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

by Lucinda Brant

  “Damn!” muttered Alec. He let out a great breath. “No chance of there being a witness? That’s asking too much. And the murderer wouldn’t be that careless. Too dark and too much going on for anyone to take much notice of two gentlemen strolling out to take a breath of fresh air. Damn! Damn and blast!” He said to Sir Cosmo, who came over to them mopping his forehead, “I don’t suppose you saw anyone?”

  “Sorry. Came down this way looking for you and Selina. Met my fair share of debauchees dashin’ in and out of the shrubbery, but that was all fun and games; nothing to take notice of. And then there was the fireworks to keep one entertained.” He pocketed his handkerchief with a shaking hand. “Frankly, I had my head skywards for the most part.”

  “Like everyone else,” the old man said with annoyance. “A perfect opportunity to shoot someone at point blank. Enough noise and carry-on for a damn volley of shots, if you ask me!”

  “Shouldn’t we do something with him?” suggested Sir Cosmo, handkerchief again at the ready. “Cover him up; take him away? What? What does one do with a freshly dead body?”

  “I’ll need to call Oakes out again,” said Alec. “He was very willing to write up a death certificate for poor Jenny without a question asked, but God knows what he’ll make of this!”

  “One of these men who feel beholden to his betters, aye?” growled Plantagenet Halsey. “Willin’ to do anythin’ for a lord if it means less fuss for them! Trencherfly!”

  Alec directed the servants to wrap up the body as best they could and carry it into the cellars below the kitchen. Sir Cosmo took himself off for a walk while this gruesome task was completed.

  “To give Oakes his due, Uncle, he wanted to see Jenny buried without a fuss. I doubt he’ll be so complaisant this time, what with Jenny’s death still unsolved. And now one of Olivia’s guests has been shot dead. Besides, I’ll be quite pleased if Oakes does cause an uproar.”

  “Get the magistracy involved?”

  “Yes, I intend to.”

  “What good is a damn magistrate when there ain’t no witnesses, no murder weapon, and nothin’ to go on, eh?” the old man grumbled, following Alec through the gardens to the bench where Sir Cosmo sat with his powdered head in his hands. “And very likely there never will be.”

  Alec regarded his uncle solemnly. “This isn’t as neat as a duel in Green Park.”

  The old man stared at him hard. “You’d best tell me about this fellow Tremarton. He told me he was a colleague of yours in the Foreign Department.”

  “He was. He was also a member of the Ganymede Club.”

  Plantagenet Halsey was surprised. “He mixed up with that lot?”

  “Yes. And he and Jack Belsay were lovers.”

  “You know about this chap, Mahon?”

  “Only what Alec has told me. And I—er—overheard a conversation between Alec and Tremarton which fairly made my blood boil.” Sir Cosmo gave a shudder. “The man wasn’t worth a man’s spit!”

  The old man slumped on to the bench beside him. “Christ! I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he was shot for makin’ up to some young buck who took his fancy. I’d have shot him myself.”

  Alec smiled crookedly. “You don’t believe that’s what happened, do you, Uncle?”

  “Of course I don’t. But there ain’t anythin’ to stop anyone else from sayin’ so, is there? And there would be plenty of sympathy for the murderer too.” He looked up at his nephew. “What’s his involvement with Delvin?”

  “He gave Delvin eight hundred pounds to buy him a sinecure. It came to nothing and he found himself in debt to a moneylender who wanted a thousand pounds repaid by Monday. Tremarton didn’t have it.” Alec put his hands in his pockets. “He tried to sell me a letter he said threatened Delvin’s security. When I refused he was determined to blackmail Delvin into giving him five thousand pounds in exchange for the letter.”

  “Lady Margaret’s letter!” interrupted Sir Cosmo, sitting up straight. He addressed himself to the old man. “It’s my belief Jack had in his possession a letter written by the Countess of Delvin to Lady Margaret confessing the truth about the birth order of her two sons. That in fact Alec is the eldest and thus heir—”

  “Rumor! Nothin’ more!” interrupted Plantagenet Halsey, waving a hand in dismissal. “Don’t believe a word of it! And I can’t picture Helen writin’ it down in some chatty epistle. Most unlike her!”

