‘Let me tell you, that is an affectation of simpering London misses,’ he replied as he grinned and rubbed his knuckles.
‘I know,’ she replied mischievously. ‘I am getting in some practice now.’
Harry was quite aware that his wife was well versed in social etiquette but she was young and had little experience of the rigid rules pertaining to the London season. Harry would not have worried, after all, he had married Sophie for who she was, but he also had no desire to see her hurt. He resolved to stay in London just long enough to show her the sights, visit the bank and attend Horse Guards. Then they would be free to make a slow detour home.
Their first stop was the ancient, historic, city of York with its rich medieval and roman history and its great gothic Minster. They spent time walking the length of the huge city walls, which were still remarkably intact and from which they could look down on the Minster in it full gothic glory. Sophie was fascinated since the town wall surrounding Newcastle had been largely demolished in the final years of the last century to make way for expansion.
The pair gazed up at Minster’s great south window depicting the history of man from the birth of Adam to the Great Judgement, and marvelled at its beauty, and they walked along the famous medieval Shambles, where butchers would slaughter and sell their wares on the large ledges fronting their shops. They walked down the channelled street where the butchers would wash away the offal and blood, a story which rather appealed to Sophie’s sense of the macabre.
‘Is there anything else you would like to do while you are here?’ Harry asked.
She turned to him with beaming eyes. ‘You know, Papa once promised to bring Daniel and me here. I believe it is the birth place of Guy Fawkes who attempted to blow up parliament in 1605 and get rid of the Scottish King James. And was not the famous highwayman Dick Turpin caught and hanged here? You know he is said to have ridden from London to York overnight on his horse Black Bess to establish an alibi for one of his murderous crimes. Perhaps we can go and see his grave.’
Harry was quite amused at Sophie’s interest in the most gruesome accounts of York’s history but kept a straight face. He was well acquainted with that particular story.
‘That tale was first expounded six years ago and it is not true, Sophie. It is doubtful that he even had a horse called Black Bess. It was, in fact, a highwayman called John Nevinson who made the trip in 1676. It took him just fifteen hours and was subsequently referred to as Swift Nick, but Turpin seems to get all the credit for the feat. He may have got away with his crimes but he was caught when his brother refused to pay sixpence on a letter Turpin had sent him and it was returned to the local post office. Turpin’s old schoolmaster opened it and recognised the handwriting and reported him to the authorities. Very unfortunate for poor Dick!’
‘Indeed it was,’ Sophie replied. ‘Papa also told me the story of poor Margaret Clitheroe who hid catholic priests during the reformation. Do you know that she was executed by being crushed under her own front door piled on top with boulders? Queen Elizabeth wrote to the citizens of York expressing her abhorrence at Margaret’s execution. When she was dead a catholic sympathiser cut off and preserved her hand to be kept as a reminder of her daring and courage. Oh, can we go and see it, the hand I mean. It must be all gruesome and grisly by now. I believe it is in the care of the nuns at the Bar Convent.’
Harry could not help but laugh. ‘My dear lady rogue, I do believe that I have married a most bloodthirsty ghoul. By all means, speak to me of these things. You are my constant delight but pray keep these tales out of the drawing rooms of London. You will be labelled as most unladylike and society will shun you, and you would certainly be refused vouchers at Almack’s.’
‘Pooh,’ Sophie replied. ‘I am beginning to hate London already.’
Harry by this time was doubled over with laughing. ‘Pooh? And that is a word you best forget as well,’ he said as tears streamed down his face.
His laugh was infectious and Sophie began to laugh as well. ‘And pray what can I speak about,’ she giggled after she managed to stop laughing.
‘I think you will be safe to confine your conversation to the beauty of the Minister and the beautiful stained glass windows. But please, Sophie do not speak of the stonemason and his dog purported to have been maliciously bricked up in the walls.’
It was with regret that the pair left that lovely city. They could have stayed a sennight and still not have learned all the rich history. Sophie sat back in the swabs and sighed. ‘Daniel would have loved it here. We should have brought him.’
