The Ranleigh Question, page 11
part #2 of Lady Althea Mystery Series
She turned her mind back to a more serious subject. Mr. Smithson was correct in that there should be equal mechanisms of criminal detection for the sea as on land. Perhaps some intrepid scientist had already identified them. England was a seafaring nation, and so it only stood to reason that some study must have been done. She would write to Mr. Read when they returned to Ranleigh and find out.
And then, she finally remembered something that had been teasing her. Mr. Smithson’s waistcoat – the pillars and lions – it was the labors of Hercules. That was the mythological allusion that had eluded her before.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The following morning, Althea made her usual perambulation around the gardens of Ranleigh before seeking breakfast. She rambled a little farther that usual, lost in her own tangle of thoughts. When she returned, only Lord and Lady Pickney were present in the breakfast room, finishing a leisurely rasher of bacon and some half a dozen eggs.
“Well, I suppose you must have known all about it, but it certainly surprised me when Mrs. Gregson told me this morning,” Lady Pickney said.
Althea poured herself some coffee. “What is that?”
“We are suddenly bereft of our two finest conversationalists. Norwich left early this morning, saying he had some urgent business at Austell Abbey, and Lord George has gone off to London! I tell you, I shall feel their absence quite forcefully because, between you and me, they were some of the few of our fellow guests with a particle of sense about them. Although I suppose that I should be grateful that the Batterslea woman won’t be forever fawning over Norwich. I don’t know how you could stand to be in the same room with her – not that you need have worried, of course.”
Althea took a sip of coffee in order to give her time to steady her nerves. Verlyn she knew about, but Norwich’s behavior was a complete and utter surprise. In truth, she didn’t know what to make of it. If it had been Bath, it would have indicated that his mother had taken a bad turn, although he surely would have extracted an answer from her if that had been the case. Perhaps he no longer cared to formalize the engagement. She couldn’t think about that now.
She decided honesty was the best policy with someone as sharp as Lady Pickney. “I’m afraid I am not in anyone’s confidence, and so I have no further knowledge on the subject. I only hope that they have safe travels.”
Lady Pickney smiled. “In other words, you dare not tell us.”
“My dear, I’m sure Lady Trent has a right to be believed when she speaks,” Lord Pickney said good-naturedly.
“Do not worry, my lord, Lady Trent and I understand each other very well. There was no harm meant.”
“None taken,” Althea replied. “Are you fully rested from yesterday’s adventure?”
“I feel much better than I did last night at supper, I can certainly tell you. No matter how well sprung a carriage is, I always feel the effect of being tossed about down deep in my bones. I suppose age must account for it because I don’t ever remember having to curtail a journey when I was young for such a silly reason. It puts me all out of patience with myself.”
Althea smiled. “You must forgive your poor bones as they are the only ones you have and so should be treated with some care.”
“And how did you like Torquay, Lady Trent? Had you been there before?” Lord Pickney said.
“No, never, but I found the place as delightful as any place I have ever visited. There is something so invigorating about the sea air.”
“I quite agree,” he answered, “despite the unfortunate incident on the beach. But then, I suppose that drownings must occur even in the best locations. Did the magistrate have any idea who the man was?”
“I do not know. I left with Lord George as the magistrate was just coming up the shore.”
Lord Pickney shook his head. “It is certainly a sad business. I am so glad that it has not colored your view of Torquay, however. Despite my lovely wife’s bones, I had thought to mention another excursion there, if others in the party feel as you do.”
“I think that is a wonderful idea, and I will certainly join you, if I may.”
Later that afternoon, when she was just about to walk in the rose garden with Jane, Althea received a letter from London. She thought perhaps it might be Norwich for a fleeting moment, but realized from the direction scribbled on the front and the various pen stains that it must be from Magistrate James Read of Bow Street.
“And what does the magistrate want with you now?” Jane said. Jane knew all about Althea’s work with the Bow Street Runners but maintained skepticism about the wisdom of incurring dangerous risks for the pleasure of helping the court.
Althea tucked the letter into her reticule and then proceeded to unfurl her parasol. “I have some new ideas for investigative processes and sought Mr. Read’s guidance.”
“Oh, is that all? I thought for sure that you had written him about the baron’s death.”
Althea smiled self-consciously. “You are too clever, my dear sister. I did mention Lord Tunwell’s passing, of course, but only in the vaguest details.”
“And I’m sure he will respond that it was most likely an accident, for really, Althea, what else could it be?”
“Yes, I suppose you are correct. In any case, as it is a fine day, I think I can probably leave off matters of criminal investigation for a couple of hours and enjoy your company. It seems we are always running about and do not have the time to discuss matters properly. How did you like Torquay? For myself, I thought Sir Neville did an admirable job of organizing the expedition and, had it not been for the dead body, the day would have passed off perfectly.”
“I liked it very much and will admit that Sir Neville has a knack for that sort of thing. He has been a fine host to us here at Ranleigh.”
They reached the garden and Althea paused to admire a particularly fine tea rose with a honeyed smell. Jane did not say more and Althea sensed a tension in her erect form. Althea turned back to her. “You have something to tell me, Jane?”
