The Earl's Iron Warrant (The Duke's Pact Book 6)

by Kate Archer

“Yes, of course, couldn’t be more delighted,” Lord Bartholomew said, though he looked more befuddled than anything else.

  “But you never said…” Miss Minkerton whispered, gazing up at Lord Burke.

  “I say it now, Belle,” Lord Burke said.

  “I say it now, too, Harry,” Belle said.

  “Perhaps,” Charles said drily, “we might take this romantic wonderment indoors to await the magistrate.”

  Daisy nodded. “Quite right. Two people on their way to an engagement ought not to be gazing down at a dead body.”

  Charles was rather surprised by the sentiment, though he supposed it was full of good sense.

  Lord Burke, seemingly convinced more than ever that Miss Minkerton should not dare put weight on her injured ankle, swept her up and strode toward the house. Daisy ran ahead of them, and Lord and Lady Bartholomew strolled back at a more sedate pace as Lady Bartholomew explained to her lord what precisely had happened.

  Charles watched Burke. There went the last of his friends on his way to the altar, though not to the lady Charles thought he had in mind. He should have seen it coming, how many times had Burke spent a full hour with Miss Minkerton, examining a non-descript flower? How ridiculous Burke had been, comparing Miss Minkerton’s painting to Vernet.

  He could not be sorry that he’d been mistaken about the direction Burke would take. After all, he had always been convinced Burke was not suited to Miss Danworth.

  The cat suddenly appeared and wound its way round his ankles.

  As everybody else had gone ahead of him and could not see it, he swept her up. “Look what you have done now, you wretched cat,” he said quietly. “You have turned yourself into a murderess.”

  The cat yawned in his face, appearing entirely unconcerned over the accusation.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Daisy was such a whirl of emotions that she hardly knew how she felt. Farthmore was dead and that was a great relief. She ought to feel at least a little sad over the loss of a life, or frightened over seeing him lying on the rocks, or even downhearted that the Scepter of Dagobert had sailed off, but she did not. She did not feel any worse over Farthmore’s demise than she’d felt for her own father. She supposed her arduous upbringing had left her a rather hardened individual. Though, it would have been difficult to avoid the state, particularly when she’d only recently surmised that her own father had likely planned her murder to gain her inheritance.

  Hardened or no, she did rather quake when she considered what Lady Montague would make of Lieutenant Farthmore’s death—the manner in which it had happened, and that it had happened at Daisy’s own house. She had a sinking feeling that Lady Montague would never believe her lieutenant had stolen anything, nor turned up here to retrieve it. Daisy sighed. She would depend upon Lord Dalton to handle the woman, just as he’d done at the prince’s assembly.

  The notion made her realize how very grateful she was that Lord Dalton had come through unscathed. Her heart had nearly stopped as she’d run across the garden. She’d heard a cry, and then a crash, and she’d known someone had fallen. She’d thought of how crumbling those stairs were and how she and Mrs. Jellops had once thought to go down them and then turned back at the third or fourth step, it being clear how easy it might be to lose one’s footing. Somebody had lost their footing, though she had not known who until she reached the garden gate.

  What a relief it had been to see Lord Dalton standing on a step, upright and alive.

  And then, she must consider that the race to the cliff’s edge had not turned out all bad. The shock of the situation had caused Lord Burke and Miss Minkerton to finally see their way clear to admitting their true feelings. They were just now in a cozy corner, no doubt exchanging all the wrong things they had believed of one another. Miss Minkerton’s parents sat together, staring at the happy couple. Lord Bartholomew still seemed dazed while Lady Bartholomew patted his hand and whispered encouragingly to him. She also fetched him a rather large glass of wine, which might have helped along the effect of her words.

  When Mrs. Jellops heard the news of what had occurred on the beach, she’d fainted dead away. She’d since recovered with the help of a strong-scented vinaigrette, two generous glasses of Riesling wine, and Mrs. Phelps’ vigorous fanning. Daisy took it as a positive sign that her companion was becoming more interested in the recent engagement than she was the news of a man dead on the rocky beach. She claimed she’d always seen it coming between Miss Minkerton and Lord Burke.

