‘No need,’ he had smiled. ‘I provided him with a reliable ex-soldier as nurse and servant. He’ll keep the vicar safe and let me know when he improves sufficiently to be brought home.’
By the fourth day the waters had closed over Mrs Richmond’s head and the household was settled in its new routine. Agnes, Lily and Charlotte had spent an exhausting day in Winchester visiting every silk merchant and linen draper in town and communing with the dressmaker and milliner about dresses and bonnets. They had also allocated a few hours to sending out cards to their neighbours and acquaintances to inform them of Mrs Richmond’s departure and adding, with some scepticism on Charlotte’s part, that she would be writing when she had a settled address. Lady Frampton and Charlotte had spent some time closeted together, just the two of them at first, then latterly with Barnard, but they had not yet apprised Lily or Agnes of their conclusions.
Charlotte was in the old lady’s room when a summons came, if she was at liberty, to the library, where Mr Barnard Richmond would be glad of a word. She entered the room swiftly, somehow managing to combine decent and decorous respect for a house so recently in mourning, with a lightness of step that clearly conveyed her relief at the end of the strains of recent weeks.
‘You wanted to speak to me, Barnard?’ She moved across the heavily patterned carpet then paused as she noticed the other occupants of the room: Kit Knightley and another man. ‘Is there something wrong?’
‘No, no.’ Barnard hastened to reassure her as he set a chair for her between his own and that of Kit Knightley, who shook hands with a friendly nod then sat down again. The other man was introduced as Colonel Fitzgibbon; he had also risen at her entrance, bowed gracefully over her hand, then resumed his seat with a grave expression on his pleasant, sun-browned face.
‘Kit has informed me, Charlotte, of the incredible tale you had from Mama, about Frampton’s behaviour,’ Barnard said heavily. As she started up in her seat, he shook his head. ‘Aye, you did not know I had been told, but Kit was right, I had to know. I telegraphed at once to Colonel Fitzgibbon and he has been good enough to come here with all speed.’
Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief. The colonel plainly intended to keep his promise to Mrs Richmond and she, as well as Barnard, scarcely relished the thought of her late husband’s perfidy being bruited abroad in the newspapers. Although she had read his fateful letter to Mrs Richmond, she was glad to meet the colonel in person and receive his assurance. She nodded gratefully as the colonel took up the conversation.
‘There is another matter that I must pursue,’ he told them. ‘I have been given to understand that rumours have been flying thick and fast concerning the presence of an Indian gentleman of some mystery? And that he is widely suspected of criminal intent?’
Kit Knightley looked at Charlotte and Barnard and gave a slight shrug. The colonel continued.
‘I should be most grateful if you could, between you, give the lie to this mischief. Perhaps a tale of friendship between Major Richmond and this man’s master; kind enquiries on his behalf, that sort of thing. Close enough to the truth, I must say, and yet how far from it!’
As the colonel appeared to sink into a fit of abstraction, Charlotte was grateful to Barnard who, with a look of incomprehension, prompted his guest to further revelation.
‘I beg your pardon. Before I lay my tale before you I must have, though I am sure I need not ask, your solemn assurance that you will keep this information a secret, guarded with your very lives. Indeed, Mrs Richmond, you are so young a lady, I shrink from the very notion of sullying your innocent ears with such matters.’
‘My dear Colonel Fitzgibbon,’ Charlotte informed him in a dry tone, ‘I may be young but rest assured that any woman who had the misfortune to be married to Frampton Richmond could find nothing surprising in anything you can have to say.’
The colonel nodded, his expression grave. He cleared his throat portentously while Charlotte looked up curiously at an involuntary movement from Kit Knightley. For a moment she thought he had clenched his fist but when she looked again, she knew she must have been mistaken, for his strong tanned hand lay relaxed upon his knee.
‘Very well,’ embarked the colonel. ‘Here is my tale and a disgraceful story it is so I will make it as brief as I can. Major Richmond was known to indulge in liaisons with young men. This, as you know, is a criminal offence in this country and a reason for instant dismissal from the army. However, as long as it was done discreetly a blind eye was turned. We were suffering a shortage of European soldiers, three regiments fewer than normal, disaffected native troops, the government at Calcutta ignorant and incompetent; we could not afford to lose a seasoned officer like Richmond. However, he overstepped the mark and an ultimatum was issued. He might resign with no repercussions, or he must, if he wished to continue his career with the regiment, marry and reform his way of life. The third alternative offered to him was that there would be no alternative but to cashier him and dismiss him with dishonour, not to mention the threat of criminal proceedings.’
