by May Burnett
“If we accept that the young man is innocent,” Roger said sceptically.
“I would be inclined to trust Monique’s perception,” his mother replied. “She is no unfledged girl, but has spent time at court, and is familiar with all manner of scoundrels.”
“Certainly,” Monique said, “though not the kind who would chase and try to kill me, or at least that is what I thought before. There is one man I believe capable of this, the Duc de Manteil. He threatened vengeance on me only three months ago. I did not take him seriously, but he is the only person who has a motive to wish me ill.”
“I believe I have met the young man,” Lord Pell said. “Mid-twenties, handsome in a Byronic style, in love with himself? Is that the one?”
“Yes, that is Alain,” she said. “I first met him when I was fifteen, and he briefly courted me when I first came out. If Father had not counselled me to wait I might well have accepted him, everyone thought it was the perfect match. But he was advised to wait until I was older, and weeks later I saw him kiss my friend Renée de Bassecourt behind a curtain at the opera. Most indiscreet… though I foolishly shed a few tears, I had recovered by the time of his marriage to Renée, six weeks later.”
“So far, he wronged you, not the other way round,” Roger said. “Why would he threaten you?”
“Renée was besotted and utterly devoted to him, unwilling to see how Alain repeatedly betrayed her.” Monique’s voice turned harsh in remembrance. “She would not hear a word against him, and took to avoiding me and all other friends, for fear of learning unwelcome news. About a year after the wedding she fell ill. Alain had infected her … while she was with child.”
“Oh, no,” Aunt Marianne said in horror. “Poor girl. But how did you come to hear of such a sordid story? It is not the kind of thing unmarried young ladies are allowed to know about.”
“I don’t understand,” Verena said. “Know about what?”
“Renée asked me to visit, and told me all,” Monique said. “I had no notion that such dangers even existed, but she spelled it out, the way her physician had done for her just days earlier. She told me I had had a lucky escape. Two weeks later I received notice of her death, purportedly from a sudden fever. I suspect that it was rather an overdose of laudanum.”
“Tragic, but still no reason why her widower would try to kill you,” Uncle James said. “What did you do with your knowledge?”
“Nothing, for a time. I avoided Alain. But last autumn, when I was at court, he was there as well, courting Germaine, the sixteen-year old daughter of the Comte de Sarmoncieux. The courtship was advanced, the settlements about to be signed. I had to speak out.”
“Not everyone would have,” Lady Amberley said.
“I did try to be discreet, and wrote to the girl’s family, telling them what I knew, and urging them to insist on a medical examination before bestowing another innocent on the cad.”
“But you signed your name to it, I suppose?” Aunt Charlotte said.
“Yes, they would have disregarded an anonymous letter.”
“And of course de Manteil learned of your interference.”
“The Comte told him who had accused him. Alain claimed that I was lying, out of spite, because he had forsaken me for Renée. Fortunately for me, the Count’s wife insisted on a medical examination, and when he would not comply, it was clear that the Duke was unfit to be anyone’s husband and would never sire healthy children. The scandal became generally known at court and he had to retire to his estate. Before he left he cursed and threatened me, blaming me for his misfortune.”
“What a wretched story,” Lord Pell remarked with a grimace. “I agree that he must be a suspect, but sending hired killers after you seems rather disproportionate. He sounds like the kind of fellow who would try to blacken your name or ruin your own marriage, but murder? And here in England, instead of his native country? I am not convinced.”
Uncle James had been silent, looking abstracted. “I wonder,” he said slowly. “You were looking for a deadly enemy, but if your impression of this young Captain is correct, then we must infer that he too has a dangerous enemy. It strikes me as too much of a coincidence that both of you would be under threat separately, at exactly the same time.”
“That is strange,” Roger agreed. “Perhaps we should re-examine our assumptions.”
“Could the shot at your coach have been intended to kill that Captain rather than you?” James asked.
Monique stared him. She had never considered the possibility. “I suppose it could. It passed a hairsbreadth by his head.”
“Then, logically, if we exclude the fish stew – which could very well have been an unfortunate accident – all the subsequent attacks might have been directed at the Captain rather than you,” Uncle James suggested. “Not that it makes the matter any better, from a moral point of view, since you were endangered regardless. But if the crimes were aimed at him and you were only an innocent bystander, you may be safe now that you have separated.”
There was a short silence as the implications of his theory sank in.
“But how can we be sure?” Lady Amberley asked.
“Let’s give the evil Duc the benefit of the doubt for now, and focus on James’s notion,” Lord Amberley advised. “We should find out more, but if James is correct, we need not do anything else. As the Captain has no notion of Monique’s background and wealth, he represents no danger to her future, unless he should try to seek her out after he is freed. If he does not hang.”
“If he was the one in danger all this time, you don’t owe him anything,” Verena said to Monique.
“Stop!” Monique’s voice trembled. “We are only speculating here. Even if it turns out that I was mistaken in my suspicions, I am not going to abandon Captain Kinninmont to an undeserved fate. I am determined to save him, and I need all of you to help me. This is as important to me as my own safety.”
