Deadly Engagement: A Georgian Historical Mystery (Alec Halsey Crimance)

by Lucinda Brant

  “It’s Thomas Fisher, your Grace. It’s always been Thomas Fisher. That’s my name. Most call me Tam. I didn’t steal Miss Emily’s horse. I didn’t! Phoenix is Mr. Halsey’s mount. Beggin’ your pardon, your Grace, but that’s the truth. Ask Mr. Halsey. He’ll tell you so himself.”

  “As Mr. Halsey isn’t at home I can hardly do that, can I?” she snapped. “Do you know what happens to boys who steal? They’re strung up! Neave sent the local militia after you, you stupid, stupid, boy. They are still out looking for you.”

  “But I didn’t steal the horse!” Tam declared, his lower lip trembling. “Phoenix is in his stable. Honest! Please, please, you’ve got to tell them—”

  The Duchess drew herself up. “I don’t have to do anything of the sort. You are rude and I won’t be shouted at by a horse thief! What are you doing here?”

  “I’m Mr. Halsey’s valet. I am. Honest. John was dismissed, your Grace. Ask Mr. Wantage. He knows. He’ll tell you all about it.”

  “I don’t want to talk to the butler, or any other servant in this house except Mr. Halsey’s valet. Go and fetch him this instant!”

  Tam was at a loss as to what to do. He moved from foot to foot. He dug his hands in his pockets only to instantly withdraw them again. He turned about and then turned back to face the Duchess, arms limp and the palms of his hands sweaty. All the while the Duchess stared at him, her hands clasped in her lap.

  “Your Grace, I am Mr. Halsey’s valet. These clothes I’m wearing. They’re his—”

  “Stole those too, did you?”

  “No, your Grace! He, Mr. Halsey loaned them to me while his tailor makes me up a proper suit of clothes. He wouldn’t have sent for his tailor if I wasn’t to be his valet, would he, your Grace?”

  The Duchess pretended to be unmoved and her sharp eyes did not waver from Tam’s red face. “You’ll have to do better than that,” she said haughtily. “You ran off with a horse from my stables and now you say you are a valet? Incredible! Just because you’re out of livery and have a decent cloth on your back means nothing. I still maintain you’re a thief.”

  Tam’s green eyes filled with tears and then he had a flash of inspiration. “Your Grace! When I arrived at St. Neots House I gave Mr. Neave a reference from Mrs. Hendy of Delvin Hall. He must have showed it to you and—”

  “Don’t be an oaf, boy!” she said with haughty contempt, putting up her chin and turning it away from him. “As if I bother myself with references given to my butler. Pshaw!”

  The ruse worked. In a great rush of tearful words Tam told her everything she wanted to know: From the moment he set eyes on Mr. Halsey in the hall of St. Neots House, of following him to London to The Rose tavern, on through to overhearing Mr. Halsey give his address to a chairman and being found on the doorstep of his house. He omitted nothing. In his desperation to convince the Duchess he was no liar he told her without a second thought about the Turkish Bath and his conversation with the night watchman; about Mr. Halsey’s drunken state when escorted home by the watch; how Mr. Halsey continued to drink until Plantagenet Halsey had the servants force the door of the bedchamber, and there they had found him almost dead. The boy even went into unnecessary detail about the extent of Mr. Halsey’s illness with no thought for the Duchess’s sensibilities. In his desperation to convince her of his honesty he failed to notice when she screwed up her face at the mention of the chamber pot, or how from time to time a small smile played on her mouth at the naïve sincerity in his pleading voice.

  He was about to give her further details to prove his identity, offering to fetch the letter of introduction, when the door opened and in walked the master of the house, preceded by Cromwell and Marziran who trotted up to the Duchess to receive a pat.

  “Olivia?” Alec said and brought himself up short. One look at her face, which was remarkably transparent to her feelings just then, and a glance at Tam, and he had the situation in one. He called the greyhounds to heel. “Tam, take Cromwell and Marziran for a run in the park, will you? Be back within the hour. I need to dress for dinner.”

  Tam glanced at the Duchess to see her reaction but she had gone to look out the window. He took a step toward Alec. “Sir—about Phoenix—will you… Her Grace doesn’t believe… The watch won’t come for me, will they, sir?”

