The Secrets of Scorton Hall: An Historical Regency Romance Mystery

by Kate Carteret

  “I agree. If we are to do this thing properly, we must discard nothing, I suppose.”

  “The pair of you are going to end up in some sort of dreadful trouble, I can feel it.” Lady Barton shook her head in mock dismay.

  “Not with you to make sure we behave, Lady Barton.” Lord Beaumont said and Felicia almost laughed; he had immediately realized the Dowager Countess had a self-proclaimed role in the whole thing without having to be told.

  If one was going to make their own inquiries about a dreadful murder, an intelligent man at one’s side was always a most handy thing, she thought.

  “Oh, I do like a man who does not needlessly object to things.” Lady Barton looked like a cat who had happened upon a saucer of cream. “So, how are you to proceed?” She looked from one to the other.

  “I think we need to do something to discover the identity of the owner of this,” Felicia said, taking the silver locket out of her velvet drawstring wristlet. “I did not look at it properly in the darkness of the summerhouse, Lord Beaumont, but it is very fine indeed. Look at the wonderful engraving.” She said and reached out to lay the locket in his palm.

  “Quite a curious engraving.” He said as he peered down at it. “It looks like a portcullis gate made out of flowers.”

  “Yes, it is quite striking, is it not?” Felicia said, pleased that he was as impressed with it as she was. “It is an unusual juxtaposition.”

  “Yes, the strength of the gate and the beauty of the flowers. Strength is beauty?” He looked at her for a moment longer than he ought to have done. “I would like to think so, at any rate. I should be most disappointed to find that it is meant to signify beauty is strength.”

  “I do like a man with all the right answers.” Lady Barton said with open admiration. “What a clever and politic deduction.”

  “I am always aware of the company I am in.” He said with a chuckle.

  “I wonder how we will go about discovering the owner of the locket. Surely it could not have been Daisy Marlow.”

  “No, Lady Felicia, the poor woman would never have afforded such a thing. I suppose, in terms of discovering the owner, the best course of action currently open to us is carrying the thing around wherever we go so that we might ask about it whilst we make our other inquiries.”

  “Yes, I agree, Lord Beaumont.” Felicia nodded.

  “I presume that you are both trying to gently ease me into the idea that you intend to go to the village of Charlton in Hertfordshire.” Lady Barton said as she reached out to lift the teapot and pour herself another cup. “And drink your tea, both of you, it will be nearly cold.” She demanded and Felicia and Lord Beaumont did as they were told.

  “Without going to Hertfordshire, Aunt Agatha, I think our little investigation stalls completely.” Felicia said in a wheedling tone.

  “Oh, do not look at me like that, child.” Lady Barton sighed and shook her head. “I do not mean to stop you going, I just wish you would come right out with the thing. Really, the two of you behave as if I am some sort of fire-breathing dragon when the truth is that I am a sweet, gentle, and rather defenseless old lady.”

  “Of course, you are.” Lord Beaumont said in quick response, his voice heavy with good-natured sarcasm.

  “Even you do not believe that, Aunt Agatha.” Felicia said, after which, she and Lord Beaumont enjoyed several minutes of laughter.

  “Now that you seem to have recovered yourselves,” Lady Barton said when they had finally stopped laughing. “When are we to go? I expect sooner rather than later would be for the best.” She said, making it abundantly clear with nothing more than a few words and a stern look that she had every intention of going with them.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jonathan had been more than a little pleased to finally get out of Lady Barton’s carriage. She had been determined that they use her carriage because, as she put it, it fit her rather well and an old lady’s comfort ought to be of paramount importance. However, as he sat opposite the two ladies on the almost two-hour journey to Hertfordshire, Jonathan thought that the carriage did anything but fit him.

  It was one of the most uncomfortable rides he had ever had, and he thought there was not the least bit of give in the carriage’s springs at all.

  “I shall be as quick as I can, but I cannot say exactly how long.” He said, peering in through the open window of the carriage at his companions.

