Regency Mischief

by Anne Herries

  ‘May I go to the farm for you?’ Eliza asked. ‘I can be there and back in an hour; there will still be plenty of time for you to make that pudding.’

  ‘What a thoughtful girl you are,’ Betty said approvingly. ‘If you would not mind, it would be a big help to me.’

  ‘It is no trouble at all,’ Eliza said, taking sixpence from the shelf and the big jug from the pantry.

  She set out for the farm, which was just across the fields from her friend’s cottage. Somewhere above her head a lark was singing and the grass in the wild meadow was almost waist high. She was singing to herself, enjoying the warmth of the sun when she suddenly saw the man walking towards her through the long grass. Her heart caught a beat as he smiled and came up to her.

  ‘Good morning, Miss Bancroft. You seem happy this morning?’

  ‘It is such a lovely day,’ she replied. She could not help remarking how blue his eyes were, thinking them a match for the cloudless sky. His smile brought an answering one from her. ‘How do you go on at your uncle’s? Do you mean to stay long?’

  ‘Only a few days, unfortunately,’ Daniel Seaton replied and then frowned. ‘I think my uncle mends, but he is not as well as I should like.’

  ‘I am sorry to hear that, sir.’

  Eliza found that he was walking beside her, clearly intending to accompany her to the farm.

  ‘He took my cousin’s death hard,’ he continued. ‘However, he is better than he was the last time I was down.’

  ‘Did you come at Christmas? I know the earl felt unable to host his usual celebrations.’

  ‘Yes, I was down at Christmas, but I have not seen him since. I have been in London and at my estate…’ His eyes darkened, making Eliza think he dwelled on something that pained him.

  They had reached the farm gate. He opened it for her and stood back. She felt that he had withdrawn into himself.

  ‘I shall leave you here, Miss Bancroft. I have an errand to run…’

  ‘Goodbye, sir. I hope your uncle will soon be well again.’ Eliza watched him walk away, feeling puzzled. For a few moments he had seemed as if he meant to flirt with her, but then something had changed him. It was just as well, for she found him far too attractive.

  Daniel was thoughtful as he left the young woman. He had just come from visiting the home of Jed Bailey. Unfortunately, the groom had disappeared two days previously. His mother said he had been restless and she thought he had taken it into his head to visit his cousin in Bristol.

  ‘There’s been something on his mind for weeks, sir,’ Mrs Bailey said. ‘I asked him what had upset him—and why he left the earl’s employ—but he wouldn’t tell me. He seemed excited and then…well, to tell you the truth I thought he was scared, sir. Then he came in, in a hurry, like, took his horse and said he was off to Bristol to see his cousin.’

  ‘If he should return, please ask him to come and see me.’ Daniel gave her one of his cards.

  ‘Yes, sir, of course.’ Mrs Bailey smiled as Daniel slipped a coin into her hand. ‘I expect it is just restless feet—you know how young men are, sir.’

  Daniel agreed he did and left her. His enquiries in the village so far had been of some help, though he was troubled by what he had discovered. Marcus had certainly been at the inn for two hours on the afternoon of his death. The landlord said he was in a bad mood, and that he sat talking to a gentleman in the corner for an hour or more before the stranger left.

  ‘Did you know the man?’ Daniel asked.

  ‘No, sir. He was not local—but a gentleman, I would say. A surly cove. When one of my serving wenches went over to the table and asked if they wanted more wine he told her to stay away, for their talk was private.’

  ‘Is the girl here, landlord?’

  ‘No, sir, more’s the pity. Molly was a good worker. She went off the day after your cousin was killed—and never even told her mother where she was going. She’s not the first, but I didn’t think Molly was the flighty sort. There have been others go off, some would say gone missing, but I reckon they went to London to make their fortune—if you understand me. Still, Molly were a quiet girl and I thought she had a local lad.’

  ‘If you should hear anything you think might interest me, please send me word.’ Daniel gave him his calling card and two guineas for his trouble.

