“There is nothing to see on the lawn, it is too dry for footprints of any kind. Look, there is not even a hint of dew on the grass.”
“No.” She said, her eyes straying to a flowerbed of beautiful but disturbingly blood-red geraniums. “Oh look, somebody has cut through the flowerbed, see? There are two footprints.” They walked to the large flowerbed and Felicia pointed down to where there were, indeed, two large footprints. “But why run through the flowerbed?”
“I suppose it might have happened in the darkness? Not night-time exactly, but the sun does not begin to show itself until five or a little after. And if there was any sense of panic, perhaps the murderer was blinded by it.”
“Yes, that makes sense, Lord Beaumont.”
“And look, some of the heads have come off those geraniums. It really does look as if somebody ran this way. A break-in, do you think?”
“A break-in and poor Daisy disturbed him?”
“I think the time has come to wake Clarence. He needs to be the one here dealing with this, sending for The Watch and what have you.”
“Yes, I suppose so. You go, Lord Beaumont, I will stay here with Daisy.”
“You are quite sure?”
“Yes, who knows how long she has lain here alone? I will not leave her.”
Chapter Six
The very moment that Lord Beaumont left the morning room, tears of shock and sadness began to roll down Felicia’s face. She sat down on the couch closest to the lifeless form of Daisy and looked down at the handkerchief she was still holding, the one that Lord Beaumont had given her. She could see the traces of blood on it and set it down on the couch beside her whilst she dug her hand into the pocket of her gown and removed a fresh one with which to dry her eyes.
She thought of the awful evening that poor Daisy must have had, embarrassed by dropping the fish, lambasted by Chester, the appalling butler. Had she feared for her position there at Scorton Hall, just because she had dropped a little food into the lap of Lady Felicia Markham?
What an awful way to spend one’s last night on Earth, worrying about the sort of awful hand that life was going to deal out next. Although Felicia had been as kind as she could be, still she felt guilty, somehow to blame for the miserable last few hours of Daisy’s life.
Was there really nothing she could do for her now but stand sentinel until the men of The Watch arrived? But what could one do for a person whose life had been taken from them? Justice, she supposed, was the only gift that could be given to a dead person. To a murdered person.
Felicia felt suddenly warm and wished that Lord Beaumont had left the glazed doors open after that little excursion outside to look for footprints. She rose to her feet and crossed the room, her eyes falling irresistibly on Daisy as she went.
Felicia opened the doors and took a deep, reviving breath of air. She turned back to look at Daisy as if to excuse herself for a moment and stepped out onto the terrace. She could just see the roof of the dilapidated little summerhouse from where she stood, and suddenly she bit down on her lower lip.
Was the summerhouse important somehow? Did that little rendezvous she had silently witnessed from her chamber window have something to do with the horrible murder of Daisy? She looked at the immaculate lawn leading away in the direction of the summerhouse and could see no sign of footsteps. But of course, just as she and Lord Beaumont had already discussed, the ground was simply too dry to be of any help.
Hearing a little commotion behind her, she turned and stepped back into the morning room. The Duke of Scorton appeared in the doorway, his jaw loose as his mouth fell open in shock. It seemed to her that his face was instantly white and there were dark rings around his eyes. She wondered if she looked the same; had the shock she felt inside somehow manifested itself on her outer appearance also?
“Lady Felicia, I really am so terribly sorry. I mean, what a dreadful thing for you to find when you are a guest in my home.” He said, that curious upper-class politeness somehow so pale and inappropriate in the circumstances.
“We believe it is your maid, Daisy,” Felicia said, wanting to be practical again, wanting to help Daisy. “Her face has been beaten rather badly, but that mole is still visible. And her hair is dark brown, so, I think it is obvious that it is her.”
“The poor woman.” He said, advancing into the room just a little and then stopping, his eyes falling on the body and then hurriedly looking away.
Felicia felt for him at that moment; everybody was different, and it was clear that the Duke of Scorton could not cope with the sight of the murdered woman.
