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

by Lucinda Brant

  “Get out!” she screeched at two surly ruffians who lounged on her furniture, and cast a smoldering gaze about the room. It came to rest on Alec who was stripped to the waist and having his wounds dressed by his valet. “How could you?” she demanded. “How—how dare you?” And not caring to dismiss the valet, proceeded to strip Alec’s character of all credibility and human decency, her language so scathing that despite his preoccupation Tam’s ears burned brightly. She paced to and fro in front of the ribbonback chair Alec straddled, her bosom heaving, her voice becoming hoarse, until she finally took a great shattering breath and said, “You only have yourself to blame for this predicament! As if this absurd accusation isn’t enough to ruin your career you get yourself caught out playing at Adam and Eve with Selina in the Grove! Her husband’s been cold little more than a month, for God sake! Damn you! How could you do this to her… To—to yourself?”

  Slowly and with great effort, Alec lifted his head off his arm that was across the top of the chair. There was still a drumming in his ears and such a throbbing at the base of his neck that he was certain his skull must be cracked. He had refused Tam’s offer of an opiate. It would have considerably dulled the pain and he didn’t want that. He needed to be alert, to think, to tell them what he knew.

  He flinched. He wished Tam would hurry and dress up his wounds. What was the boy doing back there? “Careful!” he growled.

  “Sorry, sir. Only one more cut to clean and dress and then we’ll be done.”

  “Haven’t you anything to say for yourself?” the Duchess asked bitterly.

  Alec winced as an astringent-soaked cloth was applied to his back. “No,” he answered placidly. “Where is Selina?”

  “Putting a decent cloth on her back.”

  “But is she all right? They didn’t hurt her?

  “No. Merely wounded her pride, wicked girl!” the Duchess answered with annoyance. “That buffoon Gervais has two thugs posted at her door too. It seems he is determined to turn my house into Newgate! Dolt!” She stared at Alec’s bent head with its mane of blue-black curls pulled forward over one shoulder and said tersely, “You didn’t even have the decency to defend yourself!”

  There was a moment’s silence.

  “I was not in a position to do so.”

  Her lip curled. “No, you weren’t, were you?”

  He lifted his head enough to look at her. “Olivia, I make no excuse for our behavior. Why should I? Convention dictates that we must wait out Selina’s mourning before we can marry, and I will abide by that, but why should we deny ourselves earthly pleasures in the interim?” When the Duchess looked away in embarrassment he said with asperity, “God knows Selina deserves her Heaven on earth after what that monster was permitted to put her through!”

  “Permitted to put her through…?” The Duchess bit her lip. “Yes, we let him be a monster, didn’t we?”

  Alec dropped his head back onto his arm and it was then that the Duchess caught sight of the bloody welts that crisscrossed his back and had to turn away, a hand to her mouth to stop a sob. An arm encircled her shoulders and pulled her into a comforting embrace. “I—I never cry!” she said, sniffing back tears. “I’m—I’m acting a fool!”

  “There ain’t nothin’ wrong with havin’ a good cry once in awhile,” Plantagenet Halsey said cheerfully and made her sit in a wingchair by the bed. “I’ll fetch you a glass of claret, and mind you drink it all.”

  The Duchess was too taken aback to reply. She had had no idea the old man was present. It wasn’t until he disappeared that she realized that he must have been in the dressing room the entire time of her tirade of abuse. The old man returned with a bottle of claret and handed her a glass with a smile.

  “If you don’t mind, we’ll be gettin’ back to patchin’ the boy up before he passes out on us again,” he said in the same cheerful voice. “I’ve been brewin’ a nasty concoction of Tam’s making. Stinks of rotted vegetables and garlic—garlic! He assures me it will do the trick. If you ask me we’ll all be passin’ out on the smell alone!” He slid in beside the valet and set a dish between them, wrinkling his nose. “You certain this ain’t a recipe you swiped from the kitchens?”

  “I’m to be marinated, is that it?” Alec quipped. “It smells putrid.”

  “Oh, it is!” his uncle assured him with a crack of laughter and a wink at the Duchess. He handed Tam a wad of clean cloth. “Now you be quiet and let us get on with it or I’ll force feed you an opiate!”

