A Lady's Guide to Mischief and Murder

by Dianne Freeman

  “I’m so happy to hear that. And how nice for you to be able to enjoy the experience with an old friend.” I turned to Treadwell, now upright and sitting cross-legged. “I understand the two of you are very old friends indeed.”

  He examined me dispassionately, knowing full well what I was up to. “Not so terribly old, a good ten years or so. Going back to our school days.”

  “Rather been inseparable since those days wouldn’t you say, old man? Done everything together.” Leo leaned forward around Lily to grin at Treadwell.

  Lily gave Leo a sweet smile. “I believe I see Mr. Treadwell quite as often as I see you.”

  “How wonderful to have such a strong and lasting friendship.” I turned to Treadwell. “And now, here you are, helping Leo to celebrate this big step in his life.”

  He nodded but said nothing.

  “If the two of you do everything together, perhaps marriage is on your horizon as well?”

  His gaze sharpened. “Ah, no. I have not been as fortunate in finding love as Kendrick here.”

  “Perhaps you need to look a little farther afield.” I nodded past Leo’s head where his two youngest sisters sat alone.

  “You will certainly need to look farther than this blanket, Treadwell. Miss Price is most definitely taken.” Leo’s tone took the sting from the words, but I suspect he didn’t know he might be causing his friend pain. It was difficult to know if Treadwell had feelings for Lily or if he was just amusing himself.

  Treadwell scrambled to his feet. “You are right, Lady Harleigh. As a house guest, I should be making myself useful to the other ladies in attendance.” He brushed off his jacket and sauntered over to Clara and Anne, offering to procure plates for them.

  Lily let her gaze follow him across the lawn; then she turned to me, soundlessly mouthing the words thank you.

  As my work here was done, I rose to my feet. “I think I shall see what Lady Fiona has for our luncheon.”

  * * *

  The group became quite jolly as everyone ate and drank, and tales of the morning’s shoot grew ever more daring. But when another hour passed, Fiona would be put off no longer, and we all wandered over to the patch of lawn designated for archery. After some argument over partners, it was decided to play in teams of two. Eliza Durant chose not to participate and wandered over to the maze.

  Lottie glanced around and counted heads. “That makes our number uneven, so I will also bow out and cheer you on, Charles.”

  The relief among the group was palpable.

  “That leaves us with six teams. We’ll all draw straws.” Fiona walked amongst us, the straws in her fist. “Those with the long straws will shoot first.”

  George wore an expression of suffering as he showed me what appeared to be a longish straw. “My sister is quite the tartar with rules.”

  “She did tell me there would be no arguing amongst the teams. I assume this is how she intends to prevent it.”

  “Come, come, you two.” We both turned at Fiona’s command. She had Leo by the arm, leading him to the first of the targets nearest to the maze. Lily trailed behind. “I think she means for us to play against Leo and Lily. We’d better not keep her waiting.”

  As I’d guessed, the four of us were on the first target about fifty feet from the wall of the maze. Winnie had placed the other targets at least that far apart so one could safely retrieve one’s arrows. Cousin Charles, Arthur Durant, and two of Leo’s sisters were to the right of us, leaving Fiona and Nash, and Percy Bradmore and Ernest Treadwell at the far end.

  George sidled up beside me. “How are your archery skills, my lady?”

  Remembering how Fiona had teased me, I gave him a flirtatious smile. “It has been some time since I’ve picked up a bow. I’m not certain I recall how to hold it.”

  He fitted the bow into my hands and directed me into the proper stance. With his arms around me and his lips next to my ear, he whispered, “I think you are playing with me, Frances. I must say, I approve.”

  “And why should you go first?”

  The sharp words dragged my mind back from its blissful wanderings. Both George and I glanced past Leo to see Clara Kendrick stamp her foot as she glared at her sister.

  Anne lowered her bow. “For heaven’s sake, Clara, by all means, please do go first.” She handed her sister the bow and stepped away from the mark to stand next to Mr. Bradmore who watched the group in amusement. Clara narrowed her eyes in one moment and turned an innocent smile to Bradmore in the next.

