The Obscure Duchess of Godwin Hall_A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Hanna Hamilton

  He was surprised to realize that his voice was rising in anger as he continued, “If anyone has any doubts about Lady Rebecca’s character, Mr. Langham, I ask them to put those doubts to me so that they can be entirely refuted. I would die before I permitted any slights on that lady’s honor.”

  Mr. Langham bowed. “Allow me to assure you, Your Grace, that there is absolutely no slight intended. I thank you for your clarification in this matter, and I will trouble you no further at present.”

  “So what will you do now?” Andrew asked. He could feel a strong heat in his cheeks, and his breast was rising and falling sharply as he did his best to contain his anger.

  Mr. Langham responded with a collected smile, which served to confirm Andrew’s suspicion that this apparent discomfort that he had demonstrated in this interview was in fact a cleverly calculated façade.

  “I shall discover the truth, of course, Your Grace,” Mr. Langham replied phlegmatically as if Andrew had merely asked him what his predictions for the day’s weather were. “I have been engaged by Her Ladyship to bring the perpetrator of this terrible crime before the Justice of the Peace.”

  He smiled thinly. “The Justice does not enjoy having his time wasted. Therefore I am sure Your Grace will understand that it falls to me to ensure that I bring the right man before him.” He paused and seemed to catch himself. “Or woman, of course.”

  “Or woman,” Andrew echoed. “I thank you for your service, Mr. Langham. As long as we are in agreement about which woman you will not be bringing before the Justice, no matter how much easier it might make your task here.”

  “Oh, Your Grace,” Mr. Langham replied. “Believe me that I take my task very seriously. I would not dream of seeking to accuse a person merely because I believe their guilt is the most easy option.”

  For some reason, these words made Andrew feel more uncomfortable still. He nodded. “In that case, Mr. Langham, I beg you to proceed with your work in the manner that you see fit, and I shall take up no more of your time.”

  “Your Grace is very kind,” Mr. Langham said, and left the room with a final bow.

  Chapter 28

  It was perhaps a little early in the day to smoke a pipe, but given the enormity of the task at hand Mr. Langham decided that he would not let mere convention stop him. He found the smoking of the pipe meditative, and this meditation was much aided by the pleasant views of Godwin Park that he found before him as he stood on the terrace.

  Why would any man or woman of means commit murder, when they live in such happy circumstances? he wondered. It was a true mystery to him why anyone would wish to disrupt such an idyll if they had been so blessed by circumstances as to live in a house such as Godwin Hall.

  This musing led him to the notion that the perpetrator of the poisoning was very likely a disgruntled servant, and made a note to ask Rattings to interview very carefully any servant who had access to the late Duke’s food the night before his unfortunate death.

  He would have done this task himself, but he had no wish to spend too much time below stairs in the company of servants when he had the opportunity to see how the other half lived in grand houses such as Godwin Hall. Such work was precisely why Mr. Langham employed a deputy, and left him with more time to smoke pipes and contemplate the subject of murder.

  The corner of his eye was distracted by the figure of a young lady emerging through the French doors of one of the drawing rooms. At first he took it for the Lady Rebecca Winterson, but then it occurred to him that this young lady did not have quite the noble bearing of Lady Rebecca. Mr. Langham fancied himself a rather good judge of such things.

  The young lady was clearly distracted, wrapped in a shawl of the kind that he knew aristocratic ladies did not usually don in public. Although perhaps this lady was not as aristocratic as her residence in the house might suggest.

  He bowed to her politely when her eyes turned in his direction. He had not intended to approach her, given that he knew this sort of people were very particular about who was permitted to speak to whom, but to his surprise she walked over to him.

  “Are you the constable?” she asked directly, without concerning herself with any of the usual greetings.

  “Mr. Langham, at your service, ma’am,” he said, removing the pipe from his mouth to bow to her again.

  “I am so glad that you are here, Mr. Langham,” she said, and her eyes filled with tears. “I feel that the whole world has turned topsy-turvy since the death of the Duke,” — here her voice cracked — “and I hope that you will have a part to play in setting it back to rights.”

  “That is what I hope too, Miss…”

  “Swanson,” the young lady supplied. “Companion to Lady Rebecca. That is why I am here, you see.” She smiled ironically. “If it were not for Rebecca I certainly would not have a place in a house as fine as this.”

  Her companion, Mr. Langham thought, taking a brief and contemplative puff of his pipe. Though in truth he did not believe that Lady Rebecca was responsible for the death of the Duke, it could not do any harm to probe the matter a little.

  “I am given to understand that the Lady Rebecca Winterson was rather distressed by the prospect of her marriage to the late Duke,” Mr. Langham said, in the blandest tone that he could manage. His words clearly had some effect on Miss Swanson, however, whose face clouded over as she nodded.

  “Yes,” she said simply. She paused for a while as if considering whether to speak her mind, before continuing. “I do not mind telling you, Mr. Langham, that I cannot fathom it myself. Fancy disdaining the prospect of becoming a Duchess!”

