If it is… blood…” She closed her eyes tightly for a moment, her fingers curling into the bedsheets as she sucked in air to steady herself. “Then what is it doing in my husband’s wardrobe?”

  “And whose blood is it?” Lord Wickton added, making Henrietta shudder in horror. “Forgive me for speaking so plainly, but I think we must already know where it has come from. I would be greatly surprised if it was from someone unknown.” He spread his hands, evidently hoping that Henrietta would be able to understand what he was saying. “I would suggest it may have come from an animal or the like.”

  “And the jar is the sort used for preservation,” Francis muttered, his eyes alighting on Henrietta. “The staff here, do you think that they would be willing to discuss what we have found here?”

  Henrietta lifted one shoulder. “I can try to have them tell us whether or not they knew of this, sir, but I do not think that any of them would be willing to tell the truth. Not if they fear that Lord Chaucer might return at any moment. They are deeply afraid of him, I think, which is why there is such unrelenting loyalty towards him.”

  Francis nodded, his shoulders a little slumped. “That is quite true, Henrietta. I have seen fear in the butler’s eyes on more than one occasion.”

  “However, we cannot explain that Lord Chaucer is dead in the hope that they will speak honestly,” Lord Wickton said, his expression one of frustration. “Therefore, we have found the letters, the blood, and the knife, and are only even more confused than before!”

  Henrietta frowned, looking towards Francis and seeing him cast a warning glance towards Lord Wickton.

  “What letters?” she asked, a little suspicious that Francis had not been entirely truthful when he had stated he had not found very much at all. “Of what are you speaking?”

  Francis sighed heavily and ran one hand through his dark hair, making it tumble in all directions. “It is something that I will need to discuss with you later, Henrietta,” he said cryptically. “You have had enough of a shock for the moment, I believe. Can you trust me in this? I am only thinking of your wellbeing, I promise you.”

  She found herself nodding before his words had even truly entered her mind. “I can trust you,” she said honestly, even though her mind was buzzing with curiosity. “And I should like to return to your residence now, if I may, Lord Wickton?”

  Lord Wickton nodded, looking more than a little understanding. “But of course. Newton?”

  “I—”

  Francis hesitated, his eyes straying to the knife. “I think I shall remain for a little longer. I will ensure that the knife and the blood are stored somewhere safely, should we need them as evidence a little later. I also wish to talk to the cook, regardless of whether or not she will tell me anything of worth.”

  “The cook?” Henrietta repeated, a little surprised. “Whatever for?”

  “Because,” Francis said with a tight smile, “preserving jars are what the cook would use for certain things. Most likely, therefore, the jar is hers. She may know where it has come from. That is all.”

  Henrietta began to protest, saying that she ought to be present to ensure that the cook spoke as honestly as they might expect, but Francis shook his head.

  “My dear lady,” he said, coming towards her and taking her hands in his. “You have endured a great deal and I would not press you any harder on this matter. Rest. Return to Miss James and allow her to fill you with tea and those honey cakes you enjoy so much. I am quite able to discuss things with the cook and, given that I bear no title, it may come easier to me than to either yourself or Lord Wickton when it comes to speaking to the servants.” He squeezed her fingers and Henrietta felt her heart warm with the compassion and consideration he was showing her.

  “Very well,” she agreed, albeit a little begrudgingly. “I shall return with Lord Wickton. Although you will also return to the house thereafter, will you not?”

  “With the greatest of haste,” he replied, lifting her hands to press a kiss to the back of each, sending heat spiraling into her core. “I give you my word.”

  10

  Francis waited until Henrietta and Lord Wickton had left the house and returned to the waiting carriage before he made his way below stairs. The staff in the Chaucer household had not had a good many chores or duties to do these last two weeks and so he was quite sure he would find the cook at her leisure.

  Of course, Francis garnered a good many looks from the household staff as he made his way below stairs. He held the jar of blood in his hand, covered with a piece of linen that covered it entirely. He did not want to show the jar to the cook unless he absolutely had to, but he would use it to frighten the lady into some answers if it was required.

  “Sir.”

  He saw the butler stop dead as he came down the final few stairs. Smiling inwardly at the man’s reaction, Francis cleared his throat and made his way towards the butler.

  “Good afternoon. Thank you for opening the rooms for myself and Lord Wickton earlier.” He suddenly recalled that he had not seen the butler since he had left the man in the study, wondering why the fellow had not come with himself and Lord Wickton when he had heard Henrietta scream.

  Surely he should have cared about what was troubling the new mistress of the house? Why, then, had he been nowhere to be found?

  “You heard Lady Chaucer’s cry earlier, I think?” he said, suddenly changing tactic. “I was surprised that you did not attend with us.”

  The butler swallowed hard, looking at the floor for a moment. “I did not think my presence would be of any help to the lady, seeing as she had both yourself and Lord Wickton with her, sir.”

  It was something of an excuse, Francis reflected, and certainly disparaging towards the butler himself, but Francis still thought that there was more the butler was keeping from them.

  “Still, it is your duty to attend to the mistress of the house, is it not?”
he asked, tipping his head just a little to regard the man better. “Where did you go, if not up to Lord Chaucer’s bedchamber to discover what had frightened Lady Chaucer so?”

  The butler still did not lift his eyes to meet Francis’. “I have duties, sir.”

  Francis laughed scornfully, seeing that his reaction had caused the man’s face to whiten just a little. “You have very few duties at the present time, given that Lord Chaucer has disappeared and Lady Chaucer is residing with Miss James and her brother.”

  “That is quite true, sir, but order must be maintained.” Finally, the butler looked up, his jaw working just a little as though he were doing his very best to hide his true reactions from Francis. “As you yourself have said, Lord Chaucer could return at any moment, and what should we do then if the house was not ready and prepared for his coming?”

  “That is a sign of a devoted servant, surely,” Francis murmured, still quite certain that what Henrietta had said about the staff being afraid of Lord Chaucer was quite correct. The man would not tell him anything of significance if it were to put him in any danger of Lord Chaucer’s wrath. He did not know that the gentleman was deceased so therefore was doing all he could to protect himself.

  “For your own benefit, might I suggest that you do all you can to attend your mistress when she is in distress, whether I am present or otherwise,” Francis said sternly, seeing the butler drop his gaze again. “She is the mistress of this house and should be treated as such. Your every duty is for her benefit, since Lord Chaucer is not here at this present time. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Quite clear, sir.” There was a hard note to the butler’s voice that Francis did not miss. “I will, of course, seek to give my apologies to Lady Chaucer the next time she is in residence.”

  “Very good.” The butler made a small movement, as though he expected Francis to move forward, but Francis held his ground. “You did not quite manage to tell me why someone had been opening and reading your master’s correspondence. Might you be able to do so now?”