The Crimson Cavaliers

by Mary Andrea Clarke

  “Yes,” said Georgiana, her mouth suddenly dry.

  Lakesby turned and looked fully at her.

  “Your brother is right, Miss Grey. I did.”

  “What – what was it?” She found the words dragged out of her.

  “Sir Robert Foster was responsible for the death of my father.”

  15

  Georgiana stared at Lakesby’s grim expression, thunderstruck. “But – but, how? What happened? I beg your pardon. This must be very distressing for you.”

  Lakesby shook his head. His hard eyes were fixed on the road ahead although Georgiana thought she could detect the ghost of an ironic smile.

  “No matter,” said Lakesby.

  “What happened?” Georgiana asked again, more gently.

  Lakesby did not answer immediately. Georgiana watched him closely.

  “I was in Europe at the time,” said Lakesby. “I always wondered whether it would have made a difference if I had been in England.” He smiled at her. “Probably not, but I suppose one always asks these questions.”

  Georgiana did not speak, waiting for him to continue. When he did, his tone was brisker.

  “After Louisa’s father died, his will gave my father joint guardianship of Louisa with my Aunt Beatrice, a responsibility I inherited.”

  Georgiana nodded.

  “She’s not a bad girl, really,” he continued with a smile, “but one has to be on the alert.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “Sir Robert Foster was showing an interest in Louisa almost as soon as she left the schoolroom, barely a year and a half ago. My father favoured the match no more than I.” Lakesby’s voice dropped slightly. “Sir Robert arranged a weekend house party and invited Aunt Beatrice and Louisa. I don’t know what my aunt was thinking, accepting that invitation. My father decided to go, to put a stop to any ideas Sir Robert might have had about pursuing Louisa.”

  “Sir Robert had your aunt’s encouragement?”

  “Oh, yes,” said Lakesby, his tone hardening. “My aunt has been very focused on Sir Robert’s wealth and the extent of his estate. My father knew if left to their own devices, Aunt Beatrice and Sir Robert would have the whole business settled.”

  “But, surely, as joint guardian he could have forbidden the match?” said Georgiana.

  “Certainly,” replied Lakesby. “But he thought it better to nip any pretensions in the bud. Besides, Miss Grey, you have seen Louisa with Sir Robert. I do not imagine you were under the impression she enjoyed his company.”

  “No,” said Georgiana slowly. “I felt quite sorry for her.”

  “So did my father,” said Lakesby. He gave a slight smile. “Louisa can be as foolishly flirtatious as any other girl of her age. However, she is also vulnerable. She’s always been very nervous around Sir Robert Foster. My father saw no reason for her to be subjected to his attentions, whatever her mother’s ambitions.”

  “So he ensured she wouldn’t be left alone with Sir Robert?” said Georgiana.

  “He tried,” said Lakesby, the hard note returning to his voice. “Unfortunately, Fate, and Sir Robert, conspired against him.”

  “I can well believe it of Sir Robert,” said Georgiana. “What did he do?”

  “He arranged a day’s shooting,” said Lakesby crisply. “Nothing unusual about that, but my father was suspicious. He confided his concerns to me in a letter, although of course by the time I received it, it was much too late. He planned to keep watch on Sir Robert. No one seems entirely sure exactly what occurred, but two things are clear: Sir Robert broke away from the main party, and my father – presumably concluding his host intended to pursue his designs on Louisa – followed him.”

  Lakesby paused. Georgiana watched him carefully.

  “Sir Robert walked towards the main house. I understand my father was some distance behind – I imagine he did not want Sir Robert to realise he was there.” Lakesby paused. His next words seemed to require some effort. “Sir Robert did not return to the house. He stopped some way from the rest of the party, and his gun went off.”

  Georgiana felt an eerily sick sensation rise in her throat. Lakesby grimaced.

  “You realise, of course, the shot hit my father. He was killed immediately. Sir Robert always swore it was an accident. I daresay it was. It was impossible to prove otherwise. No one else in the hunting party saw exactly what happened, and he certainly put on a convincing show of sorrow and contrition. At the very least it was abominably careless.”

