by Diane Gaston
‘I was told he was planning to attend a masquerade that night and that I would find him there. I knew Hetty would be there. I purchased a costume and attended the masquerade.’
‘He found me in the nick of time!’ Lady Summerfield cried. ‘He told Alvanley that he was taking me home and that gentleman must have no more dalliance with me!’ Her colour was high as she spoke. ‘Alvanley backed down immediately and Ossie swept me out of the ballroom and out to a waiting carriage. It was so romantic!’ She gazed into the air as if remembering, then she turned and focused on Lorene. ‘What were you doing there, Lorene, my love?’
‘I was looking for you, Mother,’ she said. ‘Dell and I tried to find you and bring you home before you did something to land your name in the paper again.’ She glared at her mother. ‘We were too late.’
Her mother smiled. ‘That explains why your name was in the paper, too! I was puzzled over that, although I rather hoped you were headed for a romantic tryst with some gentleman.’ She gave Dell a sly look. ‘Or perhaps you were.’
Lorene ignored that comment and turned to Count von Osten. ‘I am very grateful to you, sir, for taking Mother away from there before she did something worse.’
He nodded, but turned back to their mother. ‘I have given up asking her to marry me, though. I know now that I want my darling in any way she feels happiest.’
‘Given up?’ Lady Summerfield squeezed his hands. ‘I was hoping you would ask me one more time.’
The Count’s eyes kindled with anticipation. In front of them all he slid off the sofa on to one knee. He still held Lady Summerfield’s hands.
‘My darling Hetty,’ the Count said in a voice trembling with emotion. ‘Will you marry me? Be my Countess at last?’
‘Yes! Yes!’ Lady Summerfield cried, leaning down to kiss him.
Dell glanced at Lorene. For a moment she appeared anguished, but she recovered and her eyes flashed.
‘That is all well and good, Mother,’ she said in a strained voice. ‘But your outrageous behaviour, no matter how justified in your mind, landed my name in the newspapers.’
Her mother turned her gaze upon Lorene. ‘You were the one discovered going into the boxes.’
Her mother had undoubtedly read the same papers Dell and Lorene had read.
Lorene stood. ‘I would not have been there if not for you!’ Dell watched her try to wrest control of her emotions. ‘Count, you are welcome to stay here. Mother, I suggest you go to your bedchamber and change into a dress.’
Her mother made no effort to comply.
Lorene turned to Dell. ‘Please stay. Just give me a moment.’
She crossed the room to the door. Dell wanted to go after her, but held back.
Chapter Twenty
Lorene hurried out of the drawing room, so filled with confusing emotions, she did not know what to do with them. Her mother’s callous disregard for the effect of her behaviour was infuriating, but Dell’s near proposal had her in turmoil, especially after witnessing the Count’s romantic proposal and her mother’s acceptance.
Could she take a chance, like her mother?
She walked out to the hallway and heard Trask admit some visitors. She looked over the bannister to see who it was.
Rossdale and Genna.
‘Where is my sister?’ Genna cried to Trask. ‘I need to see her immediately! Immediately!’
Trask was taken aback. ‘Of course. I’ll announce you. One moment.’
‘It is all right, Trask,’ Lorene called from the landing. ‘They can come up.’
Someone pounded on the knocker and Trask opened the door again. This time Tess and Glenville, Edmund and Amelie, walked in.
‘We would see Lady Tinmore—’ Edmund stopped when he saw Rossdale and Genna.
‘Everyone, come to the drawing room,’ Lorene, quite alarmed, called from the landing. As they walked up the stairs, she asked, ‘What has happened?’
Genna handed her a pamphlet. ‘Here!’
Lorene took it in her hand. ‘The New Tatler.’ She gaped at them, puzzled.
‘They are selling these pamphlets up and down Bond Street! Everywhere. In print shops. Everywhere,’ Rossdale said.
Edmund added, ‘We found them as well. You cannot turn a corner and not encounter them.’
