The Wicked Baron

by Sarah Mallory

  The agony of sitting with the note unopened was almost unbearable, but she dare not risk detection. At last she saw the signal to withdraw, and as the ladies filed out of the dining room she excused herself and found a quiet corner where she could scan the paper unobserved. She recognised her own writing immediately: it was the note she had given Billy, but now on the bottom was a short scrawl.

  Come to the bathhouse at eleven o’clock. I will wait for you. Tell no one, and avoid the main path. You must not be seen. D.

  With trembling hands Carlotta pushed the note into her reticule. Her heart pounded wildly. Luke had sent for her! He had promised nothing would be decided without consulting her—that must be the reason for a secret meeting. Eleven o’clock—it would be very dark, but she dare not take a lantern. She would have to trust to the moon to light her way to the bathhouse. A shiver tingled down her spine at the thought of it, then she straightened her shoulders. Luke needed her—she would not let him down.

  Carlotta pulled her cloak around her shoulders. Outside the stable clock was chiming the half hour. Ten thirty. She turned to the maid appointed to wait on her.

  ‘Remember, Mary, if anyone asks for me, you must tell them I am asleep and not to be disturbed.’ She slipped a silver sixpence into the girl’s hand. ‘Do this for me and you shall have another upon my return.’

  As she opened her bedroom door she could hear the faint murmur of voices from the drawing room, where the ladies were waiting for the gentlemen to join them for supper. No one had questioned her decision to retire early, pleading a headache, but they would want to know what she was doing now, so late and out of her room. Thankfully she met no one on the back stairs and was soon standing in the darkness outside the side door.

  A chill breeze had sprung up and was dispersing the cloud, allowing a pale moon to peep through. Carlotta ran swiftly through the walled garden and out into the park where she hurried to gain the cover of the trees and began the long walk down to the bathhouse. The knowledge that Luke was waiting for her spurred her on and helped her to overcome any fear of walking through the park alone. It was difficult to see the old worn path and Carlotta was forced to go carefully to avoid tripping up. She put out her hand to guide her and the diamond in Mr Woollatt’s ring flashed. Quickly she pulled back her hand and buried it in the folds of her cloak. She had not gone far when she heard voices, and the scuffing of boots on the main track. In the fitful moonlight she could see little more than black shapes, but she knew it was the shooting party, on its way to the house. She shrank back into the shadow of the trees as Mr Price’s laugh boomed out across the night. She waited until they had passed, then, when there was no chance that they would see her, she pressed on, anxious to reach Luke.

  The square shape of the bathhouse gleamed palely in the moonlight, the columns at the entrance were silver-grey against the black shadow of the porch. She thought she could make out a dim glow from the windows, but it could have been the reflected moonlight. As soon as she reached the clearing she ran across the short grass and up the steps. The door opened easily to her touch. She stepped inside.

  The bathhouse felt warm after the chill of the autumn night air. Candles in two of the wall brackets were burning, giving a soft glow to the stonework. As she entered the sudden draught made the flames flicker wildly and Carlotta stopped as the figures on the walls seemed to move. Her nerves skittered in panic even as she told herself not to be foolish.

  ‘Luke?’ She whispered his name softly and the word echoed around the room. ‘Luke?’

  The door closed behind her. She swung around and found herself face to face with Sir Gilbert Mattingwood.

  Chapter Fifteen

  As the gentlemen walked back across the park Luke wanted to stride on ahead. He had enjoyed the day, but there had always been an underlying anxiety for Carlotta. He told himself she was perfectly safe in the house with so many people around her, and Billy would be keeping watch, too, but he was eager to get back, to see her for himself. It was irksome in the extreme to have to dawdle at this slow pace.

  ‘Not a bad day’s work,’ said James. ‘Of course, next month we shall be able to go after pheasant, but I hope you agree we had good sport today.’

  ‘Aye, but I wish we had not sent the cart on ahead,’ grumbled Mr Price. ‘I had not realised it was such a walk, and uphill, too.’

  Some of the gentlemen laughed at that.

  ‘What, sir’ Lord Fairbridge grinned ‘would you want to sit in the cart with the duck, partridge and snipe?’

