Family Scandals

by Denise Patrick

  She had to do something. But what? Her stomach lurched and she experienced a sharp wave of nausea. Leaning forward, hands folded over her stomach, she took a deep breath to steady herself.

  “Are you all right, m’lady,” Bonnie asked. “Shall I ask the coachman to stop at the next inn?”

  Opening her eyes, she looked up into the concerned face of her maid and friend, and nodded. Bonnie turned and conveyed her wishes through the trapdoor. A short argument ensued with the coachman, but Bonnie won the day and a short time later they were slowing down to pull into an inn yard. The weathered sign above the door proclaimed that they had stopped at The Green Cat.

  She was shown into a private parlor while Bonnie requested tea and biscuits. As the innkeeper’s wife turned to leave, she asked for some writing supplies. Bonnie looked at her curiously for a moment, but said nothing as she followed the woman from the room.

  A few minutes later, Bonnie returned with the requested paper, pen and ink.

  “I need you to find someone here who can take a message back to London,” she told her maid. “But you mustn’t let the coachman know what you’re doing. It has to be a secret.”

  “I don’t know, m’lady.” Bonnie’s voice was full of worry. “His lordship said we was to travel straight through to Brookside without stopping. The coachman is already worried he might find out we stopped anyway.”

  “That’s why we must hurry. This note must get back to London. It’s a matter of life and death. I’ll be ready to go in a few minutes and we won’t have stopped long. But you must find someone to take this note.”

  Nodding quickly, Bonnie said, “I’ll see if the innkeeper knows anyone who might be able to take it.”

  “Make sure he understands whoever goes mustn’t be seen by our coachman. He might wait until we have left to send it, but it’s of the utmost importance.”

  Bonnie nodded and left the room. Julianna wrote a short note, then folded the missive. Crossing the room, she looked into the small mirror above the mantel. She hoped the large purpling bruise on the side of her face might convince the innkeeper the note was indeed a matter of life and death, and he would act accordingly.

  Less than ten minutes later, they were on their way again. The innkeeper had assured her the note would be delivered as soon as possible to Waring House. She knew she had played on his sympathies, but she didn’t care. The feeling that Corinna’s life depended on the note ate at her.

  “Where’s Corinna?” Marcus asked as he entered the drawing room before dinner. Having been down at Whitehall for most of the day, then spending the early part of the evening with some old friends at White’s, he’d returned home just in time to dress for dinner. Corinna had not been in the suite, but he assumed she was already downstairs. Entering the drawing room and only finding Brand and Felicia there puzzled him.

  “I thought she was upstairs,” Felicia answered. “She’s not?”

  “No,” he replied. “And I thought she was already downstairs, since I was running a little late.” His brow furrowed for a moment. “Wasn’t she going to visit a friend this afternoon?”

  Felicia nodded. “Lady Barber. They knew each other at school and have become friends.” Crossing the room to the bellpull, she said, “Perhaps we ought to see if her maid is back yet.”

  A few minutes later, Irma stood before them, confusion written all over her face.

  “The housekeeper said my lady was going out with her friend, and Lady Barber would drop her at home, so I was sent home in a hackney.”

  The hairs began to rise on the back of Marcus’s neck. A few moments later Wharton entered with a note on a salver.

  “A young man just delivered this,” he said, offering the note to Marcus.

  Marcus took the note and scanned it. “Where is the person who delivered it?”

  “Gone already, my lord,” Wharton answered. “No one thought to detain him.”

  “Have the carriage brought around immediately,” he ordered. Wharton withdrew. “Do you know where the Barbers live?” he asked Felicia as he handed the note to Brand.

  “I believe on Park Court,” she answered. “I can find out.” Heading for the door, she called to Wharton.

  “I sincerely hope this is a joke,” Brand said grimly.

  “So do I,” Marcus answered, heading for the door, Brand on his heels.

  “I’ll come with you,” Brand offered. Marcus did not answer, but he was glad of the company.