‘Indeed, we should NOT have brought him,’ Harry replied with some feeling. He would have been most definitely ‘de trop’ and Harry had a feeling that he would have asked more questions that they could possibly answer. He glanced at Sophie’s impish expression. ‘Well perhaps not,’ she added teasingly, ‘but perhaps another time.’
Sophie was now looking forward to the delights of Warwick with its imposing castle and its south façade overlooking the river Avon. The beautiful grounds had been landscaped by Capability Brown and sloped gently down the river with its abundance of Kingfishers and wildlife. The castle for most of its existence had been home to the Earl’s of Warwick but was now open to the public who could explore its rich history. Sophie was impressed by the fact that it was the first Earldom ever to recognise the female right to inheritance. ‘And rightly so,’ she pronounced indignantly.
Having broken up their journey a number of times, it took them three weeks to reach London. Rupert had not seen fit to own a townhouse, as they were never in London long enough to justify the cost, so they booked into the sumptuous Clarendon Hotel. The little season was underway but Harry only had the intention of staying long enough to achieve their purpose.
The next morning Harry and Sophie entered Coutts Bank on the Strand. As they entered, Sophie noticed the emblem of the Three Crowns that her father had drawn in his letter set into the façade. They asked to speak to the manager who then heralded them into his office and asked them both to take a seat.
As Harry explained their business, Sophie handed the manager a letter from her parish confirming her father’s death and the entry in the parish registers. The manager frowned. He was well aware of the strongbox in question but Lord Trevarren had left very specific instructions regarding access to it. He perused the letter and handed it back.
‘I am afraid it is not so simple, Lady Northcote. You see, the late Lord Trevarren, your father, said that certain conditions must be met before the box could be accessed. You must understand that we must honour your father’s request for the utmost security and ensure you are who you say you are. If you cannot meet those conditions, I am unable to help you.’
‘And what exactly are those conditions?’ Sophie asked in exasperation.
‘First, you must produce the Emerald Brooch. Do you have it with you?’
Sophie undid her pelisse and removed the brooch from the shoulder of her gown. She had deliberately worn it just in case it would be required. ‘I believe this is what you are looking for,’ she said as she handed it to the Manager.
The Manager examined the brooch with appreciation. ‘A beautiful trinket, indeed.’
He handed it back to her. ‘That is the first requirement. I now need you to supply me with the code number for the strong box. I know it, of course, but unfortunately, to access it, you must tell me, and in addition, you must also produce the duplicate key.’
Sophie sighed with relief. These conditions were easy. She had translated the code number, which turned out to be Daniel’s year of birth, in effect 1802 and of course, her father had trusted her with the key. She produced both and the Manager seemed satisfied.
‘And now it becomes more difficult,’ he said somberly. ‘You must answer two security questions that Lord Trevarren said only his daughter could answer.’
Sophie took a gulp. She had not expected these difficulties. What if she could not answer them? She could not let Danie
l down and ardently hoped that her father had not made it totally impossible to access the box.
‘Then ask me,’ she replied impatiently.
‘What did your little brother call you when he was little?’
Sophie reflected back. ‘He called me Fifi and he still sometimes calls me Fee for short. I hope that is the answer you are requiring,’ she asked with some trepidation.
‘Indeed it is. And one last question. What did your father call you and where would you find those words written.’
Sophie blushed. Her father’s endearment was welcome when she was small but now she found it embarrassing. She was relieved, however, because she could answer the question. She took a deep breath. ‘He called me his beautiful girl and had the words embedded in the hilt of his sword when I was born. The inscription simply reads, Sophie, my beautiful girl 1796.’
The manager seemed pleased with this reply and continued. ‘There is only one more hurdle, Lady Northcote. It is perhaps the most difficult and personal of all. Lord Trevarren’s daughter has a birthmark in a place that is not readily visible. I am afraid I need to see it.’
Harry jumped up visibly angry and thinking the worst. 'Now look here, sir. You go too far.’
The manager remained quite calm. ‘I do not think that her father would have made such a condition if it was impossible to satisfy it in a dignified manner.’
