The Secrets of Scorton Hall: An Historical Regency Romance Mystery

by Kate Carteret

  “Miss Foster? How are you feeling?” Felicia said, realizing that Kitty Foster did not recognize her at all. “I came up earlier when the doctor was here.” She said by way of explanation.

  “Oh, thank you,” Kitty said uncertainly. “I think I feel a little better, but my head hurts very much.”

  “You look tired, my dear. We will not keep you long, I promise.” Felicia sat down on the chair at the side of the bed which one of the maids had just vacated.

  She could hear Lord Beaumont having some mumbled conversation with the two young women who had been looking after the actress ever since he had carried her upstairs. Catching only bits and pieces, she realized he was asking after kitty Foster’s welfare. What a fine man he was.

  “I’m sorry for any bother I’ve caused, really,” Kitty said, and her eyes filled with tears. “Where are the rest of the company? Have they gone back to London without me?”

  “They have, Kitty, but you must not worry. You are to stay here at Beaumont Hall until you are better and then Lord Beaumont himself will see to it that you are driven safely back to Lambeth.”

  “You are too kind.” Kitty said but looked greatly relieved to know that she was safe and not abandoned.

  “Kitty, before I leave you, there is something I must ask you.” Felicia leaned forward and took the woman’s hand, conscious of the fact that Lord Beaumont was keeping out of the way.

  He was leaving her to it, he could clearly see that she had developed a little rapport with the injured actress. She had a sudden and amusing image of Colonel Wentworth trying to keep his pointed beak out of things and not take over in the same circumstances and she almost laughed.

  “Yes, of course.” Kitty said and stifled a yawn.

  “It very much looks as if somebody hit you, my dear, before you ended up nearly drowning in the fountain. Do not be afraid, kitty, just tell us who did it.”

  “I wish I could,” Kitty said, narrowing her eyes and frowning as if concentrating very hard indeed. “But the last thing I remember is rehearsing with everybody else in the lovely gardens. I don’t remember going anywhere near the fountain and I don’t remember anybody hitting me on the head. The next thing I remember is waking up here in this room and wondering where on earth I was.” She became a little tearful.

  “When we were bringing you back into the house, Kitty, you mentioned a name. You only woke up for a moment, but you said it was Irene.”

  “Irene?” Kitty opened her eyes a little wider. “Irene? No, that cannot be right.”

  “Why not?”

  “Irene isn’t in the traveling theatre company anymore, she hasn’t been for a long time.”

  “Irene is somebody you know?”

  “Well, I do know somebody called Irene. In fact, I only know one Irene and it is Irene Davies.”

  “And Irene Davies is somebody you have worked with?”

  “Yes, she was a part of the Lambeth Players, the same as me.”

  “But she’s not any longer?”

  “No, she left about a year ago.”

  “And you are sure you did not see her here today?”

  “No, of course not.” Kitty laughed in an awkward and confused manner. “Forgive me, but I have not seen her since she left Lambeth.”

  “Do you know where she went?”

  “I believe she went back to Wales. That was where she was from, you see, somewhere in Gwynedd.”

  “Does anybody maintain contact with her?”

  “I shouldn’t think so, she wasn’t very popular. But I can’t say for sure, you would have to ask Mr. Hegarty, the stage manager. He would know better.”

  “I think we ought to leave you now, Kitty, you look exhausted.”

  “Thank you.” Kitty looked up at her gratefully. “I think I will feel better for a little sleep.” And her eyes were closed almost before she finished the sentence.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Once again, Jonathan Forbes climbed down from Lady Barton’s carriage with the idea that his posture would never be the same again. How on earth did the old lady find that rickety conveyance comfortable?

  Still, it had been an interesting ride from Oxfordshire to London and he had enjoyed the company of both ladies very much indeed, especially Lady Felicia.

  Felicia was wearing a dark brown long-sleeved gown with a pale beige lightweight cloak over the top. Her bonnet matched the cloak and the colors, along with her chestnut hair, suited the middle of autumn perfectly. The creamy skin of her face was just a little pink from the cold air of the day and her green eyes looked bright and determined.