  “Indeed, ma’am,” Mr. Langham said, not wanting to interrupt her train of thought but feeling that some encouragement to continue speaking was required.

  Miss Swanson gave an ironical laugh. “What a luxury, to turn away from the idea of such perfect security, and a splendid Duke for a husband!”

  She is envious of her friend, Mr. Langham thought to himself. As well she might be. I expect most young ladies in her position would feel much the same way.

  “And, if I may be so bold as to ask, what was your opinion of the Duke, Miss Swanson?” Mr. Langham asked.

  Miss Swanson looked frankly delighted to have been asked to offer her opinion.

  “He was quite splendid,” she said, and for a moment her face lit up with a glow that told Mr. Langham that she had felt something for the Duke, something that clearly extended further than the feelings that a young lady might have for her friend’s fiancé.

  “Both the brothers have always been splendid,” Miss Swanson continued. “Such marvelous, handsome, clever, bold young men.”

  Mr. Langham suspected that he might have understood the nature of Miss Swanson’s obvious captivation. It seemed that it was not captivation with one person in particular but with the sort of life that was lived in houses like Godwin Hall.

  He did not know much about young ladies’ companions as that sort of thing occurred in a social class that moved above his own, but he did know that they tended to offer young ladies prospects that they would not otherwise have encountered.

  Miss Swanson was clearly not as handsome as her friend, nor as accomplished, and it hardly needed saying that she was clearly not as rich. He could see very well why she might have been infatuated with the life that her friend was likely to have and she was not. A life that had clearly been disrupted by this strange crime.

  “It is plain that you are greatly distressed by the death of the Duke,” Mr. Langham said gently, hoping that he might draw a little more out of Miss Swanson.

  Miss Swanson sighed, and the pallor of her cheeks seemed to deepen.

  “It is a greater shock than any that I have suffered in my life,” the young lady replied frankly. “It is a dreadful, wicked crime.” She turned to Mr. Langham and her eyes, which had been rather dead and distant, suddenly became inflamed with passion. “I pray with all my heart that you will bring the one responsible for this dreadful deed to justice, sir,�
�� she said.

  Her sincerity was obvious, and Mr. Langham nodded. “That is my sincere endeavor, ma’am,” he said.

  “I am glad,” Miss Swanson replied. “I do not think that I can be at peace until this matter has been resolved.”

  “I will get the man who did it, Miss Swanson,” Mr. Langham said firmly.

  Miss Swanson turned to him with a slightly peculiar look in her eyes.

  “Or woman, Mr. Langham,” she said.

  “Or woman,” Mr. Langham agreed.

  The way that she had spoken made him almost certain that she knew something more than she was saying, although he felt instinctively that now was not the moment to press it. What was more, he did not get the opportunity to press Miss Swanson any further, as she gave him one last strange, searching look and then repaired indoors back through the French doors.

  Mr. Langham was at this point truly perplexed. He had no notion of who might have been responsible for the death of the Duke, save for the accusation against Lady Rebecca. The Duke had warned him in no uncertain terms that he was not to pursue that particular line of inquiry, and the truth was that in his heart Mr. Langham felt that there was no reason to suspect the young lady.

  Yet my conversation with Miss Swanson seemed to suggest otherwise, although the crypticness of her manner prevented me from drawing any strong conclusions from our conversation.

  “Mr. Langham, I presume?”

  Mr. Langham wheeled around sharply, jolted out of his musings by the smooth aristocratic voice that had just hailed him.

  “Lord Peregrine Godwin,” the elegant middle-aged gentleman who had approached him from behind, said casually by way of introduction. “I understand that my late brother’s mother-in-law invited you here to undertake the arrest of my nephew’s murderer?”

  Mr. Langham gave a bow — what felt like his hundredth bow of the morning. “Your Lordship,” he said, in his most deferential tone.

  “I merely wished to ask if you had made any progress in your inquiries since you arrived, Mr. Langham,” Lord Peregrine said, looking Mr. Langham in the eye with a steadiness that suggested that the two men were equals, even though Mr. Langham knew rationally that that was far from the case.

  “I am proceeding as best I can, Your Lordship,” Mr. Langham replied. “I have spoken to His Grace this morning.”

  “And have you spoken to the Winterson girl?” Lord Peregrine asked, leaning casually against the stone balustrade of the terrace. Mr. Langham thought it best to ignore the improperness of Lord Peregrine’s expression, and replied only, “Not yet, Your Lordship.” He paused for a while and then added, “I do not believe that His Grace wishes for me to pursue the matter further. He gives no credence to the idea that she was responsible for his brother’s death.”

  “And you, Mr. Langham?” Lord Peregrine looked at him intently. “What is your feeling on the matter?”

  The swell of flattery rose in Mr. Langham’s chest. Despite the fact that he was the constable, and that it was his business to see that the law of the land was enforced, it was the first time since he had arrived at Godwin Hall that anyone had asked him for his opinion.