  “Yes,” said Georgiana. “Surely there was an inquiry?”

  “Indeed there was. They found it was accidental death; there was no evidence to suggest anything else.”

  “I see. Mr Lakesby, I am so sorry.”

  “Thank you, Miss Grey. You are very kind.” He gave a little twisted smile. “So you see your brother is quite right. I had no reason to love Sir Robert Foster.”

  “Your mother must have been very distressed,” said Georgiana gently.

  “She was.” Lakesby made no further attempt to elaborate.

  “I am sorry I pressed you to tell me,” said Georgiana. “It must have been painful to go over it again.”

  “It is no matter,” said Lakesby. He fell silent for a moment, his face clouding. “It does still make me angry. Accident or not, it shouldn’t have happened.” He sighed. When he spoke again, his tone had softened. “I beg your pardon, Miss Grey, you are not to blame. My mother was never the same after my father’s death, you see. Oh, I don’t mean she retreated into gloomy widowhood – it is not in her nature – but her life lacked something. She is surrounded by friends, forever visiting people in one part of the country or another: she’s been in Northumberland for the last two weeks, as a matter of fact. Yet a part of her remains distant, untouchable – almost gone.”

  “I see,” said Georgiana. “I’m so sorry. But surely your aunt knows of all this? Why was she so anxious to promote a match between Louisa and Sir Robert?”

  Lakesby shrugged. “My aunt will see no further than what is of advantage to her. Sir Robert was no pauper.” He glanced towards Georgiana. “There is no point in pretending. You know, of course, she initially had other plans for my cousin.”

  Georgiana nodded. “Yes, Louisa told me.”

  “I thought she had,” said Lakesby. “I never knew a girl whose tongue could rattle so.”

  “You are hard on her.”

  “No, I’m not,” said Lakesby, unrepentant. “You know as well as I, she has no idea of discretion.” He looked at her shrewdly. “Though I daresay you have not objected to that.”

  Georgiana did not deign to respond to this observation. With hands folded, she fixed her eyes on the road ahead. Lakesby laughed softly.

  “I imagine she’s been a valuable source of information in your inquiries,” he observed.

  “Not at all.” Georgiana glanced towards him mischievously. “Do you think your aunt had an idea the prospect of a marriage between Sir Robert and Louisa might prompt you into a declaration?”

  “Possibly,” said Lakesby shortly. It was clear he was bored with the subject.

  The sharing of Lakesby’s confidence had come as a surprise to Georgiana, leaving her in a state of puzzlement. Although he had told her of his father’s death, she felt it had been with some reluctance. She wondered whether this was because it was painful for him to speak of it, or because he knew it gave him a strong motive for Sir Robert’s murder.

  The return to Georgiana’s home was a little later than she had expected. However, she was in time to do justice to an excellent luncheon, if a little preoccupied. Nibbling a piece of apricot tart, she listened with half an ear to Selina’s chatter, making appropriate responses although her mind was elsewhere: a skill achieved through long practice.

  Turning her mind to others with a reason to kill Sir Robert, Georgiana ventured forth in the afternoon to call on Lady Wickerston.

  Despite Lady Wickerston’s claim that she was not close to Sir Robert, Georgiana was not sur
e whether her ladyship would be receiving visitors in view of the recent bereavement. Neither had Georgiana any idea what she would say to Lady Wickerston if invited into the house. She was fully prepared for a rebuff and more than a little surprised to be granted admittance.

  Lady Wickerston met Georgiana in the small salon. Her ladyship came forward with a gracious smile, moving elegantly, hand outstretched.

  “My dear Miss Grey! What a charming surprise. You’ll take some tea with me, of course?”

  “Thank you, Lady Wickerston, you are very kind.”

  While Lady Wickerston rang to give instructions about the tea, Georgiana had leisure to look about the room. It was small, attractively furnished with simple yet exquisite taste. The bowl with freshly cut flowers near the large bay window was one of the few concessions to ornamentation.

  When the tea was ordered, Lady Wickerston settled herself in a chair opposite Georgiana and smiled.

  “It’s very kind of you to call, Miss Grey. I have so little company these days.”