He harrumphed again and took a turn around the room, hands clasped lightly behind his back. ‘As we know, the timely arrival of the Reverend Mr Glover and his stepdaughter, together with the sudden death of the former, offered a solution to Major Richmond. It is not difficult to comprehend the reasons why a penniless young woman, so grievously bereaved and alone in a country in the turmoil of bloody rebellion, would accept his offer.’
The gruff soldierly tones and kindly smile almost overset Charlotte and she lowered her glistening eyes, gripping her hands tightly in her lap.
‘Well, as far as the regiment was concerned, honour – such as it was – was satisfied. However it seems Major Richmond had no intention of discontinuing his affair, nor of pursuing his other avowed quest, to acquire a fortune while he was in India.’ He glanced at Charlotte once more before continuing in a level voice. ‘Two nights before the massacre, Major Richmond and his lover were inadvertently discovered in flagrante delicto by his sergeant, Walter Appleton. He was disgusted; there were very young boys involved, I will say no more, but he promised to keep silent when Richmond spoke to him the next day.
‘The sergeant’s promise was not sufficient guarantee for the major, however, and he plotted with his lover, agreeing to lead his men into the fateful gully. In return his ally would ensure that dog’s safety and spirit him away, then as soon as he could do so unobserved, Richmond, in disguise, would make his way to the coast, take a steamer to the Malay Straits and wait there for his … friend, when they would set up a cosy nest until it was safe to set sail for America.’
Colonel Fitzgibbon paused, took a sip from the brandy glass Barnard had thoughtfully placed at his side, and carried on, while his audience sat, enthralled.
‘You might ask how I know all of this? Unfortunately for Major Richmond the one soldier who survived the ambush, albeit with almost mortal wounds, turned out to be Sergeant Appleton, who asked urgently to see me (or rather my late predecessor) as soon as he regained consciousness. The other stroke of bad luck, if one may term it so, came about when the young Indian, his paramour, was persuaded to reveal everything to his father, the Maharajah, who was appalled. He is a most honourable man and was involved in delicate diplomacy at the very instant of the ambush, efforts that were brought down by his son’s activities.
‘What finally proved unforgivable was that in the youth’s passionate admiration for Major Richmond, he was inspired to shower him with jewels stolen from his father’s treasury, including, and this, above all, is the greatest infamy in his father’s view, the fabled ruby, known as the Heart of the Goddess. The mysterious Indian gentleman who has occasioned so much discussion amongst your townsfolk is none other than a very high official at the court of the Maharajah of— But no, I must not say his name.’
He shook his head in weary disappointment.
‘Alas, although I carried out a thorough, if clandestine, search of Richmond’s room on my visit here, the turncoat
was delirious or I should have questioned him on the spot, so the missing jewels were not brought to light, and I must report failure and hope that we can avert further diplomatic disaster.’
Abruptly Charlotte rose, all three men rising automatically with her, their eyes agog at the purposeful expression on her face.
‘One moment, if you please, Colonel,’ she said and left the room, to return a few minutes later.
‘I think this is what you are looking for,’ she told him, dropping a large and glowing ruby into one of his limply outstretched hands. ‘I can’t … I won’t say where Frampton had concealed it,’ she told him calmly, following the ruby with a shower of glittering stones. ‘I’m glad you came today, Colonel. You have saved me the trouble of trying to find out what to do about these. Pray return them to the rightful owner with my profound apologies.’
Later, as she and Barnard hastened the colonel on his journey, she recalled the way the colonel had blown his nose vigorously, muttering, ‘Brave, plucky little woman,’ and patting her hand. The hoard of gold sovereigns weighed heavily on her mind but her entire life had been lived from hand to mouth and habit was too ingrained. Perhaps … She salved her conscience with the notion that perhaps she might ‘discover’ the coins at a later date. But not, she said firmly to herself, until I am so securely established that nothing can touch me.
‘So?’ Elaine Knightley, gallant but frail as a dandelion clock, gazed at Charlotte with dancing eyes as she poured tea at Knightley Hall the next day. ‘What is the latest news since I rose from my bed? So much that is startling, and frankly unbelievable, has emerged from Finchbourne these last few days, that only something sensational will suffice today.’
Charlotte took her cup and smiled as she shook her head, knowing that Kit, like herself, had been sworn to secrecy.