  The note had been simple. Lord Barber has Corinna. Save her. No salutation, no date, no signature. There was what looked like a water stain on the bottom, but there was no other mark on it.

  “Number 23, Park Court,” Felicia said as the men entered the foyer. “What’s happened?”

  Brand handed her the note. The blood drained from her face as she read it, then she turned and sped up the stairs. She reappeared just as the carriage came around and the men were heading out the door.

  “I’m coming with you,” she stated.

  Brand took one look at her face then turned to Marcus and shrugged his shoulders. They both knew arguing with her would only waste precious time.

  “What do you know about the Barbers?” Marcus asked as the carriage raced through the streets.

  “Not a lot,” Felicia answered. “Lord Barber is Viscount Northrup’s heir. Julianna is the Viscount’s daughter. Her brother died a few years back and it took the lawyers over two years to find the nearest male heir. She and her husband share a distant grandfather somehow.”

  “Have you ever met him?”

  “Once or twice, I think. He’s tall, but shorter than you. Blond hair, dark eyes. His face is sort of thin, but there’s nothing all that memorable about him. He seemed nice enough and Julianna seemed content.”

  Marcus sat back against the padding. He was perplexed. What would Lord Barber want with Corinna? Did she even know him? She had mentioned once that she enjoyed Julianna’s company and listening to her talk about her son, but had not met Julianna’s husband. Perhaps there was a reason she hadn’t.

  Number 23 was dark as they drew up in front and Marcus’s instincts told him he would not find Corinna inside. Nevertheless, he descended from the carriage before it stopped completely and vaulted up the front steps. It seemed to take an eternity before footsteps could be heard heading for the front door in response to the bell. The butler opened the door.

  “Where is Lord Barber?” Marcus demanded as soon as the door was opened.

  “He is not at home, my lord,” the butler answered, standing aside for them to enter.

  “When do you expect him?” Brand asked as Marcus walked over to a doorway and peered inside.

  “I do not,” was the reply. “He and her ladyship left for the country this afternoon. I was not told when to expect their return.”

  “What happened to Lady St. Ayers?”

  The butler blinked in surprise at the question. “She took ill earlier and his lordship took her home.”

  “I thought you said Lord and Lady Barber left for the country?” Marcus rejoined the conversation.

  “That is true,” the butler said. “Lady Barber was leaving in the traveling coach and his lordship was to follow on horseback. Just as they were readying to leave, Lady St. Ayers, who was visiting, fell ill. Lord Barber called a hackney and took her home while Lady Barber left on her journey.”

  The butler’s face was impassive, giving no hint anything untoward had happened. Marcus sighed in frustration. Turning, he walked out the front door, leaving Brand to deal with the butler.

  Felicia was standing outside the carriage as he approached. “I take it she’s not here,” she said unnecessarily, “and the staff was of no help.”

  “That about sums it up,” Brand replied from behind him.

  “We should question the servants, and anyone else who might have seen something,” Marcus said. “I’ll walk around back and see if the stable hands have any more information.”

  Felicia nodded. Looking at her
husband, she said, “Go with him or he will kill someone. I’ll go down the street and pay a call on Jonathan’s grandmother. Perhaps someone in her household saw something.”

  Brand nodded. “We’ll meet you there.”

  The dowager Countess of Wynton lived at Number 19, Park Court. Having lived well into her eighties, and being in poor health, she rarely left her home these days.

  Felicia was shown into what used to be the ground floor drawing room. It had been converted into a bedroom once the dowager could no longer negotiate the stairs. Propped up against a mound of pillows, her white hair hidden under a cap, slightly faded green eyes under white brows, it appeared as if she had just finished dinner.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, Ma’am,” she greeted the old woman with a kiss, “but it looks as if Corinna has gone missing and I wondered if I could ask if any of your servants noticed anything strange today.” Turning to the dowager’s companion, she added, “How are you, Letty?”