She felt them staring, but did not care. She clasped her trembling hands together. “Uncle James?”
“Of course we must help him,” James Ellsworthy said. “I never intended otherwise. I shall seek him out tomorrow morning, and have a chat with Sir Claud, the local magistrate.”
Monique could have embraced him. “I am coming with you.”
Chapter 17
After more restless hours and a hurried breakfast that weighed in her stomach like a stone, Monique climbed into the barouche with her Uncle James and the twins. They had volunteered to come along, in Violet’s case from curiosity, Monique thought a trifle resentfully; Roger had proffered his escort as extra protection, in case she was still in danger after all.
She had known Roger and Violet all her life, ever since she had first visited their home in Sussex when she was only one year old, and they were four. Three years and her diminutive size had been a great gulf, which had only slowly diminished over the years. Violet, blonde and tall like her mother, had been athletic and restless even as a child. Luckily her highhandedness was more directed at Roger and Verena than at Monique. At twenty-four she could have married many times over, and had refused a large number of eligible proposals. When a girl was well-born, rich and good-looking, she could afford to take her time. Marriages were taking place rather later these days, than in the previous generation. Perhaps the problem was not the young ladies’ too strict requirements, but the unsatisfactory nature of modern young men? They were so stodgy, so boring, for the most part. Where were the dashing regency bucks of the previous generation? Now men dressed in dull black and stovepipe hats, smoked pipes, and were consumed with ambition.
Roger might make a good husband one day, when he matured a little more. He had the characteristic chestnut hair of the Ellsworthy family, but like Violet he had inherited his mother’s startling sky-blue eyes. Since coming down from university he was much sought after, as ambitious mothers expected him to be his uncle Amberley’s heir in due course. His younger brother, still at Oxford at twenty years of age, was far less popular despite his
pleasant character and strong resemblance to Roger.
“How should we proceed?” Monique asked Uncle James. “Do you know this magistrate? Is he a reasonable man?”
“I don’t know him well. Sir Claud Russell is not on particularly good terms with our family,” James Ellsworthy explained. “He is about ten years younger than I, only forty or so, and thinks very highly of himself. He tends to be overly harsh with miscreants of humble background, at least in my opinion.”
“That does not sound hopeful for your Captain,” Violet said to Monique. “I have not met Sir Claud, but in London I have known others of that type.”
“In this case, we have in our favour that the accusation comes from elsewhere, and Sir Claud cannot know all the particulars. It still may be difficult to prise your young man out of his clutches.”
“He’s not my young man,” Monique protested. “My friend or ally, no more.”
“Would you be equally passionate in my defence, if I were unjustly imprisoned?” Roger quizzed her.
“You have a large family who would move heaven and earth to save you,” Monique reminded him. “Your name, your fortune and connections are greatly superior to those of Captain Kinninmont. But if your survival depended on my testimony, of course I would give it and not reckon the cost.”
Violet fixed her suspiciously. “Is that what you are planning to do for this Captain?”
“If necessary.” She clenched her hands into fists. “I could not sleep after last night’s discussion, and asked myself what is more important – a man’s life, or my prospect of a brilliant match. If a great match were my dearest wish, I would already have concluded one. I don’t mean to boast, but I could be a Princess now, had I looked only at the title.”
“You may yet meet a man who unites a high position with the other important qualities one seeks in a husband,” Violet said. “But if you confess to having vagabonded around the English countryside with a young officer, you won’t be welcome in respectable drawing-rooms any more. Not even your splendid birth and wealth would save you from opprobrium. Your parents will be mortified, when they return to Europe. You may marry this young man, but is it likely that you’ll be happy? Coming from two different worlds, not to mention countries? Instead of being a celebrated hostess and taking part in your nation’s public life, you’d pass the rest of your life in obscurity.”
“And your children would be untitled,” Roger added. “If they should squander your inheritance, your grandchildren might find themselves obliged to actually earn their living by working.”
“A shocking prospect,” Monique said drily, “but on the other hand, if there is another revolution my descendants might escape the guillotine through being untitled. Never mind that now – we need to find out what happened to the Captain, and is likely to happen to him.”
“Indeed,” Uncle James said. “Leave the first interview with the magistrate to me. I can meet you later, when we know more. Don’t, I pray, take any irrevocable steps before we have ascertained their necessity.”
“Very well,” she acquiesced. “But promise to tell me frankly how dangerous his situation is.”
“I will.”
If anyone could help Captain Kinninmont, James Ellsworthy might be the one to do it. He had been her father’s close friend since their school days, some forty years previously. He had accompanied her father when Monique had been lost and supposed kidnapped in her infancy, an event she had often heard about, but could not recall. Since then the families had visited each other for several weeks in most years. Most often her family had come to England, since her stepmother liked to inspect her English breweries every now and then. During those times, Monique and her siblings had joined the Ellsworthy nursery for weeks on end.
“Can you tell me more about those rumours to which the Captain was subjected?” James asked Monique.
She shook her head. “I’d rather not. All vicious lies, I am certain, and I would not care to repeat what little I overheard. There may have been other things, of which I know nothing. It must have been vile, to drive him to abandon a career that obviously meant a great deal to him.”
