The Viscount's Deadly Game

by Issy Brooke

  She desperately needed a cup of tea.

  She was shown into the usual drawing room by one of the almost-familiar servants and quickly brought a tray of cakes, sandwiches and tea things. Something about the opulence of the offering made Adelia feel quite sad, and she was looking at it with a heavy feeling of dejection when Lady Beaconberg entered.

  “She is asleep already. You were right to stay,” Lady Beaconberg said, sitting down and sighing. She looked through narrowed eyes at the untouched things on the tray. “Are you not hungry? I am ravenous. Do excuse me...”

  “No, please, carry on. Yes, I shall have some of the sandwiches. I was only thinking about ... all of this, and what your future might hold.”

  Lady Beaconberg winced. “I don’t want to think about it yet. Tea? I shall pour. See, I am perfectly capable of being an ordinary woman and pouring the tea.”

  “I think there is more to being ordinary than that, and I cannot imagine you being anything but exactly who you already are,” Adelia said.

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “I am not insulting you. We’ve been through rather a lot lately. So you need not put on such an act with me any longer; I am tired, and old, and a little grumpy. An ordinary life will not suit you, Marguerite; shall I play match-maker for you, perhaps, and see who will suit you?”

  “I do not think anyone in England will have me now,” she replied.

  “You mean, there’s no one rich enough that will have you.”

  “You suggest I am so mercenary?”

  Adelia shrugged.

  And eventually Lady Beaconberg smiled and said, “Well, perhaps. I consider it a matter of practicality rather than avarice and greed. I like fine things so I need a man who can provide those things.” She began to relax by small degrees, and Adelia immediately set to work on suggesting a few potential suitors.

  But their descent into a new footing for their relationship was interrupted by the entrance of Elizabeth. Lady Beaconberg sat up straighter. She didn’t, however, leap to her feet to embrace her daughter and Adelia imagined that if she had, Elizabeth would have fought her off.

  “I’ve just been told you were back,” Elizabeth said, as if her mother had popped to do some shopping at the market, not left the county of Yorkshire completely and fled without a word to a town on the opposite side of the country. “I thought you might have come to see me before you settled down with some nice cake.”

  “You’re welcome to help yourself,” Lady Beaconberg replied, nodding at the tray. “There is plenty. In truth I did not expect to find you still here.”

  “Where else would I be?” Elizabeth said frostily. She did unbend enough to pull up a chair. She picked up a plate and bypassed the sandwiches completely, heading straight for some multi-coloured macarons.

  “It was the perfect chance for you to run off with that man and ruin yourself completely. I would have laid money on that.”

  “I would ruin him – not the other way around,” Elizabeth retorted. “What prospects have I, now? I doubt that he would stoop to having me.”

  “Do you know what has happened? Do you already know we are quite without means?”

  “Yes,” Elizabeth said. The icy note had thawed from her voice. “Yes, I know that we are ruined. The staff must be dismissed. The house must be sold. It will pay off the debts but I do not know how we are to live.” She glanced at Adelia. “How good are your matchmaking skills? Can you find a man for me now?”

  “The pool of possibilities has become a little more limited,” Adelia admitted. “Though you are young and beautiful so I am sure we can find you a decent man, though perhaps not a terribly wealthy one.”

  The look on Elizabeth’s face told Adelia that such a prospect was not appealing to the young woman.

  “Or,” Adelia went on, “There are other opportunities for young women these days. You could move to a city like London and get work. You could study at the university. You could train as a teacher and become a governess or travel and look after gentlewomen in Europe. What about the New World? The Empire is crying out for capable young ladies.”

  Elizabeth’s face remained fixed in disgust. Adelia gave up. She obviously needed a longer period of adjustment to her new situation.

  Lady Beaconberg got up and rang the bell. A maid appeared and was ordered to bring some wine. She looked a little startled, but Lady Beaconberg dismissed her and turned back to Adelia and Elizabeth.

