The Widow (Silver Linings Mysteries Book 1)

by Mary Kingswood

  “Indeed not,” Nathan said gravely.

  “I am glad we have had this talk, Harbottle,” Godney said. “You will not rush away, I hope? Will you have another glass of Madeira? What do you think of this latest news from France, eh?”

  With an inward sigh, Nathan settled down to entertain Godney until Lady Godney’s party had broken up and it was safe for him to emerge from his refuge.

  ~~~~~

  The following morning brought the Godneys in state to pay a formal morning call. Harry had gone off to do Parliamentary things, but Nell, Nathan and Meg received their visitors in the drawing room. Nathan could see at once that they were disconcerted by Meg, having seen her at the ball without realising who she was.

  “Oh, your half-sister,” Lady Godney said, rather disparagingly.

  “A sister is still a sister, whether we share one parent or two,” Nathan said evenly, relieved that Harry was not there to observe the insult. He might be dithering over marrying Meg, but he was her stoutest champion in the event of any perceived slight.

  “Nothing is more important than family,” Godney said, loud enough to startle everyone. “Miss Harbottle dazzled everyone at Marford House, and I am delighted to make her acquaintance.”

  Lady Godney threw him an odd look and seemed about to speak, but wisely refrained.

  When it emerged that Nell, Nathan and Meg were about to travel to Hampshire to visit Mr Lumley, who lived within half a mile of Daveney Hall, Godney’s face lit up. “Why, then you must all stay at Daveney Hall.” Lady Godney gave a squeak of astonishment, but he ploughed on, “It would be our pleasure to have you as our guests. Would it not, Julia?”

  Her mouth flapped open. “Sir James…”

  “Of course it would. We can invite some of your old friends for dinner, Nell. The Mattocks and the Dimfords, for instance.”

  Nell laughed. “You are very kind, James, and we would be delighted to stay at the Hall, but there is no need to entertain on our account. I am still in full mourning, remember.”

  “Oh. Still, it will be a pleasure to have you at home again, Nelly.” And he gave her a smile of genuine warmth, despite the frosty expression on his wife’s face. “We could all travel down together. That would be amusing, would it not? I am sure we should find somewhere to stop overnight with enough room for all of us, and at least we would have a decent number for whist. What do you say, eh, Harbottle?”

  Nathan could find no answer but to smile and pretend to be pleased at the prospect of two days on the road with the Godneys.

  When they had left, Nell turned to Nathan with merriment in her eyes. “Whatever you said to James, you have brought him round wonderfully. I never knew him so tractable before. Thank you!”

  He made her a bow. “It was a pleasure. He is tolerable company after a few glasses of Madeira, or perhaps that is only when Lady Godney is not around. Even so, I am sorry to inflict him on you for the journey into Hampshire. I did not expect such condescension.”

  Nell laughed, “I would not mind for myself, but you will hate it. James is the world’s most haphazard traveller, and you are the world’s most organised. You will fall out twenty times a day.”

  In the end they travelled separately from the Godneys, because Nathan found it impossible to pin them down to a specific time or even day. He could not conceive of simply packing up and departing without the necessary planning beforehand. He waited, therefore, until word was received that they had left London, then he wrote his letters to alert the necessary coaching inns to their requirements. With an interceding Sunday, it was therefore three more days before they departed, plenty of time for Meg to fill the luggage coach with hat boxes and interestingly shaped packages.

  They arrived at Daveney Hall to grey skies and drizzling rain, and Nathan had the amusement of watching Julia attempt to greet Meg with civility. He also noted the excitement amongst some of the servants to see Nell again. The butler and housekeeper were impassive, but the junior footmen smiled at her and bowed respectfully low, and a little cluster of housemaids hovered in a corner of the entrance hall, smiling and curtsying enthusiastically. There was also one other person there whom Nathan was curious to meet — Nell’s younger brother Mr Jack Godney, who turned out to be a fine young man, tall, good-looking and sensibly dressed without fashionable excess. He hugged his sister and professed himself delighted to meet the others, with manners so easy and sincere as to make a striking contrast with his older brother and sister-in-law.

