The Unaccomplished Lady Eleanor

by Wendy Burdess

  The door opened again and in came Dick and Sam grinning broadly. They hovered about the threshold, twisting their hats in their hands. Upon setting eyes on the pair, Derek Lovell’s previous wrathful countenance seamlessly melted into one of pure terror.

  ‘What the devil!’ he declared, gawping open-mouthed at the two men.

  Eleanor smiled serenely. ‘I believe you are already acquainted with Richard and Samuel, Mr Lovell. I considered it the least I could do to invite them to join us this evening. It rather slipped my mind to advise you of their visit yesterday in which these two patient moneylenders were kind enough to inform me of the horrifying scale of your gambling debts – debts which you have accumulated over several years in your home town of Newcastle.’

  ‘Newcastle?’ echoed James. ‘But I thought you said you’d only just-’

  ‘Arrived back from overseas,’ continued Eleanor. ‘Well I can reliably inform you, sir, that Mr Lovell has not spent any time overseas recently. Indeed he has had little time for travel given how occupied he has been both with the accumulation of his debts and … one other thing. Hmm … what was it again? Oh yes … his recent marriage.’

  James’s brows now shot to his hairline. ‘Marriage?’ he repeated, gazing perplexedly at Lovell. ‘But you never mentioned you were-’

  ‘That is because,’ clarified Eleanor, ‘you were not supposed to know. Indeed, it would have completely ruined the happy couple’s plans if you had discovered that Lady Madeleine here was the wife of your old friend.’

  This time James was at a complete loss for words as his mouth hung open.

  Everyone’s attention, however, then switched to the noise emanating from the rat’s cage. They all watched in horror as the animal convulsed for a few seconds before dropping down dead. A stunned, appalled silence ensued before Eleanor, attempting to regain her composure, turned to James. ‘That, sir, was the fate intended for you this evening. Courtesy of the rat poison added to your drink by your good friend, Mr Lovell.’

  ‘Phwoah!’ scoffed Lovell, leaping to his feet. ‘That is complete and utter nonsense. Do you honestly think I’d be stupid enough to commit a murder right here in front of an audience?’

  ‘Oh, I do not, sir,’ declared Eleanor. ‘Even you are too clever to make such an obvious faux-pas, Mr Lovell. Which is why you added poison to the decanter. This means, of course, that your own drink – which I note you have not yet touched – is also poisoned. A fact which you’d hope would have eliminated you from suspicion once James was dead.’

  ‘Poppycock!’ cried Lovell.

  ‘Is it?’ enquired Eleanor beatifically. ‘Then perhaps you would like to take a sip in front of us all now.’

  Lovell marched directly to a pot plant and tipped the contents of his glass into it. ‘You are all about in your head, Lady Eleanor,’ he declared stiffly. ‘Why-’

  ‘Oh do be quiet, you idiot,’ snapped Madeleine, in a broad northern accent. ‘You can’t talk your way out of this one, Lovell. I told you we should have got rid of her as well,’ she said, indicating her head to Eleanor. ‘Far too clever by half that one. Even me dressing up as that damned stupid ghost didn’t scare her away. I told you the poison idea was far too risky, but would you listen? Oh no! And now we’ve both been found out. Can’t believe I was stupid enough to marry such a fool.’

  ‘Oh you were stupid enough all right,’ sneered Lovell, his eyes flashing with hatred as he stared down at Madeleine. ‘Stupid enough and greedy enough. I just had to mention the words “Duchess” and “Castle” and you couldn’t get out your da’s shop and on your back quick enough.’

  Madeleine thrust to her feet and strutted furiously over to her husband, bearing an expression of unadulterated loathing. ‘Why you slimy-’

  ‘That is enough,’ boomed James, rising from his chair and forcing the pair apart. ‘I cannot believe what I am hearing here. But one thing I can’t understand, Lovell, is why. Why did you want to kill me?’

  ‘Because that blasted inheritance should be mine,’ barked Lovell, pacing the floor. ‘But with you in the way, I wasn’t going to get a penny of it.’

  James screwed up his face. ‘How on earth can you have any claim on the Ormiston inheritance?’

