The Bloodied Cravat

by Rosemary Stevens

  “Perhaps I shall have a talk with him,” I said, giving myself the excuse to leave them. “Have you seen Mr. Cranworth?”

  “He passed by us not long ago,” Lord Wrayburn said.

  Behind her fan, Lady Penelope whispered, “He looked like he had consumed too much wine. His face was flushed and he bumped into a lady.”

  I thanked them and bowed.

  So, Roger had been drinking. That might work to my advantage. I carried my own glass and made my way through the Red Drawing Room. Here I was startled to see Cecily Cranworth seated on a crimson sofa with Doctor Wendell.

  Strolling up to the couple, I could see Cecily flushed with happiness. The doctor rose. “Well met, Mr. Brummell. I wouldn’t expect that you’d think to see me in such glorified surroundings, but Miss Cecily Cranworth has agreed to be my wife, and I came here with her party.”

  I congratulated them both heartily, then said, “It is good to see you in London, Doctor. And where is your brother, Miss Cranworth?”

  Her big brown eyes clouded. “I saw him a few minutes ago. I fear he is quite drunk, for his gait was unsteady.” She indicated the Long Gallery. “He went in that direction. I hope he goes outside and breathes some fresh air.”

  I excused myself, bowed and turned my steps in the direction of the Long Gallery. The Gallery is lined on one wall with books, two fireplaces and settees and chairs. The other side features eleven windows which look out onto the grass leading to the river Thames.

  The area was crowded with finely dressed members of Society, noisily conversing with their friends. I had the devil of a time making my way, as at every turn I was greeted by one acquaintance or another.

  Then, about halfway down the long room, I spied Victor Tallarico ensconced on a settee with a beautiful blonde-haired girl I knew to be Lady Amy.

  “Where is the Royal Duchess, Tallarico?” I demanded.

  The Italian reluctantly looked up from his paramour. “Good evening to you, Mr. Brummell.”

  Lady Amy chuckled. I bowed to her. “I beg your pardon for disturbing you, Lady Amy—by the way that pink gown is most becoming—but I must see—”

  A sudden silence in the room caused me to swing around. Tallarico and Lady Amy rose to their feet only to bow low. I saw the cause of the commotion and executed a bow as well.

  The Prince of Wales—dressed almost as elegantly as yours truly—entered the room smiling, the Duke and Duchess of Northumberland followed just behind him, the rest of his loyal public bowing, curtseying and waiting for him to speak. He gave a friendly wave to everyone and opened his mouth preparing to speak.

  That was when I heard a female voice scream. The sound came from the direction of the end of the Gallery.

  A collective gasp brought everyone out of their bowing and scraping. The Duke of Northumberland strode quickly in the direction of one of the turret rooms. Prinny followed more slowly. I escaped his notice as I made my way to the Duke’s side.

  His Grace swung open the door to a small, jewel-box of a room, all pink and blue. Suspended from the domed ceiling is a mechanical singing bird in a cage. The bottom of the cage is a blue clock with a white face.

  But it was another white face that drew attention.

  Roger Cranworth lay sprawled on the floor directly under the clock. His unseeing eyes stared upwards as if he were checking the time.

  Freddie stood over him, her hand covering her mouth in horror.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  The Duke of Northumberland took command. He ordered that a doctor be summoned, only to find he already had one in his house. Doctor Wendell hurried to Roger Cranworth’s body. The doctor felt for a pulse, but looked at us grimly and shook his head. It was too late. Roger Cranworth was dead.

  And Freddie was the one alone with him when he died.

  I managed to slip into the small room and stand beside her. “Freddie,” I whispered. I squeezed her ice-cold hand for a moment. “What happened?” Overcome with shock, she could not speak. Her wide gaze fixed on the corpse and did not waver. The Duke of Northumberland, Freddie, and I watched silently as Doctor Wendell examined the body.

  Prinny stood outside the room as if he was on guard himself—he always imagines himself a great military man—though I suspect he did not want to be in the room with a dead body. He did allow Victor Tallarico to enter.

  Just when Doctor Wendell said, “It appears Mr. Cranworth is the victim of some sort of poison. I suggest that glass on the floor be examined for traces of the drug,” Cecily Cranworth’s face appeared at the door next to the Prince, and she heard the words.

