The Secrets of Scorton Hall: An Historical Regency Romance Mystery

by Kate Carteret

  “If you must.” Felicia said, a little flustered.

  “I cannot work out who is the most forthright; you or your aunt.”

  “We take it in turns, Lord Beaumont. Today I am forthright, and my aunt is gossiping. Tomorrow we shall switch positions.”

  “I think I rather like the family resemblance.”

  “My aunt would be very pleased to hear that.” Felicia was coming back to herself once more, feeling the enjoyment of her spirited character being fully appreciated.

  The wedding and the Duchess and everything surrounding it had, she was certain, dug into her just a little. She knew, however, that it would do her no good to stay in that little pit of self-pity and deny herself a few hours of carefree enjoyment. Why not be herself and make this handsome man laugh and have his fine blue eyes widen in astonishment at her from time to time? Why not dance with him and hold her head high? Why not dismiss the Duchess’ words as nothing more than an innocent inquiry? There was enough pain and disappointment in life without creating more of her own.

  That feeling persisted well into the evening and she felt so much more herself when the time came to dress for the ball. Felicia was in such a good mood, in fact, that she had her maid, Meg, laughing and excited. Between them, they made Felicia look very well indeed.

  She wore a satin gown of the deepest green, a color that suited her chestnut hair and pretty green eyes to perfection. The gown was simply cut, and she was glad of it, for the color itself was adornment enough.

  In the few short hours that they had, Meg expertly created wide, loose ringlets, some of which framed her face and sat softly on her shoulders. She wore long white gloves which looked crisp and fresh against the deep green of her gown. As always, Felicia chose to wear nothing in her hair; no feathers, no flowers, no headdress of any kind. She did not like the way such things felt, and she much preferred the simplicity of a glowing mane of hair.

  Her only excess was a simple silver pendant about her neck, the delicate chain laying against her soft, pale skin.

  By the time she collected her aunt and the two of them made their way down to the ball, Felicia felt wonderful. She felt like Felicia Markham again, the woman she had been before the beautiful and terrible emotions she had experienced in the company of Charles Wilby.

  There was an excitement in her, the idea that life and the future really did stretch out ahead of her and was nowhere near as bleak as she had come to think it might be. At the same time, however, she knew she had spoken truthfully when she told Lord Beaumont that she would not rush headlong into such foolishness again. Felicia had no intentions of opening her heart so readily to anybody, not even the man she was coming to like very much. It was too soon, and she could not risk it. Nonetheless, she could still enjoy a very fine evening, all the while hoping that they would find some way out of the hall, across the lawn, and into the little summerhouse.

  As much as she had decided to enjoy herself, Felicia would never forget her responsibility to Daisy Marlow.

  “Oh dear, poor Lord Beaumont. He is quite taken aback by you if his expression is anything to go by.” Lady Barton said mischievously when the two of them finally reached the ballroom.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Felicia could see Lord Beaumont just yards away, regrettably cornered by Colonel Wentworth.

  “Aunt Agatha!” Felicia hissed. “We have talked about this before.”

  “I know we have, my dear, but I cannot be held at all responsible for the reactions of the Earl of Beaumont. If his mouth drops open and his eyes almost roll out of his head at the sight of you, how am I to be blamed? I am not encouraging it, my dear, I am simply observing it and reporting.”

  “Well, I would beg you to keep your reports to yourself, Aunt Agatha.” Felicia said, smiling, nonetheless.

  Her aunt really did know how to talk her way out of anything, and Felicia thought that such a skill would be a very useful thing to have herself.

  “As you wish.” Lady Barton said in a tone which suggested that she would do nothing of the sort. “Come, let us join Lord and Lady Greystone before we end up in some terribly tedious company.” She said, peering about the room as it began to fill with the great and good of the County of Oxfordshire.

  “And would that be because of their close proximity to Lord Beaumont?”

  “You are a terribly suspicious girl, are you not?”

  “Yes, but I have cause.” Felicia said, lending her arm to her aunt to help her across the room.

  Lady Barton and Lady Greystone immediately fell into their customary conversation, freeing Lord Greystone for long enough that he might join Lord Beaumont and Colonel Wentworth in whatever masculine discussion they might be having.

  Felicia contented herself to simply listen, nodding now and again so that the two aging ladies in her presence would not think her inattentive. However, her mind was already elsewhere, wondering if the moon was bright enough for her and Lord Beaumont to make their way through the grounds now that night had fallen.

  “I wonder if you would allow me the first dance, Lady Felicia? I only ask because I fear for my sanity if I am left with the Colonel for very much longer.” She had been so lost in thought that she had not seen Lord Beaumont extricate himself cleanly from his company to stand at her side.

  He had whispered the words into her ear, and she had felt his warm breath as it moved her ringlets, causing them to gently sway and graze her shoulder.

  “Yes, of course.” She said and turned to look up at him. “I would not dream of subjecting you to such cruelty.”

  “It is cruelty indeed, and I feel a little guilty for abandoning Lord Greystone. Still, he chose to put himself in harm's way, whereas I had simply been waylaid.”