  ‘Yes, sir. I will let you know if Molly comes back.’ The landlord was thoughtful for a moment. ‘Does the name Cheadle mean anything to you, sir?’

  ‘Yes, it does—why?’ Daniel’s gaze narrowed intently.

  ‘The name was mentioned between them, sir. Molly heard them arguing—and your cousin said, “I can’t ask Cheadle to wait for ever.” The other man said, “Cheadle is dangerous. If you cross him, you may regret it, but he is a poodle compared to you know who…” I don’t know if that is useful, sir?’

  ‘It may be,’ Daniel said and frowned as he nodded to the landlord and gave him another guinea. ‘Thank you. Please contact me if you remember more.’

  ‘You may be certain I shall, sir.’ The landlord pocketed the money and smiled to himself.

  There Daniel had left his investigations for the moment. He thought he might have to employ the services of an investigative agent to search for Molly and Jed Bailey. It was strange that two young people had gone off without a word—unless they had run off together?

  His thoughts were busy after his brief meeting with Miss Eliza Bancroft. The pieces had been all jumbled up at the start, but they seemed to be coming together in his mind. He was reaching for something, but was not quite there.

  He was determined to discover more about his cousin’s death, because he was almost certain now that Marcus had been murdered. The horse had been left outside the inn for some time and it was perfectly possible that someone had tampered with the saddle while it was there.

  So the opportunity was obvious, and the likely suspect the man Marcus had been arguing with in the inn—but where was the motive?

  It was after meeting Miss Bancroft that Daniel suddenly remembered that both his uncle and the landlord had spoken of other young local women going missing. Could the disappearance of these girls and his cousin’s death be linked? It hardly seemed likely and yet Marcus had hinted at something dark and sinister in his letter.

  It would bear investigation, even though the truth might be hard to swallow. Drinking, gambling and tumbling the local girls were things that many young gentlemen indulged in—but snatching girls from their homes was quite another. Daniel had no illusions about what happened to the young girls; they would be taken either to whorehouses or, even worse, sent abroad to be sold into the harems of rich potentates.

  No, surely Marcus would never become involved in something like that—or had he been drawn into it innocently and then felt trapped? Daniel knew that his cousin had had a wild side, but he did not think him evil. Perhaps he had not known what was going on—and when he had found out he threatened to expose those behind it?

  Daniel felt cold. He had no proof whatsoever, but he believed he might have stumbled on a clue.

  He was not sure what part the Marquis of Cheadle might have played in this shady business. His name had been mentioned between Marcus and the stranger—but whether he was actually involved with the snatching of local girls was dubious. Daniel would not have thought it—but then, he would not have expected his cousin to become involved in such a disgusting traffic.

  The marquis would bear watching. Daniel had been inclined to send back the ring he had won from him to Cheadle’s London address, but now thought he would hang on to it. There was an inscription inside it that must be called romantic and therefore it might have some significance to the marquis. Perhaps it might be used as a bargaining tool, for if Cheadle knew something of this murky business he would not disclose it without persuasion.

  Having settled the business in his mind, Daniel let his thoughts stray once more to the lovely Miss Eliza Bancroft. He was not sure why she had lingered in his mind. There were other more beaut
iful girls of his acquaintance who would not be averse to some attention from him, but most of them left him cold. Miss Bancroft interested him.

  He would have liked to get to know her better while he was here, but his present situation was not conducive to any kind of relationship with a decent young woman. Had things been otherwise, he might have stayed longer with his uncle and found excuses to indulge in some light dalliance with the young lady—not that she would have permitted more than a kiss or two. He had no doubt that she was chaste, hence the delicious blush he had noticed on earlier occasions.

  He would not go out of his way to seek another meeting with her, Daniel decided, though he could not pretend that he was not intrigued.

  No, he must not let his purpose wander! He must seek another meeting with Cheadle at the earliest opportunity and ask him what he knew of Marcus’s affairs. If Cheadle lied, Daniel would know—and then he would leave no stone unturned to bring down all those responsible for his cousin’s death.