“Yes, Your Grace, it is quite awful.” Felicia said gently.
“Clarence, you will need to send somebody out for The Watch. We cannot simply leave her here and they will need to at least have a look around to see if they can work any of this out.” Lord Beaumont said, placing a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder and turning him slightly to face him so that he did not have to look at poor Daisy a moment longer.
“Yes, of course.” The Duke said slowly. “Goodness, this is all such a horrible shock. Who on earth would want to hurt such a timid little maid like her?”
“Good morning!” The sudden bellowing of Colonel Merritt Wentworth made all three of them jump. “I say, what’s going on?” He advanced into the room as if he was advancing upon Napoleon’s soldiers, his aging back straight, his chin held high.
“I’m afraid there’s been a murder, Colonel Wentworth.” The Duke said and still looked as if he could not quite believe it. “One of my maids has been attacked and she is dead.”
“Dead? Let me see!” He said as if he did not trust their observations at all. “Looks like she’s had her face rather battered.” He muttered as he peered down at her without a hint of emotion. “Surprised a burglar, did she?” He said, looking at each of them in turn.
“I suppose that could be what happened.” The Duke looked towards his friend in hopes of some answers.
“It is hard to say at this point, Colonel, although the doors do seem to have been forced.” Lord Beaumont said.
“I see, I see.” The Colonel nodded as if Lord Beaumont was no more than a young soldier giving his commanding officer his report.
“And there are some footprints in the flowerbed outside as if somebody ran from the house in the dark and veered off the lawn.” Felicia added, looking out through the door she had left open.
“Ah, you’ve seen some footprints have you, Lord Beaumont?” The Colonel said, ignoring Felicia’s input altogether.
On any other day, Felicia would have found some way to needle the old man for his masculine arrogance, but she just did not have the required fight left in her for such a task.
“Yes, we have seen footprints outside.” Lord Beaumont answered. “Lady Felicia pointed them out to me, as she did the forced door.” It appeared that Lord Beaumont had the requisite fight, and she was silently grateful to him.
“Of course, it might well have been somebody she knew. You know what these sorts of girls are.” The Colonel went on irreverently.
“If she knew the man, and you still believe it to be a burglary, would she not simply have let him in without him having to break the door?” Felicia said, preparing herself to be entirely ignored once again.
“She likely had a man in here.” The Colonel was rankled by her questioning of him, and so changed direction, still ignoring her. “As I said, you know what these sorts of girls are. Perhaps it all went wrong, a falling out of lovers, and he killed her. Staged the burglary, I reckon. Yes, that’s what he did.”
Felicia did not know how much longer she could stand to listen to such baseless spite and the absolute certainty with which it was delivered. Any one of a number of things could have happened here, but all of them led to a young woman lying dead on the floor. What an awful thing that she had suffered so much only to have people who did not know her speculate as to her character, or lack thereof.
Without excusing herself, Felicia turned her back
on the men and stepped out through the glazed doors and onto the terrace once more. She cried again, angry with herself that she could not adequately protect poor Daisy’s reputation in the face of such nastiness.
“Lady Felicia?” Suddenly, Lord Beaumont was at her side.
“Forgive me, I could not bear to listen to that silly old man bleating a moment longer. So many assumptions, and probably all of them wrong.”
“Yes, one has to wonder how a man with so little foresight actually managed to survive life in the army.” He chuckled to break the tension.
“I suppose a lack of foresight is just the thing for the higher-ranking officers.” Felicia said cynically.
“I daresay you are right.” He smiled at her, mercifully making no fuss at the sight of her tears.
She dried her face once again with her handkerchief and stared out towards the summerhouse. She could hear the mumbled conversation of the Duke and the less mumbled conversation of the Colonel from within but did her best to ignore it.
She wanted them to go, she wanted the Duke to send for The Watch and for Colonel Wentworth to disappear into the breakfast room and set about his meal as if nothing of importance had happened.