  They had arrived in the small village of Charlton and had very easily spotted the small coaching inn. Lady Barton said that ought to be as good a place as any to find out the whereabouts of the fine lady who had employed Daisy Marlow, and Jonathan agreed.

  “As long as you are not in there all afternoon drinking ale, my dear Lord Beaumont, you will hear no objections from me.” Lady Barton said, and Felicia clearly struggled to stifle a laugh.

  He made a point of catching those beautiful green eyes before he turned to make his way into the coaching inn. She really was becoming more and more attractive to him every day. Every humorous comment, every clever thought, every time a strand of that beautiful chestnut hair fell about her face. Every time he fell a little more in love with her.

  The interior of the coaching inn was exactly what he had expected from the outside and the general condition of the neat little village. It was clearly not a wealthy area, but neither was it a poor one. It was just a respectable little place full of hard-working people, he was sure. Farmers and threshers and the like.

  The landlord of the inn, a thick cotton half-apron tied around his waist, approached him with a smile.

  “What can I get you, Sir?”

  “Can I please have half a pint of your finest ale, Landlord?” Jonathan gave the man a friendly smile and settled himself down on one of the long-legged stools at the bar.

  “Certainly, Sir.” The landlord said and made short work of providing the only customer at the bar with a drink.

  “Thank you kindly,” Jonathan said and took a grateful few swallows of the ale. “I say, that is a very good ale, Landlord.”

  “Good of you to say it, Sir.” The landlord smiled; he looked proud and well he might.

  “By far the best ale I have tasted in a long time.” Jonathan was keen to keep the man talking.

  “Are you staying in the village, Sir, or traveling through?” The landlord asked conversationally with no idea that he was playing right into Jonathan’s hands.

  “I am only here for the day, Landlord.” Jonathan said and nodded. “In truth, I am looking for somebody and now that we two are in conversation, I wonder if you might be able to help me.”

  “I will if I can, Sir.” The landlord said, smiling and clearly keen to help.

  “I am looking for anybody who knew a young woman who came from these parts, you see. It is an awful thing, Landlord, but she came to a rather untimely end in Oxfordshire. I have been told the young woman had no relatives to speak of, but that she did work for a lady in a very fine house here in the village.”

  “Forgive my interruption, Sir, but there are no particularly fine homes here in Charlton. They are good homes, Sir, respectable even. But they are middling homes, not the sort of homes which have servants. I assume you mean a servant, Sir?”

  “Indeed, I do,” Jonathan said and wondered if it might be quicker and quieter if he simply gave the landlord her name. “Tell me, does the name Daisy Marlow mean anything to you?”

  “I can’t say as I’ve ever heard that name before, Sir.” The landlord shrugged apologetically. “And I reckon I know just about everybody in Charlton. The landlord always knows the locals, after all. But maybe you can describe her to me, perhaps I might have seen her after all.” Jonathan could tell from the tone of the man’s voice that he held out little hope of knowing the woman but that he did not want to let him down so quickly.

  “Let me see,” Jonathan began. “I daresay Daisy Marlow was a tall woman, but she stooped a little and so it would have made her appear somewhat shorter. Standing tall, she might ha
ve come to my shoulder and a little below it otherwise.” He closed his eyes and tried to draw Daisy Marlow to mind. “She had thick brown hair, rather dull and dry looking, which was wound into a tight bun on the back of her head. She was a pale thing and seemed forever to be looking at the floor. I do believe that was because she had a rather large mole on her cheek, just here.” He said, demonstrating by pointing at his own face. “Oh yes, and she had blue eyes,” Jonathan said, surprising himself with his own recollection. “Pale blue eyes.” He went on and realized that Daisy Marlow’s eyes had, despite all else, been very pretty.

  Something about it made him feel a little sad for the young woman he had never known.

  “I hate to say it, Sir, but I think you have had a wasted journey. I can say truthfully that I have never seen a young woman of that description in Charlton ever, and I was born and raised here.” He paused for a moment and ran his hand through one of the last remaining grey wiry tufts of hair on his head. “The only thing I can think of is a gentlewoman called Mrs. Wolverton. Her house is the closest to Charlton of any note being about three miles away and a little more isolated in the country, so to speak. She would undoubtedly have servants, for I believe she can claim kinship to a baronet.”