  Having encountered no delays, they arrived in plenty of time to walk down to the parsonage and conclude their business with Mr Lumley that very afternoon, but Nathan had arranged to call on him the next day and so the next day it was to be. Sir James and his good lady showed no interest in proceedings, but Mr Jack Godney declared his intention of accompanying them.

  “You will be whisking Nell back to Yorkshire at any moment, and there she will stay,” he said, “so I must make the most of her short visit here. Besides, Mrs Lumley’s cook has a very light hand with a gingerbread cake.”

  “I cannot say if I will be living at Percharden House or not,” Nell said, with a small frown. “We have not yet found absolute proof that Jude and Felix were the same person.”

  “But it is certain, is it not?” Jack Godney said. “Surely there is no doubt remaining?”

  “Not in my mind,” Nathan said. “There is no knowing, however, whether the evidence we have managed to accrue is sufficient to convince the Master of the Rolls. I should have been happier to uncover a letter in Felix’s own hand to prove it.”

  “Oh, something may yet turn up,” Godney said, in his breezy way.

  Nathan wished he could be so sanguine. He had been so sure that Felix would leave some sign of his change of name to avoid leaving the succession in disorder, but they had now exhausted all possibilities.

  The entire Lumley family had gathered to receive them in proper state. Mr Lumley, his sister and his two sisters-in-law met them at the door and greeted them with affection, in the case of Nell and her brother, and great affability, in regard to Nathan and Meg. Mr Lumley was younger than Nathan had expected, having formed an image of a stooped and white-haired old man. This man was tall and upright and no more than forty or so, and his sisters were not much older than he was.

  The whole party proceeded into the small front parlour, another chair was found for Jack, who had not been expected, and the marriage register was laid out on the embroidered cloth covering the small table. Nathan inspected the register, took a fair copy of the entry and tea was sent for, while Mr Lumley returned the register to its locked box in the church vestry.

  When he returned, they drank the tea and sampled the cake, which was not the hoped for gingerbread cake, but a very acceptable marmalade version. Jack had three helpings and would possibly have had three more had not Nell suggested gently to Miss Lumley that it be removed forthwith.

  Only then did Nathan produce his letter. “Mr Lumley, this was found amongst Captain Caldicott’s effects after his death. It is addressed to you, or your successor, so I hereby discharge my duty in delivering it into your hands.”

  “Ah! Thank you, Mr Harbottle. I have been expecting this.”

  “You were expecting it?” Nathan said, astonished.

  “Oh yes. In fact, when Miss Nell… I mean Mrs Caldicott came here in March, I felt certain that her purpose was to bring this to me. But perhaps you had not yet found it, my dear. He said he would hide it away, so that it would only be discovered after his death.”

  Nathan’s head spun. “He? You mean… Captain Caldicott?”

  “Or, as he once was, Felix Harbottle.”

  The silence in the room was so profound, Nathan was sure he could hear the mice behind the wainscoting.

  “You know that? But can you prove it?” he said hoarsely, scarcely daring to believe it.

  “Indeed I can, and, unless I miss my mark, this letter will authorise me to do so.”

  Nathan exhaled slowly, and then, t
o his own astonishment, he began to laugh. “The devious old fox! Such a merry dance Felix has led us, but the answer was here all the time.”

  30: A Voice From The Past

  Mr Lumley sent his sisters out of the room before opening the letter, for it was a private matter. When he had read it, he showed it to Nathan.

  ‘My dear Sir, If you are reading this, then it seems most likely that I have gone to meet my Maker, there to account for my immortal soul, and so I must needs also settle my earthly accounts. Please be so good as to forward the items left in your care to Sir William Harbottle of Percharden House, Sagborough, West Riding, or to the present head of the family, or the family lawyers, with my grateful thanks for your assistance, and your silence these many years. Your humble servant, Jude Caldicott, previously known as Felix Charles Harbottle.”

  The inner writing was in Felix’s strong, flowing hand, which Nathan recognised from the letters to Aunt Amelie. The direction on the outside was in Jude Caldicott’s cramped hand. Silently Nathan passed the letter to Nell and Meg.