  The Duchess shuddered, a handkerchief to her mouth.

  “It’s not as bad as it looks,” the old man assured her, keeping on with his task. “He’s lucky he’s got a good head of woman’s hair. It saved him from losing his skin altogether.”

  “Hasn’t he been given something for the pain?” When no one answered her she said, “But he must…How can he…”

  Plantagenet Halsey put a finger to his lips and when his task was complete led the Duchess through to the sitting room while Tam set about cleaning up his medicinals and soiled cloths.

  “What’s Gervais up to?” the old man demanded without preamble as he closed over the door.

  “He’s downstairs with the rest of his thugs. He’s determined to drag Alec from his bed and clap him up in Newgate.”

  “Over my dead body!”

  “It may very well be over your dead body because nothing I’ve said has made him waver,” the Duchess argued. “He merely spews back inanities about his duty, and due process of law, and poppycock of that nature. I’ve threatened to bring the whole Privy Council down upon him and he had the audacity to inform me that I would be obstructing the course of justice. The man is certifiable!”

  “Alec will come out of it all right, you’ll see,” the old man said unconvincingly. “The accusation won’t stand. It’s absolute rot. Everyone will see that.”

  “Of course it’s rot! But Alec’s foolhardy behavior hasn’t made it any easier for him. A man known to him in the Foreign Department was murdered in my gardens and next morning Alec is nowhere to be found until a search of my home wood discovers he and Selina thinking they are in the Garden of Eden. You may smirk but this is serious. Gervais wants to add the charge of rape—”

  “What?” thundered Plantagenet Halsey.

  “Of course it’s all nonsense! But you don’t seem to understand the seriousness of Alec’s predicament. Gervais can and will bring that further accusation, whatever my objections, merely because he can. That Alec was accused of seducing Selina when she was barely eighteen can only make it worse for him. As for Delvin’s appalling behavior beating his brother as if he was an animal in need of taming.” She shuddered. “To own a truth, Delvin scares me. I’m only too pleased Emily has decided to postpone the wedding.”

  “He’s the very devil, ain’t he?” the old man answered dryly. “Father was the same. My father. No heart. Not enough brain to be a decent human being but just enough to keep him out of Bedlam.”

  Despite everything the Duchess couldn’t help a smile. “This is no time for levity!”

  “No, it ain’t,” mused the old man. “As I said, don’t you worry. This trumped-up charge of murder won’t stick. It won’t because Alec is innocent. And because it’s our word, and the word of those who were at the ball, against Gervais. He hasn’t a hope!”

  The Duchess blinked at him. “Oh, but don’t you see?” she said in exasperation. “What does it matter if the charge is finally dropped? It’s the very fact Alec was charged at all that will be his downfall. I’m not fearful of Alec getting as far as a courtroom least of all the gallows. Dear God, I’ll have every member of Cabinet—of the Lords—petitioning the King if it ever came to that; but it won’t. One word from me in the right ear and Gervais will be forced to withdraw his accusation.” When the old man scoffed she said, “You can look mule-faced at me, but that’s what I shall do! It’s all very well to have high ideals. Proclaiming your innocence and smugly waiting for the world to finally vindicate you is all very noble, bu
t it ultimately doesn’t work in practice, when it is society who will condemn—”

  “Society? Madam—”

  “No! Allow me to finish! I know what you think of that and you can go on at me all you want about the parasitic four hundred or whatever you call us, but what society dictates does matter! It matters a great deal if one wants to do well in one’s profession, as Alec does. No amount of hard work will see him advance in diplomatic circles; he’ll never be an ambassador, he’ll never even make minister, if he is publicly charged with murder. He’ll be shunned. Backs will be turned on him. No one will want his company, here or on the Continent. He might as well retire to the country tomorrow!”

  Plantagenet Halsey opened his mouth then closed it. He wanted to launch into a lecture against his class, against the toad-eating lot of ’em with their insufferable, conceited pomposity. But there was too much truth in what the Duchess said. When all was said and done he knew only too well what society demanded and what it could do for a man socially. After all, hadn’t he been born one of them? And if he was honest with himself he was more than willing to swallow his pride and sacrifice his principles if it meant saving Alec’s character and career from society’s censure. No one, nothing, meant more to him than Alec.