  ‘Better that than walk another yard in these boots,’ grumbled Mr Price. ‘New, you see. Decided to try that new bootmaker in Davies Street. He’s a damned charlatan, for they pinch my toes like the devil! The sooner I can take off the damned things the better.’

  ‘Well, we are nearly there now,’ said James. He touched Luke’s arm. ‘I like to thank the servants at the end of each day’s shooting,’ he murmured. ‘I order a bowl of punch to be prepared for them all, but as it is—Adele—’

  ‘I know, you are anxious to see your wife as soon as may be,’ replied Luke. ‘Leave it to me, brother. I will see the servants for you.’

  When the party reached the house, Luke made his way directly to the servants’ hall to pass on his brother’s thanks. He was a little surprised that Billy was not there. He looked into the kitchen as he passed on the way out to the stable block; that too was empty save for the cook and the kitchen maid carrying a large kettle to the fire. Outside the stable yard was in darkness with only a low light showing in the carriage house. Luke crossed quickly and found James’s coachman there with the stable boy affectionately known as Little Jones.

  ‘Oh, it’s you, my lord.’ Perkins lifted one finger to his head in brief salute. ‘We was just finishin’ up here, hanging up the cleaned tack ready for another day.’

  ‘Have you seen my groom?’

  ‘No, my lord.’

  ‘I seen ’im,’ piped up the stable boy. ‘I was fetchin’ our dinner from the kitchen and ’ee was there.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  The lad nodded. ‘One of the footmen came in and said Miss Rivington was wanting ’im.’ The boy cast an anxious look at the coachman, who clapped a fatherly hand on his shoulder.

  ‘Little Jones is pretty reliable, my lord’

  Luke frowned. ‘Very well—I will enquire in the house.’ He turned to leave but at the door he stopped. ‘Oh, The master has ordered rum punch to be served to you all. It is being prepared now, in the kitchen.’

  ‘If it’s all the same to you, my lord, I won’t, not after last time.’ Perkins shifted uncomfortably. ‘The wheel on the mistress’s gig…Master has said he will turn me off if I can’t do my duty. I wouldn’t blame ’im, neither.’ He added fiercely, ‘It’s never happened to me before in all my years in service. That ashamed of meself, I am…’

  ‘Ah. I see.’ Luke turned to go.

  ‘You said it might’ve been a bad bottle o’ rum,’ said Little Jones, helpfully. ‘’Acos Mr Reed told you ’ee had a bad ’ead, too.’

  Luke swung round. ‘What was that?’ His gaze swept over Perkins, whose countenance showed a mixture of anger and embarrassment. ‘Well?’

  ‘I promised ’im I’d say nothing, me lord, Reed’s that afeard of his master—’

  ‘Are you saying you were drinking with Reed the night before Mrs Ainslowe’s accident? You had best tell me,’ he added as Perkins hesitated.

  ‘Reed and me, we’d been chatting, you see. He seemed a friendly sort, not high and mighty like some o’ your household staff, who holds up their noses at those of us as works outside.

  ‘Well, we found we was both partial to a game o’ cards now and then, so t’other night Mr Reed brings down a pack o’ cards and a bottle o’ rum after dinner, and we had a few games. Only…’ Perkins shrugged, his ruddy face turning a deeper shade of red. ‘Well, I misremember what ’appened, me lord. Put to bed in me boots, I was, and woke up with such a fearful ’eadache there
was no getting up, so when the mistress ordered the gig, Little Jones here had to get it ready.’

  ‘An’ I did me best, sir, ’onest I did,’ added the boy, staring anxiously at Luke.

  ‘Can’t blame the lad for not taking off the axle hubs and checking the wheels was secure,’ said Perkins. ‘I told master that, when he came back from fetching the mistress. The blame is mine, though I’d swear I checked both wheels the day before.’

  ‘And it was Reed who brought the rum?’

  ‘Aye, me lord, but when we was both bad on it, he asked me not to tell anyone that he’d been drinkin’ with me, ’cos his master would turn him off. Right scared he was.’ Perkins looked anxiously at Luke. ‘I wouldn’t want to get ’im into trouble, me lord…’

  ‘No…’ said Luke slowly. ‘No, of course not.’

