by Locke, Laura
“Oh, you're so kind. What good fortune when we met you!”
Matilda, following along behind the party of her mother, Lucas, Alexander and the doctor, felt her heart sink. As if he heard her thoughts, Alexander glanced at her.
“There is nothing I would not do to help a man in need. Especially one with so charming a family,” he said lightly.
Matilda swallowed hard. She felt herself swaying, all the worry and horror and mistrust making her head cloud over as it had that day at the tea-party. She bit her lip.
I will not collapse. I will stay standing. I will find out what is going on.
Because this was more than a lucky chain of events. She was sure of it. He had known of her father's departure. He had wanted them to borrow his coach. And now, when they used their own, this happens? And he is conveniently nearby?
There is something odd happening here.
Matilda glanced at Pauline, and nodded. Pauline nodded back, seeming to understand her chain of thought and to agree.
There was something very odd happening. Very odd indeed. And they would find out what.
Chapter 14
Later, she and Pauline sat up in the Cupboard Room – a small study at the end of the uppermost hallway. It was one of the few places they could be sure of a private conversation with no fear of being overheard.
“Father is resting,” Pauline said with a sigh. “I left Lucas with him.”
“Good,” Matilda said, letting out a sigh. “I saw Doctor Jarvis leaving.”
“Good,” Pauline said, nodding.
“I don't like this,” Matilda said, feeling her face stiffen with a frown.
Pauline nodded. “He is too glib. His story is too smooth, too detailed: I don't believe him.”
“Quite.”
Matilda leaned back in her hard wooden chair, looking up at the ceiling. It was a relief to know that Pauline felt just as she did. That something about the good deed of Lord Epworth did not fit together. Or, rather, fitted together far too well.
“The doctor being there...the convenient explanation of going for a new coat...his appearance moments after the accident...” Pauline enumerated the list on her fingers, frowning gravely.
“His knowledge of when Father takes his afternoon walk, without anyone having told him,” Matilda added. That was the oddest one, to her. How did he know Father always walked around the grounds at half-past-three?
“True!” Pauline agreed, inclining her head in Matilda's direction gravely. “Though he could have seen that, I suppose...”
“When?” Matilda asked firmly. “He has only been here for tea once. He would have had to ride past our house nearly every day to know that...”
She trailed off.
“What?” Pauline asked.
“Nothing, dearest,” Matilda said quickly. Inside, her heart was racing. What if he had been past their house more often? She had seen him leaving, once, that day, and yet he had never come inside! Was he spying? And why?
“I should take Lucas some tea,” Pauline observed. “I don't want to leave him too long alone down there.”
“I suppose so,” Matilda nodded gravely. “Though we have to talk about this. I don't trust Lord Epworth.”
“What are you going to do?”
“First,” Matilda said swiftly, “I am talking to Arthur. He knows everything that happened that day. This accident...how did it happen? Why? When? I need to know. It all sounds too...too convenient.”
“It does,” Pauline agreed, nodding emphatically.
“Once we have Arthur's story, then we can act.”
“What can we do?” Pauline asked, dark eyes lit with interest. Matilda, seeing that, felt pleased. She had an ally. Together they could solve this problem.
“Well, we need to find out all we can about the accident, and then perhaps we can prove it was not an accident. Until then...” she trailed off, feeling suddenly uncertain.
“We need to keep an eye on Father,” Pauline said firmly. “If anyone is out to hurt him, we need to ensure it doesn't happen. Someone should be with him at all times. Starting from now.”
“Pauline. You think they mean to hurt Father..?” Matilda stared at her. She had not thought about it.
“Well, he was the target of whatever happened earlier today, after all,” Pauline said reasonably. “I don't know why anyone would wish to hurt Father. He never hurt anyone. But we cannot overlook the fact that he was endangered today.”
“Quite,” Matilda nodded, thinking fast. “We need to make a roster of people to watch over him.”