  “Missing?” Letty exclaimed. “When?”

  “We aren’t sure,” she replied. “But apparently sometime this afternoon. Corinna has become friends with Julianna, Lady Barber, and called on her this afternoon. That was the last time anyone saw her. Her maid was sent home with a story that Julianna and Corinna were going out and Corinna would be dropped back at Waring House. Then this evening Marcus received an anonymous note saying Lord Barber had Corinna and Marcus must save her. Marcus and Brand are over at the house now, questioning anyone they can find. I thought to come here and see if anyone here had seen anything strange this afternoon.”

  “You are welcome to question any of the staff you wish,” the dowager said in a thin, reedy voice, “but I suspect no one will know anything.”

  It was then that Letty remembered her encounter with Lady Barber that afternoon.

  “She came running out of the house as if she was being chased,” Letty told Felicia. “As a matter of fact, she ran right into me and nearly knocked me over. I remember that, as we steadied each other, she looked at me and her face seemed to go whiter than a sheet. Then she jumped into the coach and it took off.”

  “What time was this?”

  “Around half past four. Her ladyship naps around four and I usually go out and take a walk around the square while she does. I was on my way back when I encountered Lady Barber.”

  “Other than the fact that she was in a great hurry, did you notice anything else? Did it look like she was leaving the city?”

  Letty thought for a moment, her gray eyes narrowing in concentration. “The coach was loaded down. It was obvious she was leaving for an extended period of time.”

  “Was her husband with her?”

  “Mmmm. No. At least not that I could see.”

  Brand and Marcus were announced at that moment. Brand greeted the dowager and introduced her to Marcus.

  “St. Ayers?” the dowager asked. “I knew a St. Ayers once. Tried for treason. Terrible scandal that was,” she commented.

  Felicia, Brand and Marcus all looked at each other in surprise as Marcus and Brand took seats.

  “Did you learn anything?” Felicia asked.

  “None of Barber’s staff will talk. They will only say that the two of them left for the country earlier this afternoon,” Brand answered.

  “But one of the stable lads at the house next door noticed something unusual. It seems that a hackney was sitting behind Number 23 for a long time this afternoon. He thought it was an unusual place for a hackney to sit, especially for an extended period of time,” Marcus informed her.

  At that moment, Letty spoke up. “Oh, I just remembered. Lady Barber had a large red mark on her face. Like she’d been hurt.”

  “Or hit?” Brand asked.

  “Possibly,” Letty answered. “And I’m not sure, but I think she was crying.”

  Marcus rose to his feet. “We need to find that hackney,” he said. “The driver is our only clue as to Corinna’s whereabouts.”

  “And how do you expect to do that?” Felicia asked. “There must be hundreds of hackneys in London.”

  “As it turns out, this particular one is unusual. The stable lad said he has seen it around here a lot, and the horse is easily identifiable because it’s not your usual old nag. It apparently, has some good blood in it. He said it looked a bit like a hunter, glossy black in color with four white stockings.”

  One the way back to Waring House, Marcus asked the question the dowager’s comment raised. “So what do you think the Countess knows about my grandfather?”

  Felicia appeared to be thinking, then responded, “She would have been close to Eliza’s age when the trial happened, so she might remember quite a bit, but her memory is not as good as it used to be. It wouldn’t hurt to pay a call on her and ask after we find Corinna.”

  Marcus nodded. “Perhaps I will.”

  The coach drew up before Waring House and the three disembarked. Once inside, notes were dispatched to Barrington House and Scotland Yard. While waiting for responses to their summonses, the three of them ate a hasty dinner and compared notes.

  “So, what do we know so far?” Brand asked.

  “We know that someone—from the looks of the note, Julianna herself—believes Lord Barber has taken Corinna somewhere,” Felicia replied. “And we know Julianna at least is headed for the family seat. Although the household has said he is, we do not know that Lord Barber actually is.”

