The Widow (Silver Linings Mysteries Book 1)

by Mary Kingswood

  “What is your game? Piquet?”

  Toller gave a wolfish smile. “Shall we find a quiet table?”

  In a very few minutes he had located a secluded corner of the card room, a pack of cards, a scoring marker and a decanter of claret. Nathan was no gamester, but he was quite happy to lose a few pounds to Toller if it gave him the information he wanted. Toller won the cut and dealt first. They played his deal and then Nathan’s, with no conversation beyond the game, before Toller said languidly as he shuffled, “What was it you wished to talk to me about, Harbottle?”

  Nathan was ready for him. “I merely wondered why it was that my cousin Felix was paying you eight hundred pounds a year.”

  Toller’s hands stilled, and for the space of perhaps ten heartbeats he was motionless. Then, without a word, he dealt the cards, and they played another two deals before he answered. “Your cousin owed me some money. A debt of honour, you understand.”

  Nathan looked at him, amused. “Sixteen thousand pounds? That must have been quite a night. What was it, dice or cards?”

  Again Toller lapsed into silence, and they finished the partie without a word spoken except the calls of the game, but Toller seemed distracted, and Nathan found himself with an easy victory.

  “Shall we play again?” he said. “Perhaps for a little more this time.”

  Again Toller smiled, eyes gleaming. Both men added more coins onto the table. This time, Nathan won the cut, but before the first deal, he paused, cards in hand, and said, “Are you going to explain the debt of honour, Toller?”

  Toller sighed. “I made him a loan. Not sixteen thousand, for I do not have such sums at my disposal, but seven thousand. We agreed that he would repay the principal over a period of years, but Harbottle insisted on paying me interest as well. That was no doing of mine, I assure you! When he vanished from society, he continued to make the payments. If I had been able to find him, I should have told him that the debt was long since repaid, but I could not.”

  Nathan tapped the pack of cards on the table as he pondered that. Was it plausible? Toller’s face was, if not guileless, at least open. He looked Nathan in the eye, and seemed sincere enough. Yet he was such an expert card player that he must have learnt well enough how to dissemble. “What need had Felix for such a sum?”

  “I did not enquire too closely,” Toller said, and this time his answer was glib. “Something to do with his wife’s death.”

  “Oh?” Nathan realised with a surge of excitement where else he had heard the name of Pascall recently. “You spoke at the coroner’s court, did you not? You testified that Felix had left the building before his wife fell.”

  For the first time, Toller was visibly disconcerted. “Who told you that?”

  “Admiral Beckley. It is all in the official report from the coroner.”

  Toller took a long sip of claret, then set his glass down carefully. Folding his arms, he said evenly, “I see I must tell you the whole story, and since your cousin is dead, it can do him no harm now. The truth is that Felix Harbottle killed his wife.”

  “What!”

  “It is true. I saw him do it, for I was there on the balcony with Harbottle and his wife. They had quarrelled earlier in the evening, and he had been persuaded to step outside… take some air… cool down. Which he did, but later he returned and started up the quarrel again. She went out onto the balcony to escape his wrath, he followed her and the quarrel became violent. I had seen them go outside, and followed in a futile attempt to remonstrate with Harbottle. My efforts were in vain, for he pushed her a little too hard, and over she went.”

  “Good God! This is far worse than I had imagined,” Nathan cried.

  “It was quite unintentional, of course, and one does not wish a man to face execution for an accident of that nature,” Toller said. “At the very least, he would have been cashiered. I did what I could to mitigate the results, by speaking for Harbottle at the coroner’s court, and lending him what he needed. I had the impression he used it to bribe the right people to ensure the death was set down as accidental. Whatever he did with it seems to have been effective.” He shrugged. “It was a long time ago, Harbottle. Old history. Are you playing, or not?”