  “I see absolutely no reason not to cement our slide into oblivion and obscurity by spending the rest of this day getting thoroughly drunk. Ladies?”

  Adelia burst out laughing. Elizabeth was bristling with horror at seeing this new side to her mother.

  And then the wine appeared.

  Twenty-six

  Unsurprisingly, Mary was the perkiest person in the house the next morning. Adelia managed to drag herself downstairs as breakfast was finishing, and three servants lined the walls in the breakfast room attending to only one person. Mary looked up as her mother entered, and could not help laughing when she saw her mother’s tired and haggard face.

  “I am glad you can laugh at me. Elizabeth was quite furious with her mother at her antics last night.”

  “Didn’t Elizabeth indulge too?”

  “A little but she could not quite relax. She went to bed around ten, I think, and I stayed up with Marguerite. Is the coffee good? Actually, it doesn’t matter what it’s like. I shall drink it anyway.”

  She picked at a little toast and drank a great deal of coffee before feeling able to talk again. Mary left her alone, and Adelia waited to see if anyone else would get up and join her but no one did.

  Eventually she went for a walk in the gardens to see if that would clear her head. She spotted Mary again, lingering in the shady bowers of the rose garden, and headed towards her. Mary seemed absorbed in the heady scent of a large-bloomed rambler, and had her eyes half-closed. She jumped when she became aware of Adelia’s approach.

  “Sorry. You were lost in thought.”

  “I was.”

  “Is everything all right? You were cheerful earlier.”

  “Everything is fine. Except ...”

  They fell into step with their arms linked together and wandered between the trained roses which scrambled and tumbled across trellis and over their heads. “Except that is it so very wrong, do you think, to keep secrets when you are married?” Mary said at last.

  “Secrets from your husband?”

  “Yes. You know, my night time ... adventures. Cecil still does not know that it was me. Should he know? I do promise not to do it anymore. So does he need to know now?”

  “I can’t really answer that.”

  Mary looked at her in surprise. “Why not? Mama, have you ever kept a secret like this from papa?”

  With an effort, Adelia said, “I have. Yes. And though I tell myself that it’s for his own good, I know it’s not so. In truth, I wish I had never kept a single thing from him, because the longer that it goes on, the harder it gets. You don’t get used to it. It festers. So I suppose that actually I would advise you to find the courage now to tell Cecil absolutely everything.”

  “But mama, what if he hates me for having lied to him until now?”

  “Then he was not worthy of your love in the first place.”

  “Then why don’t you take your own advice, mama?”

  A burning shame came over Adelia and she found that she could not reply.

  LADY BEACONBERG WAS pale-faced, red-eyed and keen to go back to bed. She sent Adelia and Mary off home to the Grey House in one of her gigs, with some mumbled words and another bottle of wine stashed at their feet as a gift. “Might as well give it all away,” she muttered, turning away. “Get it gone before the debtors turn up and steal everything else.”

  Back at the Grey House, Cecil greeted his wife as if she had been gone overseas for months rather than overnight at a house within a stone’s throw of their own. Adelia watched their reunion with a s
mile. She nodded at Smith, who was hovering nearby, and made her own way back to the suite of rooms that had been their home for the past few weeks.

  Soon they would head back to their estate but she wanted to stay until everything was resolved – not just with Sir Arthur, but Douglas Mackie, the stables, and Lady Beaconberg herself. She desperately wanted to be able to do something, anything, for the proud, insufferable, vulnerable woman, but she had no idea what that thing could be.

  And Mary’s plaintive plea was still ringing in her ears. The money should have reached Wilson’s prospective school by now, if Reverend Newbolt was to be trusted. She had been away from the Grey House for quite a few days and she expected to find word from the south. She was correct. There was a small bundle of letters waiting for her. She sat herself down in a comfortable chair by a window, and flicked through her correspondence.

