An Unexpected Title (Suspicious Circumstance Book 1)

by Jackie Williams

  “You need not worry, Madeleine. I have a nephew who will do the job perfectly well when the time comes. He will make a fine custodian of Claiborne. I will not trouble you or interfere with your life. All I expect is civility and perhaps some decent conversation over the occasional dinner. Nothing more. I have business ventures to attend to. While I know I have responsibilities to Claiborne and to you, I will not be here for much of the time. Indeed, I must away to London in the morning. I have a ship due home and a cargo to disperse. Naturally I will be back in time for your father’s funeral. In the meantime I will leave you in charge.”

  Madeleine could scarcely believe her ears. Was she really going to be able to live as she pleased with so little disturbance to her life? Disturbance? Lord, her life had turned upside down in a day. Her breaths became shallower as she realized what he was saying and another worry suddenly hit her.

  “And you trust me to be able to do that?” While her father had let her organize the day to day necessities, she had never been allowed to access the accounts or to deal with the tenants on anything more important that handing out the Christmas hams her father insisted on giving them. Or to apologize for Eros’ nocturnal proclivities. She didn’t know how to run the estate in its entirety. She might have an independent spirit, but she wasn’t a man. Though she knew the rudiments of accounting, her grasp of running the whole estate was surely lacking.

  She was about to protest her insecurities when Ash narrowed his eyes at her.

  “Of course I trust you. You know far more about Claiborne than I do. I am used to the sea and ships, not the land. What do I know about crop rotation or forestry? Obviously I will learn over time. Your father was decent enough to give me plenty of details about the estate, but as I said before, I wasn’t expecting to take his place so soon. I have five full crews relying on me for their wages. I have an office to run, customers to please, and suppliers to pay. I cannot simply drop everything in London and become a farmer or a horse breeder overnight.”

  She suddenly found herself unable to tell him that she couldn’t either. She didn’t want to destroy his undeserved faith. Wasn’t running her own business and being in charge of her future what she had always wanted? And now Asher Derwent, Sixth Earl of Claiborne was offering her exactly that on a plate. The dream of doing something so meaningful by herself suddenly became a frightening but astonishing reality. She could scarcely believe it. She had to clarify in case she had misconstrued his words.

  “But I never heard of such a thing. A woman being entrusted with running an estate. I’m not sure...” She stopped quickly and lifted a nervous hand to her throat. If she admitted that she had no clue about running Claiborne, he might decide to remain longer, or move in permanently. Her life might change irrevocably if he decided to become a proactive Lord of the manor. The thought of being merely sitting embroidering cushions all day stayed her tongue before it ran away with her future. She could feel his eyes upon her and she gave a quick nod of her head. It couldn’t be that difficult. Some of the gentlemen landowners she knew were complete dolts. If they could manage it, she surely could. “Of course. You will give me leave to continue as we always have?” Her voice sounded more confident than she felt.

  Her determined chin had him smiling. Lord, but she was a sparky one!

  “Naturally I will oversee things but for the moment, when I am not here, I am happy to let things remain as they are. It might not be the fashionable way of doing things but I am a businessman not an aristocratic. Your father told me how you almost ran things for him anyway. I do not see why that should not continue.”

  Madeleine felt a jolt of shock run through her. Her father had clearly lied if Ash thought she could run the place already. Or perhaps he had meant to show her in the coming weeks. Not that it was relevant now. It was too late to change what her father might or might not have intended to do. She would simply have to muddle on as best she could and hope that she didn’t ruin them all.

  She took another deep breath as she realized that even though he was giving her free reign, it was an unexpected responsibility. Could she do this? Yes, she had to. She set her shoulders.

  “Good. Well, with all that sorted out, I now only have to worry about my father’s murderer.”

  Ash nodded as he walked across the room and stared out of the window.

  “It has been worrying me too. If it is not Leyman, who could it be? Someone walked in last night and killed him. I know walls are not impregnable, but without a motive, why would anyone bother. There doesn’t appear to be anything stolen. Did your father keep much cash on the premises? Are your jewels still here?”

  Madeleine shook her head.

  “There was some cash in the desk drawer. I had not yet taken my allowance for the month, and there would be money for general household expenses. We pay the invoices monthly. The servants are paid monthly too or by other arrangement if necessary. My necklet of diamonds and another of pearls are in my room but the strongbox containing the family jewels is in the Earl’s principal chambers.” Her head dipped. “I admit that I have not had the courage to look and see if everything is there.”

  Ash glanced over his shoulder at her. Courage? She needed courage to look in her own jewel box? Then understanding dawned. The strong box must be in her father’s bedroom. Where his body now lay.

  “No, I can understand why, but perhaps I should take a look. Would you accompany me to the study so we can confirm what the strongbox should contain? Later, if you can tell me where your father kept the family jewels, I can check on them at my leisure. I assume there an inventory of what the strongbox should contain?”

  Madeleine nodded.

  “I believe the list is in my father’s study along with the estate accounts. I am not sure exactly where, but most of his essential paperwork is in the desk drawers. ”

  Ash frowned.

  “You don’t know for sure?”