  Nathan nodded and dealt the cards. They played two more parties, and with fifty pounds lost to Toller, he felt free to quit the card room. If he had not talked to Admiral Beckley, he would have disbelieved Toller absolutely, but Beckley’s suggestion of deceit and his discomfort with the idea of enquiring too deeply into the matter made Toller’s version of events all too plausible. It also fitted with the history of violence against Nell. It was a sad story, and not one that Nell needed to be burdened with. It also extinguished the last hope of finding someone who could prove the connection between Jude Caldicott and Felix. A mistress might have some knowledge of that matter, but clearly Toller was as much in the dark as anyone.

  The first sight to greet him on his return to the ballroom was Meg, dancing with a young man some years younger than she was.

  “Who is he?” he asked Harry, who was watching her with a wide smile on his face.

  “A viscount… heir to an earldom, apparently. Her previous partner was merely the younger son of a baron. I must say, Lord Carrbridge is excessively well connected. I feel inadequate without a title. A mere Squire’s son has no place here, I feel. Have you seen the crystal in the supper room? There is an ice sculpture of a swan, of all things, and there is to be roast peacock and peach ice cream. I have never tasted peach ice cream, have you? I was shooed out by a very grand footman, but I am looking forward to supper enormously. Oh, look over there! Heavens, have you ever seen anything as grotesque as that turban? She is a duchess, so I suppose she may wear what she pleases.”

  Nathan obediently looked, as the duchess sailed majestically past with a small entourage in her wake. As the last of them moved on and a small clear space opened up, it became possible to see several people standing against the walls. Nathan looked, then looked again and froze, standing as if transfixed.

  “You all right, old fellow?” Harry said. “You look as if you have seen a ghost.”

  “I believe I have,” he muttered, setting off determinedly across the room, his eyes never straying from his object.

  At first, he was unsure. Could she have changed so much in only eleven years? The pleasantly soft curves had expanded in all directions, and her hair — her lovely auburn hair, so long and thick! — had been clipped short all over her head, and wound about with ribbons and beads. And where had her beautiful smile vanished to?

  She was engrossed in animated conversation with the man at her side, her expression clouded with displeasure. Her companion was some years her senior, and for a moment, Nathan thought it must be her father before realising his mistake. As he approached, she turned to him with a frown.

  “Selena?” he said, although tentatively, for he was still not certain.

  The frown deepened. “I do not believe we are acquainted, sir,” she said, looking him up and down haughtily. But the voice — yes, it was her, beyond any doubt.

  He huffed out a breath of pure surprise. How could she not know him? It was inconceivable, and so ridiculous that he laughed out loud. “Oh, we are very well acquainted, or we were once. Do you not recognise me, Selena?”

  Slowly her expression changed to one of chagrin, her cheeks reddening slightly. “Oh… of course.” Turning to the man beside her, she said, “It is very warm in here and I am so thirsty. Would you be so good as to fetch me some lemonade?”

  His eyebrows snapped together in annoyance, and he threw Nathan a fulminating glance, but he was too gentlemanly to refuse a lady’s request. Glowering at Nathan, he left.

  “Goodness, Nathan, whatever are you doing here?” Before he could formulate a reply, she raced on in a low voice, “For Heavens sake, say nothing to my husband! He has not the least idea about you, and I do not want him to find out, do you understand?”

  “Credit me with a little discretion, Selena
.”

  “Oh… of course, I know you would not… But he would be so angry if he knew everything about me. It is so much better if a gentleman is not told such things, do you not agree? Honesty does not always pay. Well! Imagine meeting you here. You are the last person in the world I would have expected to be at a grand ball at Marford House. How did you wheedle an invitation?”

  There was too much insult in her words for him to ignore. “Whatever happened to the charming girl I fell in love with?” he said, quite unable to keep the bitterness out of his tone. “Did you think of me at all, Selena? Did you ever think about what might have been, or about Henny?”

  “Henny?”

  “Henrietta. Your daughter. She is very well, thank you for asking. Growing up into a lovely young lady. Almost as pretty as her mother once was, but with better manners, I trust.”