  He rubbed his chin. “Thing is,” he said, “why is Gervais so determined to see this through? The man’s a toad-eatin’ buffoon. If anythin’ you’d think your threat about the Privy Council would be enough to have him snivellin’ at your fingertips. Don’t tell me he’s a stickler for the law; not if it means bringin’ social ruin on himself. And that’s what will happen once you’ve whispered in the right ear. And he must know that. So, what’s he got to gain by stickin’ his neck out, eh? Tell me that!”

  The Duchess stared at him as if he had said something profound. “I have no idea.”

  “But I do,” said Alec. He leaned in the doorway, a colorful banyan hanging loose about his shoulders and supported at one elbow by Tam, who helped him to a chair.

  “Now what’s this foolishness?” the old man demanded.

  “You should be in bed!” added the Duchess

  “I’m not as bad as all that,” Alec said quietly. “It’s just this infernal headache.” He looked at them both. “But it’s a little better knowing you haven’t disowned me.”

  “Oh, be quiet!” demanded the Duchess gruffly. “When all’s said and done, no one is more pleased that you and Selina have the opportunity to begin anew.”

  Alec swallowed. “Olivia, about Emily… You have every right to think me a fickle cad.”

  “Nonsense!” she said stridently and would have said more except Tam came back into the room, carrying a tray holding a bottle of wine and three glasses. One glass was already poured and this he handed to Alec before offering wine to the old man and the Duchess.

  “Mr. Neave says there’s a Mr. Yarrborough downstairs who wishes to speak with Mr. Halsey,” Tam told them. “Mr. Neave wants to know if he should send him away until—”

  “No. Send him up,” said Alec, settling gingerly against the upholstery and drank deeply from the glass of wine for his throat was tinder dry and his head was beginning to throb unbearably.

  With Tam gone, Plantagenet Halsey turned to his nephew with a frown. “If you’re determined to be foolish and see this Yarrborough fellow mayhap you can tell us why Gallows Gervais wants you prosecuted.”

  “I do believe he hopes to deflect suspicion away from himself. But why he thinks accusing me of Tremarton’s murder will make a difference to his guilt, I know not!” He opened his eyes to look at his uncle and then his godmother. It was obvious both were no wiser. “I sent for Yarrborough because I suspect Gervais was the judge who had Dobbs hanged.”

  The old man rubbed his chin. “Not a coincidence that. Am I right?”

  “No. If my suspicions prove correct then I should think Gervais was only too willing to close down the brothel and hang Dobbs if only to extract his brother-in-law from certain scandal.” He closed his eyes again. “And before this throbbing forces me to give in to Tam’s demands that I take an opiate, I must tell you both that my mother did indeed write letters of confession to Lady Margaret Belsay. I found them, or I should say, selected pages of two letters from Lady Delvin to Lady Margaret, on Tremarton’s body. It seems Cosmo was right all along.”

  Plantagenet Halsey gave an impatient grunt of disbelief. “Who’s to say Tremarton didn’t fabricate—”

  “For your information, Mr. Halsey,” the Duchess began, “I, for one, don’t believe Margaret Belsay a liar. So if she says Helen Delvin wrote her—”

  “Please, Olivia,” interrupted Alec and slowly turned his throbbing head to look at his uncle. “The pages were in my mother’s fist. Perhaps it is time you stopped protecting me from the truth, however terrible. In his rage, Delvin called me a half-breed bastard.”

  “Idiotic rot!” blustered the old man. “Delvin would call you a Chinaman if he thought it would stick!”

  “But the Countess of Delvin didn’t have an affair with a Chinaman, did she, Uncle?”

  Plantagenet Halsey shook his head. “No. Not a Chinaman… Did her letters give you a name, my boy?”

  “She confesses to the fact I am her firstborn and to being an adulteress, but as to the name of my father, no,” said Alec, a glance at the Duchess who was looking at her hands in her lap. “Perhaps in the pages that are missing she goes further. I was hoping you could save me the search…?”

