by Lucy Adams
“My lady?”
She looked across to see her butler standing in the doorway.
“Lord Millerton has arrived, my lady.”
“Oh!” She set down her quill and rose quickly. “Send him in at once, if you please.”
The butler nodded and withdrew and within only a few seconds, Lord Millerton walked into the room, his eyes lingering on her for a moment before he bowed.
“I thank you for coming, Lord Millerton,” she said, hastily coming towards him. “I have received not one but three notes from Lord Hazelton, and each of these notes state a different time and place that we are to meet!”
Lord Millerton frowned. “What do you mean?”
She gestured towards her desk. “I received these three notes within a short space of time earlier this morning,” she said, as he walked towards them. “They all have a different time and place for us to meet, with the second note being only two hours away!” Frowning, she rubbed at her forehead. “If I write to him to ask for clarification, then I cannot be certain that I will receive a response by the time two o’clock comes.”
Bridgette watched Lord Millerton anxiously, wondering what he would say in response. He read each note, his brow furrowed, his lips pressed hard together.
“How very odd,” he said, slowly, turning his head to look at her. “And you have not written to him as yet?”
She shook her head. “I was not certain what to do.”
He twisted his lips. “Mayhap we ought to call upon him,” he said, slowly. “I cannot be certain that —”
A scratch at the door interrupted him and Bridgette turned at once towards it, calling the butler to enter.
“Pardon the interruption, my lady,” he said, inclining his head, “but a boy came to the door and asked me to give you a message.”
Bridgette’s eyes flared in surprise. “A message?” she repeated, sensing Lord Millerton coming to stand beside her. “What was it?”
The butler cleared his throat, looking a trifle uneasy. “I do not quite understand it, my lady, but the boy said the words ‘the second’.” He looked at her, as Bridgette frowned. “That is all that was said.”
“I see,” Bridgette murmured, her mind quickly turning back to the notes. “Thank you. You may go.”
The butler inclined his head again, a flash of relief in his eyes as he turned away. The moment the door closed, Bridgette turned to Lord Millerton, a sense of excitement in her heart. “The second note, Lord Millerton!”
Lord Millerton hesitated, then nodded, his expression brightening. “Then you are to meet him at St James’ Park at two o’clock,” he said, striding back towards the notes. “But what is his reason for writing three notes, each with a different time and place?” He picked them up, one after the other, his eyes flicking from one to the other. “It does concern me, I will admit.”
“Because you fear that there is some sort of danger surrounding what Lord Hazelton wishes to tell me?” she asked, as Lord Millerton nodded. “He fears that mayhap someone will come to where we meet?”
Lord Millerton nodded. “That is my consideration, yes,” he replied, with a grave look in her direction. “We must be on our guard, Lady Callander. There might be more here than we are aware of at present.”
St James’ Park was not particularly busy, given the time of day. Most of the beau monde would be making calls, before preparation for the fashionable hour. The day was very lovely indeed, with a warm sun but a few white clouds that took some of the heat from it. Bridgette walked beside Lord Millerton, her parasol held over her bonnet to ensure that she did not allow the sun to fall onto her face. Her heart was pounding as she looked left and right, trying to find any sign of Lord Hazelton.
“Did he say specifically where you were to meet him in the park?” Lord Millerton asked. “I am aware what the note stated, but there was not another that came thereafter?”
“No,” she answered, coming to a sudden stop, one hand reaching out to press Lord Millerton’s hand. “Wait, is that not a gentleman sitting there, a little ahead of us?”
Lord Millerton stopped beside her and then gazed straight ahead, as to where her eyes were fixed. A gentleman was sitting on a bench a short distance from them. He appeared to be a little slumped, his head hanging low, his chin on his chest and his hat a little precarious as it sat on his head.
“He looks as though he is in some contemplation,” Lord Millerton murmured, although she did not miss the slight catch in his voice. “Mayhap you should permit me to go first, Lady Callander.”
She shook her head. “We shall walk together, Lord Millerton,” she said, decisively. “After all, Lord Hazelton is expecting only myself and, given the strange way he has arranged this meeting, I shall have to ensure that he is not inclined to hurry from me simply because I have company.” She looked up into his face and saw him nod, although a frown knotted his brow as he kept his gaze fixed on the gentleman in front of them. They began to walk together, falling into step beside each other and ensuring that they did not walk overly quickly so as not to frighten the gentleman, particularly if it turned out not to be Lord Hazelton!
“Wait a moment.”
Lord Millerton’s voice was low, his brow furrowing hard as he held her back.
“Wait, Lady Callander.”
She glanced up at him, looking up into his eyes and then back at the gentleman on the bench. “Lord Millerton?”
He finally looked away from the scene in front of him and then back towards her. “Look, Lady Callander.” His low, grave voice sent a shiver down her spine but she forced herself to turn back, to look at the gentleman a little more closely — and caught her breath as she realized what he had seen.
“Oh no,” she whispered, seeing that the gentleman before them was sitting with something protruding from his chest. In the sunshine, she could see that what she could see of his shirt was not a crisp white but rather a dark stained red. “Is — is he dead?”