  “That is a very good description,” Felicia said, enjoying the moment and laughing. “He does rather take prisoners, the Colonel, does he not?”

  “He does and, as much as I like Lord Greystone, it is every man for himself in such circumstances.” He said and held out his arm as the musicians began to play the first set.

  Avoiding her aunt’s undoubtedly excited expression, Felicia took his proffered arm and allowed him to lead her away to the dancefloor.

  The Earl was a very good dancer indeed, both elegant and masculine all at once. He looked so handsome in his formal attire, still wearing the austere black only this time with a waistcoat of the palest ivory. Felicia realized, as they danced, that the two of them received a good many approving glances, not to mention one or two that might be described as a little envious. No doubt the Earl of Beaumont was considered by many young ladies to be a very fine catch, not just for his title, but for his handsome frame and easy smile.

  No sooner had they finished the dance than they were joined by the Duke himself. He seemed to be intent on making a fuss of his friend for a while, silently letting him know that marriage would not change their long-standing association. The party around them grew larger and larger, and Felicia began to realize that escape, for Lord Beaumont certainly, was going to be almost impossible.

  Instead of allowing frustration and dismay to overtake her, however, she silently determined that she would find a way to go out to the summerhouse in the dead of night if she had to.

  “What are you thinking?” He said, sometime later when she had been quiet for a while.

  “I am thinking that we will have to go out to the summerhouse whilst everybody else sleeps.”

  “That is not a good idea, Lady Felicia.” He said seriously. “If we are seen by anybody in the middle of the night, our watchers will draw only one conclusion. It is the same conclusion that they would draw this evening if we were seen, but somehow the dead of night would make it worse. I am as keen to see inside the summerhouse as you, but I will not do anything to tarnish your reputation.”

  “Then when are we ever going to be free to go out there?”

  “First thing tomorrow morning. You are an early riser, are you not? I am an early riser. Let us get up even earlier than
normal and head out whilst it is just becoming light. If we are seen then, we can make some pretense of walking. It would be irregular, of course, and might even fuel a little gossip. However, I believe that it would be a lot safer if we adapt our plan to this.”

  “Very well, we shall do it your way, Lord Beaumont.” She said and rolled her eyes quite without thinking.

  “My goodness, I have never met a woman like you.” He said, seeing the eye roll and laughing heartily. “Even Lady Barton is currently in your shadow.”

  “I will take that as a compliment, even though I am certain it was not meant to be one.” Felicia laughed; she was coming to enjoy his sense of humor.

  Chapter Thirteen

  In the middle of that same night, Felicia sat fully dressed on her bed and listened for any sound at all from within the house. Hearing nothing, she wondered if it would now be safe to go.

  From the very moment she had returned to her chamber and begun to settle herself down for the night, she knew she would not get a moment of sleep.

  Although she and Lord Beaumont had agreed to meet the following morning at six o’clock, she became more and more certain that it would not be early enough. There would be somebody about, most certainly the servants would be already going about their business. It would only take one person to see them for their plan to be scuppered, and she was convinced that the chances of them being seen were far greater in the hours when Scorton Hall was beginning to come alive than they would be in the dead of night when almost all the occupants were sure to be fast asleep. Even those who were not asleep would likely not be looking out of one of the windows with a view of the summerhouse.

  By the time she had removed her nightgown and put on a dark blue long-sleeved gown, Felicia was utterly convinced.

  The moon was not as bright as it had been all those weeks ago when she had stared out of the window. That was, of course, going to work in her favor as far as remaining unseen went. However, as far as her nerves went, she began to wonder if she truly had the courage to creep through the dark hall and out into the night alone. She wished that she had been firm with Lord Beaumont; she wished that she had come to all of her logical conclusions then instead of now when there was nothing she could do about it.

  She could not even silently make her way to his chamber, for she had no idea where that might be, and she greatly risked opening a door to find herself staring at the sleeping forms of Mr. and Mrs. Peregrine Woolworth. Fortunately, the idea made her laugh to herself and fortified her enough to propel her to the door, a single candle and some matches in her pocket, ready to do right by Daisy Marlow.

  She opened her door slowly, wincing as she heard the faintest creak, and held her breath while she listened intently and allowed her eyes to acclimatize to the gloom.

  Satisfied that there was not a sound to be heard, she stepped out into the corridor and quietly closed the door behind her.

  At that very moment, however, she was gripped from behind, a large hand covering her mouth and a strong arm encircling her waist and holding her tightly. Shocked to her very core, she drew in a great breath through her nose with the intention of making as much noise as possible. Even if she could not scream with the hand over her mouth, she could make some sort of sound, she was sure of it.

  However, as her lungs filled to capacity, she heard a familiar voice whispering in her ear.

  “Calm down, Lady Felicia, it is me.” The voice was undeniably that of Lord Beaumont. “It is Lord Beaumont.” He added as if he thought she needed to be certain. “I’m going to release you now, please do not scream.”

  The moment he released her, she spun around on the spot and peered closely at him. She knew it was him, deep down, but she wanted to see him so that she was certain she had not imagined the whole thing. Her nerves were so rattled by the experience that, had she been a lesser woman, she might have fainted.