  “It’s all right, Tam. You’re safe here. Now off you go.”

  Tam opened his mouth to say more, shut it, and with a bow obediently went out with the dogs prancing at his heels.

  “Was it necessary to threaten the boy to get the whole sordid story?”

  “I justified my tactics by telling myself he is officially still in my employ until I am told otherwise,” she said glibly. “And I didn’t tell him an untruth. If you intend to keep him may I suggest a lesson in discretion? I never managed to get a scrap out of that poker-faced individual you had before.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “How was Paris?”

  Alec’s mouth gave a twitch. “Olivia, you didn’t come all this way to ask me that.”

  The Duchess remained at the window. She watched Tam and the two dogs appear from around the side of the house and run out into the openness of the Green Park. “I wish you would allow me to have a word in one or two appropriate ears,” she said with a sigh as she turned to look at her godson. “Why should someone like that fish-faced Haverfield be an envoy-extraordinary and you only a minister? Everybody knows he was given the Russian posting only because his cousin is a Privy Councilor. You have twice his brain and more social address. Why, I don’t think the imbecile can speak French! And you, you can speak—what is it?—four or five foreign tongues.”

  “Five, if we’re counting.”

  “Five foreign tongues! Which are going to waste if you can’t get anything better than glorified messenger boy to that buffoon Bedford. You should have gone into the law or politics. Been an MP—”

  “What? And be forced to sit in the House all day and listen to the ravings of Uncle Plant?” Alec said with a laugh. “No, I thank you.”

  “Don’t be flippant! You know what I mean. The diplomatic service must be the most unfashionable, the most unprofitable vocation in the Kingdom. It’s a totally thankless task. And while everyone is falling over backwards to get out and secure a good living at home you willingly go off to some distant corner of the Continent to drink tea or coffee, or whatever, with sultans and such!”

  “And while I was drinking coffee with sultans—or more to the point, making my bow at Versailles—my brother had ample opportunity to win Emily? I’m sorry, Olivia. You didn’t dissuade her from accepting his offer.”

  “No, I didn’t. Why should I? I let her choose and she chose one of the most eligible noblemen in the kingdom,” the Duchess said defensively. “You may think this the whim of an old lady, but I was determined not to repeat the mistake I made with her mother. I forced Madeleine into a loveless marriage when the last thing she wanted to be was Duchess of Beauly.” She came away from the window and stood opposite Alec, fluttering her fan. “Delvin is Emily’s choice. So be it. But if I’d had my way… What I wanted for her… I wanted you,” she confessed in a small voice, looking down at the ivory sticks of her fan.

  Alec kissed her forehead. “Thank you, Olivia. You have helped my self-esteem inch itself out of the slime, where it was firmly thrown this morning by Mrs. Jamison-Lewis.” He gave a huff of embarrassed laughter. “My pride took a great hammering but I shall live. Bruised and battered I may be but as much as I hate to admit it, hers is the voice of reason: I must accept the fact Emily chose someone other than my esteemed self!”

  The Duchess was not convinced. “You accept the engagement?”

  “I must accept it but I don’t approve of it. And I take exception to the fact her betrothed is my brother. Delvin doesn’t deserve her.”

  “Yes. Of course you must,” she muttered, not wanting to be drawn into the conflict between the brothers. She would always prefer her godson to his elder brother but D
elvin was engaged to be married to her granddaughter and so she must be loyal, and secretly thankful that by making Emily his Countess the Earl was helping wipe away the stain of her illegitimacy. “I suppose you now know all about this shocking business between Jack and Delvin?” she asked.

  “Yes. Uncle Plant told me. I still find it hard to imagine Jack forcing a fight on anyone, least of all one of his best friends.”

  The Duchess sighed. “It is truly remarkable. Yet, Delvin is adamant Jack forced the fight on him all because Jack was in love with Emily. I was never more surprised of anything in my life. Jack was fond of Emily, but jealous of Delvin?”

  “What does Emily say?”

  “She won’t talk about Jack. She can’t speak his name without bursting into tears.” The Duchess glanced at her godson. “Of course your little visit hasn’t helped her state of mind. Despite what you might think, she sets great store in your opinion.”