Bridgette watched as Lord Millerton hurried forward, finding her feet fixed to the ground, her hands shaking as she clasped them together. Lord Millerton moved quickly, lifting the man’s head with both hands, searching the gentleman’s face for any sign of life.
She knew at once that it was Lord Hazelton, recognizing his face. His eyes were wide and staring and from the way Lord Millerton shook his head, she realized that he was no longer of this world.
Closing her eyes, Bridgette took in a deep breath, trying to steady herself. This was not at all what she had expected and certainly had never even thought that Lord Hazelton could be facing such danger!
“We must return to the carriage.”
Lord Millerton’s hands took hers, holding them tightly as she tried to pull herself from the coldness that seemed now to wrap itself around her. It was as though a fog had rushed around her, making it hard to see and to hear and to even feel anything other than shock.
“Lady Callander — Bridgette,” Lord Millerton said, urgently, squeezing her hands and bending his head low so that he might look into her eyes a little more. “You must return to the carriage.”
“Is he dead?” she found herself whispering, even though she knew it was so already. “Has he been killed?”
Lord Millerton held her gaze, then nodded. “It appears so,” he said, his mouth in a thin line. “There was a knife protruding from his chest.”
Bridgette sucked in a breath, shuddering furiously as she closed her eyes tightly and tried to accept what she had been told. “Who would have done such a thing?”
“I could not say at present,” he answered, slowly, “but there is a good deal that I now need to discuss with the League.”
She looked up at him sharply, a moment of clarity brushing through her and chasing away the fog that had been holding her for so long. “The League?” she repeated. “You said before that there was something about Lord Hazelton that they sought to learn more about.” Seeing him nod, she took in a deep breath. “Then, I should like to be a part
of such an investigation.”
“No, Lady Callander,” Lord Millerton said at once. “Last Season, you were in some danger from —”
“You are very kind to try and protect me,” she interrupted him, a trifle stiffly, “but I will not be dissuaded. Lord Hazelton knew something about my late husband that he wanted to share with me. In addition, you have something about him that you must also look into.” She put one hand on his, as though her touch might convince him. “What if both are connected in some way?”
He hesitated, then pressed her hand. “Let us first remove you from this scene,” he said, firmly, beginning to hurry her back towards the carriage. “No doubt someone else will soon notice him and we do not want there to be anyone who might connect your name with this dread situation.”
She shuddered violently again as he led her away, going with him without hesitation. Her feet felt as though they were floating on top of the grass, her whole body feeling lighter than air such was her shock. Bridgette could not even recall walking back to the carriage, for the next thing she knew, she was sitting opposite Lord Millerton and being driven back through London.
“Where — where are we to go?” she asked, in a small voice, her eyes lifting to Lord Millerton’s and seeing the concern etched in his expression. “You will not leave me at my townhouse alone?”
Lord Millerton did not immediately answer, perhaps considering what he was to say next.
“You have suffered a great shock,” he said, gently. “I think that it would be best if you —”
“No, pray do not think that you know what is best for me!”
The sharpness of her voice had startled him, she could tell. His eyes flared, his color paling for a moment and his lips pulling taut. She did not drop her gaze, holding his eyes with her own, her hands clenched in her lap. She meant every word, not wanting him to think that he knew what she required and deciding on her behalf what would be best. She was very well able to decide what she needed and, what she needed for the time being, was to be able to discuss what she had just seen and what the League knew of Lord Hazelton.
“Very well, Lady Callander,” Lord Millerton murmured, quietly. “Then might I suggest that we go to Lord Watts’ townhouse to see if he is able to receive us?”
She nodded mutely, her fingers a little less tight now. Staring blankly out of the window, she tried desperately to work out what it was that Lord Hazelton had wanted to say to her as regarded her late husband. Why had he needed to meet with her so urgently? It was clear that, from the three notes, he had believed himself to be in danger, but she had never once expected him to be killed because of it! Was it to do with the information about her husband that had brought about his death? Or was it because of whatever it was the League knew of him?
“Do not worry, Lady Callander,” Lord Millerton said, in a soft voice, as she glanced back at him, seeing the quiet gentleness in his expression. “We shall discover the truth. Lord Hazelton’s death will not remain a mystery.”
“I hope so,” she said, finding her voice barely louder than a whisper. “For I cannot bear it if he has lost his life because of me.”
Lord Millerton said nothing but instead reached across and touched her hand, his fingers gentle on hers and providing her with so much comfort that she wanted to break into tears. Instead, she took in a steadying breath and set her shoulders, returning her gaze to the window. She was going to go the League and, together, they would find out the truth.
She could not even consider any other alternative.
“Goodness.”
Lord and Lady Watt sat together, each with a horror-struck expression on their faces.
“I cannot quite believe it,” Lady Watt said, as Bridgette swallowed hard, feeling a little more like herself now that she had arrived at the house and had taken a few small sips of some excellent brandy. “Lord Hazelton? Dead?”