  All in all, she looked very fresh, considering the exhaustion of the day before and all its excitement. Lady Barton had been the first to declare that time was of the essence, stating that they should go to Lambeth the very next day and find out all they could from Branton Hegarty. Jonathan had nursed a vain hope that Lady Barton herself would be too tired for such an excursion, but he was wrong.

  It would be nice to have an afternoon with Lady Felicia to himself, he so enjoyed their spirited conversations whenever they had had a chance to be alone. He also could not deny that the feel of her in his arms that night in the summerhouse still haunted him, albeit in a wonderful way, and he would give anything to have her in his arms once again.

  Still, Lady Barton, as bright as a button and as fresh and energetic as an infant, had come along to put paid to any little ideas he had. Perhaps, in the end, it was for the best, for he had no indication at all from Lady Felicia that she had changed her opinions of the foolishness of courtship and matrimony. They were becoming closer and closer as friends and he could not help but wonder if the closer they became, the further away the idea of them becoming lovers might be.

  “Goodness me, this looks like a warehouse, not a theatre.” Lady Barton said as they approached a run-down building in Lambeth not far from the banks of the River Thames.

  “They are not housed in a theatre, Lady Barton. They are traveling players, my dear, and they simply practice here and go all over London putting on performances. It is never anything very serious, rather the sort of domestic dramas in the style of the Adelphi Screamers that have become so popular of late.”

  “Lord Beaumont, how was it that you came to choose the Lambeth Players for your event?” Felicia said idly as they approached a weather-beaten wooden door.

  “I’d heard Clarence talk of them before. He was forever in London watching the most inconsequential sorts of plays. Still, they gave him a great deal of enjoyment, so I thought it would be very fitting to have them come up from London to Oxfordshire.”

  “He certainly seemed to enjoy it, Lord Beaumont.” Said Lady Barton, who’d had a very good view of the Duke throughout. “I believe he laughed his way from one end to the other.”

  “Well, are you both ready for the dreadfully dramatic Mr. Branton Hegarty?” Lord Beaumont said and rolled his eyes.

  “I suppose we must.” Said Lady Barton and in they went.

  The building really was just a rough disused old warehouse with signs of damp and mold all over the place. But in the middle, like an oasis in the desert, was furniture, rails of bright colored clothing, headdresses, and musical instruments, all gathered in one place.

  “Hello there?” Jonathan called out loudly. “Mr. Hegarty?”

  There came a cough from somewhere at the back of the warehouse and Mr. Hegarty appeared from behind another great rail of costumes.

  “Lord Beaumont!” He bellowed and hurried towards them. “It is bad news, I can feel it. No, do not tell me, do not say a word.” He said and dramatically raised a hand to cover his eyes.

  “No, no, Mr. Hegarty. Kitty is doing very well indeed and I daresay she will be back with you before the week is out.” Jonathan said, his face a picture of utter bemusement at the performance.

  “You speak true?” He said spreading his arms wide as if he were about to break into song. “My poor dear Kitty will live?”

  “Of course, she will liv
e, man!” Jonathan was already losing patience with the precious creature. “I will have her driven back to you as soon as she is well enough.”

  “You are the kindest of men, My Lord.” Branton Hegarty removed an imaginary hat before sweeping forward in a medieval sort of a bow.

  “Good heavens!” Lady Barton said, unable to control her tongue whilst Felicia simply clamped a hand over her mouth and appeared to be desperately stifling laughter.

  Branton Hegarty really was quite ridiculous.

  “Mr. Hegarty, we do have a few questions for you, if you have a moment.” Jonathan said in a tone which suggested that the stage manager had no option but to give them his time.

  “Of course, My Lord.” Jonathan groaned inwardly; this man’s entire life was one long theatrical piece.

  “I believe you once had an actress working with you here in Lambeth by the name of Irene Davies.”