  “Mr. Bradmore, could you help me with my arrow?”

  Durant was having none of her nonsense. “Bradmore has his own group to attend to.” He snatched the bow from her grasp and nocked the arrow himself. “Should have learned how to do this before you insisted on going first.”

  I turned back to George as Clara blushed a deep scarlet. “I’m quite sure that’s not how she planned that scene to play out.”

  “The girl acts rather like a spoiled child.” Fortunately, George stood close enough to whisper. I would hate for Leo to have heard the comment, but he seemed to have heard neither George’s comment, nor his sister’s antics. Perhaps turning a deaf ear helped him to maintain his cheerful disposition. He simply assumed everything was well with the world and went about his business.

  “Why do we have teams if this is to be a proper tournament?” Durant asked the group in general.

  “It is not a proper tournament.” Fiona stepped between the participants and the targets. “And if you will spare me your attention, I’ll explain the rules.” Her explanation ran on and on, but the gist of it was the team sharing our targets weren’t necessarily our opponents. The two low-scoring teams would be removed from the competition after each round until only two teams remained. Lottie was assigned to blow a whistle after each end, indicating we could approach the targets and collect our arrows. It seemed simple enough.

  The competition began. I was to make the first shot of our foursome. I drew a deep breath, wondering which of my selves would show up for me today. Would I be the archer or the fool? I nocked my arrow and looked out at the target. Wasn’t it farther away than it ought to be? Taking my stance, I drew back the bowstring, took one more breath, and let it fly.

  A cheer erupted from George and my competitors. I stared at the target. Not only had I hit it—huzzah—but from this distance, the arrow looked to be no more than an inch above the bull’s-eye. Happy day! Archer Frances had decided to join the competition.

  “Well done, Frances.” Lily beamed at me as she took the bow. “I had no idea you were so good at this.”

  “Neither did I,” George said, his eyes sparkling. “You never fail to surprise me.”

  “Believe me, it comes and goes.” I waved my hand airily. “Don’t count on my every shot hitting its mark, or I shall surprise you again.”

  We watched as Leo assisted Lily with the handling of the bow and nocking the arrow. We cheered again as she hit the target though well to the left. Lily hung her head, but Leo would have none of it. “This was your first attempt,” he said. “You did well just to hit the target.”

  George went next, besting me by perhaps half an inch. Then Leo took his turn and hit the top of the bull’s-eye. Once we’d taken all our shots, Lottie blew her whistle. Slapping each other on the back, the men stepped off to retrieve the arrows. The competition moved on in much the same manner. Aside from one poor shot that missed the target altogether, I was consistently on the mark. Lily improved as we moved on, but the real competition came down to George and Leo. Their shots were so close, the advantage kept moving back and forth between our teams.

  We won the first round, and as their team score was the next highest, we played Leo and Lily again. Bradmore and Treadwell were knocked out of the competition, as were Charles and Clara. Some of the former competitors drifted off. Ernest Treadwell moved to the refreshments table, and Clara Kendrick followed him. Some of them stayed to watch, however, and the afternoon became more festive as they chose their
champion teams and cheered them on while heckling the others.

  This served to fuel our competitive spirits and, as I’d predicted, the men, in particular, became quarrelsome. Spectators started finding faults—had George stepped over the line? Had someone coughed while Leo took aim? The competitors at the next target fared no better. Either Fiona or Durant consistently called for a review of their shots, and no one waited for Lottie’s whistle before approaching the targets, though to be fair, I’m not sure anyone could hear the whistle over the din.

  One turn came under a great deal of scrutiny. Neither George nor Leo had hit the bull’s-eye, but both arrows were close. Very close—on either side of the bull. While the other set of teams played on, George and Leo approached our target to determine whose arrow was closer. I rolled my eyes when I saw George using his thumbnail to measure the distance between each arrow and the bull’s-eye.

  Then Charles stepped over to add his opinion. He bent close to the bull’s-eye to make his determination.