  As time passed, Daisy’s roiling thoughts and feelings began to settle. Farthmore was dead, he could not hurt her. The Dagobert had sailed away and whoever else was looking for it would follow. She was safe.

  The magistrate arrived and Lord Dalton took him and his men down to the beach to examine the body before it was moved.

  They were gone for a good half hour and then the magistrate was shown into the drawing room. Sir Matthew was a well-dressed gentleman and Daisy guessed he’d been called out of some party or dinner he’d been attending. She felt some amount of pity for him as he was told the story of what occurred that evening. Everybody had something to add and statements came shooting at him like arrows from all directions.

  Sir Matthew held up his hand to silence the room. “While I can only appreciate everybody’s willingness toward candor in this matter, I have not heard anything that Lord Dalton has not already informed me of so it may be what I know is sufficient for the time being. Lieutenant Farthmore was caught exiting the premises with a valuable item, a scepter that has been stolen from France, he fell upon the rocks, and his conspirators made off with the good.”

  Sir Matthew paused, then said, “I would ask though, was that all that the lieutenant carried? Just the scepter?”

  “No, as a matter of fact,” Lord Dalton said. “I was so intent upon the scepter that I forgot he also had a burlap bag. I have no idea what was in it—it might have been clothes he intended to change into once he’d safely boarded the boat.”

  Sir Matthew, who had been handed a glass of the Riesling by Bellamy and looked very grateful to have it, shook his head. “Oh no, my lord, I know what was in that burlap bag and it was not clothes.”

  The party leaned forward with bated breath, even Lord Burke and Miss Minkerton stopping their own conversation to listen.

  “You see,” Sir Matthew said, “before I was fetched here, I was already looking for Lieutenant Farthmore. It seems he’d made off with Lady Montague’s jewels. Now, it all comes together.”

  “He stole from Lady Montague?” Mrs. Jellops asked in wonder. “That seems…rather daring.”

  Mrs. Phelps patted her friend’s hand. “Even after a shock, you fly right to the point, my friend.”

  “As a matter of fact,” Sir Matthew said, “Mrs. Jellops does fly right to the point. All this evening, as I had my men out searching the roads and trying to determine his route of escape, I kept wondering how he thought he’d get away with such a crime. Where would he live? Who would he sell the jewels to? Now, I understand his gambit was far more complicated than I had imagined. He was off to a different shore, confident that the scepter he stole from this house would finance him for all his days. I suspect the jewels he took were more for an amusing revenge than anything else. According to Lady Montague, they’d had some sort of argument over his rather constant drunkenness. Taking her jewels was his final adieu to the lady.”

  “I do not suppose,” Daisy said, “there will be any way to find the scepter.”

  Sir Matthew had taken a long and satisfying draught of wine and nodded to Bellamy in approval of its quality. He said, “Unlikely. I’ve sent a few boats out, but we won’t catch them. They’ll be running without lights and on their way to France or hugging the coast north or south, and we’ll not know which. The sea is vast and one’s best chance of catching a smuggler is to happen upon them by accident.”

  “Well, that scepter was a horrid-looking thing,” Mrs. Jellops said. “Mrs. Phelps and I were in total agreement on
that point. I wonder, can the French really miss it so much?”

  Sir Matthew declined to comment on whether the French would miss part of their crown jewels. He said, “There will be an inquest of course, but with so many witnesses to what occurred, I suspect it will be dealt with promptly and will trouble you no more. The stickier problem will be what our government will ever decide to relay to the French government about their missing scepter. That, however, is well over my head. I only ask that you keep the knowledge to yourselves. Something was stolen from this house, no need to go into what it was. For now, let us claim it was some silver.”

  Daisy nodded, only too glad to have a reason never to talk about the evening’s circumstances again.

  “Well,” Sir Matthew said, with a longing glance toward the sliced ham on the sideboard, “I’d best be off.”

  “Might we not tempt you to have something before you go, Sir Matthew?” Daisy said kindly, certain the poor man had been run off his feet this night.

  “Very kind, Miss Danworth,” Sir Matthew said, his enthusiasm evident. “Very kind, indeed. I was just going into dinner when I was called away by Lady Montague. It has been an unexpectedly long evening.”