  “But, sir! Lady Margaret was a particular friend and correspondent of the Countess of Delvin and has been saying just that. She’s told the town the tale in revenge for Jack’s murder.” He looked at Alec. “What do you think?”

  Alec raised a shoulder. “You know what I think about that tale.”

  “But…” spluttered Sir Cosmo.

  “As to Jack getting his hands on such a document,” continued Alec, “and to what purpose, who knows? As for Tremarton coming by the letter so opportunely, I am more than skeptical.”

  “Then why was he shot?” demanded Sir Cosmo. “If not for that letter, then why? He told you he’d squeeze the money out of Ned. And you prophesied Ned would kill him if he tried. And hasn’t that just happened? Well, hasn’t it?”

  “With not a shred of evidence to prove it,” said Plantagenet Halsey.

  Sir Cosmo spread out his left hand and counted off on his fingers. “We have Tremarton’s threat to Alec, which I overheard. Two: We have Lady Margaret spouting off all over town about her lost letter proving Alec’s true birthright. Three: We have Tremarton’s association with Ned, and four: Don’t forget Jack and Ned’s duel, which is somehow mixed up in this business. Then five: There’s the fact I saw Ned and Tremarton in the card room tonight being as chummy as can be, and witnessed Tremarton pull an envelope from his pocket in a highly suspicious manner. That had to be the letter! And—”

  “You’ve run out of fingers, Mahon,” murmured the old man.

  Sir Cosmo instantly deflated. “You don’t see any connection? No reason on Ned’s part to—”

  “There’s motive enough,” said Alec. “Even if Tremarton was bluffing, Delvin needed to get his hands on that envelope.”

  “And that’s why he ran Jack through and now he’s murdered Tremarton,” Sir Cosmo argued. “It’s so damned obvious that he’s the murderer!”

  Plantagenet Halsey regarded him anew. “You’ve certainly changed your colors, Mahon. As I recall, you were all for excusing Delvin’s escapade in Green Park as a duel.”

  “So I was!” Sir Cosmo said defensively. “That was before all this business. I was never more shocked when Ned accused Alec of forcing himself on Emily. And that’s another mark against him. Well, Alec? You ain’t convinced yet?”

  “I want to be certain. I want… Never mind!” Alec said dismissively and turned on a heel. “I’ve got to summon Oakes, and perhaps I can bring myself to look over Simon’s body for the envelope. Are you coming?”

  The two men followed him up to the house, Sir Cosmo falling behind to say in an undertone to Plantagenet Halsey, “You know him better than anyone, sir. Why his reluctance in this?”

  The old man took time to answer. He was staring at some point in the middle of his nephew’s wide shoulders, a crease between his bushy brows. “Despisin’ Delvin is one thing. Thinkin’ him a cold, bloodless killer is an altogether different matter. They’re brothers. There’s a bond there that can’t be broken. It’s damn hard on him, Mahon. Damned hard.”

  As Alec predicted, Henry Oakes was in no mood to sign death certificates, or do much else except rant and rave about his professional standing in the community and the impositions of the situation at hand. He took one look at the body under the sheet and refused to proceed further. He wanted a magistrate and he wanted one immediately. Alec was prepared to talk the matter over with him. Plantagenet Halsey was not possessed of such patience.

  “We aren’t askin’ you to do anythin’ outside the realm of your callin’, man!” he snapped. “You were fetched to view the body and give your opinion as to the cause
of death. Ain’t nothin’ simpler! Aye? Or ain’t you fit to pass an opinion? Been hittin’ the bottle?”

  Henry Oakes stuck out his double chin. “Certainly not! I resent the accusation! And as I haven’t the pleasure of your name, or know your involvement in this matter, I kindly ask that you keep your opinions to yourself.”

  “So that’s the way you see it. The name’s Halsey, P. MP. And if I had my way tooth doctors like y’self wouldn’t get a goat to examine, least of all a dead man!”

  The physician stammered uncontrollably, his chins bouncing up and down, so that he resembled to Sir Cosmo’s tired eye a startled turkey. As they were all standing about a cold, damp cellar, the first of many cellars housing bottles and bottles of wine, preserves, and cold meats, the thought was not so absurd to Sir Cosmo’s present state of mind. He sneezed and shifted from foot to foot. He did not like being shut up in a damp place in the middle of the night with a room full of swinging carcasses, and a dead body laid out on a table in its center.