“I am sure of it,” Lord Millerton said, heavily. “I saw him with my own eyes. I am afraid I had to leave him, given that I had to take Lady Callander away from there almost at once.”
Lord Watt nodded. “Of course,” he said, getting up to ring the bell. “You could not remain there, Lady Callander, given that there might very well have been danger lingering nearby.”
“And so that you did not have any gossip attaching itself to you thereafter,” Lady Watt added, just as the door opened and the butler stood to attention. Bridgette turned to see Lord Watt rise to his feet and then go to the butler to speak to him in low tones, before turning her head back towards Lady Watt, who was watching her with concern in her eyes.
“And you do not know what it was that he wanted to speak to you of?” Lady Watt asked, as she leaned forward in her chair just a fraction, her eyes fixed to Bridgette’s.
Bridgette shook her head. “It was something to do with my late husband,” she said, as Lord Watt came to sit back down. “He was convinced that the person he knew as Lord Callander was not the gentleman that I knew.”
Lady Watt frowned. “How odd,” she said, slowly. “And yet the League wished to know more about him for an entirely different reason.” Quickly, she told Bridgette all that the League knew about Lord Hazelton, filling her with a good deal of astonishment.
“I see,” she murmured, glancing at Lord Millerton, who flushed and dropped his head. “And have you gone to speak to Madame Bereford as yet?”
Lord Millerton shook his head. “No,” he said, quietly. “Not as yet.”
Bridgette let out a sigh, rubbing at her forehead with one hand. “Then it appears there is more to Lord Hazelton than we knew,” she said, softly. “I must confess, I am greatly troubled with all that has occurred. I was confused by his description of my husband and was rather eager to know what it was he wanted to say to me about him. At first, I thought him jesting or confused, but he was so determined that I…..” Closing her eyes, she dragged in a steadying breath, refusing to allow herself to give in to tears. “I must be a part of this. I must find out the truth.”
Opening her eyes, she saw Lord Watt exchange a glance with Lord Millerton, who gave a small shrug.
“You know of the League, given your involvement with Miss Hemmingway and Lord Franks last Season,” Lord Watt said, after a moment or two. “You know that it can be exceedingly dangerous.”
She nodded. “And yet it is not something I shy away from,” she told him, frankly. “If there is something I should know about my late husband, if there is some confusion over the sort of gentleman he was, then I must know the truth.”
Lord Millerton gave a small shake of his head. “There is no promise that we will ever discover it, Lady Callander,” he said, quietly. “What if Lord Hazelton was killed by someone who feared he might speak of something this young lady, ‘Sarah’ has said to him?”
“Then I shall accept it,” she said, quickly, “but I cannot believe it to be true. Why else would he then have sent three notes to me, with a different time and place, only to then send a street boy to confirm which one I ought to follow? It was clearly something of great importance, was it not?”
Her words hung in the air for a moment and, eventually, Lord Millerton nodded.
“Yes, I suppose that is an understandable conclusion,” he admitted, softly. “Lord Watt?”
Lord Watt opened his mouth, only for Lady Watt to place her hand over his. He looked across at her, a little startled, seeing how she nodded at him. He took in a breath and then returned his gaze to Bridgette.
“Then it seems we are all in agreement,” he said, eventually. “Yes, Lady Callander, you may be involved in this investigation.”
Filled with relief, she held Lord Watt’s eyes. “I thank you,” she said, before turning her gaze towards Lord Millerton. “What should we do first?”
Lord Millerton cleared his throat. “I have still to go to Madame Bereford’s,” he said, a little awkwardly. “Mayhap I ought to call upon her first before we make any further decisions.”
Lord Watt nodded. “That is a wise i
dea,” he said, as Bridgette opened her mouth to protest, not wanting to wait for a moment before involving herself. “And it will give you an opportunity to recover yourself a little more, Lady Callander.”
Closing her mouth tightly, Bridgette tried her best to react graciously, even though that was not at all what she wanted to say.
“I thank you,” she said, glancing back at Lord Millerton a little anxiously. “Although you will keep me informed of what occurs?”
“Of course,” Lord Millerton confirmed, with a stern nod of his head. “And you must ensure that your doors and windows are tightly secured each evening, Lady Callander.” His expression was firm, sparking a sudden sense of unease deep within her soul. “Whilst I removed you from the scene very quickly indeed, we cannot know if the perpetrator was still watching.”
“Indeed,” she whispered, suddenly a little afraid. “I quite understand, Lord Millerton.”
“Very good,” Lady Watt said, rising to her feet. “Now, Lady Callander, you must return tomorrow to take tea with me. I insist upon it.”
Bridgette rose also, accepting Lady Watt’s arm.
“Come and we shall take a turn about the house so that you can restore your strength a little more before it is time for you to depart,” Lady Watt continued, practically. “Your color is a little better, at least.”
“I am glad to hear it,” Bridgette replied, still feeling a little wobbly as she walked with Lady Watt. “I confess I am still a little overcome.” She let out a slightly shaky laugh. “Even though I saw a good deal last Season, I appear not to have any mettle at all.”
