The Ranleigh Question, page 13
part #2 of Lady Althea Mystery Series
She searched the armoire for her jewelry and found the locked case tucked neatly at the back of a drawer. Then she located her reticule and purse. She found her letters still tied with ribbon and all of her gloves and hats and parasols. Her shawls as well remained, as did her dancing slippers. “Miss Dorkins will know,” she said to herself, before she blew the candle out and climbed back into bed.
After a fitful sleep, Althea awoke to the sounds of birds outside her window. She listened intently, recognizing some of the call and response. “Perhaps I shall spend the day observing the birds,” she thought, before the sudden memory of the upheavals of the day before came flooding back. What did the night time thief steal? And why?
Althea returned to the wardrobe. She examined all of her dresses and petticoats and stays. They were disordered but still there. She heard a sound behind her and turned to find Miss Dorkins staring with horror at the armoire. “And what have you done, my lady? Everything is so untidy!”
“It wasn’t me, dear Miss Dorkins, I can assure you. Now you mustn’t breathe a word of this because I do not yet know what it could mean, but I had a strange visitor last night.” Althea explained to Miss Dorkins what she had seen.
“I am shocked beyond anything,” Miss Dorkins said. “To think of thieves in a house such as this!”
“Do not be alarmed as yet, because nothing seems to have been taken. Did you perhaps store something in this armoire that I was unaware of?”
“No, I cannot think what they could have taken, but I promise I will conduct a complete inventory. We shall get to the bottom of this!”
“Yes, we shall, but again, I beg of you, please say nothing to anyone, even Jane. The thief does not know I was awake and we must keep him or her in ignorance of that fact while we investigate.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The long-awaited trip to Summit Hill was finally to take place. The hill was a picturesque location for an al fresco party in that it combined beautiful views of the countryside and some rather artistic ruins of a fortress that had once stood on the site, Summit Hill being the highest point for many miles around. Sir Neville was on good terms with Lord Bellingham, the owner of the ruin, who lived in a large modern house some distance away, and the outing promised not only an agreeable luncheon, but also an elegant supper with Lord and Lady Bellingham at Ranleigh later that evening.
After the wagons with the food and other arrangements had been sent on ahead, the party set out on horseback. Althea hung back a little, fearing to frustrate faster riders with her slowness, and so she ended up at the back of the line. This provided her the quiet of her own thoughts and an ample view of the machinations of the various members of the party to avoid riding with Lord Tunwell. One rider was not deterred. Lady Batterslea brought her horse up beside him and stayed in this position for most of the ride. Althea guessed that, in the absence of the duke and his brother, she sought to find some diversion by bringing another male to heel with the flutter of her long eyelashes.
The baron was by no means unwilling to entertain her, and Althea caught snippets of light flirtation and laughter every now and then. Their frivolity merely highlighted the continued lowness of her own spirits. She tried to focus on her numerous blessings, including her dear son. She had been happy on her own, she reminded herself, and could not base her future prospects on the caprice of a man, no matter how compelling. This thought led, of course, to all of the reasons she found him compelling, which sent her right back into melancholy.
She was so absorbed in her own thoughts that she didn’t notice the passage of time. When she heard Lady Batterslea say, “Oh Lord Tunwell, how you make me laugh with your absurd talk,” Althea looked around her and realized that they were nearly at the hill. She forced herself to concentrate because the hill required some horsemanship in that the path was rather narrow.
When they finally reached the summit, Althea understood why the locals made the effort. The views were spectacular, and the ruins, consisting of part of a tower and a low wall, most interesting and picturesque.
“The fortress was originally built by Henry I on the site of a previous Saxon fortification,” said Sir Neville, who had dismounted and was standing beside her.
Lady Batterslea and Lord Tunwell came up behind them, and Sir Neville, ever the host, turned to include them in the conversation.
“I find the ruins of a prior age a great spur to the imagination,” said Lady Batterslea, with a tittering laugh.