“I already have,” Pauline nodded. “Your watch is between four and six this afternoon.”
“Thank you, dear.”
Matilda let out a sighing out breath, collapsing into the chair wearily. It was so good to have Pauline. She often thought of things before she came close to it, and it was good to have someone working so seamlessly with her.
“Not at all. What else can we do?”
“I will go and talk to Arthur,” Matilda said, standing up. “And then, I think, we should consider keeping an eye on our Lord Epworth. We barely know a thing about him, actually.”
“True,” Pauline said, frowning.
“Mother might think he's awfully suitable, but do we really know much about him?”
“I don't suppose so, no,” Pauline nodded.
“Well, then,” Matilda said briskly. “We ought to find out.”
“Yes,” Pauline said firmly.
“I'm going to go and talk to Arthur.”
“I'll take Lucas his tea. I've put Stella on the watch next...do you think we can trust her?”
“I know we can,” Matilda said firmly. Stella had been her maid as long as she could remember, and was kind and loyal. She could not imagine her ever doing one of the family harm. Especially not her father, whom she looked on with greatest respect.
“Good,” Pauline nodded briskly. They both stood and walked to the door.
“We can meet after I've talked to Arthur?”
“Yes,” Pauline nodded. “Best to meet after luncheon. I'll spend some time with Stella, explaining what she should do.”
“Yes. Good idea.”
They parted at the door and Matilda walked briskly down the stairs, feeling a sense of purpose fill her for the first time in weeks. She and Pauline were together in this. They would solve the mystery.
Downstairs, she fetched her cloak from the hatstand and almost bumped into her mother, who was rushing through the hallway towards the kitchens.
“Mother?” she asked. Her mother looked worried.
“Oh! Matilda, dearest! I'm so upset. I forgot I'd invited the Tellings and Lady Mallory here for a card-party. What can I do?”
“Oh, dear,” Matilda winced in sympathy. “Could you send them a message, canceling the party?”
“I could, but how can we reach Hillside House in time? Lady Mallory is so far away.”
“True,” Matilda said, frowning. “Well, I'll help. I'm sure Pauline and Lucas can, too.”
“Oh, thank you, dear! The strain of seeing them alone would be too great,” her mother said, taking her hand.
“Of course, Mother,” Matilda nodded. “It's nothing.”
As she crossed the drive, heading for the stables, she remembered they would have to reschedule the vigil over her father – she was down for four of the clock, but she would need to be free by five for the card party to start.
“Arthur!” she said, seeing him in the doorway, a hay rake over one shoulder.
“Milady! Is aught amiss? The master....”
“No, Arthur,” Matilda said encouragingly. “The master's resting easy. I wanted to ask you some things.”
“Of course, mistress,” Arthur said, shrugging slim shoulders. “If I can answer, that is. I'd be pleased to help.”
“Well, first of all, I wanted to see the damage to the carriage. If I may?”
“I think it's still being dragged back, milady,” Arthur said, lifting
his shoulders in another shrug. “Not be back till after luncheon, I reckon.”
“Well, did you see the damage? Anything odd about it? Was there a break?”
“I did, mistress. And odd it was. Very odd. Axle clear broke in two. Very odd, that.”
Matilda felt her heart pounding, seeing the frown between the man's brows. “It was odd that it broke like that?”
“Yes, milady. Bitterly odd. No reason for it to snap like that! By! The carriage is...not two year old, is it, Milady?”
Matilda frowned. She recalled when it had been purchased, about a week prior to her birthday. Perhaps three years ago.
“More like three years, Arthur,” she said slowly. “Would it be...”
“No reason to snap at three years old either, milady,” Arthur said briskly. “No reason at all. Something's odd.”
Matilda felt a coldness inside her. Something had been done. She was almost sure of it.
“Were you going fast?” she asked. “Fast enough to break an axle?” She recalled a distant family friend, lady Dowling, who had almost been killed, thrown from her open carriage when the wheel broke. She had been going recklessly fast, however; part of the new craze for pleasure-coaches, light and built for speed.