  Seeing her brother on the floor, she began calling his name and crying hysterically. Doctor Wendell abandoned the dead man and hurried to Cecily’s side, keeping her outside the small room and attempting to comfort her.

  Victor Tallarico said, “Dio mio, was he murdered or did he take poison to do away with himself?”

  “That is a matter for Bow Street,” the Duke of Northumberland replied. He then ordered everyone from the turret room. We filed out, and he shut the door on the dead body. He then issued orders for a messenger to ride to Bow Street. In the meantime, he posted two footmen outside the turret room door.

  Guests milled about, stunned. The Duke saw to the gathering. Everyone would no doubt be most annoyed at this interruption of their fun by the death of a lowly member of the country gentry, but the party was over. Perhaps they could spend the remainder of the evening gossiping about why her Royal Highness, the Duchess of York, had been the one at the corpse’s side.

  Julia, The Duchess of Northumberland, led the Prince, Cecily Cranworth, Doctor Wendell, Freddie, and me into the Red Drawing Room. Victor Tallarico slipped in at the last moment. “I escorted the Royal Duchess here, Mr. Brummell,” he told me, then went to sit by Freddie.

  The Duchess of Northumberland closed the doors to the room to keep out the curious while we waited for Bow Street.

  There followed an agonising time while Cecily Cranworth could not be consoled. She seemed equally upset over Lady Ariana, who would have to be told her fiancé was dead. Doctor Wendell asked that Lady Crecy be located and brought to the drawing room. That lady arrived and took Cecily into her arms. Doctor Wendell was finally able to give Cecily a drop of laudanum in a cup of tea.

  My mind reeled. What the deuce had happened? Who could have poisoned Roger Cranworth? I did not believe for a second that he had committed suicide. Was there yet another person involved in the highwayman scheme and the subsequent plan to blackmail Freddie and me? Or had Roger been killed for another reason? Why was Freddie alone with Roger in the turret room?

  He must have approached her regarding the letter. If only I could speak to Freddie privately. But I could not.

  I looked at her. Clad in an ivory silk gown with silk roses trimming the high waist, Freddie’s skin was much whiter than her dress. She darted a look at me, but quickly looked away. Victor Tallarico did not have any luck either. His attempts to converse with Freddie were met with a little shake of her head. It was as if she had turned inward and would not be drawn out. The Duchess of Northumberland sat in a chair next to her and offered tea from a tray brought in by a footman.

  “Thank you, Julia,” Freddie said in a quiet voice. “If someone could send word to my maid, Ulga, that I am all right.”

  The footman cleared his throat and looked at his mistress.

  “Yes?”

  “Her Royal Highness’s maid is just outside the door, Your Grace. She is quite distressed and wishes to be of service.”

  Freddie addressed the young man. “Tell Ulga to remain in the servants’ area until it is time to leave.”

  The footman bowed and walked backward—as one does in the presence of royalty—from the room.

  Prinny said, “What happened back there, Frederica? Who was that man in the room with you? I dare say he is unknown to me.”

  Freddie’s small hand trembled on her teacup. “Mr. Cranworth was a country neighbor of mine.”

/>   “Didn’t come up to Town much, or I’d know about it,” the Prince said. “What were you doing alone with him?”

  “He asked to speak with me privately,” Freddie replied. “I am not certain what he wanted. He-he collapsed before he could tell me.”

  In an effort to divert the Prince, I said, “As Miss Cecily Cranworth was saying to me earlier, her brother had recently become engaged to Lady Ariana, Lord Kendrick’s cousin. Lady Ariana is staying with Lady Crecy here in London. Perhaps his betrothed is the reason Mr. Cranworth is in Town.”

  “Lord Kendrick? The marquess who was murdered at Oatlands?” the Prince asked in no small measure of surprise.

  “The very same,” I replied.

  The Prince looked at Freddie. “Where, exactly, is my brother?”

  “I believe him to be in Geneva, sir,” Freddie answered. “However, I wrote to him after the ordeal with Lord Kendrick. He may return to London now, I cannot say.”

  That is just what we all needed: the Duke of York to return and make things worse.