  “This is the proof,” Nell said. “Thank goodness! Now we have all we need to secure Louis’ inheritance.”

  “There is more that will be useful to you in that regard,” Mr Lumley said. “Let me fetch the items that Captain Caldicott left in my care. I keep them locked away for safety.”

  When he returned, he carried a dusty wooden box. For a moment he looked uncertain. “I believe Sir William Harbottle is himself dead, in which case I am bidden to hand this to the head of the family or the lawyers.”

  “That is a problem,” Nathan said. “Louis, I believe, must now be regarded as the head of the family, but as a minor perhaps it should go to his mother?”

  “Or his guardian,” Mr Lumley said with obvious reluctance.

  Silence fell. No one wished to involve Sir James in the matter.

  Eventually Nathan said, “I am Louis’ nearest male relative on the Harbottle side of his family, if that would weigh with you. I am also the executor of Sir William’s estate and have power of attorney to manage the business aspects of it.”

  “Ah,” Mr Lumley said, brightening. “An attorney-in-fact… that would be perfectly acceptable, I believe. There, sir.” He placed the box in Nathan’s hands. “You should be aware, however, that what you will find therein may distress you all, and especially Mrs Caldicott.”

  “If you mean that my husband lied to me, Mr Lumley, I am very well aware of it. I do not imagine that any further revelations could cause me any greater distress.”

  He regarded her over the top of his spectacles. “I believe, my dear, you must be prepared for a very great shock, for what your husband revealed to me is very dreadful.”

  Nell paled, but lifted her chin a little. “I wish to know everything of my husband’s past life,” she said calmly.

  “So be it,” Mr Lumley said. “Let me tell you of my part in all this before you open the box and examine its contents. Captain Caldicott came to see me two days before his marriage. He told me his true name and of his family in Yorkshire, which you are already aware of, so I need not elaborate on that. He told me also of his first marriage, to Eliza Smith. It was a mistake, made in a misplaced sense of honour, and bitterly regretted. This too you know of, I surmise, and that his wife died tragically young in an accident, a fall from a balcony. What you may not know is that her fall was no accident — she was pushed off that balcony, and the person responsible was—”

  “No!” Nell said. “No, I cannot—”

  She stopped, and Nathan watched her face as she realised the truth — that her husband had been a violent man. It was all too plausible that he had injured his first wife, just as he had injured her. She shivered.

  “He did not mean to do it,” Mr Lumley said quietly. “It was an accident, but they were quarrelling, he pushed her and she fell.”

  Nell was mute, and Meg too was reduced to shocked silence, hands to face. Nathan felt compelled to share what he knew of the matter. He had hoped to shield Nell from this knowledge, but now it was out in the open.

  “It is true, Nell,” he said, in his gentlest tones, taking her hand in his. “I found it out in London from Lord Toller. He was there that night and saw it happen. He spoke up for Felix at the coroner’s inquest, and loaned him the money to pay off various officials to ensure no one enquired too deeply into the matter. I am so very sorry.”

  “I am glad I knew nothing of this when Jude was alive,” she said in a low voice. “It would have made my situation all the more pitiable. My husband beat me, Mr Lumley. Perhaps one day he would have killed me, too.”

  “Oh, my dear! If I had known!” Mr Lumley’s face was suffused with distress. “He swore to me it was only that once, that it was merely the heat of the moment, he had not meant to push her… oh, how dreadful for you! How appalling! And I knew something of it. Had I suspected his tendency to violence was ingrained, I could have stopped the wedding. Oh, my dear Mrs Caldicott, I do not know what to say!”

  She gave a wry half smile. “There is nothing to be said. He is dead, and here I still am, and at least I have my son. The past is gone for ever, and my husband can never hurt me again. I look to the future now.”

  So brave! Nathan squeezed her hand, and she gave him a stronger smile.

  “Will you not see what is inside the box now?” she said.

  He had almost forgotten the box, sitting unregarded on the table beside him. He opened it now, and spread the contents on the table. Two letters, one in Felix’s distinctive hand, the other not known to him.