“And what does your fertile imagination produce, Lady Batterslea?” replied Cruikshank, with a sneer that hinted at something indecent.
She fluttered her eyelashes. “Oh, many things.”
Althea exchanged a look with Sir Neville and said, “I am glad I brought my sketchbook along. Which do you think the best angle for viewing? Perhaps nearer to the wall?”
“I did not peg you for an artist, Lady Trent,” said Cruikshank.
“I drew many of the sketches that accompanied my husband’s work, but they were mostly of plants and insects and small animals. Since coming to Ranleigh, I have been inspired to do more landscapes.”
“Oh, you should draw portraits. You could do one of me,” said Lady Batterslea.
Althea gave her a thin smile. “But I could hardly do you justice, Lady Batterslea, when I am used to drawing beetles, frogs and all manner of horrid things. Why, I might forget myself and give you spots or, worse yet, antennae.”
Cruikshank threw his head back and laughed, but Lady Batterslea made a sour face and sought to move away from them. It seemed as if she expected Cruikshank to follow her, but that gentleman stayed on, complimenting Sir Neville on his extensive preparations. Then Sir Neville left them to assure himself that the wafer-thin ham was being properly handled.
After a pregnant moment, Althea said, “You really shouldn’t let Lady Batterslea make you a conquest. She might think you are in earnest.”
“You do not mince words, do you, Lady Trent? But I find I like your frank way of speaking. Do not worry. Lady Batterslea may think what she likes, for I cannot imagine a worse fate than being in any way permanently attached to such a creature. Besides, she could do with being crossed in love. Otherwise, she will continue to think too well of herself.”
“She is young yet.”
“And you are old enough to judge?”
“I am a somber widow, Lord Tunwell.”
“Yes, very somber. And so filled with good advice, too.”
Althea wasn’t sure whether to be offended or not. “I beg your pardon if I have done nothing but lecture you. I’m sure you must find proselytizing to be a great bore.”
He smiled. “You do it admirably well. It is a new experience to have everyone suddenly encouraging me to the straight and narrow path. Those that will actually speak to me, that is. Why, even good Sir Neville was kind enough to say that my elevation should assist me to re-enter polite society. What he doesn’t perhaps realize is that I do not care much for polite society.”
“Then why have you graced us with your presence again?”
He gave her an enigmatic look. “Oh, a great many reasons, I assure you.”
Sir Neville called the group to order at that moment and presented Lord and Lady Bellingham, who had just arrived. They were a little older than Sir Neville and appeared to be quite devoted to each other in the way that couples of long-standing demonstrate – a warm look here and a gentle touch on the arm there. Althea had met them briefly at the musical evening, and had been very pleased to find that Jane would have such fine neighbors. Lord Bellingham gave a handsome speech welcoming the Ranleigh party to Summit Hill and providing a brief lesson regarding the history of the site. When he was done, the group sat down to a grand feast spread out under an awning stretched between four stout poles.
Althea, who felt that watching happy couples was not perhaps the best tonic for her nerves, maneuvered so as to sit between Lady Pickney and Mr. Gregson. It was clear that he was not in the mood for much conversation, and so Althea discussed the weather and other innocuous subjects with Lady Pickney until Mr. Gregson had finished with his meal and got up to examine the ruin.
“What a disagreeable man,” Lady Pickney said, when he was some distance away. “I don’t know how Mrs. Gregson puts up with him.”
“I do sometimes wonder how he came to be friends with Sir Neville,” replied Althea.
“I have come to understand that he was friends with the late baron and that it was Mrs. Gregson who sought the relationship with Sir Neville – likely to receive an invitation to Ranleigh – and, of course, Mr. Gregson was not to turn away an offer that spared him any number of expenses over the summer months. It is well known that he is quite mean.”
“Poor Sir Neville, to be so imposed upon!”