  She coloured, but lifted her chin. “Why should I think about you, after you led me astray so appallingly? Why should I think about… about her, the proof of it? I wanted to forget everything that had happened, to put it all behind me and I have, Nathan, I have. I am respectable now. My husband is an Honourable, the son of a baron, and so long as his brother does not marry again… well, we have hopes. So I shall be a baroness and you will still be nobody.”

  “I wish you joy of your title, Selena. May it warm you when you grow old and care for you when you grow sick and cherish you when you are lonely, as I would have done.”

  He spun on his heel and stormed away, almost knocking over her hapless husband, returning at that moment with the unwanted lemonade. He strode through the crowds unseeingly, until someone grabbed his arm.

  “No, no, no, you must not rush off like that!” Harry cried. “Tell me who she is, for pity’s sake.”

  “A viper,” he hissed. “A worm. A traitorous snake.”

  “Hmm. Not a friend, then.”

  “Ha! Definitely not a friend.” Yet he had once loved her so intensely that he had felt life was not worth living without her. He had thought their love would sustain them for all eternity, yet it had not survived its first crisis. More slowly, he said, “She is not a friend. A friend would be pleased to see me, even after eleven years. A friend would have sent word to me, somehow. A friend would care about a man she once professed to love. Even when love dies, there is still something, surely?”

  “Ah. That viper,” Harry said. “Just fancy meeting her here, after all this time.”

  He waved an arm expansively at the brilliantly-lit room, and Nathan recalled with a jolt that he was standing in the middle of a crowded ballroom. It was hot and loud and the scent of the flowers arranged in urns around the room could not mask the aroma of many sweating bodies.

  “I have to get out of here,” he muttered. “Get some air, and cool off. Harry, you will not mind if I go for a walk, and Meg will not notice my absence, I am sure. I will be back in time to take her home.”

  “No need,” Harry said easily. “I shall bring her home. She is not some schoolroom miss, and I can be trusted to keep to the line, I hope, for a five minute drive. You go home. You were not enjoying yourself anyway, were you?”

  “You are the best friend a man could have,” Nathan said with feeling.

  With one last glance at Selena, now engaged in a fierce argument with her husband, he stole out of the ballroom and disappeared into the night.

  28: After The Ball

  For Nell the evening had passed slowly. She was determined to be productive, so there was a little reading, a little sewing, a letter to Louis, a little more reading, a letter to Maria. None of them were sufficient to distract her mind. Eventually she had succumbed to temptation and asked Withers to unlock the instrument for her. Only then, with music flowing through her, could she clear her mind sufficiently to allow her to consider her situation.

  For Louis, she no longer had any concerns. His letters from Yorkshire had grown from brief, stiff summaries to effusive descriptions of his outings with Jessica. Walks through the woods, excursions to a pond, a drive out onto the moors and a visit to Henny in York had all featured. He was happy, she could tell. He asked her wistfully when she would be home, but he was neither lonely nor bored. Jessica’s letters, while a little brisker, listed his progress in Latin, Greek, Italian and French. Louis had found a primer for Hebrew in the library, so he was learning that, too, and a tutor came twice a week to teach him history, especially the battles, which he found of great interest. He was greatly enthused by the armies of tin soldiers unearthed from the attics and was busy re-enacting the Peloponnesian Wars. She was looking about for someone to teach him astronomy, and would Nell mind if she bought him a telescope?

  For Nell herself, life was more complicated, and most of the complication revolved around the person of Mr Nathan Harbottle. She liked him, of that there could be no doubt. As a friend, she enjoyed his company and was completely at ease with him. She felt she could talk to him about any subject that troubled her, and he would give her sensible advice, untainted by his own wishes, and without patronising her. So many men would smile in a supercilious way, and tell her not to worry about whatever it was. Even Jude had done so, telling her that some aspects of life were better left to men, but Nathan never did.

  She could certainly appreciate his outward attractions, too. He was smoothly handsome, a fine figure of a man, and his blond hair, blue eyes and ready smile were immediately appealing. Even in her mourning, she could appreciate him. He reminded her somewhat of Jude, but that was no longer surprising, now that she knew them to be cousins.