  ‘You asked me to call?’ Henry, Marquis of Cheadle, looked at the woman sitting so calmly in her boudoir. In her lilac-lace peignoir and a fetching cap she was as beautiful as she had been years ago when he had fallen madly in love with her. He had not seen her for some years, because she had lived quietly in the country, seldom visiting London or Bath, but it seemed that she intended to make a change now that she was a widow. ‘I was sorry to hear about the death of your husband, Sarah. Manners was no friend of mine but I dare say you will miss him?’

  ‘You know my feelings about Lord Manners,’ Sarah, Lady Manners, replied, only a tiny pulse in her throat giving a hint of the emotion she was keeping in check. ‘I stayed with him because of my son, and for no other reason.’

  ‘You were a fool, Sarah. You should have called his bluff—how often do you see Howard now?’

  ‘Very rarely,’ she admitted and sighed deeply. ‘My son is exactly like his father. I have seen him once since he inherited the estate. We quarrelled after his father’s death and he declines to visit me. Besides, I choose to live in the country and he prefers London.’

  ‘Where he squanders the fortune he inherited. You should speak to him, Sarah. If he continues as he is, he will come unstuck and lose everything.’

  ‘Howard takes no notice of anything I say.’ She raised her eyes to his. ‘You know what I want, my lord. You have always known. My health is not good. Soon it will be too late for me to get to know our child…’

  ‘I’ve told you before, I do not know where the child is now, Sarah. I promised that I would make no attempt to find the babe and I have kept my word. The lawyer saw to everything. I merely paid for the arrangements, as your husband demanded in settlement of his terms. I have never known the name of the people to whom the lawyer gave our child. Had I not agreed to his terms, Manners would have treated you more harshly than he did.’

  ‘But you know the lawyer involved, do you not?’

  ‘Yes, for I made payments for the child’s upkeep until last year…’ he admitted it reluctantly. ‘Are you sure you wish to do this, Sarah? Your reputation has remained spotless. Only a few friends knew of your confinement. Do you truly wish to risk exposure at this stage?’

  ‘I am lonely, Henry. And I wish to atone for my earlier wrongdoings.’

  ‘But how long will it be before the truth comes out?’

  ‘Why should it ever be known? Do not fear that I shall reveal your name, Henry. Even if my part were suspected, you would remain anonymous.’

  He looked at her in silence for some moments, then inclined his head. ‘Very well. I shall look out the lawyer’s address. I believe I have it somewhere.’

  ‘Thank you. I am grateful. I was not sure you would come today.’

  The marquis raised his brows. ‘I am not the monster rumour would have me, Sarah. I could not refuse you such a request, though I gave my word to Manners that I would never tell you anything.’

  Sarah stood up. She moved towards him, laying her hand on his arm. ‘Has life been terrible for you, Henry? I thought of you so often, wished that things had been otherwise. Especially when I heard…’

  ‘That I had gone to the devil?’ A wry smile touched his mouth. ‘I decided that I would never give my heart again and so I married for money, though later I inherited more than I could ever need. My wife hates me and I have no love for her. I care only for my daughter, Marianne. I ask you not to tell me if you discover the truth about the child. Manners never told me whether we had a daughter or a son—’ He put out his hand to silence her as she would have told him. ‘It was for the best. I put the whole thing from my mind and to know now might be to open Pandora’s box. I cannot afford scandal for Marianne’s sake. I have hopes that she will marry into the peerage.’

  ‘I have heard that she is a very beautiful girl,’ Sarah said. ‘I am glad you have someone, Henry.’

  ‘My daughter is both lovely and innocent. If it were not for her, I should have asked my wife for a divorce long ago.’

  ‘Is there someone else you care for?’ Sarah looked at him steadily, without revealing a flicker of emotion.

  ‘You know there was only one woman I loved. If, after Marianne is married, I could arrange a divorce…?’