“Miss Trent will do a great deal of good if she can wean Sir Neville from such friendships. He appears, on the whole, too little discerning and far too kind.”
Althea nodded in understanding. “Jane is very sharp when it comes to people, and I have no doubt that she will have the proper amount of influence to prevent future issues. Still, I would not have known of Mr. Gregson’s penury had you not told me. He and Mrs. Gregson dress in quite a fine style.”
“I have no doubt he spends money readily enough when it comes to maintaining his consequence.”
After the meal, Althea walked to the fortress and selected the most pleasing angle. She then sat on a small blanket to occupy her time with sketching. It was amazing how the mere act of interpreting an object on paper through the medium of her charcoals could provide such peace to her troubled mind. She concentrated on each rounded stone, one on top of the other, until the image appeared in full glory on her paper.
“You are a far better artist than I had expected,” a voice said behind her. The sound made her jump in surprise.
“Thank you,” she said to Cruikshank, who was grinning down at her. “I’m not sure what you expected.”
“No offense, but sensible ladies are often not the least bit artistic.”
“None taken, I suppose. I think you must have a very romantic notion of art.”
“Likely I do. We have established that my experience with proper ladies is remarkably small.”
“Merely encouraging and then jilting them, from what I’ve heard.”
He laughed. “Perhaps, but a girl likes to be crossed in love sometimes. It gives her the push she needs to make a sensible marriage.”
“So, you are claiming to be a force for good?” Althea said incredulously.
“Undoubtedly.”
Althea refrained from comment. It was dangerous to talk about being crossed in love. She wasn’t sure she could do it without some sign of deeper emotion. Instead, she closed her box of charcoals, gathered her papers and stood up. “I think I shall walk the ruins for a bit.”
He took the hint, and allowed her to pass beside him. After seeing her things stowed in a saddlebag, she set off to wander the site. The fortress had been situated on the hill such that the slope they had traversed by horse was the gentle one. When Althea reached the other side, she perceived that the drop was quite steep. She moved towards a rocky outcropping at the edge, caught by the sight of some rather unusual bright green lichens. Lichens were an often-overlooked source of both food and medicine, and Althea’s father had done no little research on the subject of their properties.
She bent down to examine the lichen and was just trying to decide if it was a form of Peltigera or no, when she felt a push from behind. If she had been standing, she could have withstood it, but bent over as she was, the push set her completely off balance. She catapulted over the edge, hitting her head hard against the packed earth just under the outcropping and rolling uncontrollably towards the bottom.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
She supposed later that a normal woman would have screamed for help, but Althea’s mind didn’t seem to function along normal channels. The first thought that occurred to her was that she had to stop rolling or she would face even more serious injuries, and, as it had once before, an image of a spider, hanging precariously from the warp and weft of its web popped into her head. It could defy the natural order because of the grip of its eight legs on the silken strings.
Althea tensed her arms and legs, trying to grip the hill and create enough friction to slow her descent. About half way down, her efforts finally paid off and she lay limp and spent against the grasses of the hill. She didn’t remember much else until she opened her eyes and found the most beautiful face staring down upon her. The light behind the figure gave his fair locks a golden glow like the ring of a halo. Perhaps I am gone to heaven, she thought, and then, gathering her wits, no, it is Lord Tunwell.
“She is coming around,” he said. “Lady Trent, can you hear me?”
Althea looked at him. “Yes. Where am I?”
“On Summit Hill. You took a fall.”
“Oh, I must have slipped,” Althea replied, still a little muddled.
Jane pushed the baron aside and forced some of the ladies behind her to stand back and give the patient some air. “Althea dearest, we were so worried. Can you move your arms?”
After demonstrating that she had not, in fact, broken her back or any other bone that she could determine, Jane helped Althea to sit upright and then to stand, albeit with the assistance of Jane’s arm. Althea perceived that she was back at the top of the hill and wondered exactly who had managed the clamber down to retrieve her.