  No, it was not his good looks or his friendship that troubled her, it was that he had proposed to her. This was the point where her ruminations failed her. It would be wonderful to have enough money again, and to give Louis a father who would not go away for weeks on end, but what about herself? Did she want to marry him? For all that she had sworn to him that she would never marry again, there was something so appealing in handing all the worries of life over to a husband. She could focus her attentions on deciding which bonnet to wear, and whether to have beef or mutton for dinner, and if the under-housemaid was dusting the ornaments on the mantel properly. And yet surely there was more to life than bonnets and beef! Society, company, conversation — these were what she craved. Dancing and music, too. Nathan could give her all that, and more. Perhaps marriage to him would not be so terrible. He had always treated her as a rational creature, so perhaps he would continue to do so if she were his wife. Perhaps… if… That was the whole problem, that there was no knowing how it would be. Marriage was such a risk…

  She had learnt in the harshest way possible that a man, even one who professed his unreserved and eternal love, could not be trusted. Her father had loved her and yet cast her out of the family when she displeased him. Her brother loved her and yet would not break her exile. Her husband had loved her and yet had lied to her and blamed her for all their misfortunes and even hit her. It was only now, with the distance of several months to give her perspective, that she could be properly outraged about his violence. How dared he treat her so! She had trusted him with her love, her life and all her hopes, and he had betrayed her utterly.

  For a while, she paced around the room, too restless, too angry to sit and play the instrument. She was not a person who could sustain anger for long, however. Her good sense reasserted itself. Jude was dead, and could hurt her no more. Her father was dead, and there could be no reconciliation in the living world. But James… here she paused, for James still held great power over her, for he was Louis’ guardian. He could take him away from her altogether and send him to school, and then she would be quite alone. Unless she married… unless she found a new guardian for Louis. And that brought her back to Nathan.

  So her thoughts ran, round and round with no conclusions. At least her mourning protected her from needing to make a decision. She could not marry again for many months, so she could put the whole problem to the back of her mind. One day soon she would be settled somewhere, either at Percharde
n House or at Southampton, and then there would be leisure to consider the future, when she was not consumed by uncertainty or bombarded with new revelations about Jude’s life.

  She heard voices in the hall below, and her fingers stilled on the keys. Were they home already from the ball? It was still so early. That was not a good sign.

  When the drawing room door opened, however, only Nathan entered. He stopped on the threshold, and she was shocked at his appearance, his expression drawn, his complexion ashen.

  She jumped to her feet and almost ran across the room. “What is it? Are you ill?”

  “No… no…” He seemed dazed. “Whatever are you doing still up at this hour? Did you get so lost in your music that you forgot to go to bed?”

  “Is it late?” She looked at the clock — almost one in the morning. “Oh — I had no idea. But whatever has happened? You look very pale. May I pour you a glass of something? There is claret and port and sherry, I think. Or shall I send Withers for some brandy?”

  “Thank you… brandy, I think.”

  She rang for Withers and gave the order, then gestured to a chair. “Sit down, for you look liable to fall down. Do you wish to talk about it, or must I sit in sympathetic silence, while in an agony of suspense?”

  He gave a wry laugh. “I beg your pardon, but my past rose up to greet me tonight and it was rather a shock.”

  “Your past? Oh… not the lady you almost married? Henny’s mother?”

  He nodded. “Can you imagine how foolish I feel?” he said with a harsh little laugh. “For eleven years I have carried with me this image of a pretty creature, all smiles and glowing looks and delightful affection, and now I find she is grown fat and discontented, and is married to a man almost old enough to be her father, in the hope that he will make her a baroness one day. She did not even recognise me at first and has no interest in her own daughter. I imagined her suffering from the separation as I did, but so far from regretting me, she is astonished to find me respectable enough to be invited to Marford House. I almost wondered if she thought I had crept in through the servants’ entrance.”