Jane looked down. “I don’t even know how to begin, but I think I shall accept Sir Neville’s most obliging offer. He is not perhaps the most dashing figure, but I do think he could make me happy. At least, I have as good a chance as I have with anyone.”
“Oh Jane!” Althea hugged her impulsively. “I do wish you the very best in life, and to see you married to a good man and mistress of an estate such as Ranleigh gives me the greatest pleasure in the world!”
Jane pulled away and then dug for a handkerchief in her reticule. “I don’t know why I’m suddenly misty-eyed. It is so unlike me.” She dabbed her face.
“You are to be a bride! That is reason enough for emotion. Have you gone so far as to set a date?”
Jane chuckled. “First, I have to tell Sir Neville.”
“What? The poor man doesn’t know he is to be happy?
“I wanted to discuss the matter with you before I told him. Do you think I am too old for marriage?”
“No, of course not. And in any case, you are far younger than your brother was when he married me. The Trent family merely waits for maturity – that is all.”
“But do you think - I suppose it is indelicate to even discuss the matter, but it has been preying on my mind because, although Sir Neville has indicated that he has no need for an heir as his cousin is young and healthy, still it is expected —”
Althea patted Jane’s arm. “While it is true that younger women may more easily conceive, my father attended several women of more advanced age during their pregnancies. And you have always been so healthy that I do not wonder at your being able to withstand the rigors. In any case, if Sir Neville has no need for an heir, then you may safely trust to providence.”
“You always tell me what I want to hear, dear Althea.”
“I tell you the truth, as well you know. Now we must have no more delays. Poor Sir Neville must hear the good news!”
Sir Neville was duly informed that he was to be the happiest of men and, after an express was sent to the lawyer named as one of the trustees of Miss Trent’s dowry, it was felt, in light of the fact that Jane didn’t have a father or brother to give consent, an announcement of the marriage could safely be made to the party at Ranleigh.
The news was greeted with much satisfaction because Sir Neville’s attentions could not have been any more marked. Sir Neville received the congratulations with great aplomb, and when the talk ran to a request for further details, he added that, “He was ready to be married today if a special license could be procured, but would defer to his dearest Jane’s wishes.”
Jane smiled and said that she had not given the matter much thought, but would certainly put her mind to it forthwith.
The impending marriage formed the chief topic of conversation for the rest of the day, pushing any discussion of the absence of the Norwich family firmly away. It was only after dinner when the ladies were partaking of tea and coffee that Lady Pickney sidled up to Althea and said in a low voice, “And so you have no further insight into the absence of our distinguished guests?”
“I am afraid that their explanations must suffice because I have no further information.”
“I suppose it must be secret, then, if you dare not tell it.”
“I have no special information, I promise you. They have urgent business and that is all. It is to be hoped that they will rejoin us when the business is completed.”
Lady Pickney sighed. “Well, it is a great thing for Sir Neville and Miss Trent, but I had assumed another marriage might also be in preparation. The duke’s sudden appearance here would seem to have confirmed it, but I suppose that these things take time.”
Althea nodded her head in a noncommittal sort of way and then changed the subject, hopeful that only Lady Pickney would have the audacity to question her about Norwich.
It wasn’t until she had prepared for bed that she finally had a moment to read the letter from Mr. Read. It was a long letter, full of information about a ring of female pickpockets recently apprehended who had been preying on wealthy women at society functions, and interest in her theory regarding soil. He was so encouraging about her hypothesis that she began to hope that the work might just make another monograph for the Philosophical Transactions – assuming the result could be proved, of course. She would have to develop a scale for description, as well to differentiate the characteristics, and that would take time.
She retired to bed, her head full of soil and beetles and the piercing look of an absent duke.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Althea had to admit that the duke’s sudden departure unnerved her. She hoped that he would send a note of explanation, but as the days passed and no note came, she began to wonder if her insistence on time had irrevocably sent him away.
No matter, she told herself, I have a son and a home and dear Jane to comfort me. However, dear Jane seemed more and more occupied with Ranleigh. It was only natural, as Jane was soon to be its mistress. Althea could feel the first crack of what she was sure would be a larger chasm dividing them from each other, as time and distance and interests diverged. Ever since Althea had gone to Dettamoor Park as a new bride, Jane had been there as a friend and confidante and a true and devoted sister. Althea could hardly begrudge Jane the new title of Lady of the Manor at Ranleigh.
As a distraction from the melancholy of her thoughts, Althea increased the frequency of her rambles across the grounds and could be found, if anyone desired to find her, engrossed in producing a series of fine sketches of the pond life, both plant and animal. In this occupation, she was discovered one afternoon by Mr. Ogden, who had been sent to plant rushes on the far side of the pond. He would have passed on, but Althea, tired of her own company, sought to engage him once more regarding the construction of the pond.
“It has often been my observation that good soil may be followed by bad in layers downward. Did you not encounter such layers as you dug?” she said.