  Alec tugged the bell pull. “My dear Olivia, you’re headed for disappointment if you came here in the hopes of persuading me to offer Emily my congratulations on her engagement.” He ordered an ale from the footman who came in answer to his summons and tea for the Duchess and while they waited for the footman’s return he told her about Lady Margaret Belsay’s visit with her niece in tow, adding, “The poor woman is naturally so grief stricken her reasoning is highly emotive. It is one thing to accuse Delvin of lying about why he and Jack fought a duel, but to suggest Delvin murdered Jack…”

  “Poor Meg. Her mind is quite deranged with grief,” said the Duchess, thinking over all her godson had told her. “But what of Selina? Surely she does not see the matter in the same light as her aunt?”

  Alec smiled to himself. Thief, liar and a cheat, so why not a murderer? Those were Selina’s words. Yet, Alec could not bring himself to repeat them to the Duchess. Lady Margaret’s damning indictment was sufficient for now. He was saved by the entrance of a footman with the tea tray.

  “What did Selina say about Jack?” persisted the Duchess, taking the dish of tea Alec offered her. “She and Jack were very close. His death has been a great blow to her.”

  “Under the circumstances, given she is newly widowed, I’m surprised to see her holding up so well. The death of Jamison-Lewis is more than enough grief for—”

  The Duchess gave a snort of disbelief. “Grief? Selina grieve for J-L? Good Gracious, no! No one would’ve blamed Selina had she dispensed with mourning altogether, such was the abuse she suffered at the hands of that monster; and I don’t use that word lightly, my boy. What that poor girl had to endure…” She mentally shook herself and shivered, a glance at Alec who was staring at her in a penetrating way. “Oh, it is not my place to tell you the sordid details of her marriage!”

  “I thought… In public there was never any hint of discord between them,” Alec stated, the shocked surprise evident in his voice. “On the few occasions I happened upon them at a public function I received the impression she was determined to show me just how happy she was in her marriage. And there was that incident at the Drury Lane Theater when—” He frowned at the Duchess. “Are you certain?”

  The Duchess wondered, not for the first time, at the complete ignorance of the male brain to the workings of the female mind. “Did it never occur to you, given the history between the two of you, that her behavior was a grand display for your benefit?” she asked patiently. “After all, she could not allow you to see just how miserable she was, that would be admitting defeat and you know Selina, she is particularly stubborn.” She put aside the tea dish; out of the corner of her eye observing Alec whose frown had deepened, and shook out her petticoats as she stood. “I will let you mull over that revelation in private. And if you want to know anything about Jack, speak with Selina. I’m off to visit Meg. Perhaps I will learn something about Jack if she’s in the mood for confidences. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow. You are coming to the celebrations, aren’t you? And you must stay. I’ll have your old rooms made up.”

  “I give you fair warning, Olivia. I can’t promise I’ll be on my best behavior.”

  “It would be a very dull affair if you were, my boy!”

  Alec grinned and pinched her chin “You wicked woman.”

  She looked up into his handsome angular face and voiced her thoughts. “Emily and Selina are both fools,” she murmured and quickly moved away, fiddling with the strings of her reticule. “Are you certain you don’t want me to have a word in Grenville’s ear?” she asked in a matter-of-fact voice. “His wife, a silly hen of a woman, is a Romney, distant, but a Romney nevertheless. I know he will do anything for me. If I let it be known you wish to be an Ambassador…?”

  “Ambassador? No, Olivia, I thank you,” he said, amused by her sincerity and took the yellowed letter she had produced from her reticule and held out to him. “What’s this?”

  “It’s Mrs. Hendy’s letter of introduction for one Thomas Fisher. In his hurry to go after you the foolish boy left it behind.”

  “Have you read it?”

  The Duchess smiled mischievously. “Of course I’ve read it!”

  “And…?”

  The Duchess shrugged her shoulders. “It won’t help you know anything more about the boy, if that’s your meaning by smirking at me! He’s from Delvin, to be sure, but he was sent away and apprenticed out when he was twelve. Mrs. Hendy wasn’t too happy about that circumstance and she asks that should the boy need a protective arm he apply to you. Nothing more. A mystery. You read it and see.” She touched Alec’s arm. “Are you quite sure you don’t want me to speak to Grenville?”