“No, milady, not fast at all,” Arthur said. “Which is the strange thing. You'd think we'd have to be racing Hell for leather...that axle's a great, thick thing. Hard to see how it broke clean like that.”
“Yes,” Matilda said tightly. “Hard indeed.”
They had walked back into the stables and, though it was warm in there, she shivered.
“Have you seen any unusual people here in the stables?” Matilda asked.
“Well...” Arthur paused, running his tongue around his teeth. “Not that I recall. Ah, yes!”
“What?” Matilda asked instantly. Her heart pounded in her chest. “Tell me.”
“There was a bloke, about a day back...can't believe, now, that it slipped my mind. I caught him here in the shrubbery, near here, like,” he added, throwing an arm in the general direction of the path up to the manor house.
“You did? Did you speak to him? What did he say?”
“I challenged him, milady. How he got here I've no idea. I didn't see him. He said he was looking for Greenfields Park. I told him this wasn't it. I sent him on his way.”
“Oh,” Matilda said, frowning. “That's very odd.”
“It is, mistress. It is. Now that I think of it...”
“What?”
“Now that I think of it, the bloke had a look of the feller that came back with yon tall bloke.”
“You mean the doctor?” Matilda asked, frowning.
“Yes. With the doctor and his lordship, Lord Ep-something. They came in an open coach. This bloke had a look of their coach-driver.”
Matilda felt her heart clutched as if in a fist of ice. She stared at Arthur.
“You're sure of that?”
“No, mistress,” he admitted. “Can't say I'd be sure, like. I mean, I saw the one bloke just a day afore, the other now under not-so-easy conditions. But I think they had a look of each other; same stooped shoulders, squarish face. Not that it means anything, mind...there was a resemblance between the two blokes, is all I saw,” he said, spreading his hands in a helpless gesture.
“Thank you, Arthur,” Matilda said firmly. “You have done very well. Thank you for telling me about that.”
“Not at all, milady,” Arthur said, running his tongue over his teeth, a worried expression.
“Well, I'll go back to the house now,” Matilda said. “I hope someone has sent you out some tea and refreshments? You need some, after all that shock. We're all grateful to you for your prompt actions.”
“Oh, thank 'ee, milady,” Arthur said, taking his cap off modestly. “'Twas nothin', so they say. Anyone would'a done it. The poor old Earl. What else could I do but go for help?”
“Of course. But thank you for your loyalty, Arthur. Now come and get some tea. Heavens, but it's cold out here today.”
“Aye, mistress,” Arthur agreed, grinning mildly as he followed her around the side of the house, heading to the kitchens. “It be a cold day alright. Not too unusual, this time of year, mind. They do say the weather of spring is full of surprises, they do say.”
“Indeed it is,” Matilda nodded.
It was not just the weather that was full of surprises, she reflected quietly. This was a very surprising day.
She had two reasons to suspect Alexander Dartmoor.
After a brief consultation with Pauline about the roster, which resulted in her taking Stella's shift, Matilda settled down beside their father to keep watch.
She looked down at him, sleeping heavily, and felt her heart tighten with emotion. He looked so frail, so thin! So ill.
He wasn't hurt by the accident. But what if it had been intended? Had whoever it was who sabotaged the coach, meant to kill him?
The thought was too horrible to contemplate. But it was obvious. There was no reason for the axle to break. They had not been going too fast. A man had been seen on the property who did not belong there – someone either directly in Lord Epworth's service or related to someone who was.
And then, the next day, when Father leaves, the axle breaks?
It was ridiculous. But it was true. And it was far too obvious that none of this was coincidence.
Someone had meant for her father to be injured in that accident. Or meant to stop him from traveling to Brighton as he should. Someone wished him not to recover. As she looked at him, his thin, sallow face relaxed in sleep, breath wavering, eyelids closed, she felt a wash of compassion and then a wash of anger, flowing through her. How dare someone try to harm her father! He was the least-harmful, most good-hearted man she knew.