  “I believe that poisoning is a lady’s form of murder, Your Lordship,” he said eagerly. Then he paused, ruminating. “With that said, sir, I cannot believe that Lady Rebecca is capable of murder. My instinct suggests that some low-class rogue was responsible for this heinous action. Perhaps a disgruntled servant.”

  “Indeed.” Lord Peregrine raised his eyebrows in an expression of polite incredulity. “Whilst I respect your instinct, Mr. Langham, and can clearly see that you are a man of good sense, I would vouch for the servants of this household. I grew up here, you see,” he added confidentially, “And I happen to know that the housekeeper and butler run a very tight ship.”

  “I will take that into account, sir,” Mr. Langham said.

  “And what does my nephew think of all this?” Lord Peregrine asked, his eyes drifting away from Mr. Langham’s face and out over the grassy expanse of the park.

  “I believe that His Grace is very distressed by his brother’s death,” Mr. Langham said. “But he is very eager to ensure that justice is served. That is why he asked me to refrain from probing the possibility that Lady Rebecca is responsible. I believe that he thinks that it would be a waste of time.”

  “That is certainly one explanation,” Lord Peregrine said neutrally. After a pause, he then added, “Although, I can think of another.”

  He made no sign of continuing, leaving it to Mr. Langham to ask, after waiting in vain for some moments, “Would Your Lordship care to share that explanation with me?”

  Lord Peregrine batted his hand as if pushing the idea away. “Oh no,” he said dismissively. “It is only my idea, and I have no wish to say anything that may be indiscreet.”

  “Your Lordship,” Mr. Langham said, looking very intently at the other man. “I am responsible for enforcing the rule of law. Indiscretion is a minor offense when compared with murder.”

  “I suppose that is true,” Lord Peregrine said with a gracious smile. “That is rather well put, Mr. Langham.”

  Mr. Langham bowed.

  “When I say all this to you, I hope that you will not think that I speak out of turn,” Lord Peregrine said. “I say this only because I was, of course, not at the Hall until just this morning. I was not present on the night of the murder, but I fancy that perhaps my status as an outsider offers me a certain freshness of perspective on the matter.”

  Mr. Langham nodded. He did not wish to interrupt the flow of Lord Peregrine’s thoughts by offering unnecessary words.

  “It occurs to me, however,” Lord Peregrine said, “that the reason that Andrew — that is, the Duke — might be so staunch in his defense of Lady Rebecca Winterson is that, in fact, he knows who really committed the murder.”

  Mr. Langham caught his breath but managed to hold his tongue.

  “I do not know if your instinct will agree with mine on this,” Lord Peregrine continued, “But it was clear to me as soon as I spoke with my nephew that his feelings for Lady Rebecca Winterson are of more than the common kind.”

  At first Mr. Langham was not sure precisely what Lord Peregrine meant, but then all at once the Lord’s words made sense to him. Indeed, it suddenly struck him as absurd that he had not seen it this way before. Of course the Duke’s defense of Lady Rebecca represented more than a Christian belief in the innocence of a virtuous young lady.

  “Your Lordship believes that His Grace is in love with Lady Rebecca?” Mr. Langham blurted out. Lord Peregrine hand waved the words away.

  “Love, infatuation, whatever the case may be, I believe that his feelings for her are very strong. So strong, in fact, that I believe that they may have provided him with a motive for a very serious act.” Lord Peregrine’s eyebrows went up still further as if to inquire whether Mr. Langham was catching his drift. “Very serious indeed, if you understand my meaning.”

  Mr. Langham understood perfectly, although he could scarcely believe it. And yet, the fire in the Duke’s eyes when he defended Lady Rebecca did speak of some deeper attachment than that of a young man to his brother’s fiancée, even if they had been friends as children.

  Yet murder? Not just murder, even, but the murder of one’s own brother?

  “Have you any further evidence to support this rather significant claim, Your Lordship?”

  Lord Peregrine laughed. “My good man, I arrived in this house scarcely an hour ago. I have not yet had time to change my waistcoat, let alone uncover a conspiracy to murder.”

  “So this remains a mere suspicion at present?”

  “A suspicion, certainly, but there is nothing ‘mere’ about it,” Lord Peregrine responded. “You would do well to remember, constable, that I am the only person in this household who was not here on the night that my nephew died. Everyone else should be treated with a degree of suspicion.”

  “Indeed, sir.” Langham nodded. He suspected that it would
be best to come away from Lord Peregrine before too much was spoken between them. He needed a chance to think, to consider his position before proceeding. “I am very grateful for your insight, Your Lordship.”

  He hesitated but decided to ask a final question. “Do you truly believe that love of Lady Rebecca provided sufficient motive for the Duke to kill his brother?”

  Lord Peregrine paused for a while, considering the question carefully before replying.

  “Not just love by itself,” he said, “But love and rampant jealousy. The kind of jealousy that can only truly be experienced by a younger brother who sees the world handed on a plate to the heir, and receives nothing himself.”