  Lovell came to a halt directly in front of James. ‘Because, you idiot, I’m the son of your late uncle. Bit of a rebel was my father by all accounts - took up with my mother – a lowly serving wench – and ended up marrying her. And all to spite his own father who had thrown him out of the house after an almighty row. Trouble was, after a few months, the novelty wore off and he went crawling back home. Of course, once he was back ensconced in the family mansion, my mother was seen as nothing more than a nuisance – something to be disposed of when no longer needed. He thought he could pay her off with a tidy sum – which she took, of course – and thought that was the end of the matter. But my mother was much cleverer than that. She’d not only managed to get herself with child, but she’d also ensured that the only bit of paper which proved the marriage had taken place was in her own safekeeping: she’d managed to tear the page from the church register. So then, when she found out – because she made it her business to – that my father had got engaged to an Ormiston and was intending taking on the name to continue the line – she got in touch.’

  James shook his head as if trying to clear it. ‘Blackmail?’ he murmured.

  Lovell nodded. ‘Oh, yes. She knew that if the Ormistons found out he was already married and with a brat on the way, they would have called off the wedding in a second.’

  ‘So he paid her more money to keep her quiet?’

  ‘Oh yes – lots more. Problem was, when the old goat died, the money dried up, didn’t it? Of course my mother didn’t tell me any of this until the day she died - only a few weeks after the old man. Well, I didn’t want to be left high and dry, so I spoke to a lawyer. Told him the story and he said I might have a claim but best to play my cards close to my chest. Problem was, Mother didn’t tell me where she’d hidden the page from the register. Then, with that cursed case dragging on and on, and me with hardly a penny to my name – well, just enough to keep her in posh frocks,’ he tossed a disparaging look at Madeleine, ‘I had to do something: I had to get rid of you.’

  James stood quite still - a look of pure astonishment on his face. After several minutes of assimilating the information, he said, ‘But how did you come up with the connection with Hungary? How on earth could you have known about that?’

  Lovell gave another of his sneers. ‘That was easy. Cast your mind back to university – an education paid for by your uncle, I hasten to add – and that guest speaker we had once, that old Hungarian chap. He sought you out with a letter from the ambassador to pass on to your aunt.’

  James nodded his head slowly as he regarded Lovell through narrowed eyes. ‘Well, I don’t know what to say,’ he declared at length, turning his eyes to the dead rat. ‘You appear to have gone to an exceptional amount of trouble, Lovell, to see me out of the way.’

  ‘And I would have succeeded as well,’ declared Lovell, ‘if she hadn’t got in the way.’ He indicated his head to Eleanor.

  James fixed her with a strange gaze before declaring, ‘You have indeed been in the way – quite a lot, Lady Eleanor. However I think the matter should now be handed over to the Bow Street Runners.’

  Unable to draw her eyes away from his, Eleanor replied, ‘I agree, sir. They are waiting outside.’

  TWENTY-ONE

  Two days following the incident, Eleanor was still exhausted. The entire household – including herself - had been questioned for hours by the Bow Street Runners. Derek Lovell and Lady Madeleine (previously Maddy Burke – ruthless, ambitious daughter of one Mr Raymond Burke, proprietor of a small drapers in Newcastle) had been arrested on the charge of attempted murder. They were being held in gaol awaiting trial.

  Once word had spread via the proverbial grapevine, the inevitable stream of visitors had made their way to the castle eager to hear al
l the enthralling details. Lady Ormiston, still unable to speak, had insisted, despite Dr Gosport’s orders, on being brought down to the drawing-room every day to keep abreast of the latest happenings.

  This particular day, she was especially glad that she had made such an effort as, included amongst her morning visitors, was one Viscount Grayson, newly returned from his business in the north. Suitably impressed by Eleanor’s detective work and its successful conclusion, he proceeded to solicit the old woman’s permission to request her goddaughter’s hand in marriage. Without hesitation, the dowager nodded her enthusiastic affirmation and made animated gestures and several unnerving groans, which the viscount correctly interpreted as an instruction to seek out Eleanor and put the question to her that instant.

  In desperate need of solitude following the recent taxing events, Eleanor was seated on a bench in the orchard, engrossed in a book of poems and revelling in the glorious sunshine. All at once, her tranquillity was broken by a deep masculine voice.