“Last night, shortly after retiring, I looked out of my window and could see two people in the summerhouse.” She said, wondering if it really was of any importance at all. “Perhaps we ought to tell The Watch when they get here.”
“Did you see anything else?” Lord Beaumont said, all interest. “Could one of them have been poor Daisy?”
“I really could not say, the moon was out, but it was not bright enough for me to have such detail. Nonetheless, I could see that it was a man and woman.”
“And what did they…?” Lord Beaumont broke off, seemingly a little embarrassed.
“I formed the opinion that it was a secret rendezvous of lovers. They kissed, you see, and then I drew back from the window.” She shrugged. “I was not shocked, Lord Beaumont, just a little guilty that I had disregarded their privacy.” She said truthfully.
“I wonder who they could have been.” He said and, as she looked at him, she wondered if he had been the amorous man.
“I wondered the same thing myself at the time. Of the list of guests who were here last night, most of them seem decidedly unlikely. Mr. and Mrs. Woolworth, Lord and Lady Greystone, my dear aunt. Sir Graham is still a reasonably young man, but Lord Bailridge? I could not work it out at all.” She faltered.
“Which I suppose leaves Clarence and myself.” He said with an amused smile. “Would it do me any good to declare my innocence here and now, Lady Felicia? After all, I was curled up in my bed trying to find a way to get comfortable with such a full stomach. A clandestine rendezvous was not high on my list of priorities.”
“I would not dream of suggesting it, Sir.” Felicia said and could feel her cheeks turning pink.
Even if Lord Beaumont had been a part of that clandestine meeting, he was hardly likely to admit it to her. In the end, it was none of her business, was it?
“Well, thank you.” He bowed amusingly and she was grateful for a little respite from the horror of the morning. “Lady Felicia, I cannot help but wonder if it might have been Clarence.” His voice had dropped to a whisper and he peered over his shoulder back toward the open glazed doors.
“But Miss Mulholland is not here, Lord Beaumont.” Felicia said, a little confused.
“No, I was not suggesting that the object of his desire was necessarily his bride-to-be.” He looked decidedly awkward now and she thought it likely more the subject matter than the fact that he was discussing it with a lady. “Forgive me for speaking in such a way to you, but it is true to say that my dear friend has been something of a rogue for much of his manhood. It would not surprise me entirely to discover that he had thought to have a last little fling before marrying.”
“Oh dear.” Felicia said, trying to look surprised when the truth was that she was anything but.
She was far from being ignorant of the world and how it worked, especially the way it worked for privileged, titled men. The world was at their feet, after all, and more of them took advantage of the fact than not, she knew that well.
“Which makes me suspect that the two things are unrelated, Lady Felicia. For one thing, I’m quite certain that, if it was my old friend carousing in the summerhouse, his companion was most certainly not young Daisy. The poor thing was no great beauty, and I am afraid that Clarence is the sort of man who will accept nothing less. I have made him sound rather dreadful, have I not? But I must beg you to understand that he is not a dreadful man, just a little irresponsible and roguish. I would not have mentioned it, truly, but I think I must be honest with you. If we take this piece of information to The Watch, it might simply be to Clarence’s detriment, not to mention whichever young lady might have been in there with him.”
“I think you are right, Lord Beaumont. I cannot see clearly the importance of the summerhouse as things stand and, given the awful things that Colonel Wentworth was saying, I could not stand to hear the men of The Watch drawing the same conclusions. The poor woman has suffered enough, just lost her life, for goodness sake. No, I am bound to say that I would prefer to protect her from any ugly suspicions, especially if the whole thing is of little help and makes no difference to the fact that she lays dead in that room.”
“Goodness, this is a horrible business, Lady Felicia.” Lord Beaumont said, and she could see that he was genuine as he stared out across the lawn rather sadly. “Perhaps it was nothing more than an opportunistic burglar who stumbled upon a most unlucky maid.”