Sir Neville was all sweetness and solicitation. “My dear Lady Trent, I would not have had this happen for the world! Are you sure you are recovered enough to stand? For surely we can procure a chair for you from somewhere.”
“I am well enough to stand, I think, Sir Neville, although my head does swim some, I will admit. I think perhaps it would be best if I returned to Ranleigh as soon as possible to rest for this evening.”
“But surely you are not thinking of supper! No, my sister, you must rest. The Bellinghams will not take offense, I assure you. Here, Sir Neville, perhaps your men can help Lady Trent to mount her horse and one of them may lead it. I will accompany her while you play host to the rest of the party,” Jane said.
Sir Neville agreed, but when he announced to the group that the Trent ladies were to return, Cruikshank insisted upon accompanying them in case of further accident. Sir Neville, perhaps doubting Cruikshank’s intentions, sent several more of his staff to ride along. The augmented party set out at a slow pace.
Althea was very glad that someone with a stronger head was leading her pony because it was enough to simply maintain her body upright. Although she had said that she had slipped, a further review of her memory indicated that someone had very definitely pushed her forward. But who? Cui bono?
She thought of Cruikshank, riding behind her. He was a dangerous man, according to Lord George, but Althea seriously doubted he would have pushed her for the sport of it when he seemed more inclined to flirt with her instead. None of the party could have a reason to hurt her that she knew of. Perhaps the push was tied to Althea’s mysterious night visitor.
This tangle of thoughts occupied her mind. Jane made gentle conversation when the path widened enough to accommodate the two horses, and Cruikshank rode quietly behind. Thus, the trip was accomplished without further incident. Cruikshank assisted the servant to pull Althea down from her pony. She had felt strong enough to walk, but then her head began to throb as soon as her feet hit the ground, and she stumbled forward. Cruikshank grabbed her arm and supported her as they made their way into the house.
Two maids were called to assist her as soon as they crossed the threshold. Cruikshank lingered as if to continue to walk with Althea up the stairs, but Jane gave him a firm but polite command to locate some smelling salts, in case Althea should faint in the attempt to return to her room. He disengaged from Althea’s arm reluctantly.
When Jane had managed to march the party upstairs and force Althea to take a seat in a chair by the fireplace, she sent one of the girls to find Miss Dorkins and the other to fetch a pitcher of hot water and some coals for the grate.
Once the door was shut, she turned to Althea, “You will be the death of me yet, Althea. What were you doing so close to the edge of the precipice?”
Althea put her head in her hands as it had begun to throb once more. “Lichens,” she replied weakly. “There was a bright green one I hadn’t seen before. But before you blame me, you must know I was pushed. I wouldn’t have fallen otherwise.”
“Pushed?”
“Yes, but I don’t know by whom.”
“Why would anyone want to push you?”
“I don’t know.” Althea hesitated a moment, unsure whether to tell Jane about her night visitor, but as Miss Dorkins might have slipped and mentioned it, she said, “Perhaps it was related to the person who came into my room.”
Jane sat down in the other chair. “I was wondering when you might tell me about that. If you swore Miss Dorkins to secrecy, you might have saved your breath. You know that she cannot keep a secret to save her life.”
“I know, but I didn’t wish to make you worry about me.” She gave Jane a complete description of what had happened and then added, “I still do not know what they were after in my wardrobe.”
“And Miss Dorkins could not determine it?”
“No. She is as puzzled as I am.” Althea sighed.
Jane put her hand on her arm. “Come dear, let me help you change. You must rest.”
There was a discreet knock at the door and Jane jumped up to answer it. “Lord Tunwell, you did not need to bring the smelling salts in yourself. That is most kind of you.”
“No trouble at all, Miss Trent. I was only too happy. And how does your patient feel?”
He leaned around the door, but Jane stood firmly in front of him. “A little better, thank you. Some rest would do her good, so I’m afraid I will have to close the door and attend to her.” And with that, Jane firmly closed the door in his face.
