The Ranleigh Question, page 15
part #2 of Lady Althea Mystery Series
“I am so glad to see you well again, Lady Trent. It is a fine morning, is it not?”
“Thank you. I did not suspect that you shared my enjoyment of the morning, Mr. Smithson. I did not see you when I breakfasted,” Althea replied.
“I am afraid I could not sleep, Lady Trent. A sad malady that I am often afflicted with. I thought I would take a turn in the roses until one of the others came down. Eating breakfast alone is so depressing.” He gave a graceful shudder.
“I find I can cheerfully withstand the solitude if the food is well prepared and the coffee hot. It is too bad you suffer so with insomnia.” She paused and then casually added, “I have heard that healthful exercise may offer some cure, but then I believe you often ride. Does it help?”
Mr. Smithson did not seem to be bothered by her allusion to his morning rambles, but instead said, “Yes, I find riding to be one of the few delights of the country. Otherwise, the town is much pleasanter, do you not think?”
“I like them both, but am most comfortable in the country.”
“Ah, comfort, yes, I suppose it is more comfortable to have a house like this, with grounds and all, even though the society is unvarying and so inevitably dull.”
Althea chuckled. “That is why one has an estate of this kind, to invite your town-bred friends to stay and improve the local society.”
Mr. Smithson smiled ruefully. “I suppose it is. Do you come with us to Torquay the day after next?”
“I should like to, now that I feel more fully recovered. I take it you will be one of the party?”
“Yes. There will be Sir Neville and Miss Trent and the Gregsons, as well. I believe Lady Pickney and the Battersleas have declined the offer – evidently too long a carriage ride for Lady Pickney and too much sea air for Lady Batterslea.”
“Too much sea air?”
“It ruins the complexion most dreadfully.”
“Ah yes, so it does. We shall miss them, I’m sure.”
The reduced party made its way to Torquay in much the same fashion as before, with sturdy carriages and by the usual route. Once there, the party divided itself into those that desired to walk along the shore and those that sought diversion in examining the shops along the thoroughfare. Althea, despite her interest in the natural world, joined the latter group in the hopes that she might be able to slip away and continue to investigate the body on the beach. This proved more difficult than originally imagined due to the fact that Mr. Smithson seemed unwilling to leave her side.
It was finally achieved when he indicated a desire to purchase comfits at the apothecary, and Althea moved quickly down the street instead of waiting for his return. She made her way to the Blue Bottle and sought a private room and refreshment. The waitress had just taken her order when a familiar face stuck his head around the door.
“Lord George!” Althea said, suddenly aware of how much Verlyn resembled his brother. She throttled the urge to weep and smiled at him.
“I saw you come in and sought to have private speech. Have you come alone?”
“I managed to escape my party and came here in search of further information about Mr. Nettles.”
Verlyn nodded and sat down in a chair opposite her. “I have been busy as well.”
“But perhaps you cannot be as forthcoming as I can be with you. The man claimed his name was Cartwright, but we know that that is not his true identity. He also appears to have been to Torquay before, perhaps multiple times. There are paths that lead into Torquay that can be traveled with some speed by a man on horseback and, if I am correct, the x on the note actually marks the spot of the fastest route. There must have been some nefarious business Mr. Nettles sought to investigate.”
Verlyn smiled. “You have been busy, indeed. I do not need to tell you, I suppose, that what I am about to say must remain with you?”
“Of course. You have my full discretion.”
“I have learned that Nettles was in Torquay to investigate a potential leak of naval information to the French. The government suspects that one of our agents has turned traitor, but it has not been clear who that may be.”
The waitress entered with a cold lemonade, and Verlyn ordered an ale. All conversation ceased until the door was well closed.
Verlyn said, “Nettles was likely killed by the double agent he sought to discover.”
Althea nodded. “And do you think Mr. Nettles’ death in Torquay was connected in some manner with Tunwell’s death? For my part, I have to think it must be.”