She led them to the drawing room. ‘But, what is it?’
‘You must read it,’ said Tess.
They stopped in surprise when seeing Dell in the room. Her mother and the Count had also not moved.
‘Dell!’ Rossdale walked over to him. ‘It is good you are here.’ He had several copies of the pamphlet and he handed one to Dell, before handing them to her mother and the Count. ‘Read it!’
Lorene looked down at the title.
Murder in Lincolnshire or
The Cuckolded Earl Meets His End
Her blood turned cold. She was aware of a gasp from her mother and another sound of surprise from the Count, but could not look away from the words on the front page.
This is a story of a murder in Lincolnshire—a murder in which the perpetrator was able to walk away with impunity. This is the story of what really happened and how privilege and wealth and cunning prevented justice from being served for the poor deceased.
Is this fiction or is it truth? Only you, dear Reader, can be judge and jury...
Lorene placed her hand over her mouth as she read on. Genna paced back and forth while the others read, too. The pamphlet was written in the style of a work of fiction. Names were changed, but there were enough hints as to who the true characters were. Lorene became Lady Moretin and her poor deceased husband, the Earl of Moretin. Dell was Lord Fordpen. Ross, the Marquis of Daleross. A child could figure it out.
The hero of this story was the butler, Ondix, who gallantly fought for justice for his beloved master only to be crushed by those more powerful, more moneyed, more titled. The story continued after the inquest. It continued to London where the two conspiring lovers reunited in a secret, but torrid love affair.
Where they met, when they met was related in almost complete, but embellished, detail. Someone had followed them! It culminated in a tryst at a masquerade where the lovers drank a toast to their success. They had got away with murder.
A wave of nausea hit Lorene so strong that she feared she might not be able to control it. She glanced up at Dell, who also had finished reading and gazed back at her with an agonised expression.
Genna shook her copy of the New Tatler. ‘This makes it sound like the two of you are lovers. As though you’ve been meeting at Dell’s town house.’
Lorene and Dell exchanged another glance.
‘Of course they are lovers!’ Lady Summerfield piped up. ‘One has only to look at them. It is this murder I do not understand.’ She looked from Dell to Lorene with what appeared to be admiration in her eyes. ‘Did you kill Lord Tinmore?’
‘No, we did not kill Lord Tinmore,’ Lorene rasped. ‘How can we fight this? It describes true events, but twists them and embellishes them and distorts what really happened.’
‘Then what is true here?’ Genna asked.
‘Not the part about killing Tinmore!’ Lorene cried. ‘Not the conspiracy. None of that.’
‘We know that. What about the lovers’ part?’ Genna persisted.
‘Genna, maybe they do not want to say,’ Edmund’s wife Amelie spoke up. ‘Surely the fear now would be that people would believe the false part if any of it were known to be true.’
That was it, Lorene thought. Just as they had to pretend not to be friends after Tinmore’s death, now they must definitely pretend not to have been lovers.
Amelie turned to Edmund. ‘Do you think we could go to where they sell these pamphlets and purchase them all? Then we could burn them.’
‘No, love,’ Edmund said. ‘There are too many of them.’
To Lorene’s surprise her mother rose and put her hands on Lorene’s shoulders. ‘Ignore it, my darling daughter. That is my advice. Ignore it and live your life the way you wish. Let them talk. Let them judge. You know what is in your heart.’
She was touched by her mother’s intention, misguided as it was. ‘I am to walk down the street and pretend that people are not saying, There is the woman who had her lover kill her elderly husband? Dell is to walk into the House of Lords and not have the others protesting that he is a murderer? I do not know how to do that.’
Her mother released her and made a flourish with her hand. ‘You just do it. It becomes easier with time.’
‘Why did you not tell us about you and Dell?’ Tess asked. ‘Why keep it a secret?’
Lorene evaded the question. ‘See? You believe what you have read in that pamphlet and so will everyone else.’