  She had just begun to read when Theodore came in, and he broke into smiles when he saw her. He perched against a table opposite, and just gazed at her as if he hadn’t seen her for weeks.

  She was lucky to have a man like him, she reminded herself, and thought about the advice she’d given to Mary. Maybe it was time. Time to wipe the slate clean and tell him everything. She took a deep breath and said, “I’ve got a letter from Harriet here.”

  His smile didn’t waver but his eyes glazed over a little. He loathed Harriet and all her exuberant mannerisms, and treated her with the utmost politeness whenever they met; which was rarely as he would engineer all manner of situations to avoid coming into contact with her. “That’s nice,” he said mildly. “I’ve just had word from Inspector Benn, by the way; Sir Arthur has confessed to everything.”

  “Oh, good. So he has shown a shred of decency at the end, then.”

  “It’s a little late. I cannot conceive of how he could have possibly been able to let Mackie hang for his own crimes.”

  “Maybe he would have spoken up at the last minute.”

  “No,” said Theodore, shaking his head. “He was a coward. I didn’t see it until too late but he was happy to keep on side with Mackie until we got too close to the truth and then he just threw Mackie to the police, implicating him for the crime to save his own skin. Despicable and yet the lad believed him almost to the cost of his own life in the end.”

  “Theodore, Harriet’s been my oldest friend, as you know...”

  “Yes. How is she?” he asked mechanically, while managing to convey that he was not remotely interested in her.

  “She’s well. She’s been helping me, as it happens. Uh, my brother Alfred has been down on his luck lately.”

  “I am sorry to hear that. Is there anything we can do to help? Oh, you say Mrs Hobson has been helping you? I suppose her husband knows what’s best. But do invite your brother and his family to our house – but if I might beg one indulgence, and that is to let us have a few weeks of peace before you do so.” He stretched his legs in an exaggerated movement. “I confess I am quite worn out with one thing and another. But Mary seems happier, does she not?”

  “I believe she and Sibyl Ramsgreave are coming to a new understanding, or at least I hope so.”

  “Good, good.” Theodore sat forward and glanced at the letters that remained on the silver platter on the round table by Adelia’s arm. “Now, I do recognise that handwriting! It is from Dido.” His face was sad and clouded by memories as he said her name, and it brought back the painful reality of their eldest daughter’s situation to Adelia’s mind too.

  She could not heap on her own troubles to his head – not at this moment.

  “Yes,” she said. “I’ve already read it. Here.” She handed it over. “She is doing well enough, as it happens, but she is concerned about Felicia.” Felicia was the fourth-born of their seven daughters, and she had been staying with Dido in the aftermath of the dreadful events that had taken place at Mondial Castle.

  Theodore read the message slowly. “She doesn’t say anything in particular about Felicia.”

  Adelia sighed like an actress in a music hall.

  “Well, go on, then,” he said. “Tell me what I have missed.”

  “Percy is off travelling again.”

  “That is what he does. She should not have married an explorer if she didn’t expect to be on her own for most of the year.”

  “But there’s something worrying her about what he’s doing this time, far in the mountains.”

  Theodore read it again, saw absolutely nothing that raised any alarms for him, and handed the letter back to Adelia with an indulgent smile. “Very well. Shall we go and see them? Or, go and see Felicia at least, if Percy is not there?”

  Adelia wanted to say yes, but hadn’t he just expressed his own desire to spend some time at home in peace? That was what she wanted, too. So she said, “No, let’s go home for a little while. Now that Sir Arthur has confessed to his crimes, we need not stay here. I should love to help Lady Beaconberg and Elizabeth but there is nothing we can do. Their debtors have already begun circling now.”

  “But the stables...?”

  “Now that is a grey area. I suppose that the property and assets of a murderer pass to the crown? I really don’t know. But it is a shame for Mackie if that is the case.”

  “No one has come out of this sorry business at all well.”

  “Perhaps Elizabeth will. She was convinced that Rowlandson would not want her after this, but I am sure I saw him going up to the house as I left.”