  “That’s hardly fair.” Lily gestured to the group at the target. “Charles and George are friends. Someone without bias should make the call.”

  I gave her an incredulous stare. “It’s just a game, Lily. I think Charles can judge without bias.”

  That’s when I heard the shout. Followed by a shriek.

  I looked toward the targets where the three men were clustered so closely I couldn’t see what had happened. As everyone rushed forward, so did I, and as I came closer to the trio, I saw what the fuss was about.

  With a groan, Charles slumped to the ground on his stomach. Lottie, having run to his aid, dropped to her knees beside him. Leo stared down at them, looking stunned.

  I was stunned myself.

  An arrow was buried deep in Charles’s backside.

  Chapter 9

  “How did this happen?”

  Though I shouted, no one seemed to hear me through the confusion. The heightened sense of alarm made our voices louder. Someone barked out orders. No one listened. We jostled one another, both to get closer to Charles, and away from him. The poor man lay stiff on the ground, facedown, obviously afraid to move. Lottie stroked his face and cooed to him as if she were trying to keep him calm, though Charles seemed far more tranquil than the rest of us. Every few seconds another shriek erupted as someone new spied the arrow protruding from his body. I have to admit, it was a rather disturbing sight, but at least it wasn’t bleeding profusely.

  I finally realized the person barking orders was George. “You,” he shouted to a footman. “Find Hancock and bring him here at once. Then send someone for Dr. Woodrow and bring him back, too.”

  The man nodded once and ran to the house.

  Lottie looked up at George with watery eyes. “Can we remove it?” She glanced at the arrow. “It looks so painful.”

  George pushed her hand aside as he knelt next to Charles. “Not just yet, if you please. I want to make sure moving him, or removing the arrow, won’t cause more damage.”

  “Gad, George. Tell me I didn’t just hear you call for Hancock.” Charles’s words came through gritted teeth.

  “Sorry, old man. If you’d rather wait for the doctor to be found and brought here, I’ll send Hancock back to the stables.”

  “Who is Hancock?” Lottie brushed aside her tears and struggled to rise. I placed a hand under her arm to assist her, mentally cursing tight corsets.

  George gave her a wry smile. “Farrier, veterinarian, and officially head groom on the estate. He’s been doctoring animals and the occasional Hazelton since I was a boy. He’ll know how to remove this safely.”

  Lottie’s hands rose to her cheeks, her eyes filled with a horror I completely understood. A veterinarian would be tending to Charles’s injury?

  George stood as well. “Here he comes.” He nodded to a lanky man dressed in rough clothing who rushed, with a limping gait, across the lawn. “And you’re in luck, Charles. It looks like he’s brought you some whiskey.”

  “Good man,” Charles groaned.

  George took my arm and pulled me toward Leo. “Can the two of you take charge of things here?”

  “Of course,” I said, as Leo nodded. I opened my mouth to ask where he was going, but he’d already turned and headed toward the maze at a smart clip.

  Lottie hovered over Mr. Hancock, determined to protect her husband from further harm. I drew her away from the poor man so he could attend to Charles. “Did you see what happened?”

  “No. I was talking to Lady Nash at the time. I didn’t even look this way until I heard Charles bellowing.”

  “Wasn’t bellowing,” Charles said.

  “What about you, Leo?”

  He shook his head. “I was right next to Mr. Evingdon examining the targets when he was hit. It never occurred to me to look back and see who was shooting.”

  It hadn’t occurred to me either.

  “Anne was shooting. Arrow must have gone astray.”

  Arthur Durant had just stepped up beside me. Anne, bow still in her hand, stood right behind him, her face red and her jaw squared in outrage. “Don’t be ridiculous. My arrow hit our target.”

  Durant waved his hand to their target. “That’s mine. Your shot hit Evingdon.”

  She stared at her brother-in-law, then turned to me, one hand raised in supplication, her eyes begging me to believe her. “I did not hit him.”

  “Not intentionally of course.” Durant placed a hand on her shoulder. “It was an accident.” Anne’s lips parted on a gasp before she twisted away from his touch and stalked off.