Sophie smiled at Harry. ‘It is alright. I am quite prepared to reveal it.’ She stood up, turned around and lifted the weight of her golden blonde hair to reveal a smooth discoloured birthmark on the back of her neck. Harry was dumbfounded. They had been married for three weeks. How come he had not noticed that? But there again, it was magnificently hidden under a mass of blonde curls.
The manager stood up. ‘Thank You, Lady Northcote. I am perfectly satisfied. If you come along with me I shall take you to the vaults.’
Harry and Sophie stood up and followed the Manager to the basement where he proceeded to lead them through a number of doors to reach their destination. He handed Sophie the box and took them both to a small offshoot where they could open the box in private. Sophie gingerly took the key and went to open the lock but Harry stayed her for a moment covering her slender hand with his own large one. Sebastian had warned him that she may be disappointed and he was concerned for her.
‘Before you open the box, Sophie, I want you to know that no matter what you find, everything will be alright.’
He gave her a reassuring smile and she nodded her head in acknowledgement. Opening the lid the first thing she picked out was a wafer. She broke the seal and opened it. It was a letter from her father but strangely dated much earlier than she would have expected, in fact, January 1810, shortly after the death of her mother. It was addressed to her and she read it.
‘Sophie, my beautiful girl.
If you are reading this letter, I have succumbed to my worst vice and lost everything. Your mother, Elizabeth, god bless her soul, was well aware of my predilection for the card tables (I fear it is an illness) and this strongbox was her suggestion. There is no evidence of its existence except that which I left to you. That way it could not be seized. It was deposited as an insurance policy so that no matter what happened, you would at least have enough money for a London Season and a dowry. Marry well, and look after Daniel. If you are not yet married you are no doubt living with your Aunt Caroline. She had no fondness for me but do not hold that against her because she had a reason. I know that she loves you and little Daniel as I do, so I have no worries in that direction. I taught you to look after yourself and be your own person and that is the best bequest I could leave you. Just take care that you do not reveal yourself to those who would not appreciate your wonderful talents. Marry well, and look after Daniel and remember, I love you both.
Your loving father William Trevarren.
So the contents of the strongbox were not set aside for Daniel at all. Her father had entrusted them to her for her dowry with the hope that she would marry well, and then consequently ensure Daniel’s future as well. She put the letter down and looked through the contents of the box. It contained a number of items. She removed them one by one. A diamond necklace, a pouch containing a handful of loose precious stones, a purse containing one hundred gold sovereigns, a document that turned out to be Shares in a tin mine and a map which made no sense at all.
Harry picked up the document. The shares would have been valuable six months ago, but Harry had recently read in the papers that this particular mine had yielded most of its contents and the shares were now only worth face value, two hundred pounds at most. Harry suspected that Lord Trevarren had relied on these shares. He could not have known that the shares would fall so dramatically. The contents of the strongbox could have amounted to no more than five thousand pounds, most certainly worth the journey, but Harry suspected, much less than Sophie had hoped for.
He also picked up the map, which appeared to be very old. When Sebastian had accompanied him to Rothbury, he had warned that Sophie would probably be disappointed. Her father, Lord Trevarren had been a lovable rogue who loved his children but he had an irresponsible streak and was forever chasing dreams. He had once spoken of a map indicating hidden treasure but it could not possibly be taken seriously. He had spent a lifetime chasing an aspiration that turned out to be nought. The map was worthless so Harry folded it and placed it back with the rest.
Sophie’s interminable spirit took a dive and her face crumpled. She was not worried for herself but she felt keenly for Daniel. Harry collected the contents together and put them in his pocket for safe keeping. ‘As I never required a dowry, we shall take these back to Northumberland and your Uncle and Sebastian will put them in trust for Daniel.’
Sophie regained her composure and gave him a brave smile. ‘I am sorry, Harry. I expected so much more. I loved him so much. Oh, how could he have been so irresponsible?’