  “We also know Julianna left the house in a hurry, nearly running down Letty in the process, and it looked as if she was running from something or someone and has possibly been the subject of violence.” These facts came from Marcus. “And we know Lord Barber might have taken Corinna somewhere in a hackney, but no one knows where.”

  “What we don’t know is why,” Brand concluded. “Do we know of anyone, besides the Houghtons, who might want to do her harm?”

  “I’m not sure,” Marcus replied, “but there is a cousin who she feels she escaped from when her aunt died. She originally came to you under a false name because not only did she not want her family to find her, but she was also hiding from this cousin.” He went on to tell them about Vincent, and Corinna’s concerns over her aunt’s death.

  “Hmmmm.” Brand’s voice held mild speculation. “Is there any possibility this cousin is Lord Barber or masquerading as Lord Barber?”

  “I don’t know,” Marcus replied. “I suppose anything’s possible, but I would think it’s unlikely. Unfortunately, I don’t know what this cousin looks like, so Felicia’s description of Lord Barber doesn’t help.”

  The door to the dining room opened. “A Mr. Wiggins from Scotland Yard is here, Your Grace. I put him in the library.”

  “Thank you, Wharton,” Brand replied as all three rose in concert and headed in that direction.

  Inspector Timothy Wiggins was a small, wiry man with a shock of brown hair and keen black eyes on either side of a pug nose. A long, thin scar ran across one cheek, disappearing into a thick mustache overhanging his upper lip.

  “I brought two men with me as well, Your Grace,” he said as he greeted Brand. “They’re waiting outside.”

  Brand nodded and launched into a recitation of the facts as they knew them, including a description of Corinna and the hackney, and finally handing him the note.

  “Hmm. Looks like a woman’s hand,” Wiggins commented.

  “That’s what I thought,” Felicia said, “which is why I think Lady Barber wrote it.”

  The Inspector pursed his lips and nodded. “Possibly, possibly,” was all he said. “D’you mind if I call in my men?” he asked Brand.

  “Please do,” he answered.

  Marcus, now standing near the fireplace, had yet to say anything. The tension was killing him. Restless, he had paced the room as they spoke.

  Wiggins returned with two younger men, one of whom immediately spoke up. “I know that hackney.” Marcus looked up. “The driver is Old Dobbin. He won the horse in a card game with some toff a few years back.”<
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  “Can you find him?” the Inspector asked.

  “I think so. He usually hangs around the gentlemen’s clubs at this time of the evening,” the young man answered. “I’ll go right now. Shall I report back here?”

  “Yes,” the Inspector answered curtly and the young man hurried from the room.

  Marcus wanted to go with him, but he suspected the young man would fare better without him. Right now he wanted to smash something, so thin was the veneer on his temper. Exploding, however, would do no one any good, especially Corinna, so he restrained himself, but it cost him dearly.

  Chapter Eighteen

  You are stronger than you think and someday you will be surprised at what you can do.

  Douglas Camden in a letter to his sister, Corinna, on the occasion of her 16th birthday.

  Corinna did not want to know how she came to be on a straw pallet on the dirt floor of a darkened hut. She did not want to know why Julianna had obviously drugged her. She didn’t even want to know why her hands and feet had been tied together. Moreover, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know who was responsible, since she was convinced Julianna hadn’t a mean bone in her body. Knowing who was responsible might answer the next question of why, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know that either.

  What she really wanted to know was whether she had been left alone for good, and whether, if she escaped, she could get back to London—and Marcus. She was about to move to try to loosen her bonds, when a voice stilled her movements.

  “I don’t know why you didn’t just kill her,” a woman’s muffled voice came from outside.

  “Let’s just say that Corinna and I have some unfinished business between us,” came an equally muffled male voice.

  There was silence for a few moments and Corinna evaluated her options, trying to discover how she’d been tied. Reaching down toward her feet, she was thankful whoever had tied her hands had tied them in front of her.