  Theodore’s attention had already wandered off. She returned to reading her correspondence and he gazed out of the window. Both of them were thinking about dinner.

  AS IT WAS THEIR LAST night at the Grey House, there was to be a rather more formal dinner than usual. Mary had even suggested inviting Lady Beaconberg and Elizabeth, but Grace made such a sour face that the idea had been immediately swept aside. Grace was now back in full health again, and evidently keen to get back to her own household. She was to travel with Adelia and Theodore back to the south, and be dropped at her London flat on the way.

  They were going to return home by train. Adelia had insisted, saying that it was the quickest way to travel, and if Theodore really did prefer the privacy of his own carriage he was welcome to go that way and take four days about it but she, and the rest of the household that had come up with her, would be going the faster way and be home by nightfall.

  “It is not that I object to trains as such,” he had said. “I love everything about the engineering and the potential. But other people...”

  “We will be in first class, darling, and other people will be in their own little compartments.”

  It was decided, and they were to make a very early start the next morning.

  They gathered in the outer room that led to the dining room. Grace was already clutching a small glass of sherry and insisting that it was medicinal and no one had the courage to wrestle it away from her. Cecil was hovering attentively near to Mary, and Sibyl was sitting a little distance away from everyone else, staring into the empty fireplace.

  Adelia towed Theodore over to Mary. She said, “I know you don’t like a fuss but I just want to thank you properly for all your hospitality over the past few weeks. I am so very, very proud of how well you’ve taken on the role as mistress of this house.” She could feel the potential barbs in what she said; Sibyl could take umbrage if she were in that sort of mood. Adelia said what needed to be said anyway.

  Surprisingly, it was Mary who then objected. She said, loudly, in a voice that she intended for all to hear, “Actually, in truth I believe that Sibyl is due the real thanks for all the work that she does behind the scenes.”

  Adelia was going to protest but Grace seemed to know, and she put her gnarled hand over Adelia’s forearm and squeezed.

  Mary smiled past Adelia and directed it at Sibyl.

  Sibyl smiled back.

  Adelia thought that she needed a drink of sherry herself. This was not what she had expected.

  Mary carried on. She said, “In fac
t, I have been talking about many things with Cecil and with Sibyl. There are to be some changes in the household. The future is a rosy one, and I am delighted to be able to tell you all that we have come to a rather interesting decision.”

  Adelia held her breath. Grace’s grip tightened.

  “I am retiring with immediate effect from all household duties,” Mary announced.

  Theodore made a strange and unintelligible noise. Adelia’s mind was whirling. “Are you...ill?”

  “No, not at all! It is simply that I will be busy elsewhere, and Sibyl had agreed to step into my shoes and oversee the management of the household from this moment forward.”

  Now Adelia wanted to clap her hands with glee. Not ill? That meant...

  Theodore said it. “You are with child!”

  Mary burst out laughing and even Cecil snorted with derision at that suggestion. Mary said, “Oh good heavens, no! Goodness, can you imagine? Not at all. I have been out all day in York, with dear Cecil at my side, speaking to this solicitor and that one, and lunching – very finely – with a judge who has significant experience in matters of probate. I am buying the stables.”

  “Buying? Whatever can you mean?”

  “Purchasing. Obtaining.”

  “And the money goes to...?”

  “The crown, mostly. I had hoped Lady Beaconberg and Elizabeth might profit and they will receive something but it is not enough for them to continue their current lifestyle. It will ease their debts perhaps.” Mary looked at Cecil and he beamed back at her. “Cecil has funded the initial purchase but Douglas Mackie will be my right-hand man. I know horses, and I am not daft. I intend to learn all that I can about business and be a very present manager. I shan’t be mucking out or riding them over jumps or any such nonsense, but I shall be there and yes – it’s a risk. It’s an adventure. I am not the first woman to do this. But it is the first time I have done it.”