Harry put his hand over hers to reassure her. ‘You must not forget, Sophie. Your father had a winning hand. Lord Dereham could not understand how he could have lost. Your father could not have known that he was a pawn in a very deep game. He did not think his wager as irresponsible at the time. He was the victim of a despicable crime. Do not be too disappointed in him, Sophie. I was expecting this outcome so I have a surprise for you.’
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a document rolled in pink ribbon. Handing it to her, he smiled. ‘A belated wedding gift. Open it.’
Sophie slowly untied the pink ribbon wondering what on earth it could be. She gasped in astonishment. ‘It was a deed for his estate in Rothbury. He had changed its name from Northcote Manor to Trevarren Manor and signed it over to Daniel. Sophie could hardly believe her eyes.
‘Of course, it will be held in trust until he is twenty-one and I will be the trustee. I know the estates are not as big as the ones he has lost. I did enquire about buying Trevarren Hall back but the new owner would not sell. I surmise that the proceeds were shared between my brother, Mr Featherstone and Lord Ashenden. I have obtained legal advice as to recovering the loss but as it is your father’s word against theirs, fraud would be hard to prove. Even if Lord Ashenden is consigned to the gallows, one crime does not prove the other.’
‘What about Lord Dereham and Mr Redesdale?’ she asked hopefully. ‘Would they not testify?’
‘I asked them. I am sure they were not involved and although they witnessed the card lying on the floor, they cannot be one hundred percent sure that anything clandestine had happened. Sophie, for your own peace of mind, I really think that you should put the whole affair behind you and start your life anew. That is what your father would have wanted. My brother, Winstanley is dead, Viscount Ashenden will hang and I have re-arranged Mr Featherstone’s face. It will be a constant reminder to him of his misdeeds.’
Sophie giggled. ‘Did you really, Harry? Oh, and Mr Featherstone is so vain. I look forward to seeing him again.’
Harry laughed. ‘Really, Sophie, have you no sen
sibility? The poor fellow will have a crooked nose for the rest of his life. Shame on you.’
Sophie put the deed down on the table and threw her arms around Harry’s neck kissing him fervently. ‘Oh, Harry. Thank you so much. I think that I could do anything now that I am with you. Let us go home to Newcastle and tell Daniel the good news.’
Harry picked up the document and placed it back in his pocket. He grinned mischievously. ‘At this precise moment I would rather return to the Clarendon and perhaps, my lady rogue, you can show me just how grateful you are?’
She whacked him on the shoulder. ‘Really Harry. I sometimes wonder which one of us is the rogue. I,’ she added with false haughtiness, ‘am and always will be a perfect lady.’
Harry grinned. ‘I know better, my lady rogue but I would have you no other way.’
The End
Further Reading
If you enjoyed reading this novel, you may be interested in the following. I wish my followers happy reading no matter what you decide.
Lady Ellingham and the Theft of the Stansfield Necklace.
Lady Felicity Ellingham is as impetuous as she is beautiful; a character trait that frequently leads her into trouble. One day she goes too far when she accuses the Marquis of Thorndale of stealing a valuable sapphire and diamond necklace belonging to her friend. Unaware that the necklace is a famous family heirloom belonging to The Marquis’s grandmother the Dowager Duchess, Felicity steals it back, nearly being caught in the process. As Lord Thorndale sets out on a crusade to find his blue-eyed burglar, Felicity has the problem of returning it. Her impetuosity has serious consequences resulting in a duel at dawn, subterfuge, kidnap and eventually the endangerment of her very life. The only man that can save her from herself is the very man she has accused.
A light-hearted yarn that will keep you amused.
Lady Winterbourne’s Entanglement
‘I shall learn to shoot, fence and fight like the best of them!’ Being tricked into a disastrous marriage, Lady Penelope Winterbourne is determined never to trust a man again. Fleeing to London dressed as a boy, in order to petition Parliament for a divorce, she meets the amiable Lord Lyndhurst, Earl of Croxdale who penetrates her disguise and determines to find out exactly who she is.
Lady Trevarren and the Emerald Brooch: A Regency Romance and Murder Mystery Page 21