“So by the time you met this Captain, he was a mere adventurer,” Roger said.
“No more than you,” Monique replied hotly. “What profession have you chosen? Have you spent seven years as a soldier? Don’t presume to sneer at people who have to make their own way in the world.”
“Hear, hear,” Violet said, grinning broadly at her twin.
“I have published a paper on entomology recently,” Roger said stiffly. “Contrary to what you may think, I do not just laze around, enjoying my ancestors’ spoils.”
Uncle James smiled. “Now, children, no need to quarrel. I would suggest we refrain from further animadversions on the young officer until I have met him and formed a second opinion. Lacking which, we only have Monique’s account to go on, which it would be ungentlemanly to doubt.”
“As you say, Father,” Roger said ungraciously. “I did not want to offend you, Monique; I could not realise you would be so touchy on the subject.”
Monique did not vouchsafe a reply to this new provocation.
“While you talk to the magistrate I would like to visit the prison,” she suggested. “Could we arrange for food to be delivered there? Do you suppose it will be allowed?”
“Wait until after I have talked to the magistrate,” her uncle advised. “It may not be necessary, if Sir Claud should be amenable to freeing the Captain. In any case, he won’t remain here long if he is bound over to assizes. They would transfer him to the parish where his crime was supposed to have occurred.”
Monique had a vision of the Captain transported in irons, on some humble cart, to an uncertain fate. Not if she could help it.
“If there is anything you can do to save him from that,” she told Uncle James, “if you have to claim he’s an old family connection, or my fiancé, or anything like that, do it please. The sooner this persecution is nipped in its bud, the better.”
“If I claim that, you may have to marry him in truth,” James warned. “Don’t worry, I’ll use my best judgement. There should be plenty of time to save him, whatever is behind this accusation. Too bad that Minerva and Henry are not here this summer, Henry’s advice would be invaluable.”
“Where are they?” Monique asked. The husband of Lord Amberley’s youngest sister, Lady Minerva, was a radical M.P., but had begun his career as a solicitor. An unequal marriage that had turned out happy enough, Monique reflected.
“They have recently bought a small estate of their own, in Kent, and have elected to spend the summer there.”
“They seem happy together,” Monique said. “Theirs was a love match, I gather?”
“Yes. Our generation was very lucky in our partners. I can only hope that all of you will be so fortunate.”
Chapter 18
Sir Claud did not keep James Ellsworthy waiting. Lord Amberley was one of the principal landowners of the area, and Sir Claud was aware that James was the Earl’s immediate heir and might yet succeed to his brother’s position.
“What can I do for you, Ellsworthy?” he asked affably enough.
“I come on a somewhat delicate errand,” James said, “regarding Captain Kinninmont, who has been locked up yesterday. He was expected at Amberley as a guest, and we were dismayed to learn why he had not arrived there. My brother has asked me to find out the particulars, and see if there is anything I could do.”
“A guest of the countess and earl?” Sir Claud stared. “How extraordinary! I had no idea he was anything other than the usual riff-raff half-pay officer. What do your brother and his countess want with the fellow? They rarely invite anybody untitled and insignificant.”
“That is not for me to say. The Captain is not a half-pay officer, by the way, though he has put his commission up for sale recently.”
“I haven’t interviewed him as yet,” the justice said, “and now you have whetted my curiosity. If you like, we
can have him brought here and see what he has to say for himself.”
“Why was he arrested, may I ask?”
“It was a request that went out to all justices of the peace. Let me have a look exactly what it said.” He rang the bell for his clerk. “Bring me the order of arrest for Kinninmont, and the man himself. No need to be too rough unless he should resist.”
“Yes, your honour,” the clerk responded. A minute later he handed his master a paper that Sir Claud briefly scrutinized and handed to James for inspection.
“Request for arrest of one Duncan Kinninmont, late a Captain of the 125th Foot stationed in Portsmouth, who has in the night of May 19th attacked and robbed a coach near Mallingham, Sussex. He may be armed and dangerous.” There was an illegible signature and seal underneath.
“That is not very informative,” James pointed out. “I cannot make out the signature. Who exactly has issued this document?”
“Presumably my colleague in this place, Mallingham, where the crime took place,” Sir Claud said. “It is true that it is more than usually illegible.”
“What normally happens in such cases?”
“The accused is sent in chains to where the crime was committed. We cannot bind him over to the local assizes since all witnesses live in Sussex, far away.”
“But can we be sure that this order came from the proper place? If I had an enemy who wanted me arrested and perhaps shot for resisting arrest, what is to prevent him from printing such a page and sending it to you?”
“It is hardly to be supposed that an unauthorised person would dare to use me so,” the justice objected. “And it has never happened in the past. The presumption must be that the request is legitimate.”
“Without trial, how can they be so sure of the Captain’s guilt? As it happens, I understand he came from another direction, and may have an alibi.”
“If he can prove he was elsewhere on the 19th, then I would not send him away, but demand further particulars from Sussex,” the justice conceded. “We can ask him where he was at the time, he should be here any moment. Do you know the man personally?”