  “Uncle, be good enough to find Neave,” ordered Alec. “It’s a winter’s day in here and we could all do with something hot to drink. What think you, Cosmo? Oakes?” Both nodded eagerly, teeth chattering, relief showing in Sir Cosmo’s face when Alec added, “If we can get through the formalities of an examination, Oakes, we can then go upstairs to discuss the matter in more comfortable surroundings.”

  Oakes demurred. Plantagenet Halsey opened his mouth but promptly shut it at a glance from his nephew. He went off to find Neave, knowing the task to be an easy one. The butler had a knack for being just where one wanted him.

  “I’ll do an examination if you give me your word you’ll fetch a magistrate.”

  “It’s as good as done,” Alec assured him. “The deceased man’s brother-in-law is a judge and a guest in this house. I took the liberty of speaking to him while we were waiting your arrival. He is at this moment consoling his wife. As you can imagine Lady Gervais has taken the news extremely badly. Simon Tremarton was her only brother. Naturally Lord Gervais is willing to do all he can.”

  “Aye, he’ll do,” Oakes muttered sullenly, though it was plain from the look on his face that he was more than satisfied. What better balm to the man’s lacerated self-esteem than to have a titled judge awaiting his pleasure. “Her ladyship in need of a sedative, sir?”

  “Thank you. It has already been attended to. My valet is also an apothecary and was good enough to prescribe an opiate for her ladyship. Yes,” Alec said when the physician jumped at this, “I am well aware it is much frowned upon by the Royal Academy for apothecaries to prescribe, but I am confident of your understanding in this. The woman, to put it mildly, was hysterical.”

  Sir Cosmo excused himself from attending the examination. He joined Plantagenet Halsey in the small withdrawing room off the breakfast room. They sat in silence over brandy and coffee, the slightest creak of a door or a floorboard, the sound of distant footsteps, causing Sir Cosmo to jump, which irritated the old man’s nerves. Neave and a bleary-eyed footman came and went, what for, the two men did not ask, nor cared to know. Time seemed not to matter. Only the immediate minutes mattered and passed slowly. Alec and the physician were still occupied in the cellar.

  Tam poked his head through the doorway and came in at Plantagenet Halsey’s signal. “Does Mr. Halsey need anything, sir?”

  “No, lad. If you’re determined to wait up, have a seat. There’s brandy and coffee or whatever on the sideboard. Help yourself.”

  “No, thank you, sir,” Tam said stiffly, catching Sir Cosmo’s look of surprise. He knew his place, even if his master’s uncle did not.

  “Don’t be a martyr! Mahon here don’t care, do you?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Besides, you’ve earned it. Lady Gervais quieter now?”

  “Yes, sir. I gave her a draught which should see her sleep well into the morning.”

  “Thank God for that! The last thing we need is an hysterical female screamin’ the bats from the belfry.”

  Sir Cosmo shuddered at the idea and sipped at his brandy.

  The door opened and Neave entered, followed by Lord Gervais attired in a magnificently embroidered Chinese silk dressing gown. He wore a freshly powdered periwig on his bald pate and an expression of cool superiority on his florid face. Plantagenet Halsey rolled his eyes. The man was a bore and a fumbler at the social niceties but give him his legal milieu and he exuded haughty authority. He could see the man was going to be a difficult prig.

  Lord Gervais cast a critical eye about the room and let it fall on Sir Cosmo. “Ah! Mahon! Good.” He turned to the butler. “Inform Oakes I will see him now.” He poured himself out a dish of coffee and slurped at it in an irritating manner. “Mahon! Tell me what you know about this unfortunate accident—”

  “Accident?” blustered the old man.

  “I don’t recall having asked for your opinion, sir,” Lord Gervais said coldly.

  “I found the—the body,” Sir Cosmo said dully. “Well, it wasn’t a body then. The man was still alive—”

  Lord Gervais pounced. “Alive? Are you certain?’

  “Yes, I’m certain! He was breathing. And then Mr. Halsey came upon me and tried to help. Well, he did it all, to point out fact. I was in no fit state to be of much use.”

