Danger at Thatcham Hall

by Frances Evesham

  There was no chance of retreat. Olivia smiled. “I must go home to Mama, my lord. I was about to bid farewell to Lady Thatcham and Miss Dainty.”

  He held out an arm. “Then I will come with you. I’ve heard of the part you played in uncovering the perpetrators of the recent dreadful crimes. Please understand that we’re all most deeply indebted to you and Mr. Roberts, to a degree that can never be repaid.”

  The earl swung round to look in Olivia’s face. Less than pleased with what he saw—she knew there were dark rings around both eyes—Lord Thatcham tucked his guest’s arm more comfortably into his and patted it. “I hope your hands aren’t too painful. Is your ankle now recovered, or has it received further injury?”

  Olivia fought back treacherous tears, unable to talk, just shaking her head.

  “You may not be aware, my dear, but Hodges is safely in custody, Mayhew is dealing with any involvement by the servants, we’ve dismantled the dolls, and I’m told my wife is setting Eliza a series of punishments that include training in herbalism.” Lord Thatcham frowned and muttered. “Doesn’t seem like much of a punishment to me, but who am I to contradict Philomena when she’s made up her mind?”

  They were fast approaching the door of Lady Thatcham’s sitting room. Olivia could hear voices. She hung back, but Lord Thatcham squeezed her arm and threw the door wide, announcing, “Here is our heroine.”

  Lady Thatcham ran and kissed her on the cheek so warmly that tears started in her eyes once more. How she loved these people. Every kind action was a knife to the heart. “Hugh, I’m so glad you’re back early, for I’ve taken the liberty of explaining your scheme to Mr. Roberts, and he’s agreed.”

  “So, you’ve stolen my thunder, have you, my dear?” He let Olivia’s arm drop and held out a hand to Mr. Roberts. “Congratulations on joining us, Roberts. We need someone like you in the district. It’s time the courts made better use of trained lawyers.”

  Mr. Roberts, smiling broadly, shook his benefactor’s hand. “I thank you, my lord. I can think of no better way to further my career. Setting up a new Law practise in Reading, near enough to London to enable work in the Inns of Court as well, is the kind of good fortune that rarely comes the way of a new barrister.”

  “Well, success will depend on ability and hard work, but given the start you’ve made here, over this nasty business, you’ll have no trouble. Tanqueray was right.”

  Olivia looked from one face to the other, trying to make sense of what she’d heard. Why was Miss Dainty sitting, smiling so calmly on a sofa, as composed as though Mr. Roberts was no more than a friend?

  Olivia’s head swam. She sank on to the nearest chair. She couldn’t think straight. “I wonder if I could have a glass of water,” she murmured.

  At once, Mr. Roberts was by her side, a glass in his hand, his arm—unbelievably—around her waist.

  Lady Thatcham took her husband’s elbow. “I think, my dear, that we should leave Miss Martin and Mr. Roberts alone.”

  “Alone? Are you sure?” Her husband frowned. “Is that quite…”

  “Yes, my dear, it is certainly quite—well, quite necessary, I think.”

  Suddenly, Olivia and Mr. Roberts were alone together. “I have something here for you. I took the liberty of taking it from Mayhew. I wanted to give it to you.”

  Olivia took the letter. She turned it over in her hands. Her heart thudded. “It’s from Mr. Mellow.” She broke the seal.

  Dear Miss Martin,

  I regret that you were unable to play for me yesterday. As your maid will no doubt have explained, I was somewhat taken aback to discover you are, in fact, a female. As a result, I may have been precipitate in my reaction.

  I have since had cause to reconsider my hasty rejection of your work. Consequently, I took the great liberty of drawing one of your etudes to the attention of my patron, the Duchess of Nemours. She holds regular soirees in London, as you may be aware, often attended by our own dear Queen herself. The Duchess is most anxious to meet you and hear you play. An invitation will shortly be dispatched.

  In addition, I am pleased to inform you that I shall be delighted to publish your compositions. May we make another appointment to meet for the purpose of a discussion of terms at your earliest convenience?

  Olivia held the letter out for Mr. Roberts to read. Her voice shook, halfway between laughter and tears. “My hands! I cannot play!”

  “Another musician can play your composition. They may not do it justice as you would, but it is the music that matters, is it not? You must be there, of course, and when your hands are healed, you can embark upon the life of music you deserve.”

  Mr. Roberts fell silent. There was no sign now of his mocking smile. Was that—could it be—perspiration on his brow? “Miss Martin, I have something to ask you. A question. Yes, a question. And yet, under the circumstances, perhaps I should delay a while. You’ll wish to tell everyone your news. My question can wait—indeed, it may not be welcome at all…” His voice trailed away to silence. Olivia had never seen him at such a loss. His eyes were almost black, his brow furrowed.

  “Why, Mr. Roberts, I fear your law practise will suffer if you find it so difficult to pose a single question.”

  “You are, as always, quite right, but before I ask, I must say something to you—and believe me, it’s by no means easy for me to admit what a fool I’ve been. I’ve treated you badly, for I knew when we first met that you were the best, the most charming of women, although I pretended to myself it was not so. Your beauty, good sense and brave, loyal heart are more precious to me than my own.

  “I’ve long been persuaded that you’re the only woman I would ever want, but, idiot that I am, I fought against the notion. Like a fool, I did not—could not—trust that your talents and mine, combined, would be sufficient to see us safely through a world that I know, from bitter experience, to be a harsh, cruel place for those with no riches, no position…” His voice cracked.

  Olivia took one of his hands. “The world isn’t always as hard as you have found it.”