  “Quite sure,” he assured her. “It’s not that I don’t aspire to such dizzying heights. However, I will get there under my own sail or not at all.”

  “You too are very stubborn!” she complained, going out of the room before him. “All the fault of that uncle of yours. He’s filled your head with republican nonsense.”

  “Don’t be too harsh on him. He is much maligned. And not the ogre you th—”

  “I don’t think him an ogre!” the Duchess retorted. “He’s—He’s—”

  “—very civil over a dish of tea?” Alec suggested lightly, and at the bottom of the staircase kissed her outstretched hand. “Don’t worry, Olivia, I won’t tell a living soul you took tea with a devout republican—”

  “I don’t give a fig who knows about—”

  “—because it wouldn’t redound to his credit.”

  A dinner for fifty people at St. Neots House marked the beginning of the weekend engagement celebrations. Emily stood at the oak-paneled double doors, flanked by her grandmother and the Earl of Delvin, and made her curtsy to each guest as they filed into the state dining room with its three heavy chandeliers and string orchestra playing from the gallery.

  Between introductions, the Earl took the opportunity to congratulate his betrothed on a job well done, and was about to compliment her on her pretty gown of antique silk and seed pearls when her attention was diverted by a late arrival. Delvin looked up and saw his brother. The sight of him made the thought of the long meal unappetizing, yet he continued to smile, perhaps a little wider than before.

  Alec slid into the anteroom just as the last of the guests turned to go into dinner. He was late. He intended it that way. He smoothed back a curl and joined his friend Sir Cosmo Mahon, a corpulent gentleman in his late-twenties who had waved Alec over to his side. He immediately introduced Alec to a man of middle years with a fleshy florid face and a morose disposition, one Justice Lord Gervais. With them was Lord Andrew Macara, who as the Duchess of Romney-St. Neots’ son-in-law needed no introduction. He greeted Alec with a firm hand and a barrage of questions concerning his posting to Paris.

  Lord Andrew was still quizzing Alec, this time on the customs prevalent in a certain mid-eastern European kingdom he had read about somewhere in a memoir written by some chap whose name he’d forgotten, when they arrived at the head of the receiving line.

  If there was any sign of awkwardn
ess between Alec and Emily it was on her part. Her curtsy was slightly clumsy and when she looked up with a shy smile he was regarding her without smile or frown. She made an innocuous remark that later she couldn’t recall and barely listened to his equally innocuous reply. He moved on and she was forced to be pleasant to Lord Gervais, who was now bowing over her hand, thus did not hear or see what was said between the brothers, only sensing it was a very short exchange. Now Lady Gervais curtsied before her, dressed in a vibrant red taffeta gown and towering headdress with matching dyed feathers who prattled out compliments which, even to Emily in her distracted happiness, sounded forced and backhanded.

  After a long twenty-three course dinner the ladies took coffee and tea in the Chinese drawing room, arranging themselves on the sofas and chairs set out at one end of the vast room away from a late afternoon sun. The Duchess presided over this chatty gathering of fan-waving powdered ladies with a serene smile that hid a quick eye and an open ear should the conversation not flow to her liking. Lady Charlotte Macara helped her mother distribute the dishes of tea. Handing Emily a dish she chastised her: a girl marrying the most eligible bachelor in London should carry herself with more decorum and not laugh out loud like a hoyden.

  Emily ignored her aunt because she was too happy to be bothered with her and had struck up a conversation with Lady Gervais who was pouring forth into Emily’s little ear all the latest gossip about several ladies in the room. By the time the gentlemen rejoined the ladies Lady Gervais was telling Emily a particularly humorous anecdote involving Lady Charlotte Macara and a pile of horse manure she had failed to notice while promenading up The Mall. Their giggles could be heard on the other side of the room.

  “A little beauty, isn’t she?” said a voice at Alec’s shoulder.

  “Yes,” he answered absently, attention focused on the strand of rubies and diamonds encircling Emily’s white throat. He recognized the necklace. It had belonged to his mother. He remembered her wearing it toward the end of her life, when she had finally found the courage to acknowledge him.