  Mrs. Jellops and Mrs. Phelps had risen as one. Mrs. Phelps said, “Mrs. Jellops, you have read my mind. We must accompany Sir Matthew to the sideboard and point out the dangers of that mustard. It could fell even the hardiest of men.”

  Mrs. Jellops nodded and said, “It appears that you have read my mind, Mrs. Phelps. After the long night the poor gentleman has had, it would not do to fall over on account of devilishly hot mustard.”

  And so, the two ladies escorted Sir Matthew to the board and supervised his filling of his plate.

  As for Daisy, she had no thought to eat. She was content enough to listen to Mrs. Jellops and her new friend manage Sir Matthew’s plate and watch Lord Burke’s solicitousness of Miss Minkerton. Somehow, everything that had gone wrong was now put right. She supposed she would be asked to compose a statement for the inquest, but she had full confidence in Sir Matthew to guide them all through it.

  Lord Dalton had left the room for some minutes, and now he returned and sat next to her.

  “I have spoken to Mrs. Broadbent,” he said. “As I suspected, the maids are all in a tizzy. The footmen are equally shaken though they claim they are not and would pound the lieutenant into the ground if he were not already dead. Mr. Flanagan is a bundle of nerves, though he claims he is only fretting about how his mustard is going over. Mrs. Broadbent is as unruffled as ever. I directed them all to have a small glass of brandy, and Mrs. Broadbent just as quickly overrode me and insisted it be a medium glass.”

  Daisy nodded and smiled to herself, remembering that when she’d first arrived to the house, she’d been so determined that the lord never direct her staff. Now, she was quite grateful for it.

  “By the by,” Lord Dalton said in a quieter voice, “Farthmore fell because he tripped over the cat.”

  Daisy looked up. “He tripped? Over the cat?”

  Lord Dalton nodded.

  Daisy felt laughter bubble up inside her. What could be more ridiculous? Lieutenant Farthmore, the devil who’d haunted her since she arrived to Ramsgate, had been killed by the cat.

  She pressed her hand against her mouth to stop from laughing, as she knew very well this moment could not be one for levity.

  “In her defense, she is a very clever cat and entirely unremorseful,” Lord Dalton said.

  “Yes,” Daisy said, stifling a giggle, “it seems so.”

  “Now, you ought to eat. I’ll fix you a plate. You really do not eat enough.”

  Lord Dalton rose and set off to the sideboard.

  Daisy felt herself blushing, a circumstance so rare she did not know what to do about it. She willed the heat away from her cheeks. If it were noted, she supposed she might blame it on Mr. Flanagan’s mustard.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  In the following days, this or that news came to the house regarding Lieutenant Farthmore’s demise. Sir Matthew had informed the government of the stolen scepter and, as he had thought, it was not to be mentioned. Not by anybody, not at the inquest, and not in any official papers. He did not know what would be done about it and doubted very much he would ever be told.

  That did not stop all the talk surrounding the incidents of that night. As it turned out, the government had not cared at all about keeping Lady Montague’s stolen jewels a secret. What was known by people who heard anything about it was that the lieutenant had gone on a wild criminal jaunt. He’d stolen from Lady Montague and then, as he was making off with some silver from Miss Danworth’s house, he fell upon the rocks. His conspirators, whoever they had been, had made off with the loot.

  As all bits of gossip were prone to do, over time there was much added to the story. It was speculated that Miss Danworth’s house had only been the second stop in what was likely to be a town-wide thievery. The lieutenant was supposed to have plans to rob absolutely everybody. The tale was told across card tables and at parties, creating a delicious shiver in all who discovered they had made a narrow escape.

  Daisy heard most of this from Betsy, who heard it from all her acquaintances in town, most of whom were lady’s maids and housekeepers. According to Betsy, the whole circumstance had provided a wonderful opportunity for butlers and footmen everywhere to speculate on what sort of derring-do they might have committed, had the lieutenant attempted a break-in of their own premises.