“Yes, but I don’t know exactly what transpired. Tunwell was suspected of leaking information from the ministry of the Navy, so I think that he may have been the source of the information passed on to this double agent. Perhaps the agent killed him after he received his information, and then fled.”
“Or perhaps Mr. Nettles killed Lord Tunwell, but was then hunted down by the double agent.”
“If that is the case, then the agent has most certainly fled the area.”
The waitress re-entered with Verlyn’s tankard. He thanked her and paid the bill, ensuring no further interruptions. When she was gone, Althea, who had been lost in thought said, “I wonder what that piece of paper meant by Al Andalus?”
“Perhaps nothing. Or perhaps it was some sort of code known only to the baron. If you are correct that the lines were the back roads leading into Torquay, Tunwell may have used it for himself as a guide. Torquay would be the perfect location to meet the agent, away from the prying eyes of the other guests at Ranleigh.”
“Yes, I suppose it would have.” She paused and then mumbled, “But what about the boots?”
Verlyn leaned in. “Boots?”
Althea shook her head as if shaking off her reverie. There was no use telling Verlyn about the fall. He would likely press her to return to Dettamoor Park, or worse, write to his brother. Althea couldn’t think of a more humiliating situation than having the Duke of Norwich return to her out of pity or concern. No, that was not to be contemplated, so she said, “It is probably nothing, but someone crept into my room one night in order to steal a pair of boots, and I have been struggling to understand why.”
“A servant?”
“I do not know, but perhaps you are correct. Servants likely feel the need of sturdy boots more than we do. Forget I mentioned it.”
They conversed for several minutes more, exchanging ideas about the double agent, and then devolving into more general conversation about Torquay. Althea longed to ask about the duke, but Verlyn seemed wholly occupied with the problems at hand and didn’t mention him. Althea had to assume from his easy manners that Verlyn understood the engagement to still be in place, which was some consolation, but more likely indicated that the duke hadn’t seen fit to confide his amorous struggles to a younger brother.
They finished their drinks and Verlyn said, “I am staying at the inn called the Ox and Four here in Torquay under the name of Wainwright. You can send word to me there if you see or hear anything that may be of use to my investigation.” Verlyn instructed her to leave first, as he would follow once he had had a chance to ask Big Meg a question. Figuring that this question was likely to be related to their previous conversation, Althea obeyed his directions.
Once outside again, she was hailed by Mr. Smithson, “Lady Trent, I am so glad to have found you!”
“Forgive me, Mr. Smithson, but I was parched with thirst and merely sought to quench it. Where are the other members of the party?”
“They are just now taking a light refreshment at the inn on First Street. I had come to look for you.” He held out his arm.
Althea unfurled her parasol and laid her hand lightly upon his elbow. “Then I have been precipitate. Let us lose no more time.”
After some trifling purchases in the shops and a further walk along the beach path, the party returned to Ranleigh in high spirits.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
For some time, Sir Neville had promised the neighborhood a large fete to be held in and around the rose garden of Ranleigh, and the day scheduled for that merriment was a week following the trip to Torquay. As he had been successful in his pursuit of Jane, it was now also to form the local coming out of Jane as the future Lady Tabard. Jane was surprisingly anxious about the event, and so Althea spent her week pleasurably engaged in helping Jane to attend to all the petty details that were required in order to make such an event a resounding success.
This whirlwind of activity soothed Althea’s heartache like nothing else because it prevented her from any quiet contemplation. In fact, the only activity to which she could devote herself, outside of attending to Jane, was the perusal of a long and detailed letter from Mr. Read. The Magistrate of Bow Street was delighted with her further experiments, not only as an exercise in scientific categorization, but also in its potential uses for crime detection. He urged her most pointedly to prepare the data for submission to the Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society and also to prepare further education and training materials for his Principal Officers. He informed her that he knew of no aquatic equivalent for the Trent Method, asking her most pointedly to develop one, if she could.