  As it turned out, the person who made things worse was none other than Mr. John Lavender. He arrived with four constables and was led directly to the turret room. Before he entered the room, he looked over at Freddie and me with a dark expression that did not bode well.

  Everyone rose to gather once more outside the turret room. At last I had my chance to speak to Freddie.

  “Freddie,” I whispered in her ear. “What happened?”

  She spoke without looking at me. “You did not recover my letter last night as you had promised, did you, George?”

  “No,” I said in a dismal voice.

  “Instead I heard from Roger Cranworth. He wrote me that he would seek me out at Syon House tonight. He said he had something that belonged to me.”

  “So you met him in that room?”

  “Yes. He sought me out earlier and told me when and where,” her voice broke. “I-I agreed, and-and he had the letter in his hand. Then before he could say anything, he-he grasped his chest in pain and fell down.” Tears formed in Freddie’s eyes.

  The Duchess of Northumberland could not hear us, but she saw Freddie’s distress and came to take her hand.

  I walked toward the turret room like one about to come upon a scene of horror and unable to turn back. At the door, the scene played out. Mr. Lavender crouched down and examined the corpse. I saw each movement in vivid clarity. The moment when he reached inside Roger Cranworth’s pocket. The next moment when he withdrew what I knew with a certainty was Freddie’s letter from inside Roger’s coat. A second sheet of paper accompanied the lethal letter. A translation from the original French, I thought, so that Roger, unversed in the language, could read the letter aloud to Freddie if necessary while making his demands.

  Mr. Lavender scanned the lines. Twice. Then, without a word, he folded the papers and put them in his pocket. He rose slowly to his feet, turned and saw me standing in the doorway.

  There was an emotion in the Scotsman’s eyes I had never seen before when he looked at me. Disappointment.

  He quietly gave his men orders for the removal of the body.

  I had to step out of the way as the constables carried the body of Roger Cranworth from the room and towards a hidden door in the Gallery that led outside.

  Cecily Cranworth’s sobs served as a distraction for everyone. While the attention was on her and Freddie, I stepped into the turret room just as the constables stepped out and before Mr. Lavender could exit the room.

  The Bow Street man said, “The nobility are not known for their high morals. But I didn’t want to believe it of you, laddie.”

  “Do not believe it,” I said fervently. My voice strong but low, I compelled him to believe me. “That letter was written in a moment of high distress. Her Royal Highness has never broken her marriage vows.”

  He measured my sincerity, then said ominously, “Perhaps not, but if it were thought that she had, both of you would be ruined.”

  “I know what you are thinking—”

  “Brummell?” the Prince called.

  I swung around, “Yes, sir, I shall be right there.”

  Mr. Lavender made as if to move past me.

  “Wait,” I said. “I deliberately misled you earlier. I have been investigating Lord Kendrick’s death. I do have information for you. Give me another day.”

  “You’re asking me for time? Time where you could find a way to protect the Royal Duchess?”

  “Do you really think she is capable of killing anyone?”

  “In the world you live in, Mr. Brummell, reputation is everything. If Cranworth were blackmailing you, both you and the Royal Duchess had motive to kill him.” The Scotsman shook his head. “Each and every one of us is capable of killing if the provocation is great enough.”

  “She did not do anything wrong, I give you my word as a gentleman,” I insisted.

  “Are you confessing, then?”

  “Look here, give me a day, just one day. Do not show the letter to anyone in the meantime. I am asking you on the strength of our ... well, our friendship.”

  He studied me intently. “Ach!” was the gruff reply I received before he stepped past me and exited Syon House.

  “Zeus!” the Prince exclaimed when I joined him. “I’ve a mind to continue the party at Carlton House,” he said indicating a large group of people waiting for him. “Come with us, Brummell.”

  “Sir, I beg that you will excuse me. I am acquainted with the deceased’s fiancée and wish to offer my condolences.”

  He waved a royal hand. “Very well, then. All I can say is that I will be glad when Frederick returns and sees to his wife. Gads, she shouldn’t be allowed to have a corpse at Oatlands. Now here she is with a dead fellow in the middle of a party. Looks damned odd.”