  Aside from the interest of these stories, Daisy’s days had returned to what they had been. There were afternoons in the garden with Lord Dalton, Lord Burke and Miss Minkerton, overseen by a sleeping Mrs. Jellops. Daisy no longer had to send Lord Burke and Miss Minkerton off to examine a flower, as they were now perfectly capable of sending themselves off. Despite everybody’s turns round the garden, nobody went near the gate that led to the steps. It had been soldered shut, and it would stay that way until the crumbling steps could be properly destroyed, the gate removed, and the gap filled in with solid stone.

  Of course, Daisy now viewed the cat in an entirely different light. She supposed she should not give the creature credit for what was certain to have been an accident on the feline’s part. And yet, she could not wholly dismiss the cat’s intent. She was entirely dedicated to Lord Dalton, always under his chair and winding round his legs, and so might she not have sensed the danger to him and done her part? Daisy could not say, but she’d since directed Mr. Flanagan to prepare her special meals of ground up raw fish or an elegant fanning of sardines which she seemed to particularly approve of.

  It was now just such a usual day. It was overcast enough that the sun was not in one’s eyes, but not gloomy either, and the clouds scudded overhead, pushed by a brisk breeze off the water. It was still warm, but there was something in the air that hinted of a change of season on the way.

  Lord Burke and Miss Minkerton had returned from one of their strolls, Mrs. Jellops had awoken at the sound of tea being poured, and Lord Dalton scratched the cat’s ears under the table. All was exceedingly comfortable, until Mr. Bellamy rushed to their little wood table in the garden, pale and looking as if he’d had a great shock.

  Daisy put down the teapot. “Goodness, Bellamy, what is it?”

  “It is Lady Montague,” Bellamy said, glancing behind him. “She has arrived. I’ve said you were not at home, but she pointed at Miss Minkerton’s carriage and told me I’d better not dare to go on with such nonsense. She awaits you in the drawing room.”

  Daisy felt as if her heart were freezing solid in her chest. She could not imagine what the lady wanted; she could only be sure it would be deeply unpleasant.

  “She may wait there all day long,” Daisy said resolutely. “I will not see her.”

  Bellamy nodded. “She has already informed me that she is prepared for that eventuality and nothing shall drive her out,” he said.

  Daisy looked to Lord Dalton. He said, “Show her out here, then. We will not be inconve
nienced by the lady. Further, she is not to imagine she will corner Miss Danworth alone and attempt to run over her.”

  “I hardly think she will run over me,” Daisy said, though it was not really true.

  “You know what I mean,” Lord Dalton said quietly.

  And of course Daisy did know what he meant. She was grateful she was not to face the lady alone.

  “She is unpleasant,” Lord Burke said, “but not nearly as powerful as she once was. Further, we are not responsible for her cousin’s actions. I shouldn’t worry about anything she says or does.”

  Daisy would like to believe that, but she could not quite. She thought she understood Lady Montague’s modus. There were plenty of people in the world whose power was not very powerful. The lady sought them out and gave them the vague feeling that if they did not see things her way, they would lose whatever little power they had. As Lord Hampton had once said, Lady Montague attacked down, never up.

  The lady could, if she set her mind to it, turn a great deal of people against Daisy. Only a month ago, Daisy would not have cared. But she was becoming more and more convinced that isolating herself in Brighton, removing herself from all society, might not be as attractive as she’d originally thought. She had come to no conclusion about how she did wish to live, but she could not rule out a return to London. And it was London that was Lady Montague’s favored hunting ground.

  As well, Daisy found herself so very tired of conflict and danger. She really did not feel up to facing whatever the lady had to say.

  Lady Montague, in the full regalia of seaside fashions, topped by a pink beribboned bonnet best worn by a girl of sixteen, strode into the garden.

  There were no extra chairs, nor cups for that matter. Daisy noted Bellamy looking at her as if to be sent to make arrangements for the lady. She did not send him for anything and left the lady standing.

  “Lady Montague,” Daisy said.

  The others repeated her name in the same fashion, nobody sounding as if it were a pleasure to encounter her. Even Miss Minkerton, so prone to pleasant cheerfulness, said her name as if it were a chore. None of them had bothered to rise at her approach and Daisy felt it was the boldest bit of discourtesy she had ever dared.