  ‘Good morning, Lady Eleanor’.

  She tilted up her head and, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand, found herself looking directly at James Prestonville. Startled not only by the sight of him, but also by how devastatingly handsome he looked in a simple white shirt and beige breeches, it was all she could do to murmur an unenthusiastic ‘Oh’ in response, as she attempted to quell the butterflies in her stomach.

  She was more than a little aware that she had barely spoken to James since the confrontation with Lovell and Madeleine. She was also acutely aware that each time the two of them happened to be in the same room, James fixed her with a disconcerting, unfathomable look, which obliterated all rational thought from her mind. As he stood before her now, his eyes burning into hers, she was consumed by an overwhelming desire to throw her arms around his neck, press herself to him and lose herself in his kiss. All at once, she realized that the sensuous lips she was gazing at longingly were moving. He was speaking to her - and she had absolutely no idea what he had said.

  ‘Lady Eleanor?’ he said, regarding her quizzically.

  ‘Wh-what?’ stammered Eleanor, colour flooding her cheeks.

  ‘Would you mind if I joined you?’ His voice was so smooth it made her tingle.

  ‘Er, no,’ she managed to reply, averting her eyes from his face and focusing them on the open book on her lap.

  James lowered himself on to the bench beside her, closer than was necessary, she noticed, as the pleasant scent of his subtle cologne gently tickled her nostrils.

  ‘I believe I have not yet had the opportunity to thank you for all your help.’

  ‘Oh,’ muttered Eleanor, desperately trying to steer her mind on to an activity that did not involve being in his arms. She closed her book and began fidgeting with the edge of its brown leather spine. ‘That’s quite all right.’

  ‘Quite all right?’ repeated James incredulously. ‘But you saved my life. On several occasions.’

  Eleanor said nothing. She continued her fidgeting, conscious that his upper arm, encased in the thin cotton of his shirt, was now touching the bare skin of her own. The heat of him seemed to burn into her, flooding her body with desire.

  James seemed not to have noticed. He continued with his speech. ‘I have been wondering how on earth you knew what was going on.’

  ‘Well, actually, I didn’t,’ she confessed, grateful that her ability to speak was at least making some effort to return. ‘That is, I thought at first that someone was trying to kill me, but that made no sense. I mean, I’m just an ordinary girl and-’

  ‘Oh, I can assure you, Lady Eleanor,’ he cut in softly, ‘that you are far from ordinary.’

  Eleanor was aware that he had shifted his body slightly and was now gazing at her face. Not daring to look at him, she kept her eyes focussed on her book, aware, all the while, of heat suffusing her cheeks. She cleared her throat before continuing. ‘Well, after the incident with the pitchfork, I realized that it wasn’t me they were trying to kill. It was you. And then, when I discovered it wasn’t you who was creeping along to Madeleine’s room every night but-’

  He cut in again, his tone disbelieving. ‘You thought I was paying a visit to Madeleine’s rooms every night? So that’s what you were talking about that morning when you referred to me not spending the night in my own bed’

  Eleanor nodded. ‘I must confess, it did leave me feeling a little …’

  ‘A little what?’ prompted James softly, still gazing at her.

  Eleanor’s heart began to beat just a shade faster. Should she admit how she had actually felt? How she had been so hurt and jealous that she had not been able to sleep? She decided not. After all, she had no idea of his feelings for her and the last thing she wanted to do in front of James Prestonville – a man who had women throwing themselves at him from every angle - was to make a cake of herself. She squirmed a little, aware that it was now not only his arm which was touching her, but also his muscular thigh which was pressing enticingly against hers. She swallowed, her eyes still firmly fixed on her book. ‘It left me feeling a little … puzzled, sir,’ she said at length.

  James’s disappointment was palpable. ‘Oh,’ he muttered.