  Planagenet Halsey gripped Alec’s wrist momentarily as he went to the unshuttered window. He bowed his head to the light and said with a frown, “I would dearly love to tell you that I am your father, but I was never your mother’s lover. There was a time when I wished I had owned up to it, if only to save you a lifetime of uncertainty. You were indeed your mother’s firstborn son and you were born in wedlock; legally you were the Earl of Delvin’s heir but—in good conscience—Helen and I, in whom she confided her predicament, could not present you to my brother as his.”

  “Conscience? Damn your conscience, sir!” the Duchess burst out. “It is your conscience that has robbed Alec of his birthright!”

  “Olivia—”

  “Had Helen kept her mouth shut no one would’ve been the wiser,” she continued, ignoring Alec’s quiet interjection. “Whose to say Alec isn’t the Earl’s son? Did Helen tell you otherwise? Did she tell you her lover’s name? Did she have any idea to whom she conceived, her husband or her lover? No! And because of your-your conscience and Helen’s guilt, a brute and a fiend, who in all probability is mad, is parading around as my lord Delvin! How can you reconcile that with your conscience?”

  “Olivia, it has never bothered me that Edward was raised as heir to the earldom,” Alec said on a tired sigh. “He is my brother. That he was born after me is neither here nor there. You don’t seem to understand—”

  “Yes I do!” she said as she resumed her seat and patted tears from her eyes. “You are much too kind-hearted to want to hurt your uncle’s feelings. He raised you in the mistaken belief that it is your abilities, and how you use those abilities that makes you who you are; not fate, not luck of birth. But that’s absolute rot! Society doesn’t work that way. As the Earl of Delvin you could accomplish much more than you ever will as a junior minister crawling your way up the diplomatic ladder on your merit!” She threw the old man a sullen look. “And no one knows that better than your uncle.”

  “And had the situation been reversed?” Alec asked quietly. “Had I been in Delvin’s place and he in mine, would you still be of the same mind?” When the Duchess looked away, Alec smiled and closed his eyes. “I at least can sleep easy at night knowing all that I have, all that I am, is rightfully mine.”

  The old man lightly touched Alec’s shoulder. “I did what I thought was right, my boy,” he said with none of his usual bombastic self-confidence. “Truth told: You could very well be the Earl of Delvin’s firstborn.”

  Alec touched his uncle’s hand. “I know you too well
, Uncle. If you truly believed I was heir to the earldom you’d have fought until your last breath to have me acknowledged, but as you did not—”

  “Alec!”

  “—who I am remains blanketed in fog. Come in, Tam. Where’s Yarrborough?”

  “He didn’t stay, sir,” Tam replied. “Lord Gervais spoke with him and took the packet—”

  “Damn him!” Alec interrupted. “Then it is as I suspected. Tam, the frockcoat I had at the Grove, in the outerpocket there are my spectacles and with them is an envelope. Fetch it.” He closed his eyes for a curious sensation had come over him. He felt it wash through him, warm and comforting. And the pain: the thud at his temples and at the base of his neck; the burning feeling down his back all began to melt away to some nether region in the recesses of his mind. He felt as if he was floating in cool water. “Tam put something in my drink…” he muttered.

  Plantagenet Halsey wasn’t quick enough to catch the glass before it fell and splashed the last of the burgundy over the carpet at Alec’s feet. “You’ll feel better for a good rest, my boy.”

  “Too much—to tell. Can’t rest now. Must confront Gervais… That letter. Don’t let Tam…”

  “All in good time,” soothed his uncle and called to Tam. “Whatever did you give him?”

  “A measured dose of laudanum mixed with wine, sir,” answered the valet as he helped the old man manage Alec to the bedroom.

  “Well, it’s done the trick! Now let’s get him into bed.”

  Tam glanced at the Duchess who had followed them into the bedchamber and was standing beside the four-poster bed frowning at Alec’s limp form. “Please, your Grace, we need to put Mr. Halsey to bed.”

  “I know that!” she snapped, little realizing that what the valet meant was that his master needed to be undressed before he was put between the sheets. When she continued to stand there it was left to the old man to tell her, and tell her bluntly. “Oh!” She made to leave hastily then stopped and put out her hand to Tam. “The letter. Give it to me.”

  Tam blinked and held out his master’s gold rimmed spectacles. “I found only these in a pocket of Mr. Halsey’s frockcoat, your Grace. The letter, it’s gone.”