“Not as you would say bad soil, Lady Trent, for the Ranleigh land has always been fine, but yes, we met with a variety of soils as we dug. Several layers of rich dark soil was hauled away for use in the hot house and for the roses.”
“And did you find anything unusual? Buried treasure, so to speak?”
He chuckled. “An axe head and some bits of iron that didn’t seem to belong to anything was all the treasure we found.”
“And once you had excavated this spot, how did you manage to fill it with water?”
“Aye, that was the easiest part. It rains something fierce in the spring and fall. We had only to wait for the good Lord to give us a couple days of showers and the thing was nearly done. We diverted the course of one part of the stream temporarily for the rest.”
“Of course. I am a simpleton. Once you had the water, the animals will soon follow, although I assume you stocked the fish?”
“Yes, Lady Trent, and planted the reeds and so forth. Sir Neville was most particular about all of it. He had this gentleman who designs gardens out to see the progress several times in order to make sure it was just as he wanted.”
“Well, it is a lovely pond, so I don’t wonder that it took a great deal of planning. I am sorry to have kept you so long, Mr. Ogden.”
Althea watched him walk away, her mind turning over and over everything she knew. It just didn’t make sense. She packed up her charcoals and drawing paper and began the walk back to the house. She was within sight of it when a movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. A man on horseback was galloping away from the house, down the long drive, toward the road. He was a small man, by the look of it, on a very fast black horse. It took her a moment before she comprehended. That must be Mr. Smithson. But where was he going in such a hurry?
On impulse, Althea hurried up to her room. “Miss Dorkins, I need my riding habit. I feel like riding for a bit.”
A servant had conveyed her request that the pony be saddled, and so, when Althea arrived, he was ready to mount. Instead of mounting him, however, Althea engaged an older groom in idle conversation.
“Andalusia is such a funny name for a common pony. I was told that he had been owned by a Spanish gentleman, but can’t imagine a Spanish gentleman living in the vicinity.”
“He came from Torquay,” the groom replied, as if that explained everything.
“Are there many Spanish gentlemen in Torquay?”
“Can’t say, what with the war and all – many sorts of strange folks come to live there.”
“Yes, that makes sense. Do you have family in Torquay?”
The groom nodded, clearly uncomfortable speaking with a lady about anything so personal. “Yes, madam.”
“I thought it a lovely place to live. The ocean has such a wonderful sound to it, don’t you think?”
He nodded again. “Yes madam. My cousin says the harbor is as fine as any in England. They get the finest ships in the Navy come to port.”
“I can certainly believe it. It must be lovely to have such a place within a couple of hours’ distance.”
The groom smiled.
“Have I said something amusing?” Althea said in an encouraging way.
“No, madam, it’s just that it wouldn’t take more than an hour if you were to ride a good horse and know the way.”
“I see. Sir Neville was obviously thinking of our comfort when he decided to take the main roads. I suppose a carriage would not traverse some of the paths you suggest?”
“No madam.”
“So any of the guests here at Ranleigh might easily go there and back in a morning?”
“Very easily, madam. Why that Mr. Smithson, with the fine black horse, is forever coming and going.”
“How interesting.” She then received a brief description of the route to be taken to Torquay and, after asking several more probing questions and committing the whole to memory, said, “I have detained you long enough. I think I will take the path around the west pasture and circle back again.”
She climbed up the block and mounted the pony. As she was adjusting her skirts, she wondered how it must feel to ride a horse properly like a man. Perhaps she could make the experiment when she returned to Dettamoor Park with one of Sir Arthur’s old saddles. It was entirely possible that the constriction of the saddle was what had always prevented her from enjoying a gallop across the fields.
She completed enough of a circuit to be believable and then returned to the stables. The same groom assisted her down. “Thank you, kind sir. What is your name, by the way, so that I may commend you to Sir Neville?”
He blushed. “Stiles, madam. They call me Stiles.”
“Mr. Stiles, thank you again.”
When Althea returned to her room, she found Jane changing her dress in preparation to go into the village with Sir Neville. “Dear Jane, what would you say to a long ride tomorrow morning? Or do your new duties preclude time away?”
“I’m sure I can be spared for a morning,” Jane replied, with a twinkle in her eye, “but what is this about riding horses? You have never been an avid horsewoman. What are you up to now?”
“Nothing particular, except a trip to Torquay by the back roads. I am informed by a credible source that it takes roughly an hour.”
“And why do you wish to go to Torquay?”
“Curiosity. I think that is where Mr. Smithson rides off to so frequently, and I want to know why.”
“Mr. Smithson? I expect he goes merely to take the air and then enjoy an ale at the end of it.”
“Quite possibly, but there is no harm in seeing for ourselves.”
“No, I suppose not. Besides, it will give us time for conversation. I wish to solicit your advice about the wedding.”
So, the next morning, the ladies set out together. It was a fine day for a ride and the directions Althea had memorized turned out to be reasonably accurate. In a little over an hour, they were above Torquay looking down at the harbor, exactly, if Althea’s memory served her, where the x had marked the spot on the map. The harbor was filled with tall ships and little boats of every description, and they could see sailors clambering about the pier and walking the beach.