‘So you and Dell are not lovers?’ Tess asked.
‘Tess,’ Amelie tried again. ‘She does not want to say.’
‘We’ve got to counter this somehow,’ said Rossdale.
Trask came to the door. ‘The Duke of Kessington,’ he announced.
‘Good God,’ Rossdale muttered.
The Duke walked in flashing a pamphlet. ‘Have you seen this?’ He stopped, noticing all who were there. ‘I see you have. Gathering to discuss this. Good. Good.’
‘Why are you here, Father?’ Ross asked.
‘Well, we have to do something about this,’ the Duke said.
‘Your Grace, you need not concern yourself—’ Lorene started.
He interrupted her. ‘Of course I need to concern myself.’ He waved the pamphlet. ‘This slanders my son! Says he colludes with murder!’
Yes, Lorene must remember that others were hurt by these lies. Her sisters. Their husbands. Perhaps even Edmund and Amelie.
‘We have to get to Dixon. Make him recant,’ Rossdale’s father went on.
What would be the use of that? People would still believe the more sensational story.
Dell rose and led her to a chair. ‘Sit. We will deal with this somehow.’
Genna moved over to them both. ‘I do not care what Amelie says. I want to know. Are you two lovers?’
Dell answered. ‘Yes.’
The discussion among the others stopped.
‘Were you lovers back when Tinmore died?’ Genna pressed.
‘No,’ Lorene and Dell said in unison.
Dell went on. ‘Your sister would never be so disloyal, not even to Tinmore. So, no, we were not lovers back when Tinmore died. But I know now that I have loved her since that first meeting at Summerfield House.’
Tess broke in. ‘This town house where it says you met, was that part true?’
Dell answered again. ‘It was my family’s town house. Lorene was working with the architect to refurnish and decorate it.’
Lorene winced. Their secrets were being shattered one after the other. ‘Dell asked me to, because I had worked on Summerfield House.’
‘Ha!’ Her mother pointed a finger. ‘That is where you have been going every day, you and your man of business. I am much relieved. I thought perhaps you had made your man of business your lover.’
Lorene glared at her. ‘No, Mother. Not Mr Walters.’
Tess moved closer to her. ‘You kept this secret, Lorene?’ She looked hurt. ‘You never used to keep secrets from me. We shared everything. Until Tinmore.’
‘I did not want anyone talking about me. Speculating about me. Telling me what I should or should not do.’ She was sounding like her mother. Her mother, though, had agreed to marry.
‘Exactly so,’ said her mother. ‘You wished to do as you pleased without interference.’
Actually, that summed it up.
‘You did it again!’ cried Genna. ‘You kept an important secret from us! You did not trust us. You didn’t trust us back when you married Tinmore and you don’t trust us now!’
‘Genna,’ her husband cautioned. ‘Do not make her feel worse.’
How could she feel worse? Her beloved sisters were mad at her and she was once again alone. She lost them and lost Dell, as well. They could never be together, not even as friends.
All because of a mean-spirited butler.
Dell started towards the door. ‘I’m going for a lawyer. I’m going to sue the paper and Dixon for libel.’
‘You won’t win,’ the Duke said.
‘Maybe not,’ Dell said. ‘But not to sue is like saying that the story written there is true.’
‘I’ll go with you.’ Rossdale turned to Genna. ‘Will you be able to get home without me?’
‘Of course.’
‘Everyone go,’ Lorene said in a shrill voice. ‘I really want to be alone. Mother, you can change into a dress. Everyone leave me now.’
Tess and Genna barely looked at her as they left the room. Dell was last out of the room.
He took her in his arms. ‘I am sorry for this, Lorene. I am so sorry for this.’
‘No, I am sorry.’ She savoured the feel of him one more time. ‘Because you came to my aid, all this is happening to you.’
‘Come to the town house tomorrow morning,’ he begged.
‘What if someone is watching?’ she asked.