  “Don’t be hard on yourself, Mahon,” Plantagenet Halsey said gently.

  “Will you allow Sir Cosmo to speak?” interjected Lord Gervais.

  “Mr. Halsey did all he could to make Tremarton comfortable. That’s all one could do. There was no hope of the man making a recovery. None at all.”

  “Are you saying that Halsey here interfered with my brother-in-law?”

  “Interfered?” The old man was on his feet. “In-ter-fered?”

  “Gervais! That’s rich!” Sir Cosmo stated angrily. “If it hadn’t been for Mr. Halsey’s interference, as you call it, Tremarton would have spent his last moments in total agony. As it was, Mr. Halsey did everything in his power to ensure the man felt as little discomfort as possible. You owe him your gratitude, not your censure!”

  “As to that,” said Lord Gervais with a quick smile, “you will allow me to decide. Tell me, Mahon, did my brother-in-law speak to you before he passed away?”

  “No.”

  “Nothing? Not a word?”

  “No! Look, Gervais, Tremarton was dying a horrible death,” Sir Cosmo said in exasperation. “He was bleeding all over the place from a great gaping hole in his side. He wouldn’t be in any mood to chat, now would he?”

  Lord Gervais sniffed. “There is no need for sarcasm at such a grave time. I merely require of you to answer my questions.” He seemed to see Tam for the first time and frowned. “What, pray tell, is this menial doing drinking a dish of coffee?”

  “Lord! As if that has anythin’ to do with the investigation!” the old man laughed. “Leave the lad be. He’s worked hard for his refreshment.”

  “Indeed. Nevertheless, he can go and drink coffee in the servants’ hall where he belongs. I don’t want him here.”

  Tam’s face flamed as red as his mop of hair. He put down the coffee dish and saucer and took a step toward the door when Plantagenet Halsey ordered him to stay where he was.

  “When did God give you the right to ordain men beneath your touch? The lad has as much right to be in this room as any snot-nosed, toad-eatin’ hangin’ judge!”

  “Are you defaming me, Halsey?”

  “Gentlemen! Please!” Sir Cosmo demanded in a thin voice.

  “It is men like you, Halsey, who would, if they could, tear our well-ordered society asunder.”

  “In the snap of two fingers if it would answer the purpose, and rid it of cold-blooded trencherflies such as yourself!”

  “You, sir, are a menace to society and ought to be locked up! I’ve a mind—”

  “Now don’t puff up too much or you’ll burst on your own self-consequence!”

  Sir Cosmo thrust himself between them. “Gentlemen! For Go
d’s sake! Remember why we are here. This petty bickering—”

  “Bickering?”

  “Petty?”

  Alec entered the room in time to witness the last of this scene and had he not been tired he would have laughed out loud. Henry Oakes was behind him and immediately spotted the brandy. Neave came in after them and stood to one side of the refreshments, silent and poker-faced. Lord Gervais collected himself enough to be introduced to the physician and asked him all sorts of stock questions under the mantle of his absolute authority as a judge. Sir Cosmo and Plantagenet Halsey retreated to their chairs, and if the old man was tempted to interject with a few caustic remarks he checked himself for the sake of his nephew, who was trying his hardest to have the physician and Lord Gervais come to the point so that everyone could retire for what was left of the early morning hours.

  An hour later Lord Gervais, having questioned everyone to his satisfaction and everyone else’s frustration, announced gravely, “Gentlemen, I am forced to conclude that Simon Tremarton did not die by his own hand, but was cruelly and brutally murdered. It is given as Henry Oakes’s opinion that the instrument of death was a pistol, fired at close range, once only, and that the bullet entered the stomach, rupturing internal organs and causing Tremarton to bleed to death. I accept his findings. Yet an absence of the murder weapon, and the difficult circumstances surrounding the scene of this heinous act—there being in progress a fireworks celebration, and at least four hundred or more guests in attendance; the gardens being insufficiently lit; and the absence of any witnesses, or if there being such persons, that they failed in their duty to come forward for whatever reason or reasons—I am unable to proceed in this matter until such time as further evidence is put before me and a person, or persons, comes forward with substantial information that can lead to an arrest.”