  Luke ran back into the house and met his brother’s stately butler in the servants’ passage. ‘Where is Sir Gilbert’s man?’ he asked him tersely.

  ‘I believe he is gone back upstairs, my lord. He has just brought his master’s boots downstairs for cleaning.’

  ‘And Miss Rivington?’

  ‘She retired early, my lord.’

  Luke went on up to the hall, where he saw his brother coming down the stairs. James smiled.

  ‘I have just left Adele. She is much better today and is even talking of coming downstairs tomorrow…Luke? Is something wrong?’

  ‘Come into the study and we will talk.’ He followed James into the room and closed the door carefully behind him. ‘I have found our villain.’

  ‘The devil you have! Who is it?’

  ‘Mattingwood’s man, Reed. Perkins says they were drinking together the night before the gig crashed. I believe he drugged Perkins by slipping something into the bottle of rum he brought with him, then he tampered with the wheel. Perkins was the only person who might possibly go over the gig again before sending it out, and he was too sick to get out of bed.’

  ‘That would explain the crash,’ said James, ‘but there is nothing to bear out your suspicion that the target was Miss Rivington.’

  Luke shrugged. ‘Two attacks on Durini, then the wheel comes off the carriage bearing his daughter—that is too much of a coincidence to my mind.’

  ‘But what in heaven’s name does the man have against the family?’

  ‘Perhaps it is not just Reed, perhaps it is his master,’ said Luke slowly.

  ‘Gil?’ James gave a little snort of laughter. ‘How could he possibly be involved with an artist and his family? Why, he told me he has very little interest in art—’ He broke off and fixed a sudden, intense look at Luke. ‘The Tiepolo?’

  Luke made for the door. ‘Let’s go and see.’

  ‘But, Luke, can you tell if it is real?’ said James they hurried to the library. ‘Have you acquired some special knowledge of art in the past few years?’

  ‘Not exactly, but there is one thing I know to look out for.’ Luke strode into the library, picked up a branch of candles and carried it across the room. Holding the candles close to the painting, he began to study it closely.

  ‘What are we looking for?’

  ‘Something…Ah. There it is.’ He pointed ‘Look there, on the cloak.’

  James peered closer. ‘It’s some kind of snail…’

  ‘Yes. A lumaca. It’s Durini’s mark. I remember Carlotta telling me that he used to copy paintings for visitors doing the Grand Tour. She was adamant that they were not forgeries, because he signed each one.’

  James stared. ‘Do you mean Mattingwood gave me a worthless painting?’

  Despite his anxiety, Luke smiled. ‘Not worthless, James—Durini is a fine artist.’

  ‘But Mattingwood tricked me over a debt of honour.’ James gave a low whistle. ‘He would be ruined if this got out.’

  ‘That is why he has tried to stop Durini or his daughter seeing this painting.’

  James was already heading for the door. ‘Very well,’ he said grimly. ‘Let us find him!’

  As they crossed to the stairs a figure emerged from the servants’ door. ‘My lord!’

  Luke swung round. Billy was coming towards him. His clothes were dishevelled and he was gingerly feeling the back of his head with one hand.

  ‘What the devil has happened to you?’

  ‘Attacked, my lord. I was on my way to the bathhouse when someone clobbered me from behind. Pushed me down a culvert, too—must have thought I would be drowned, the drain being quite full after all the recent rains, but I came round to find myself caught by my belt on a tree root.’

  ‘I told you to stay here and look after Miss Rivington.’

  ‘That you did, my lord, and I was doing so, but Miss Rivington insisted I bring a note to you, urgent like.’ He reached into his pocket, a look of consternation growing on his bruised face. ‘Funny, I know I put it in here…’

  ‘When did she give you the note?’ asked Luke, a chilling suspicion growing within him.

  ‘Just before dinner, sir. I was to find you and give you the note as soon as I could.’

  ‘Damnation!’ Luke raced up the stairs, James and Billy following. ‘Tell me which is Carlotta’s room,’ he demanded as James caught up with him.