  Durant bent down to talk to Leo and Hancock just as Lily approached. “Who on earth shot an arrow at Mr. Evingdon?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.” But I was beginning to doubt it had been Anne, or that it had been an accident at all. George had disappeared into the maze. Did he think the arrow had come from there? I pushed Lottie into Lily’s arms. “Stay with her, Lily. And try to keep everyone away. Charles deserves some privacy.”

  With that, I made haste to the entrance of the maze. Mr. Winnie, coming around the back, touched his hand to his hat when he spotted me.

  “I heard the commotion and came to find out what happened.” He tipped his head toward the group of men on the ground near the targets. “Is someone hurt?”

  I gave him a quick summary. “If Hancock deems it wise to move Mr. Evingdon, you may be of some help.” He nodded and headed toward the men as I entered the maze. At the very first turn, I encountered Mr. Treadwell.

  “Ah! I’ve been looking for the blasted entrance for the last ten minutes.” He did appear much relieved to see me. “What’s happened out there? I heard the shouting, but I couldn’t find my way out of here.”

  “Mr. Evingdon was hit with an arrow.” I took him in with a glance. No dirt on his clothing, not a hair out of place, and most importantly, no bow in his hand. “How long have you been in here?” The last I’d noticed him, he was at the refreshments table with Clara.

  “Far too long.” He ran a hand through his hair and replaced his hat. “If you’ll excuse me, perhaps I can be of assistance out there.”

  He moved around me in the narrow passage, and stepped out, leaning back in before he left. “Be careful in here. It’s easy to become lost.”

  I could see it was a distinct possibility. The yew hedges had to be at least eight feet tall and were quite dense. I knew George was in here somewhere, yet I’d had no sight of him. My only path was forward, deeper into the maze. As I moved on, I considered calling out to him, but if he thought someone had shot the arrow from inside the maze, the culprit might still be here.

  Not that I had any idea what George thought. I was beginning to feel foolish as I kept taking right-hand turns, which I hoped would lead me to the outside wall of the maze and the corner nearest the targets. Why else would he come here? Surely, he wouldn’t leave his friend injured on the ground while he went off for his own amusement. I rounded another corner and walked straight into Clara Kendrick.


  We both let out a shriek.

  With a hand to her chest, she fell back against the hedge wall. “Lady Harleigh, you nearly startled the life out of me.”

  I fanned my face with my hand. “Yes, well, I hadn’t expected to find so many people in here. I’m looking for Mr. Hazelton. Have you happened to see him?”

  She replied in the negative and once more I had to explain what happened at the archery competition.

  “That’s horrible.” She did look horrified but also titillated, and obviously eager to join the crowd. I stepped back against the yews and pointed the way out. To the best of my recollection anyway.

  With one more right turn the hum of the guests on the lawn grew louder. I must have reached the outer wall. Their voices grew clearer as I moved forward. Not clear exactly; I couldn’t pick out any words, just the sound of them. One final turn and I found George, sitting on his haunches facing the wall of the maze.

  He jumped to his feet when he heard me approach, and for the second time today I’d made someone clutch at their chest. I must be very stealthy indeed.

  Once he recovered, he let out his breath in a huff and placed a fist on his hip. With his other hand, he made an impatient, beckoning motion which one might use with a recalcitrant child. How dare he?

  I made a show of looking behind me then returned my gaze to him with wide, innocent eyes. “Surely that demeaning gesture isn’t meant for me?”

  He pressed his lips together and dropped his gaze to the ground where it remained for a moment. Was he counting to ten? He returned his gaze to me with what might have been a smile or just a baring of teeth. “Dearest Frances, would you do me the honor of coming this way?”

  “Of course, dearest George.” I stepped up beside him. “What are you examining so carefully? And why did you come in here? Do you think the arrow was shot from here?”

  He boggled his eyes at the rush of questions and pointed down. “See how the ground’s disturbed? It looks like someone stood here for a time.”