Thus distracted by Jane and encouraged by Mr. Read, Althea awoke on the day of the garden party prepared to enjoy herself to the fullest extent possible. She dressed in a simple but elegant garment that Miss Dorkins praised as the finest muslin this side of London, figured with embroidered yellow roses and Brussels lace. Her hair was done simply – Miss Dorkins having been schooled in the London fashions that Althea had brought home to Dettamoor Park – and topped with a straw bonnet that was the envy of the other female guests.
Jane had also taken great pains to look her best, choosing a rose-colored gown that gave her cheeks the pink glow of youth, and when they met together in Althea’s room, they praised one another with extravagant abandon.
“I do hope I shall make a good impression,” Jane added, “for I know in what esteem Sir Neville is held by his neighbors.”
Althea kissed her cheek. “You will be the belle of the ball, my dear Jane. And I am sure that any choice of Sir Neville’s will be well received. He seems to have quite a reputation for fairness and generosity in these parts.”
Jane smiled. “Well, you know I have always spoken my mind with some frankness, and I don’t know that I was always aware of his good qualities, but, coming to Ranleigh, I realize that Sir Neville has changed. There is a new dignity that suits him. Do you not perceive it?”
Althea squeezed her hand, feeling that this comment was but one step on the path towards falling in love. “Oh yes, I do. But I feel the country is not to be identified as the cause. I think it is your beneficial influence. You are such a rational creature that I’m sure Sir Neville must hew to your example.”
“Now you are teasing me,” Jane replied, but blushed just the same.
The observation that Jane’s heart was following the lead of her head in selecting Sir Neville as the partner of her future life was borne out as the garden party unfolded during the whole of the afternoon. Althea remained by Jane’s side as her adjunct – managing the introductions to any number of persons, attending to guests, and generally making herself agreeable to all. The compliments to the happy couple flowed freely, and more than one person told Althea in a low voice that it was delightful that Sir Neville had finally thought to marry someone, after declining the charms of the local beauties for years.
So it was that, attached to Jane and Sir Neville, Althea did not have much interaction with her own party. In fact, as the afternoon wore on, she realized that she hadn’t seen the new baron or Lady Batterslea at all. Perhaps they were stealing some moments alone. That was dangerous business. Lord Batterslea was not apparently the most astute of husbands, but even a simpleton must come to understand if they went about their business in an obvious fashion.
Althea’s speculation was cut short when Lord Tunwell appeared suddenly at her elbow, pulling her aside. “And how have you been getting on with the neighborhood society?”
She scanned his appearance. There was nothing out of place or irregular in his dress or manner. In fact, he was remarkably and amazingly handsome. Althea noted with some amusement that many feminine eyes were turned in her direction, but, unfortunately for them, she and Cruikshank were just out of earshot, and so they couldn’t eavesdrop.
“Quite well,” Althea replied. “Sir Neville has the blessing of living in a neighborhood of extremely agreeable people.”
“Yes, entirely agreeable when entertained in grand style by Sir Neville. I am sure in other circumstances, they will display all of the natural rivalries and bitterness of a country neighborhood.”
“I think you wrong them, but I suppose that you have not had much experience living outside of London. You may think very differently once you have spent an extended period of time at Tunwell Court.”
He shuddered. “Do not condemn me to such a terrible fate. I have half a mind to mortgage the lot and live in greater style abroad.”
“Even with the war at fever pitch? I own that I give thanks to have been born an Englishwoman and so escape the suffering of my fellow creatures on the continent.”
“It has been my experience that money makes all things possible.”
Althea eyed him critically. “I suppose it must be so, if you think it.”
He tossed his head back and laughed. “You have such a fine way of taking me to task. I swear, I have not a met a woman who can do it so delightfully.” Then, as if suddenly impelled to speak, he added, “Come, Lady Trent, and be my wife – you and I were meant for one another. Norwich would bore you to death in a fortnight and you know it.”