  “But I pretended that I could be happy with a lesser woman, so long as she had wealth. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, let alone anything more. Nevertheless, I have to ask, knowing that any sensible woman would refuse, especially one that is about to step forward into a wonderful career under the patronage of a friend of Her Majesty herself.”

  “My dear Mr. Roberts.” Olivia could barely keep the smile from her face, despite the struggle to pretend, as every young lady should, that she had no idea what the question would be.

  Mr. Roberts was on his knees. “Miss Martin—Olivia—I cannot face the future alone. Please, forgive me my faults and, if you can bear to do so, say you’ll consent to become my wife and spend the rest of your days saving me from my stupidity?”

  Olivia took his dear, anxious face in her hands. “There’s nothing in the world I would prefer. Yes, Mr. Roberts, I will be proud to become your wife.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Lady Thatcham presided once more at the tea caddy while her husband paced up and down, frowning. “It’s no use, my dear, looking so fierce. The truth is that Mr. Roberts and Miss Martin have performed a wonderful service for us. I know you would have wished to know what was going on, but all is well, now.”

  “If only we’d known. How could we be so blind?”

  “Indeed. Under our noses, half the village had been subdued by that rascal Hodges. I blame him, more than Theodore, for the poor boy was clearly unbalanced by the loss of his brother. Hodges used fear to bring the villagers into his clutches. The cow-maiming, the stolen property, used in an attempt to formulate ridiculous curses, were all ways of subduing anyone who dared to thwart Hodges.”

  Lady Thatcham handed a teacup to Mr. Roberts. “Please, do sit down. You look most uncomfortable, but I insist on singing your praises a little. At least, the curses seem to have had no effect on anyone at Thatcham Hall. Perhaps we have Grandmother Caxton to thank for that, for if she had a
ny leanings towards sorcery, it was surely just to do good work.”

  Mr. Roberts held out a wooden cross. “Daniel’s wife made this to ward off evil. Theodore wanted her new baby, as soon as it was born. Before the christening, a baby’s precious to devil worshippers. May feared for its safety and forbade Daniel to take part in any more rituals. He could not be trusted to keep quiet, so his accident was arranged.”

  Lord Thatcham leaned on the mantelpiece. “We’ll look after his widow and child, when it’s born. Old Walden’s cottage is empty—he was butler here when I was a boy. They’ll be comfortable there, and Bob, too, if he stays with May. As to the others, I’ll make sure they drop all their nonsense. Devil worship, indeed. I thought all that died out many years ago.”

  A chill ran down Olivia’s back. “How dreadful it sounds. Yet, Major Lovell was hardly better than Theodore, in my view—” She stopped. Miss Dainty had been so upset at his death.

  Her friend sighed. “I was badly mistaken in Major Lovell. He’d taken advantage of so many young girls in the country. I had no idea. What’s more, he told me he was a war hero, you know, when all the time it was you, Mr. Roberts. Why, you even fought him in a duel for his crimes. It’s really most romantic.” She managed a smile, though her eyes were clouded. Even the habitually cheerful Miss Dainty would take a while to recover her spirits.

  A sudden frown crossed her forehead. “What of Miss Martin’s fall? That was no accident, was it, but why was the military button left at the spot?”

  Olivia’s cheeks grew hot, remembering those few minutes, when Nelson’s arms carried her home. Her heart glowed at the memory.

  He said, “I believe Theodore had great regard for Miss Martin, but it was a jealous, unhealthy passion.

  “In that foolish mind, disturbed by the loss of his brother, longing to take revenge on any military man for the events at Kabul and angry that he could never hope to succeed with Miss Martin, he seized the chance, as the young ladies pursued John through the woods, to hit poor Miss Martin with a branch. I’m sure he didn’t want to cause any serious injury, but to bring suspicion on both Lovell and on myself, as a brother officer, and to find release for his anger and envy on a young lady who would never be his.”

  Olivia raised her head. “You tried to warn me against the woods, but I didn’t listen. I should have taken notice, for the very first time I met Theodore, I found him unsettling. I put his strangeness down to living with the grandmother, when all the time she was trying to help.”

  Mr. Roberts smiled into Olivia’s eyes. “You thought I was responsible, didn’t you?”

  “Well, you gave me every cause to think so!”

  “Perhaps.”

  Olivia thought back over the events of the past few days. “I feel such sadness for poor Theodore. I wonder if things could have been different.”

  “The past has long tentacles. Who would think that the misery of the military disasters in Kabul could reach as far as Thatcham Hall?”

  Olivia smiled. “You mustn’t take the blame for the foolish actions of the generals at Kabul. Your bravery, according to General Mason, saved several lives and you shouldn’t be ashamed because you couldn’t save them all. Perhaps you should revert to calling yourself Major Roberts.”

  Nelson was gazing out of the window. “You know, my love, perhaps I may do so one day in the future. For the moment, I prefer to be plain Mr. Roberts until such time as I earn the title Queen’s Counsel. Indeed, I look forward to a life known chiefly as the husband of my lovely and talented wife, Olivia Roberts, the famous composer.”

  A word about the author…

  Frances Evesham writes 19th century historical mystery romances set in Victorian England.

  She collects grandsons, Victorian ancestors, and historical trivia, likes to smell the roses, lavender, and rosemary, and cooks with a glass of wine in one hand and a bunch of chillies in the other.

  She’s been a speech therapist, a professional communication fiend and a road sweeper and worked in the criminal courts. Now, she walks in the country and breathes sea air in Somerset.

  ~*~

  Find out more by visiting her online at

  www.francesevesham.com

  www.twitter.com/francesevesham

  www.facebook.com/frances.evesham.writer

  Thank you for purchasing

  this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.