  “I never thought to look for it. Is it that important? I know what should be in the strong box by sight.”

  “But when you wear the jewels, did your father not check that they were returned correctly, that none had been misplaced or needed repair?”

  Madeleine felt the panic rising.

  “I did not wear them. I don’t have the need for jewellery. My mother wore them at important events, but my father has accepted virtually no invitations since she died. I had no occasion to look in the strong box because I have no occasion to wear the jewels. Only the locket my father gave me after my mother died which I wear every day. It contains a specially commissioned picture of my mother. I also have a chain of fine diamonds that my mother gave to me. They had been her twenty-first birthday present from her own parents. And a string of pearls that my father presented to me on my eighteenth birthday. I don’t need anything more.”

  Ash glanced down at her bare neck.

  “I see no locket.”

  She could barely look at him as she gathered her wrap around her shoulders.

  “I took it off,” she whispered, a chill seeping into her bones as she felt his curiosity fill the room.

  “You took it off? When? Today? Why?” Ash stared at her as she worried the cuff of her gown and he suddenly knew why she had removed such a precious article. “Dear God! You thought I would deprive you of a locket containing a picture of your mother? You must think me a monster!” Anger flooded him. What had he done to deserve such censure? But she was suddenly before him, hands bunched into fists, her chin raised as her eyes glinted with unapologetic challenge.

  “Do not judge my actions or my thoughts so readily. I did not know what type of man you are. I have a friend whose stepbrother hasn’t thought to buy her a pair of stockings in over three years! Women own nothing in their own right. Nothing! Do you even understand what that means, how that feels?” She had closed the gap between them, her face glaring up at him, daring him to deny the truth of her words. But his shocked expression stayed her tirade. None of this was his fault. She softened her tone a
s her gaze dropped back to the floor. “The locket is yours to do with as you wish, not mine to assume I can continue to cherish it.”

  He caught hold of her clenched fists, suddenly furious that she had backed down so readily. She was justifiably filled with anger. He had no right to take her personal things however valuable they might be. And he certainly didn’t need jewels.

  “I wish you to wear the locket,” he growled as he breathed in her scent.

  She stared up at him as if he had spoken a foreign language.

  “What?”

  He squeezed her hands gently before letting them go. He took a step back.

  “I wish you to wear the locket with your mother’s portrait. It is yours. As are the diamonds and the pearls. I imagine the other necklaces are worn on different occasions, but you will go to your room and put the locket back on immediately. I would never deny you anything so dear to your heart.” Her eyes searched his wildly as if she still misunderstood. He was about to tell her again, but all the air was pushed out of him as she was suddenly in his arms, her body pressed far too close to his, her own arms thrown about his neck as she sobbed into his shoulder.

  “I am sorry! So sorry, but I cannot, I cannot believe...” She cried out, unable to finish her words as she gulped back more tears.

  He held her, one hand splayed on the curve of her spine while fighting the desire to plunge the fingers of the other into her hair. His lips brushed her temple. The skin was so soft and warm. Like a peach ripening in the sun.

  “Shh. Do not cry, Madeleine,” he murmured. “I did not mean to upset you. You do not have to wear the locket if you do not want.” His heart pounded against the inside of his chest as she cried harder, her tears soaking through the fabric on his shoulder. Now what had he said? He clearly would never understand women. He had thought she wanted to wear the thing.

  She drew back an inch, eyes filled with crystal tears.

  “No! No, no, no. You don’t understand. I don’t understand either. I never met a man like you before. So trusting when you don’t know me, didn’t really even want me. I judged you before I met you, but I can see that I was wrong. Thank you!” And she was suddenly gone, the warmth leaving the room with her as the secret wooden wall panel closed over a swirl of black silk.

  Ash stood quietly and scratched his head. What in the world had he got himself into? A maelstrom of wayward emotions, that was for damn sure. But he couldn’t think of that now. He had to make sure she was safe before he returned to town. The thought of the murderer perhaps lurking in the house had crossed his mind more than once. He almost wished that the culprit was Thomas Leyman. At least Ash knew that the man wasn’t hidden in the house.

  Unless he remained concealed within the walls. Hadn’t Madeleine mentioned a hidden room? Dear Lord! What if the passages were not the secret Madeleine thought. Had Leyman had known about them, about the room? Could he be there now just waiting to pounce?

  Asher marched over to the oak panel and searched for the secret catch, suddenly wishing he had concentrated more on the wood than on Madeleine’s enticing figure as it retreated into the gloom. Nothing was obvious. He hadn’t expected it to be. No point in a secret door if the handle to open it was in plain sight. He pressed his fingers along the edge of the square at shoulder level. Nothing moved. Nothing shifted. It was though he had imagined the door opening and the darkness swallowing her.

  But then he thought about her again, her height. She was not a short woman, but she was a lot shorter than him. He rolled his eyes at himself before moving his hands to the panel beneath his first choice. Nothing happened as he ran his fingers over the polished surface. He could feel the grain of the wood, gentle and invisible undulations made by nature and the craftsman who had originally fitted it, but little more. He carried on testing, pulling, pushing until he felt the slightest movement beneath his fingertips.