“Yes, perhaps,” Felicia said, but something was bothering her. “But if that was the case, why not simply kill her? Why beat her about the face in such an appalling manner?”
“I do not know, perhaps she surprised him head-on?” He said and shrugged.
“To obliterate another person’s face seems very personal, does it not?”
“So, perhaps you think Daisy knew her attacker after all?”
“Honestly, I do not know. It just seems like an excessive way to deal with somebody. I mean, a burglar worth his salt would simply want to incapacitate a person as quickly and as quietly as possible, would they not?” She said, hardly able to believe that she was discussing such an awful thing with a man she barely knew. “Perhaps a heavy strike to the head, something that might or might not kill, but would eradicate the threat of discovery efficiently.” She shook her head, she knew she sounded callous in a way. “Really, I am no expert, but something does not feel quite right.”
“It is good to keep an open mind, Lady Felicia, no matter what the opinions of others are.”
“Yes, it does not seem right, somehow, to jump to conclusions the way that Colonel Wentworth has and to then declare those conclusions to be fact. It is too casual, too careless, especially when a young woman has lost her life. Whatever the end result, surely some real effort ought to be put in.”
“You are absolutely right; such a horrible loss does warrant a proper effort.” He said and smiled in a resigned way as if he already knew that a proper effort was very far from what the local Watch would put in.
“Ah, there you are.” The Duke said, seeming to tumble out of the open doorway and onto the terrace to join them. “I have asked Colonel Wentworth to speak to butler and have him send out for The Watch. I know I should have done it myself, but I could think of no other suitable means by which to get rid of that silly old fool.”
“Quite so, Clarence. I’m afraid that we came out here to escape him, my dear fellow.”
“I must apologize again, Lady Felicia. Colonel Wentworth ought not to have said such mean-spirited things about poor Daisy.”
“You need not apologize for him, Your Grace. Perhaps, one day, he will come hard up against a tragedy of his own and think back upon this day and his needlessly cruel words. But you have done nothing wrong, Your Grace, and I truly expect no apology from you.”
“You are very gracio
us, Lady Felicia.” The Duke looked her square in the face, and she could see just how shocked he was by the whole thing.
She truly thought that she had never seen a man look paler before in her life. Clarence Tavistock was so pale that he was almost grey in color and she could see little beads of perspiration on his forehead. In truth, she was certain that she did not look particularly well herself, but the Duke’s shock and disquiet were very marked.
“How long has she been at Scorton, Clarence? I do not remember seeing Daisy here before and the poor thing was hardly an experienced maid.”
“Not long, Jonathan, a few weeks? Perhaps two months at the most.” He shrugged. “It cannot be more than that.”
“And what of her family, Your Grace? Are they local?” Felicia said gently.
What an awful thing for this poor young woman’s parents to have to hear about.
“I have a notion that Daisy had no family, but I cannot be entirely sure.” He shook his head. “That is quite dreadful, is it not? To not even know if one’s own servant has a single relative in all the world.”
“I daresay you have a vast staff, Your Grace. It is not possible to know the details of everybody’s lives, surely.” Felicia said, feeling responsible for soothing him.
“I suppose you never think that something awful like this is going to happen in your own home.” He was speaking a little vaguely, almost as if mumbling to himself.
“Nobody would imagine something like this happening, Clarence.” Once again, Lord Beaumont placed a comforting hand of his friend's shoulder. “Where had she worked prior to coming here? She was so awkward, the poor child, it was almost as if this was her first position in service.”
“The housekeeper and Chester deal with that sort of thing. The housekeeper is the one who interviews prospective new servants and generally has the final say. I’m afraid I am of little help.”
“It is the same in all houses, I am sure. It is certainly the same in my father’s, Your Grace, so you really must try not to blame yourself. Something horrible has happened, but it was not something you could have foreseen.” Felicia said the Duke turned to her and smiled.
The Secrets of Scorton Hall: An Historical Regency Romance Mystery Page 5