  ‘But then,’ continued Eleanor, ‘ when I noticed that your dressing robe was crimson and not the blue one I had seen in the corridor at all hours, then I looked in Mr Lovell’s room and discovered that he was Madeleine’s nocturnal visitor.’ Still she dared not look at him. ‘Of course that immediately made me suspicious, given that we were all of the opinion that the pair could not abide one another. And there was Madeleine’s reluctance to make the acquaintance of Madame Aminieux. At first I attributed this to her being too high in the instep. However, when my godmother informed me that she had still not received a reply from Lady Neilson in Hungary – the lady who had supposedly introduced Madeleine - my suspicions were heightened further.’

  ‘Hmm. I suppose then, when the invitation arrived from Countess Lieven, that added to your theory?’

  ‘Oh, we received no invitation from Countess Lieven, sir. I sent that invitation myself – to test my theory.’

  James snorted with laughter. ‘You sent that invitation?’

  Eleanor nodded. ‘Then, having established that Madeleine was terrified of meeting any of her compatriots, I realized that something was seriously afoot.’

  ‘And then you met the moneylenders?’

  ‘And thank goodness I did. When they informed me that Lovell had run up enormous gambling debts in his home town, it was obvious that he, too, had been lying through his teeth. Thankfully, Dick and Sam make it their business to find out all they can about their clients. They therefore provided all the missing details although Lovell’s connection to the Ormistons did baffle us somewhat. Until Lovell provided us with those details on his last evening in the castle.’

  ‘Indeed he did,’ muttered James wistfully.

  ‘I then had to establish that it was indeed Lovell and Madeleine who were trying to kill you. So I set the trap with the rat poison.’

  ‘But how did you know it would work?’

  ‘I didn’t. But I guessed, by the risks they had taken with the pitchfork, and the shooting, that they were becoming desperate. I thought that when Milly planted the idea that it was a quick, no-nonsense death, they would be unable to resist.’

  ‘And you were right,’ smiled James, shaking his head incredulously. ‘I do declare, Lady Eleanor, that you are quite the most astonishing woman I have ever met.’

  Holding her breath, Eleanor diffidently turned her head to him, her eyes immediately drawn to his full, moist lips. Her heart raced as he slowly lowered his head to hers. ‘I will take that as a compliment, sir,’ she whispered.

  ‘Oh, believe me, it was,’ he replied, with a seductive smile.

  Eleanor closed her eyes desperate for the touch of his lips upon hers; aching for him to wrap his arms around her and-

  ‘Good morning, my lord. Lady Eleanor.’

  They coul
d not have jumped apart more abruptly if they had been struck by a flash of lightening.

  ‘I am so glad to have found you, Lady Eleanor,’ squeaked Viscount Grayson, as he brought his podgy form to a halt directly in front of them. ‘I was wondering if I could have a word with you … in private,’ he added, raising his brows expectantly at James.

  ‘Oh,’ muttered Eleanor, resenting not only the man’s disastrous timing, but his mere disagreeable presence. ‘Well, Lord Prestonville and I were just, er-’

  ‘We can continue later,’ asserted James, rising to his feet. ‘Good morning to you, madam.’ He inclined his head to both her and the viscount, before leaving Eleanor alone with the man - and a profound sense of dread.

  ‘There’s a young … man waiting in the library to see you, my lady,’ sniffed Giles, as Eleanor entered the castle some twenty minutes later. From his derisory tone, it was obvious that the visitor did not meet with the butler’s exacting standards. Indeed, despite her own recent rise in status to something akin to a heroine, it was evident that Eleanor, too, still had some way to go before Giles would consider bestowing his approval upon her.

  ‘Oh, I wonder who it is,’ replied Eleanor, handing her book to him. ‘Have they a card, Giles?’

  Giles regarded her for a moment as though she were a complete nodcock. ‘No, my lady. They most definitely have no card.’

  Concluding that the only way to discover the identity of this mysterious visitor was to go to the library herself, Eleanor made her way along the corridor and, upon reaching her destination, hesitantly pushed open the door. To her relief and delight, she found herself looking straight into the golden, freckled face of Ed Maguire.

  ‘Ed!’ exclaimed Eleanor, rushing over to hug him. ‘How lovely to see you.’

  As was usual in Eleanor’s presence, Ed blushed to the roots of his hair. ‘I’m sorry I’ve been so long in getting that information you wanted, miss, but that Miss Carmichael is a canny one. It’s taken me an age to find out what she’s been up to.’