  “It is certainly worth a try. Tell me, Landlord, how would I reach Mrs. Wolverton’s house from here?” He said and paid for another half pint of ale as the landlord gave him directions to Mrs. Wolverton’s establishment.

  Just a little more than an hour later saw the small party climbing back into their carriage with a disappointed air.

  “I must admit, I had not really held out much hope for Mrs. Wolverton, and yet still I feel disappointed. I suppose it is because we are now back at the beginning without any more answers.” Felicia said with a sigh.

  “Not entirely, Lady Felicia.” Lord Beaumont said with a smile that was clearly designed to lift the spirits of those present. “I think we have made quite an important discovery, as a matter-of-fact.”

  “Lord Beaumont?” Lady Barton joined in.

  “We can be absolutely certain that Daisy Marlow, wherever she came from, most certainly did not come from Charlton in Hertfordshire.”

  “Oh yes, of course,” Felicia said, shaking her head in annoyance with herself. “I had not even thought of that in my disappointment. So, I wonder what reason Daisy Marlow had to lie. Her reference, perhaps?”

  “The problem with references is that they are all too easy to check if the reader has a mind to do so.” Lady Barton said slowly. “It is rather a risky game to play to claim to come from somewhere that one does not, especially a small place like Charlton. Of course, we do not know the name of the person who sent the reference, although we can be certain that Mrs. Wolverton herself did not send it. There, we have another piece of information, Lord Beaumont.” Lady Barton was warming up.

  “Yes, if we can find some way to have the name of the householder who gave Daisy Marlow her reference, we might actually be getting somewhere.” Lord Beaumont agreed.

  “The problem is, we can only really ask either the housekeeper or the dreadful Chester. They are the only two who would hold such information. The housekeeper would likely still have the original letter, I am sure. Certainly, the butler would have the verbal details of it all if nothing else.”

  “That is a problem indeed, Lady Felicia, for I am not certain I would like to involve either the housekeeper or the butler currently.”

  “Why is that, Lord Beaumont?” Lady Barton pointed at the carriage window as she spoke, indicating that the Earl should open it a little. “Would you mind? I’m in need of a little fresh air.”

  “Not at all.” He said and opened the window an inch or two. “And to answer your question, I am certain that either Mrs. Garner or Chester would go directly to Clarence with my inquiry. If I’m honest, I do not think that he would be at all pleased by the idea of our continued investigation. Not because he does not care, for I am certain that he does, but rather to shield his new wife and have things settle down entirely at Scorton Hall.”

  “It is understandable, Lord Beaumont.” Felicia nodded. “We will just find another way.”

  “I’m sure there will be another way, my dears, but you must bear in mind that you will find out nothing further about Daisy Marlow without it.” Lady Barton was the somewhat blunt voice of reason.

  “Yes, of course.” Lord Beaumont said with a sigh.

  “So, what is next?” Felicia said, as much to herself as to her companions. “Where do we go from here?”

  “Well, to change the subject if I may, I am planning to hold a home theatrical at Beaumont Hall the week after next.” Lord Beaumont said and smiled, seemingly relieved to be changing the subject for a moment.

  “Oh, I say, I do adore a theatrical.” Lady Barton said with enthusiasm. “Is it a play I know or one of these made-up-on-the-spot things?”

  “It is not made up on the spot, Lady Barton, but I doubt it will be one that we know. I have booked a traveling theatre company to come up from London to perform a little comedy of some sort.”

  “What is the occasion, Lord Beaumont?” Felicia said, pleased to have something more hopeful to discuss.

  “It is really in honor of Clarence and his new wife. I must admit, I have felt a little guilty that I have not taken the trouble to get to know the new Duchess at all. I think I have been somewhat preoccupied with the murder, even before we made our little undertaking to get to the bottom of it. Anyway, Clarence enjoys a theatrical, I know that for certain.” He laughed. “Before he met Meredith, he was never away from London. He used to spend many a happy evening there watching some play or another. Not all of them particularly clever either, I suspect.”