“You cannot be serious,” she replied, with some asperity.
He met her eyes and held them with his own. “Of course I am serious. Surely, you do not think that a man of my reputation utters such declarations often?”
“If I listened to gossip, I would respond that you certainly are not above asking a woman to marry you when it suits your purpose. Whether you mean it after you have achieved your aim is another story.”
“But see, that is the difference. You are not to be seduced by a lot of flowery language, so we meet as equals.”
“I am afraid I still must decline. Besides, you do not know what a shrew I might become in time. I am not one of those women who could easily overlook the casual dalliances you so delight in. You would grow to hate me, and I you.”
“A man does not need casual dalliance when he has a woman like you.”
“Thank you for the compliment, such as it is, but I doubt that the habits of a lifetime may be cast off so easily. No, Lord Tunwell, do not tease me further.”
He was about to reply, but they were interrupted by Mr. Smithson, who approached them to ask when the fete was scheduled to end. He sighed languorously. “For I have been ogled by every country bumpkin and flouncy dairy maid in all of Devonshire. It does my tailor credit, I am sure, but fatigues me to no end.”
“Perhaps you had better have dressed with less style and more discretion,” Cruikshank said, with a thinly-veiled sneer. “That waistcoat with the columns and lions for instance – what is it meant to be?”
“It is Hercules, is it not? The pillars of Hercules,” Althea said.
Mr. Smithson smiled at her. “Clearly Lady Trent understands the classical allusion.”
“Yes, but none of these good people is like to, and neither are most of the fellows in London. You cannot dress in this fashion and then complain when you are stared at. It is not for nothing that you are called L’Incroyable,” Cruikshank said.
Mr. Smithson pulled himself up to his full height. “I am called such a name because I am indeed incredible – a paragon of taste and refinement. But then you have been on the fringes of polite society, so one cannot wonder that you fail to understand my exalted position in it.”
Althea, sensing trouble, stepped between them and with a steady voice said, “Gentlemen. The day has been long and you are likely suffering from the noise and the heat. I suggest that you both return to the house and seek repose.”
Each seemed to think better of continuing the argument in public, and Mr. Smithson turned on his heel and walked in the direction of the house.
“Insufferable idiot,” Cruikshank said, when he was out of earshot.
“Is he really called L’Incroyable?” Althea said.
“Oh yes. It is a wonder he can find a tailor in all of England willing to risk his reputation and turn Smithson out in such a style.”
“As you have so rightly put it – money makes all things possible – even Hercules waistcoats.”
He nodded. “Not everything. Or at least, so it seemed to me before we were so rudely interrupted. Take all the time you need to consider my offer, Lady Trent. It will still be there when you tire of Norwich’s games.”
Althea felt that the conversation had gone far enough and was just about to give him another set down when all of the threads that had been floating in the air suddenly knit themselves together. The Pillars of Hercules! It could not be. And yet, what better disguise would there be for a brilliant man? Verlyn would be able to confirm her suspicions with his superiors. She had to get word to him immediately.
“Lady Trent, what has happened? You look unwell,” Cruikshank said.
She clutched her head. “I am sorry, but I think the heat has gotten to me. I must return to the house.”
He took her arm. “Here, let me escort you.”
She allowed him to lead her in, but sent him away as soon as Miss Dorkins appeared to take her upstairs. Once in her room, her air of languor ceased. “No, no, there is no need to assist me to lie down. There is work to be done.” She sat down and pulled a sheet of paper from her writing desk. “I need you to have one of the stable boys take this note to Mr. Wainwright at the Ox and Four in Torquay. It is most urgent.”
“Who is Mr. Wainwright?” Miss Dorkins said.
“He is just a man I met in Torquay.”
“I do not understand.”
“Nor do I, at least not everything.” She folded the note and then sealed it with red wax. “I must insist that you tell nothing of this to anyone, even Miss Jane. It is a matter of life and death.”