  “Really?” Georgiana was genuinely surprised. It was the sort of statement one expected from someone elderly, living in seclusion. Her ladyship seemed near Georgiana’s own age and could not have been described as an invalid. However, she did look rather pale. Georgiana took a guess.

  “Your uncle’s death?” she asked in a sympathetic tone.

  Lady Wickerston shook her head, giving a slightly sad smile.

  “No, not really. As I said, he was not a very close relative, although it would hardly be seemly to venture into society until after a suitable period of mourning.”

  “No, of course not,” said Georgiana, unable to banish from her mind the fact that Lady Wickerston apparently saw nothing unseemly about venturing out to meet Edward. She smiled sweetly. “I had heard you were in the habit of going riding in Richmond Park. Have you had to discontinue this?”

  Georgiana was surprised to catch a fleeting look of alarm in Lady Wickerston’s eyes.

  “Who told you that?” asked her ladyship.

  “I really can’t remember,” said Georgiana. “Does it matter?”

  “Perhaps not,” said Lady Wickerston. “But I beg you will not mention it again. My husband may come in, you see, and he does not approve of me riding out.”

  “I see,” said Georgiana.

  The door opened and a neatly dressed maid entered with the tea tray. Her ladyship smiled and thanked the girl, waiting for her to pour before dismissing her from the room.

  “Would you care for a scone, Miss Grey?” asked Lady Wickerston.

  “Yes, please.”

  Georgiana studied her hostess as she picked up a small pair of silver tongs and used them to put a scone on a china plate. She found it strange that Lady Wickerston should bother to make her welcome. Perhaps she was trying to allay suspicion.

  “Your uncle’s death must have come as a shock to you,” said Georgiana, accepting the plate her ladyship held out to her.

  “Yes,” said Lady Wickerston, with a small sigh. “It was quite dreadful for him to have met his end in that way, especially since–” She broke off suddenly, flushing slightly.

  “Since?” said Georgiana, trying to mask her curiosity.

  “No matter,” said her ladyship quickly. “Would you care for some bread and butter?”

  “No, thank you.” Georgiana forced herself to hold back the questions on her tongue. What had Lady Wickerston been about to say, and how could she be persuaded to divulge it? Georgiana realised she would have to try forging a closer relationship with Lady Wickerston than anticipated. Despite the difficulties of the situation, Georgiana could not help appreciating its irony.

  As Lady Wickerston handed Georgiana a fresh cup of tea, her hand brushed against the arm of her guest’s chair. Georgiana had the fleeting impression her ladyship flinched slightly.

  “Are you quite well?” asked Georgiana.

  “Yes,” said her ladyship with a smile. “I burned my wrist on the teapot this morning. It’s nothing, very foolish of me.”

  Recalling her own mishap with the teapot, Georgiana was unconvinced. However, she decided to shrug it off, reminding herself that her own occupation drew out an instinctive suspiciousness in her nature which was in most cases probably unwarranted. She imagined it extremely unlikely Lady Wickerston would be trying to camouflage stolen jewels about her person. She brought her mind back to the main point of her visit.

  “Has my brother told you he has been appointed magistrate in your uncle’s place?”

  “I believe he mentioned it to my husband.”

  “Really?” said Georgiana. She wondered if Lady Wickerston was attempting to cover any direct conversation she may have had with Edward.

  “Yes,” said her ladyship, seeming quite surprised at the hint of disbelief in her guest’s tone. “I gather the gentlemen discussed it at your sister-in-law’s party.”

  “I see.” Georgiana paused, looking reflective. “I understand my brother is acquainted with a Bow Street Runner who is going to investigate.”

  “I’m sure that will be a help.”

  Her ladyship was far too discreet. Georgiana tried a different approach.

  “Tell me, Lady Wickerston, are you not the least bit curious as to who could have killed your uncle?”

  Lady Wickerston looked rather startled. “I understood it was that highwayman, the Crimson Cavalier.”

  “Not necessarily,” said Georgiana. “I believe he was in the area, but that doesn’t make him guilty of the murder.”