  ‘No, Henry. It was too long ago, my dear. Once I would have given everything to be with you, but it is too late.’

  ‘We could still be together. We were lovers once. Why not again?’

  ‘Because I was younger then. I am older than you, Henry. It was one of the reasons I refused to leave my husband. I did not wish to ruin your life.’

  ‘How could you have ruined my life? It meant nothing to me without you. Let me take care of you, Sarah—let me make up for the lost years.’

  ‘It is too late. My health is not good, Henry. I have settled for a quiet life in the country. You are still young enough to find a new love. I ask nothing more of you than the address I need.’

  ‘I would ask no more of you than affection.’ For a moment his eyes beseeched her, then, as he saw the answer in her face, his expression became cold, withdrawn. ‘Very well, madam. I shall send you what you need. I do not expect to hear from you again.’

  Sarah sank back into her elegant elbow chair, her hands to her face as the door closed behind him. He was still angry and bitter, blaming her because she had given into her husband’s blackmail.

  If only she had been stronger. How different her life might have been if she had been brave enough to leave her husband and go with Henry, as he had begged her.

  Her marriage to Manners had been a disaster from the start. Her husband had never loved her. He had had a mistress in London and spent all his time with her. Once Sarah had given him his heir, he had not bothered to visit her bed again. Lonely and unhappy, she had turned to a young man who gave her everything she lacked from her husband. Henry had been the most generous of lovers, sweet and giving.

  At the time of their affair he had not yet inherited his uncle’s title and had had little in the way of fortune. He was also three years her junior and on the verge of making his career in the army. Lord Manners had known at once that her child was not his. He’d forced her to reveal the name of her lover and then threatened to ruin Henry if she went off with him. She had been forced to break off their affair and to give up her lovechild as soon as she was born. Her daughter had been snatched from her arms only hours after she had given birth, taken from her cruelly by her unforgiving husband. Lord Manners had never told her where the child had been taken; even after his death, he had tried to keep the secret from her.

  He had inserted a clause in his will to make certain that she could not find her daughter. If she made the attempt, she would give up the right to live in the Dower House at Trowbridge and she would lose her jointure. She would have nothing left but the fortune her grandfather had left in trust for her, which her husband had refused her for as long as he could. Now that he was dead, half the capital and the income was hers entirely, the remainder of the capital to be divided betwe
en her children on her death. Her son had not known of the existence of a half-sister until he read the will, and he had accused her of vile things before storming out of the house and taking himself off to London.

  Her husband’s vindictiveness had not hurt Sarah; she had long ceased to care and nothing he did could surprise or distress her. She would be sorry to leave the house she had moved to after his death, for it was pleasant and enabled her to see her son on the rare visits he paid to his estate. However, she had no intention of letting her husband’s unkindness stop her at least trying to discover the whereabouts of her lovechild.

  A smile touched her lips. She had loved Henry and in those days he had loved her deeply. The tales she had since heard of him had been distressing; her husband had made certain she heard of the worst of his excesses, but the young man she remembered was still dear to her.

  She had reached her decision with the calm deliberation that was her way these days. She would use some of the capital to purchase a house in Bath, a city that suited her much better than London and where she still had a few friends. Then she would try to find her daughter and be damned to the consequences.

  ‘I am sorry, Eliza,’ Ted Wright said as she looked at him expectantly. ‘There was nothing for you at the reception office again today.’

  ‘Oh…’ Eliza sighed. It had been ten days now and she was beginning to think that she would never receive an answer to her advertisement. It seemed as if she might have to go into Norwich and ask at the employment agency for domestic servants. Perhaps she had set her sights too high and would have to settle for something more menial. ‘Thank you. I had hoped, but I suppose these things take time.’

  ‘You may need to put in a second notice, but there is no hurry, Eliza. You are very welcome to stay with us for as long as you please.’

  Eliza thanked him, but her spirits sank a little for she did not wish to be a burden to her friends for too long. She would wait one more week, then, if she heard nothing, she would look for employment through the agency.