  Concentrating on the section, he pressed again, pulled again, and finally tried to twist the moulding framing the flat panel. The secret spring gave out the tiniest click and the door opened half an inch. He caught hold of the edge of the wood with his fingernails and, after checking to see that no one was looking over his shoulder, he pulled it wide enough to slip through.

  The floor dipped beneath his foot and the door closed behind him, plunging him into an impenetrable, inky blackness. He reached to his right and let his fingertips trace the outlines of the bricks until they found the alcove with a lamp, what felt like several stumps of candles, and a tinderbox. He fumbled with the tinder but soon had a flame going. Dismissing the candles as for emergencies only, he lit the lamp and held it high. The passage was as narrow as he remembered, but at least without Madeleine blocking his view he could see where it led.

  He followed it towards the staircase, glancing right and left as he went. There were no other doorways to lead him anywhere else, but he recalled Madeleine saying that her father had once become lost. Difficult to do in a completely bare and enclosed passageway. Perhaps there were others he had not yet seen or noticed leading off. He paused at the bottom of the stairs and turned in the tight space. Nothing. Just the wooden treads he had walked down before.

  Ducking his head and turning his shoulders as before, he took a step up and then another. The third tread led him to the small landing and the turn in the staircase. He peered around. Everything was so close to him. Shadows flickered and made the dark corners darker still. His shoulders caught on the walls. He shifted sideways to give himself more room and lifted the lamp again, ready to scan the rest of the stairs, but a slight shine caught his attention. Two bricks, both at about waist height looked marginally different to the rest. He moved the lamp up and down to make sure that his eyes did not deceive him. No, he was confident that there was a slight but noticeable difference. Three bricks apart on the landing wall, they appeared to be fractionally smoother than the rest. Perhaps where people had lain their hands as they turned the corner of the stairs.

  But perhaps not. He touched one of them and smiled as he heard a slight grinding. The wall was not as solid as it first looked.

  He pushed the right hand brick firmly but was disappointed to find that nothing happened. The left hand one gave a similar result. He held the lamp closer and then placed it on the landing floor before pressing his palms on the two bricks together.

  A satisfying rumble filled the corridor as a narrow section of the wall turned on a pivot. Ash lifted the lamp and shone it into the revealed space. Not a hidden room but another passageway, even narrower than the original with cobwebs festooning the walls and layers of grey dust on the floor. He stretched his arm forwards but couldn’t see far into the recess, the light reflecting off the billowing webs before fading into the darkness beyond. One thing was abundantly clear. No murderer had recently fled through there. Nor servant either. With the evidence of the untouched spiders’ silk and lack of fresh footprints on the floor, the passageway clearly hadn’t been used in months.

  Ash stepped back onto the landing, brushing the sleeve of his jacket to remove the layer of dust gathered there, and pushed on the side of the movable wall. The rumble began again and the door closed smoothly into the corner of the wall. He stared at the hidden door. Nothing but the slight difference in the texture of the brick alerted anyone to its presence. Had even Madeleine not known about it? Was that why it was full of cobwebs? He wasn’t sure, but he took another look up at the staircase he stood on. One or two drooping lines of gossamer drifted from the ceiling, but otherwise it looked reasonably clean. Perhaps she used this route as a regular short cut to the garden room and to keep the secret, dusted it herself.

  His lips quirked up at the thought of her in an apron and mob cap with a feather duster in her hand, but he quickly set his features again. Good Lord! Thank goodness he was hidden from prying eyes. The very idea that anyone could see him smiling like a besotted fool was enough to make him shudder!

  He carried on up the stairs, keeping each step as light as he could, alert for soun
ds of anyone approaching, for more concealed doorways or, he recalled the valet’s tale of spectres, other unexpected occupants.

  Reaching the top without incident or discovery, he was about to open the door when the lamplight flickered and he felt a draft touch his cheek. Stopping quickly, he cast the light of the lamp over the walls beside him. Another flicker just inches away from the corridor wall. He lifted the lamp up and then down, following the line of the draft. This time there were no polished bricks, simply a vestibule of flat planks of aging oak lining the first few feet of the walls before the stairs began their descent. He pressed a palm against the planking, releasing the faint breath of air. The wood gave an inch and stayed there. Ash peered at the panel. There were no mouldings to twist or turn, no bricks to press in a sequence. He couldn’t see enough of a gap to slide in a fingernail, and the panel refused to move further inwards.

  He placed the lamp in the original alcove next to the one that Madeleine must have used and pushed the recessed panel again. Still nothing happened and he stared hard at it, thinking for a long moment before placing both hands upon the wood and sliding it smoothly and silently sideways.

  The dark space beyond smelled odd, as though there had once been a fire within the walls. He picked up the lamp again and thrust it forwards. A black mildew type substance greeted his eyes. He rubbed at it with a fingertip before bringing it to his nose. Definitely not any kind of fungus. More like soot. The back of a walled up fireplace perhaps? Or just where the soot had leached through the brickwork over the years? He narrowed his eyes and peered in further. The space was wider than it first appeared and though it appeared dusty and not regularly used, there was a noticeable lack of cobwebs.