  “Yes, sir,” I agreed in order to placate him. “You know the way her Royal Highness likes to help those less fortunate. In this case, she was too late.”

  “Eh?” Prinny said, already anticipating how to amuse himself at his residence at Carlton House.

  I bowed low. “I shall call on you later in the week, sir.”

  “Do,” he said absently, walking away.

  I hastened to where the Duchess of Northumberland, Lady Crecy and Doctor Wendell hovered over Cecily Cranworth.

  Lady Crecy said, “Oh, Mr. Brummell. What are we to do? Miss Cranworth here has no where to go, so I have offered her my house.”

  “That is most kind of you, my lady,” I said. “Er, where is the Royal Duchess?”

  “Signor Tallarico escorted her back to St. James’s Palace. What a shock it must have been for our dear little Royal Duchess to have someone expire right in front of her.”

  “Yes.” Mayhaps she would accept Tallarico’s comfort.

  “And now,” Lady Crecy was saying, “we must go home and tell Lady Ariana. Oh dear, oh dear.”

  My mind raced ahead. “Lady Crecy, allow me to come with you. Perhaps I could be of some assistance.”

  Lady Crecy pressed my arm. “How good of you, Mr. Brummell. One needs a gentleman present in circumstances such as these. Lord Wrayburn has already taken Penelope home in his carriage and is sure to have departed for Wrayburn House before we arrive home. While I am convinced Doctor Wendell is a fine man, well, as I said, a gentleman is needed.”

  Riding in Lady Crecy’s luxurious Town coach a few minutes later, I had time to think. Lady Crecy sat next to me, with Cecily Cranworth and Doctor Wendell opposite.

  I had been so sure that Roger Cranworth had killed Lord Kendrick. Now Roger was dead. I still believed he had killed Neal. But who had given Roger poison? I refused to even consider that Freddie, desperate over the letter, had had anything to do with Roger’s death. That meant that the poison that killed Roger had been given to him prior to when he met her in the turret room. But how much earlier? My knowledge of poisons is somewhat limited, you understand, never having had occasion to use one myself.

  Could Roger have been given the d
rug before the ball at Syon House? Or had someone slipped him a poisoned drink at the party?

  Who wanted both Lord Kendrick and Roger dead?

  I looked at Cecily Cranworth. She would have motive to kill Lord Kendrick, but not her brother. Despite Roger’s care-for-nobody ways, Miss Cranworth still loved him. More importantly, she knew her friend Lady Ariana loved him. Cecily would do nothing to hurt Lady Ariana.

  What about Doctor Wendell? He would have knowledge of poisons. He had been at the Oatlands house party, angry at Lord Kendrick’s brutish treatment of Cecily Cranworth. But as for Roger ... When I arrived at Syon House, Cecily and Doctor Wendell had told me of their engagement. Roger, thinking himself soon to be rich by blackmailing Freddie, apparently had given the couple his blessing. Doctor Wendell would have no reason to kill Roger. He would not want Cecily hurt—as she appeared now—by her brother’s death.

  Inside Lady Crecy’s grand house, we gathered in the drawing room. A footman was sent to Lady Ariana’s room to bring the lady down. Some minutes went by before the pale, wispy girl slipped into the room.

  Cecily Cranworth promptly burst into fresh tears.

  Doctor Wendell sat close to Cecily on the sofa murmuring words of sympathy.

  Lady Crecy stood wringing her hands.

  I said, “Lady Ariana, come and sit in this chair. I fear we have bad news to share with you.”

  The girl obeyed. Lady Crecy seated herself and watched anxiously as I pulled a chair close to Lady Ariana.

  “Why is Cecily crying?” Lady Ariana said in her child-like voice.

  I took a deep breath. “Because something very sad has happened.”

  Vacant eyes looked at me. “Sad?”

  “Yes. Lady Ariana, I am afraid that Roger Cranworth partook of some wine or other drink which made him quite ill this evening.”

  The girl looked at me with a benign expression.

  “Lady Ariana, I am so very sorry to tell you this because I know how much you love Roger, but the illness was a fatal one. He could not be saved.”

  “Dead?” She said uncertainly.

  “Yes.” I tried to take her hand, but she pulled it back. She clasped her hands in her lap.