‘Please.’
One last time, she thought. ‘Very well.’
* * *
Lady Summerfield and the Count retired to her room, but the others gathered in the hall. Ross asked that the footman go to the stable and request his carriage.
While they waited, the butler said, ‘I am afraid there are some reporters outside. I asked them to leave, but they would not go.’
It had not taken the reporters long to figure out who the characters in the pamphlet were supposed to be. ‘This is unacceptable!’ the Duke said to Dell. ‘You cannot have this kind of attention. You will have to sever your ties to this family—especially Lady Tinmore. Otherwise, libel case or not, this will hang over you. It will affect every aspect of your life, especially your effectiveness in government.’
‘Father!’ Ross cried. ‘What a thing to say at such a time. Leave it be for now.’
The Duke lifted his chin. ‘I’m thinking of you, too, Ross. You are implicated in this, as well.’
‘Are you telling me to stay away?’ Ross said. ‘This is Genna’s family.’
Genna looked stung.
Ross’s father seemed to notice her presence belatedly and looked a bit contrite. ‘I’ve said my piece. If you wish to discuss it more with me, I will be at my club.’
Dell said, ‘See what the mood is at your club. It may help to know.’
‘I will do that,’ the Duke said. When the door opened and he walked out, they could see the reporters approach him. He yelled for them to be out of his way.
The butler quickly closed the door.
Glenville approached Dell. ‘I am going to speak with Greybury. I’ve worked with him and he is knowledgeable about matters such as these. He may be able to help.’
Dell shook his hand. ‘I would be very grateful.’
Edmund asked, ‘Do you mind if I go with you to the lawyer? I am new to all this. We were not told of any of it, but I would like to lend my support.’
Dell was touched. ‘I would like your support, Edmund. We can fill you in in the carriage.’
‘I don’t want to go out there and be accosted by those reporters,’ Tess said.
‘There is a way out the back I could show you,’ the butler offered.
‘Yes, let us go out that way.’ She looked relieved.
The butler led them away and it was just Dell, Ross and Edmund in the hall.
‘This is a terrible
mess,’ Ross said. ‘The worse fix we’ve ever been in.’
‘You were in the army, were you not?’ Edmund asked Dell.
‘Yes. The 44th Regiment of Foot.’
‘Then you saw battle in the Peninsula, correct?’ Edmund went on.
‘Yes.’
‘No matter how bad this is,’ Edmund said, ‘battle was worse.’
And Dell had survived battle. Many times. But then it was only his life at stake. This time the sabres were slicing into Lorene and Ross and other people he cared about.
When the carriage finally came, Dell, Ross, and Edmund stepped out of the house and on to the street, where the reporters ran up to them.
‘Which of you is Lord Penford?’ one asked.
Dell stepped forward. ‘I am Penford.’
He’d decided not to shrink from the truth.
‘What do you have to say for yourself, sir?’ another asked. ‘You’ve seen the story?’
‘Yes, we have all seen the story,’ he responded. ‘It is a mix of truth and lies. There was no murder. No conspiracy to commit murder and no conspiracy afterwards. The document is libellous. We are going to go against the printers and the author of this piece. That is all I will say at the moment.’
He was the last one in the carriage, which immediately pulled away as soon as he was inside.
* * *
Lorene stayed in the drawing room after the others left. She curled up in her chair, holding her knees against her chest. She could still hear their voices in the hall and didn’t move until it was quiet. She went to the window in time to see Dell talking to a group of men. Why were there men outside of her house?
They were newspaper reporters, she realised.
It obviously took them no time to figure out the characters in the pamphlet. The names were so thinly disguised.
She watched Dell speak with them. He looked so calm, when she was all turmoil inside. She watched him until he climbed into the carriage and it drove away.
A suit of libel was all well and good, but would it not merely keep people talking about them? They would have to prove that Dixon’s account of Tinmore’s death was false, but how could they? There were no witnesses.