  ‘Is she not in the drawing room with the ladies?’

  ‘No, Wicks told me she retired early. Will you show me her room?’

  James looked at him for a long moment, then silently led the way towards a door at the far end of the west wing. Luke knocked softly. After a few moments Carlotta’s maid peeped around the door.

  ‘I must speak to Miss Rivington.’

  Perhaps it was Luke’s brusque tone that caused the maid to look so frightened, but it roused his worst fears.

  ‘She—she is asleep, my lord. I—’

  Ignoring her feeble protests, he walked into the room. A few candles glowed about the room, but in the dim light it was clear that the bed had not been slept in. He turned back to the maid. ‘Where is she?’

  ‘I—I…’

  ‘Come, girl, you must tell us what you know,’ said James, following Luke into the room.

  The maid shook her head, twisting her apron nervously in her hands. ‘She didn’t say, sir, only that she was going out and I was to tell anyone who asked that she was asleep.’

  Luke stared at his brother, who nodded.

  ‘We must talk to Reed.’

  Seconds later Luke was banging on another bedroom door. Reed’s ferret-like face appeared.

  ‘Sir Gilbert is sleeping, my lord. I must ask you to—’

  He got no further. Luke pushed past him, walked up to the bed and threw back the hangings. The bed was empty. He heard a scuffle behind him and found James and Billy struggling with the valet. They forced Reed onto a chair.

  ‘The fellow tried to make a dash for it,’ grunted James, holding him down.

  ‘Because he knows you will want to thrash him for trying to kill your wife,’ retorted Luke.

  ‘No, no, it wasn’t me,’ squeaked Reed, alarmed by the ugly look on James’s face.

  ‘Oh, I think we can safely say it was you,’ said Luke, dragging his arms roughly around the back of the chair.

  ‘No, no, it was not my idea—I was o-ordered to do it.’

  ‘Then you’d better tell me everything, if you want to save some of your hide,’ growled James menacingly.

  The valet licked his lips, looking fearfully at the three men standing over him.

  ‘It—it was my master. He—he heard that Mrs Ainslowe had ordered the gig for the morning and he t-told me what he wanted me to do.’

  ‘And the attack on Signor Durini in Malberry village?’ asked Luke.

  The valet shook his head. ‘No, I swear, sir, that was not me—Sir Gilbert came on ahead of me.’

  ‘What about the fire at the Durinis’ cottage?’ barked James.

  Reed hesitated, as if deciding on what to say, and James took a step towards him.

  ‘You came back through the walled garden just before dawn,�
� said Luke. ‘Do not deny it—you were seen.’

  ‘All right, it was me. But I was acting on orders. S-Sir Gilbert said he wanted Durini scared off. He didn’t want him to come to the house again.’

  ‘Because the Tiepolo is a copy,’ growled James.

  The valet nodded miserably. ‘The master purchased it from the signor in Rome several years ago.’

  ‘And he found out that Miss Rivington is Durini’s daughter,’ Luke persisted. ‘Well, man, how did he do that?’

  James put his hand to his head. ‘It was that day on the stairs,’ he muttered. ‘When I gave Carlotta the note from her father—Reed was there. You overheard us.’

  Reed swallowed hard. ‘Aye. Sir Gilbert pays me well for any information I can bring him.’

  ‘So where is Mattingwood now?’ Luke demanded.

  ‘He—he’s still at the bathhouse.’ Reed’s ferret-like eyes darted to Luke’s face. ‘Waiting for Miss Rivington. She thinks she is going there to meet you.’

  The chill that had been growing in Luke seemed to sharpen into ice.

  ‘Billy,’ he said quietly, ‘go to the stables and saddle a horse for me, quick as you can.’

  ‘Make that two,’ called James as Billy ran out of the room.

  Luke pulled loose the cord from the bed-curtains and began to tie Reed’s hands to the chair back.

  ‘I’ll call a couple of my people to watch him until we return,’ said James, going to the door.

  ‘Thank you. And, James—fetch your pistols.’

  Chapter Sixteen