‘Oh come now. Frampton dying like that, so suddenly, when he was thought to be on the mend. One can only be glad – what a dreadful thing to say! And following upon that the vicar’s apoplectic fit and Mrs Richmond’s truly astonishing decision to take him to Bohemia instanter for the cure. I must have done her an injustice, poor thing, she is obviously distraught at her son’s death. But what becomes of Finchbourne and even more importantly, dear Charlotte, what becomes of you?’
‘Mrs Richmond was upset,’ confirmed Charlotte. ‘But I believe she lately found herself able to move a little more freely and had been considering a long stay at some pleasant watering place. Frampton’s death and her brother’s affliction have merely spurred her into action. As for Finchbourne, everything is very well arranged. Barnard will make a perfect squire, he has such a good heart, and Lily can queen it over everyone as lady of the manor to her heart’s content. Percy Benson is to take the living and he and Agnes are to marry in July, Barnard giving her away with Lady Frampton, Lily and me as supporters. We can scarcely call ourselves bridesmaids.’
She broke off abruptly when Elaine gave an involuntary gasp of pain as she shifted in discomfort. As Charlotte hastened to help her to a more comfortable position, she became painfully aware of the thin shoulders, the wasted frame. Her gaze sought Kit in anxiety and saw that he was pale, with new lines engraved on his pleasant face. For a moment their eyes met and she read Elaine’s fate written there, and, beside that agony, something else. He turned away from her.
Elaine, settled once more, waved them aside. ‘Thank you, that will do very well, I assure you. Do go on, Charlotte.’
‘But what about you, Char, what will you do?’
It was Kit who spoke and she glanced at him through her lashes but turned to Elaine to answer.
‘Oh, I shall do very well, I assure you. Lady Frampton and I are to set up house together after the wedding, in Rowan Lodge, near the vicarage. It belongs to the Manor, you know, and has apparently been empty since the death, last winter, of some elderly relative. It has taken all this time to remove her cats, I understand, and it is being set to rights, but it will be perfect for Gran and me. We can leave Lily in undisputed charge at the manor and we will take with us Hoxton’s daughter, the widowed one, as housekeeper, together with young Betty, her daughter and Tom the boot-boy, her youngest son. We shall be very snug, believe me.’
A sudden downpour prompted the offer of the carriage to take her home and as Kit saw her to the door he gazed down at her, anxiety visible in his expression.
‘Did Frampton Richmond leave you well provided for?’ he asked abruptly.
His question startled her and she strove for balance.
‘Not really,’ she admitted frankly after a moment. ‘His fortunes were in a parlous state, that’s why he stole the mess funds, but please don’t be concerned. Barnard has insisted on making a settlement upon me and it seemed a real kindness to allow him to do so, he has been so mortified by his brother’s conduct. Beside that, the colonel wrote from London that he has restored the Heart of the Goddess to its master’s agent and that there will be a reward forthcoming, so I shall be perfectly comfortable.’
He said nothing but continued to look steadily at her, his face pale and drawn. She felt impelled to fill the silence.
‘You must know,’ she told him, trying for a lighter note, ‘that from the moment I married Frampton I prayed to be a widow and here I am twice blessed.’ She hesitated and added, more soberly: ‘When I came here I had nothing. I desperately wanted a home and a loving family, security and respectability; now I have it all, everything I ever wanted.’
For a moment her words sounded hollow to her own ears, then a ghost of her usual mischievous chuckle surprised him out of that unnatural introspection as she leaned out of the carriage window.
‘Perhaps it was as well that Colonel Fitzgibbon mentioned the ruby for I had earmarked it to provide for my old age. I fully intended to take it to London and see what Asprey’s would offer me for it.’
‘Charlotte! You cannot have been in such dire straits for money. You must know that I would do any … Oh God, Elaine is …’ His voice tailed away and when he spoke again his voice was roughened with tears. ‘Elaine is dying. There is nothing I can say or do. Dr Perry says it may be a year, it may be two, or it might be next week, but I …’
His hand clutched convulsively at the window sill. Charlotte covered it, just for a moment, with her own gloved hand.
‘Don’t say anything, Kit,’ she told him gently. ‘Don’t say a word.’
Copyright
© Nicola Slade 2008
First published in Great Britain 2008
This edition 2013
ISBN 978 0 7198 1097 8 (epub)
ISBN 978 0 7198 1098 5 (mobi)
ISBN 978 0 7198 1099 2 (pdf)
ISBN 978 0 7090 8569 0 (print)
Robert Hale Limited
Clerkenwell House
Clerkenwell Green
London EC1R 0HT
www.halebooks.com
The right of Nicola Slade to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
Murder Most Welcome Page 24