  “And the Duchess?” Felicia prompted.

  “I believe she enjoys a theatrical for Clarence tells me that that is where they met. There are one or two little theatres, I believe, in Stirling.”

  “Then it would seem to be the perfect gesture, Lord Beaumont. It sounds like a very fine evening’s entertainment indeed.” Lady Barton’s tone was so solicitous that Felicia could have evaporated with shame.

  Her aunt was angling for an invitation and nobody present could be at all insensible of the fact.

  “I really am hoping that you will both be able to come.” He spoke quickly. “It is something of a secret, in truth, but I would appreciate an hour or two of help and advice on the day of the thing.”

  “Well, we can certainly provide that, can we not?” Lady Barton raised her eyebrows at Felicia in a way which dared her to disagree.

  “Of course, it would be a pleasure.”

  “I suppose it will give you both a little time to think about how you are going to carry on with this investigation of yours.”

  “Indeed, Lady Barton. In fact, if you came out to Beaumont Hall a little earlier, we could discuss it for a while and see if we have come up with anything new.”

  “Yes, of course.” Felicia said and nodded.

  As the carriage rumbled through her home county of Buckinghamshire on its way to Oxfordshire, Felicia wondered how much longer she would have left to stay with her aunt. The summer was already gone, and she dreaded to hear from her father beckoning her home again. She really had enjoyed her time at the Dower house and knew that she certainly did not want to return home before she and Lord Beaumont had come to some conclusions in the awful case of the murder of Daisy Marlow.

  Of course, if she was honest with herself, Felicia would also have admitted that she was coming to hold Lord Beaumont in much higher regard than she had imagined she would.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “What is it? Bad news?” Lady Barton said some days later as the two women sat in the dining room having breakfast.

  Felicia had received a letter from her mother and had opened it with confidence, certain that she was now more than strong enough to hear news of Charles Wilby. Perhaps details of his upcoming wedding might not have been welcome, but she was certain she would not be laid
as low as the last time. Some weeks had passed, and the hold Charles Wilby had on her heart was lessening with each passing day.

  “It is not bad news, Aunt Agatha,” Felicia said, truly startled by what she had just read. “In truth, I do not know what sort of news it is, good or bad.”

  “Oh, just read it out.” Lady Barton had no qualms about such a demand and Felicia turned to give her an amused smile. “Well, at least you can still smile, my dear.”

  “Yes, I can still smile. That is not to say that I know exactly how I feel.” Felicia said cryptically.

  “If you do not tell me what is in that letter, I am in no position to help you through whatever little crisis is contained within those pages.”

  “Very well, I will read it out to you, but you must not interrupt, Aunt Agatha. Just let me read it from one end to the other before you say a word.”

  “But of course, my dear.” As soon as Felicia saw her aunt’s angelic smile, she knew she was bound for an exasperating few minutes filled with interruptions.

  “My Dear Felicia,

  I do hope that this letter finds you well and that dear Aunt Agatha is in fine form as always. It seems an age since you left, my dear, and you are greatly missed here at Davenport Hall. I do hope that I will soon have word of when you are to return, perhaps in response to this letter, Felicia. And perhaps…”

  “You must write her back immediately, Felicia, and tell her that you have a murder to solve. Really, you cannot go back before that is dealt with, surely.” Lady Barton made the first of her interruptions.

  “Do you really think I ought to do that, Aunt Agatha?” Felicia said with a mischievous smile. “I think any mention of the word murder is bound to have my father riding over here in his own carriage to collect me before the sun has a chance to set on my return letter.”

  “Good point, my dear. Keep reading.”

  “Thank you.” Felicia said pointedly before taking the letter up again.

  “And perhaps, when you have heard my most exciting news, you will be keener than ever to get back here to Davenport. I could hardly believe it myself when I heard it and, as soon as I heard, I knew I should write to you immediately.