  “What are you doing?” She whispered into his ear, feeling a little unsettled by his close proximity.

  “I have been sitting in that chair at the end of the corridor waiting for you to make an appearance.” He said, whispering so closely into her ear in the darkness that she felt his lips on her skin.

  She closed her eyes until the tingling sensation which assailed her body from head to toe passed and leaned back in to ask him why. However, he gently placed a finger on her lips before leaning in again.

  “Let’s talk outside.” He said, and she realized that he meant to go with her to the summerhouse.

  Without another word, she followed him through the gloom to the top of the staircase. She hovered for a moment, hoping that she would not put a foot wrong and find herself tumbling through the darkness and breaking her own neck in the process.

  Sensing her sudden reluctance, he reached out and took her hand, holding it tightly. Felicia tried not to think about her hand in his as they made their way silently and cautiously down the stairs. When they reached the bottom, he did not release her, and she was glad of it. They stood for a moment, both of them listening for the sound of any nocturnal wanderer.

  Hearing nothing, they continued on their way and Lord Beaumont, clearly knowing the hall as well as he knew his own home, led her this way and that until they reached the morning room.

  Felicia’s heart began to beat uncomfortably; she was suddenly afraid, not wanting to go into that room of death in the dead of night. Her mind irresistibly formed an image of Daisy Marlow laying there battered and lifeless and she inadvertently squeezed his hand hard.

  “You are quite safe. You are with me, Felicia.” He said, whispering her name without any formal address.

  Still, she thought that the circumstances warranted brevity of verbiage.

  They picked their way through the morning room, finding that there was not a good deal of moonlight coming in on that side of the house. Lord Beaumont unlocked and opened the glazed doors with surprising quiet, pulling them gently closed behind them after they had stepped outside into the cold early autumn air.

  When that air hit her, Felicia felt far colder than she had expected to. No doubt her fear was at play also, limiting the flow of blood to her extremities and making her fingers and toes feel quite icy.

  Once again, they waited where they were, two statues in the night listening for any signs of life. When they took their first tentative steps, Lord Beaumont turned his head, looking up at the windows on the rear elevation of Scorton Hall.

  “I see no candles burning.” He whispered.

  “There are only three guests’ rooms which look out over the summerhouse, and one of them is mine. Another is my aunt’s, and she will certainly be asleep by now.”

  “And the other?”

  “Sir Graham Wharton.” She said and they both stifled laughter.

  Sir Graham Wharton had enjoyed himself somewhat too fully at the ball, drinking just a little more wine and brandy than he ought to have done. If he were not asleep, he was most certainly in no fit state to stand at his window peering out.

  Finally, Lord Beaumont nodded before taking her hand again and leading her across the dark lawn. They were not quite running, but not far off, and by the time they reached the summerhouse, they were both out of breath. After a moment’s fumbling, Lord Beaumont had the door of the summerhouse open and was ushering her inside.

  “Oh, my goodness.” Felicia said, realizing then just how terrified she would have been alone.

  “I did not think to bring a candle.” Lord Beaumont said and sighed loudly.

  “I did.” She said and laughed nervously as she reached into the pocket of her gown and withdrew the candle and matches.

  Knowing that her hands were shaking, and the light of the match would easily have given her away, she quickly handed it all to Lord Beaumont. As soon as he struck the match, the summerhouse seemed to come to life. It was much larger than she had expected, given that she had only ever seen it from afar.

  Lord Beaumont walked tentatively into the room until he found an old cup and sauc
er on a battered sideboard. He removed the cup and set it down before dripping wax onto the saucer and securing the candle.

  “There, that is better.” He said and began to slowly move about the place, holding the candle in front of him, shedding light on old furniture and boxes.

  “I must admit, I am relieved not to be alone.” Felicia said, suddenly realizing that her determination to set off in the middle of the night without him required a little explanation.

  “I sat on my bed, Lady Felicia, thinking of all the pitfalls of going out about our business in the morning. When I came to the conclusion that we would have been better off going along with your plan of coming out in the dead of night, I suddenly knew, with certainty, that you would have come to exactly the same conclusion. And I knew, of course, that a lady like you would certainly do something about it.”

  “Which is why you sat outside my room and almost scared me to death.” Felicia said, sounding more amused than accusatory.

  “There is no pleasing you, Lady Felicia Markham.” He said and she realized that they were both being a little determined in their humor.

  She wondered if he felt as she did; not afraid now for they were together, but afraid of what they might find.

  “Well, I did think your hand over my mouth in the darkness certainly warranted an honorable mention if nothing else.” She laughed. “Goodness, I think my nerves have truly got the better of me tonight.”

  “I cannot say that I’m looking forward to this particular search, but now that we are here, it must be done.” He said and turned his attention to the rough wooden floorboards. “Now, not to be too blunt about the thing, if a person was murdered in this room, the blood would have largely ended up on the floor.”

  “Yes, that makes sense.” She said and, when Lord Beaumont crouched to take a closer look, Felicia felt duty bound to do the same. “For the uncovered floor of an outdoor building, this is awfully clean.” She went on, finally reaching out a hand to run her fingertips over the roughly hewn timbers.