  “Yes, some time ago, My Lord. She was a good actress, very good indeed. The problem was, she knew she was good, and she did everything in her power to let everybody else know it. She wasn’t well liked, and I have to admit that it was something of a relief when she decided to take all that pride and passion back to Wales.”

  “How long had she been in London, Mr. Hegarty?”

  “A few years, My Lord.” Now that he had something genuine to concentrate on, Branton Hegarty seemed like any other normal human being, the drama seemingly dissolved. “She would have been sixteen when she first came here to the Lambeth Players. I knew then that she was good, My Lord. She stayed with us for seven years, but I’m bound to tell you that they were the longest seven years of my life. As good an actress as she was, she couldn’t help herself but cause ructions amongst the rest of them.”

  “So, you did not mind when she quit the company to return to Wales?”

  “I’d have minded less, if I hadn’t already lost one actress, I must admit.”

  “Somebody else left at the same time?”

  “She didn’t leave, My Lord, she disappeared.”

  “Disappeared?” Lady Barton said in such a dramatic fashion it seemed that she had picked up where Branton Hegarty had left off.

  “Yes, My Lady. Let me think, it was just a few weeks before Irene Davies went. Two months at the most.” He said and nodded firmly. “As you can see, I have just about enough people to manage the little emergencies like I did yesterday at Beaumont Hall. But to be two actresses down in so short a space of time made it very hard on the others.”

  “When you say the other actress disappeared, what exactly do you mean? She just left to join another company or to marry or what?” Jonathan continued.

  “Disappeared in the truest sense, Lord Beaumont.” Mr. Hegarty went on as he began to busy himself straightening the garments on the rail. He lifted down a horribly bright feather-covered cape and gave it a good shake whilst Jonathan wondered what on earth such a costume would come in useful for. “She just didn’t turn up one day, I had to put her understudy on. I never saw again after that.”

  “Was she a local woman?”

  “Lambeth born and bred. For the first six months, I had her father banging on the door here every day demanding to know if she was back.”

  “So, her family had no idea where she had gone or who she had gone with?”

  “None at all. London being what it is, I think we all fear the worst now.” He shook his head sadly. “It was a shame really, she was flighty but pleasant. I don’t like to think of anything horrible happening to her, really I don’t.” He replaced the feather-covered monstrosity and sighed.

  “Do you really think she came to some harm, Mr. Hegarty?” Felicia asked gently.

  “Violet Smith was a bonny girl all right, My Lady. For her to disappear off the face of the earth can only mean one thing as far as I’m concerned.” He shook his head in a you mark my words fashion.

  “And you have definitely never heard of her returning?”

  “Believe me, there’s not much that goes on in Lambeth that Branton Hegarty doesn’t get to hear of.” He said with a ridiculous flush of pride. “But honestly, I don’t see what any of this has to do with poor Kitty.”

  “Probably nothing, Mr. Hegarty.” Jonathan said with false brightness; he did not want to set the theatrical man’s tongue wagging. “It was just that Kitty mumbled the name Irene when she came out of unconsciousness for a moment.”

  “And you think Irene was the one who hit her on the head and dumped her in the fountain, do you?” Mr. Hegarty began to laugh. “Blimey, she’d have to have long arms to reach all the way from Wales, wouldn’t she?” He began to laugh all the harder.

  “Quite so.” Jonathan laughed too, struggling to hide his annoyance. “Well, I think we have taken up enough of your time, Sir.”

  “Happy to help, My Lord.” His old spirit of drama was returning, and Jonathan thought they could not get out of there quickly enough.

  “As I said, Mr. Hegarty, we will have Kitty returned to you by the end of the week.”

  “And I thank you kindly for it.” Mr. Hegarty was booming. “And please do remember us again, Sir, if you have any other little events you would like to lay on. I think you’ll find us very professional indeed.”

  “Exceptionally professional.” Jonathan said and bowed so deeply and with such flair that Felicia had to clap a hand over her mouth again.

  They made their way back to the carriage and did not speak at all until they were safely inside.