Besides Henry.
Matilda swallowed hard. The thought of Henry made her feel suddenly weary. She wished he was there, to be able to talk to her, to be able to offer the comfort that only Henry could. She covered her mouth, stifling a sob.
Henry. I wish you were the duke's son, and this man a groom! Then I could be with you and all would be as it should.
With Henry, she fancied, nothing like this would be allowed to happen. He would stop it.
Instead I have the scheming smooth-talker, Alexander.
The more she learned about the accident, the more she was sure it was his fault.
Matilda completed her shift with her father, then turned the job to Stella.
She pressed Stella's hand fondly.
“Thank you, Stella, for your help. I appreciate it.”
“Oh, milady,” Stella said, blushing. “'Tis nothing.”
Matilda took tea in the drawing-room, then went upstairs to dress. She had to attend the party with her mother, she remembered. She had promised.
Five of the clock saw her in a soft cream evening dress, sitting at the table in the parlor opposite Lady Telling and her husband. Her mother was on her lefthand-side, Pauline and Lady Mallory to her right. Lucas sat firmly beside Pauline.
“...and we think we shall have to wait for two weeks, before he can safely be moved,” their mother was saying to Lord Telling, who nodded slowly.
“Yes, indeed. Best to rest.”
Matilda turned her attention to Lady Telling, who was engaged in a conversation with Lady Mallory.
“...and I was surprised he was here, my dear. I tell you,” Lady Telling was saying. Moving in the highest circles, Lady Telling did not refrain from the odd piece of gossip about high society, though it was all subtly done. Matilda did not want to eavesdrop, but she found it happening despite herself.
“Indeed it was,” Lady Mallory responded in hushed tones. “Most odd. His father is in such dire financial straits...I know. My husband was with him in Town a month ago, and he confided that they would cancel their hunting plans because of their situation.”
“Oh! Dreadful. Dreadful...”
“Quite. So him turning up here was a real surprise,” Lady Mallory r
eplied, nodding firmly.
“Indeed.”
Who? Matilda wanted to ask. Who is it who is such a surprising presence here?
“Though,” Lady Telling continued quietly, “I suppose he does have acquaintances in these parts. They have had the manor here for quite a few years – though this is the first time I have seen them make full use of it.”
“I suppose it's easier to have a quieter life here in the countryside. Less face to keep up, and all.”
“A more careful life, financially. Yes indeed.” lady Telling nodded.
Who? Matilda wanted to shout.
“Well, yes,” Lady Mallory replied. “Though you can imagine my surprise when I was at a party yesterday and a big Clarence coach arrived. And who should get out of it, but the duke of Warrington?”
“Well, the coach is not too much to maintain...” Lady Telling replied.
“Indeed, yes. Indeed,” Lady Mallory said, nodding, and reached for her glass of cordial. “Matilda, dear, could you pass the decanter? I'm rather thirsty: it must have been the long ride here.”
Matilda nodded woodenly. She passed the decanter of cordial, not really thinking about what she did, or if the cordial was the right sort or not, the same as Lady Mallory was drinking. Her mind was far too full of other things.
The duke of Warrington has just come down to the countryside. He is in financial trouble. Their family is laying low here to pay off their debts.
Lord Epworth was desperate for money. What would he do to get it?
Matilda shuddered. She regretted having left her lace scarf at the door, though she doubted it would help with the chill. It was inside her, and would not be dispelled. She was afraid.
The party wore on seemingly-interminably. At last, Matilda heard her mother stifle a yawn.
“Well, ladies and gentlemen! Who would like a spot of dinner? It seems the right time for it.”
As everyone nodded, agreeing that it would be a perfect time for dinner, Matilda stood.
“Excuse me a moment, Mother,” she whispered to her. Her mother frowned, but nodded.
“Of course, dear. See you at dinner.”
“Of course.”