  “Why, that is absurd,” said Lady Wickerston, showing the first signs of animation Georgiana had noticed. “Who else could have had a reason to kill him, pray?”

  “It would be interesting to find that out,” said Georgiana. “I believe your uncle was not, I beg your pardon, a very popular man. There could have been others more comfortable with him dead.”

  Lady Wickerston looked at her guest without speaking. For a moment, Georgiana thought she would be ordered from the house.

  “Why, that is quite horrible,” said her ladyship at last. “One expects that sort of behaviour from highway robbers, but to think anyone else could… I do hope you are mistaken.”

  Georgiana took exception to the definition of all highway robbers as murderers, but resisted the temptation to take issue with her hostess.

  “I’ve no wish to cause you pain, but there were people who stood to gain from Sir Robert’s death, more so than the Crimson Cavalier. Why, my own brother has done so.”

  Lady Wickerston’s eyes flew to Georgiana’s face. Her countenance had paled. Georgiana watched her carefully. Her ladyship seemed aware of the scrutiny and composed herself.

  “I am sure your brother would not have killed my uncle for the sake of his seat on the magistrates’ bench.”

  “I imagine not,” said Georgiana.

  It was Lady Wickerston’s turn to study Georgiana. “Do you doubt him?” she asked in what her visitor considered a slightly challenging tone.

  “Not at all,” responded Georgiana. “I was merely pointing out that others may have had reason to kill your uncle.”

  “Well, perhaps,” said Lady Wickerston. “I daresay my uncle met any number of low creatures during his time as magistrate. However, it seems in rather poor taste that you include your brother with them.”

  “You mistake me, Lady Wickerston, indeed I do not.” She weighed her next words carefully. “I did not realise you were so well acquainted with him.” Georgiana knew she was on dangerous ground. The chances of persuading Lady Wickerston to admit to an affair with Edward were slim, but Georgiana could not resist pursuing it.

  The barest hint of wary suspicion crossed Lady Wickerston’s face, to vanish as quickly. “One does not have to be well acquainted with your brother to see what kind of man he is,” said her ladyship evenly.

  “That is very true.” Georgiana gave a sorrowful sigh, which she hoped would prompt Lady Wickerston to come to Edward’s defence, but though a flash of
annoyance flickered in her ladyship’s eyes, she seemed inclined to follow the course of discretion.

  A sudden noise in the hall took the attention of both ladies. As Georgiana turned towards the door, she noticed a look of anxiety cross her ladyship’s face. By contrast, her voice was cool.

  “I imagine that will be my husband.”

  The opening of the door to the small salon showed her ladyship’s surmise had been correct. Lord Wickerston stood on the threshold for a moment staring at his wife and her visitor. He met Georgiana’s smile with a dark look she found vaguely frightening.

  “I didn’t know you had anyone here,” said Lord Wickerston.

  “Yes, Miss Grey was kind enough to call,” said Lady Wickerston in her collected manner. “We are just having some tea, if you would like to join us.”

  “No, I don’t think so.” His lordship turned abruptly and left them. Georgiana suppressed a shudder of relief. She looked towards her hostess. Lady Wickerston seemed disinclined to react to her husband’s interruption, but Georgiana thought she sensed equal relief at his departure. It occurred to her that Lady Wickerston was likely to be less communicative with her husband in the house. Georgiana decided it would be politic to remove herself.

  Taking leave of Lady Wickerston, Georgiana was glad to get into the fresh air and sunshine. She stood on the pavement and took a deep breath before mounting the steps of her waiting carriage.

  “Georgiana!”

  With one elegantly slippered foot on the bottom step, Georgiana turned her head. Edward seemed as startled to see his sister as she was to see him.

  “What on earth are you doing here?” he demanded.

  “I might ask you the same question.”

  He responded in a hissed whisper. “I was coming to deal with that matter we discussed last night.”

  “Well, you could not have timed it worse,” Georgiana informed him. “Lord Wickerston has just arrived home, in no genial frame of mind.”

  Edward looked towards the house, an expression of concern on his face.

  “Perhaps I should check…”

  “No, you should not,” said Georgiana firmly. “I gather you have walked?” Edward nodded.