  “My notes on all that was said,” Mr Lumley said. “It seemed good to me to take a record, in case anything should happen to me. I also suggested that Captain Caldicott write down everything that he had told me. I shall, of course, be happy to recount any part of this to the authorities, should it ever be necessary.”

  Nathan drew out a ring with the Harbottle crest. “Ah, there it is. We wondered what had become of it.”

  Apart from that, there were his navy medals, papers relating to his navy career and his first marriage, the legal document recording his change of name, a small book of poems with the initials ‘AB’ on the flyleaf and a shrivelled conker.

  “I imagine that came from the chestnut tree on the south lawn at Percharden,” Nathan said sadly. “Poor Felix. It is as if he left his past here in this box.”

  “Read the letter,” Meg said. “I should like to know what he says. Read it out loud.”

  The first part of the letter was about his home and family, and then his disastrous marriage, but then he came to the fatal evening when Eliza had fallen to her death.

  ‘Now I must relate the worst that any man can tell of himself, for I come to the moment when Eliza’s life ended, and mine came within a hair’s breadth of ending also. There were many wild, drunken parties at that time, and that evening’s revelry was no wilder or more drunken than any other. Eliza was being difficult again. I say that not to blame her for my actions, but to explain, merely, how we came to quarrel. It was not two weeks since I had found her in Pulbright’s bed, and I would not have minded quite so much if he had been an admiral, but it was beneath my dignity to be cuckolded by a lieutenant. We had got past that, or so I thought, but strong liquor brought out the worst in her, and the rum punch that night was very strong and she had had plenty of it. I had to extract her from the over-familiar attentions of a commodore, a captain and a ship’s surgeon, and very degrading it was. So we quarrelled, as we had quarrelled a hundred times before.’

  Nathan paused, shocked by this glimpse into Felix’s married life. Poor Felix, shackled to such a woman! No wonder he had grown violent, exposed to such debauched behaviour in his own wife. His throat tight, he read on.

  ‘We were pulled apart by friends, and I retreated to the card room to drink, although I was well disguised already. I mooched about there for a while, ranting to any who would listen, but my good friend Pascall persuaded me to go home, which I did. However, I must have gon
e back there, for I found Eliza…’

  Nathan looked, up puzzled. “What a strange way to put it — that he must have gone back there.”

  “Read on,” Meg said eagerly. “Let us hear it all.”

  ‘I found Eliza on the balcony and we quarrelled again, more violently than before. In my anger, I lashed out at her, pushing her backwards and she fell. Pascall helped me creep away and I went home, as I should have done before. God knows, I wish I had! But I do not remember any of this. I know it only because Pascall told me of it later. I remember the first quarrel, the card room, then leaving. I remember returning to our lodgings and preparing for bed. The next thing I knew, I was shaken awake by my man with the news that Eliza had fallen to her death. I heard this as if for the first time, for I had no remembrance at all of what I had done.’

  Again Nathan paused, frowning, but Meg clucked at him, so he carried on.

  ‘There was an inquest and the coroner asked me many questions, naturally, most of which I could not answer. It was not until Pascall came forward, good fellow that he is, and told them that he had seen me leave before ever Eliza went onto the balcony that the questions ceased. He then expended his own funds to a considerable amount to Admiralty officials — seven thousand pounds, no less, and where he got such a sum I cannot imagine, for he was ever short of the readies, but he said he could do not less for a good friend. I know not what he did but the effort was successful, for Eliza’s death was deemed an accident and I was a free man, who should by rights have been executed. Pascall is indeed my truest friend, and I owe him everything, even my life. I am determined to repay my debt to him, whatever it takes.’

  Nathan was aware of a ripple of disquiet at this point. This was not quite the story that Toller had told, for he had claimed that Felix had done the bribing and Toller’s only role had been to loan him the money. And where had he got hold of so much money? He recalled what Harry had said of him, that he never had a feather to fly with, and at the time he knew Felix, Toller had not yet inherited the viscountcy and would have been managing on whatever allowance his father gave him. No, there was something amiss with the story. But Meg was gesturing impatiently, so he read on.