  “It is all very curious, I must admit. But should you not have obtained an address for this Violet Smith, Lord Beaumont? Would it not be a simple thing to go and question her family now?” Lady Barton had clearly been bitten by the bug of investigation.

  “I did not want to raise Mr. Hegarty’s suspicions, Lady Barton. He strikes me as something of a gossip and I do not think that any interference from him would be worth whatever it is we gain from speaking to Violet Smith’s parents.”

  “And the disappearance might be entirely unrelated.” Lady Felicia added and shrugged.

  “I do believe it has been a very fruitful mission nonetheless.” Jonathan perched uncomfortably on the unforgiving carriage seat. “I am coming to believe that the dour Miss Mary Morehead of Scotland is actually the actress, Miss Irene Davies from Wales.”

  “I agree wholeheartedly, Lord Beaumont.” Felicia nodded. “But how on earth is she connected to it all? Do we really have enough evidence with nothing more than a damp seat to accuse her of the attempted murder of Kitty Foster?”

  “Not yet, but I think we must make that connection. If we do, it might put one or two other things into their proper place. But how on earth we are to make it, who can say?” He shrugged expansively.

  “I think we are set for a rather pleasant little excursion to Stirling.” Lady Barton said, her features brightening at the very thought of it. “It would certainly be more interesting than trailing around every silversmith in Southern England or trying to wrest information from the Duke’s housekeeper.”

  “I agree, Lady Barton.” Jonathan said and nodded. “But I must insist we travel in my carriage, Lady Barton. If I have to go all the way to Stirling on this seat, I do believe I will not have a spine to speak of by the time we arrive.”

  Felicia, clearly delighted by the sudden humor, threw her head back and laughed unguardedly. Good heavens, she was beautiful.

  “Very well, have it your own way. I have long believed that we older people have much more fortitude when it comes to dealing with life’s little deprivations. I have traveled in this carriage for many years now and I have never suffered moment’s discomfort.”

  “Be that as it may, Lady Barton, I think we shall pack my carriage when we embark upon our Scottish adventure.”

  As they traveled back from London to Oxfordshire, they all became a little lost in their own thoughts. Jonathan became more lost than anybody, wondering what on earth it all meant for Scorton Hall and his very best friend. Surely Clarence did not know he had an impostor
in his midst, but what of the Duchess? If she’d had her companion by her side through her father’s passing and beyond, how could the woman with the damp dress possibly be Irene Davies?

  There were so many questions to be answered and yet, despite the discrepancies, Jonathan was as certain as he could be that Mary Morehead was not who she claimed to be.

  He knew he could not yet take any of this to Clarence for none of it made sense and the poor man had suffered enough with the death of Daisy Marlow under his own roof. And yet, Jonathan could not help but wonder if his own silence on the matter would leave his oldest friend vulnerable to some kind of danger.

  The sooner they set off for Stirling, the better. He needed answers, and he needed them now.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  It had taken several days to reach Stirling and they had made many overnight stops en route. At the end of the journey, they arrived at the Blackstone Inn as the day became dusk. Lady Barton was clearly tired, and Jonathan hoped that she would retire early and give him the opportunity of at least one or two minutes in Felicia’s company.

  They had taken two sets of rooms, one for Lord Beaumont, and one for the ladies. The Inn was a very fine, well-appointed stone building in the heart of Stirling. The little party had been received with customary Scottish warmth and he rather thought that he would enjoy his short stay there.

  Despite the separate rooms, they had chosen to eat together, taking dinner at the little dining table in the room the ladies shared. They were briefly attended by one of the servants at the inn and fed a plain but hearty meal of meat pie, potatoes, and early winter greens.

  They had talked of all manner of subjects throughout the meal, carefully avoiding their true objective for being in Scotland in the first place. They had each become a little exhausted with it all and seemed to come to some silent agreement to let it be for a while.

  “Forgive me, my dear Lord Beaumont, but I really must retire.” Lady Barton said not half an hour after their meal was complete. “I can barely keep my eyes open and we do have such a day ahead of us tomorrow.”