The Ranleigh Question, page 16
part #2 of Lady Althea Mystery Series
“Life and death? Oh my! What trouble have you gotten yourself into now, Lady Trent?”
Althea smiled and handed it to her. “I know that I am a great trial. Now run along quickly. Take some coins from my reticule to pay for the servant’s kindness. I will pretend to rest until you come back and tell me that the errand is accomplished. And thank you.”
Miss Dorkins tucked the note in her apron and hurried out of the door. Althea sat down to wait in nervous agitation. After half an hour, Miss Dorkins rushed into the room, hot and flustered. “It is done, Lady Trent. Peter took off with it to Torquay. He had the horse saddled so quickly, I could not believe it. He is a good steady lad and so obliging. You can be sure he will do just as you ask. And I told him to send you word when he had returned.”
“Thank you again, dear Miss Dorkins. Now, do not let me keep you from the fete. I will stay quietly here while you are off to enjoy your day once more.”
Miss Dorkins demurred, but Althea insisted, and was finally able to push her out the door. Althea sighed and sank gratefully into a chair. So much to be done and so little time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
That night, after Peter had returned from completing his errand, Althea partook of a light supper in her room. It was better to feign illness for a time in order to make it plausible. She retired early as well, and found to her surprise that she was indeed very tired. Unfortunately, as soon as her head hit the pillow, her mind switched on, relentlessly turning over the pieces of the puzzle, but to no logical effect. She forced her thoughts back to Dettamoor Park, but that was not safe, either.
Soon they would be off to Dettamoor Park to prepare for Jane’s wedding. Then Jane was to go to the Lake District for her bridal tour and then back here to her new home at Ranleigh. Althea would be left alone at Dettamoor Park to mourn the loss of a beloved sister. She felt the tears form but brushed them away before they could run down her cheek. She had never suffered long from low spirits in the past, even when her beloved father had left her too soon, or when Arthur had breathed his last. Neither of them would have wanted her to pine, and so she did her best to fill her days with reading and experiments, sure that the dull ache in her chest would ease over time.
And so it had. And so it would have to again. Jane would never come back and neither would Norwich. Althea had to be honest with herself, at least. There was no other rational explanation for his silence except that he meant, through absence, to wean her from their engagement. Althea was just going to have to focus on her scientific interests once more until time healed her heart and calmed her mind.
She was just drifting off to sleep, lulled by the thought of aquatic experiments of every type, when she heard a faint noise, like soft slippers on the drugget in the hall. Her body tensed and her eyes popped open. The room was so dark that she could not see beyond the narrow opening in the bed curtains. Was her nocturnal visitor come again? What more could he or she wish to steal? Perhaps the thief had a more nefarious purpose in mind.
It could even be Cruikshank, she reasoned, come to seduce her with kisses instead of with words. She would scream at the top of her lungs if he so much as tried to embrace her. She smiled at the vision of Cruikshank, who she was sure had never met much resistance, suddenly attacked by a hysterical female.
She heard the door creak open and saw the flicker of a candle. She half closed her eyes, imitating sleep until she knew what her visitor was about. She heard the sound of something being placed on a table in the corner. From the way the light shifted, it must be the candle. The shuffling feet approached the bed, and Althea closed her eyes completely. She felt the sudden draft of air as the bed curtains opened. And then something soft around her face, pressed down so as to cut off her breath.
Althea sat up, startling the intruder, who staggered back and dropped what appeared to be a bolster. It was a woman, by the looks of it. Althea scrambled out of bed, pressing her advantage. The woman turned to flee, but Althea lunged at her, grabbing the hem of her nightdress, and pulled her down to the floor. Althea straddled her shoulders and used the force of Althea’s own weight to pinion her.
“Let me go!” the woman wheezed.
“I had not thought you a murderess, Lady Batterslea. Pray tell, what is the cause of this midnight intrusion?” Althea replied.
Jane threw open the door from her room, with Miss Dorkins right behind her. She held her candle high. “Althea! What are you doing to poor Lady Batterslea?”
“Poor Lady Batterslea! See that bolster over there? She tried to smother me.”
Jane set her candle on the table. “I doubt she will try to do so again after your manhandling. Come, get off of her. Here, Miss Dorkins, help me.”
Jane and Miss Dorkins helped Althea up and then extended a hand to the now petulant Lady Batterslea. “It was all your fault, you know!” she said. “If you hadn’t made eyes at him like a common hussy!”
“What are you talking about?” Jane said sharply.
Lady Batterslea, finally cowed by the sharpness and authority of Jane’s tone, crossed her arms in front of her and started to cry.
“I think what she means is that I am her competition for Lord Tunwell’s affections. That, of course, is entirely ridiculous, but I doubt Lady Batterslea has ever had any competition where the other sex is concerned. Am I right?”
Lady Batterslea turned her head away and refused to answer, sniffing loudly in the manner of an aggrieved child.
“Well, I hardly see that the new baron is worth smothering Althea over. What can you have been thinking?” Jane said.
“Perhaps that, as the fall hadn’t finished me off, a pillow would do the trick. Were you the kind person who gave me a shove off the precipice?” Althea said.
Lady Batterslea swung around and cried hotly, “I did not! Ask anyone, I was on the other side of the ruin listening to a very boring story from that awful Lady Pickney! I didn’t know anything about the fall until I heard all of the commotion about it. I swear!”
“Please don’t,” Jane replied dryly. “Now, I suggest you do the sensible thing and return to your room, while Lady Trent and I figure out what is best to be done.”
Lady Batterslea stopped her sniffles and said in a wheedling voice, “But you won’t tell Lord Batterslea about me and Lord Tunwell, will you?”
Althea was about to reply, but Jane cut her off. “We haven’t decided yet. Go back to bed before you wake the house.”
Lady Batterslea hesitated and sought perhaps to persuade them further, but Jane took Lady Batterslea’s arm and said firmly, “Come, I will help you to your room.”
When Jane returned, she dismissed Miss Dorkins and indicated that Althea should sit.
“I find your masterful handling of midnight murderesses quite delightful, you know,” Althea said.
Jane sat down. “Althea. Althea. How is it possible that you can have gotten yourself in such a state?”
“I certainly have done nothing to encourage either Cruikshank’s attentions or Lady Batterslea’s jealousy.”
“No, I am aware of that. Yet somehow trouble finds you more than it does others.”
“Do you think Lady Batterslea was telling the truth when she said she didn’t push me?” Althea said.
“While a woman who would smother another over a man would likely have no problem in pushing someone down a hill, I think I remember her standing beside us while Lady Pickney regaled us with one of her society stories. Then again, she could have slipped away. I was paying attention to Lady Pickney, so I cannot be sure.”
“Should we make Lord Batterslea aware of his wife’s activities?” Althea said.
“I don’t know that we can, with any degree of success. He is besotted, poor man, and in any case, she would deny the whole to him.”
“Yes, but I don’t think we should let her know that. If she fears discovery, she may refrain from murdering me.”
Jane smiled. “Unless she murders us both.”
“But then Miss Dorkins must explain the whole to the magistrate,” Althea pointed out.
“Poor Miss Dorkins. She doesn’t deserve such trials.”
“I wonder if Lady Batterslea was connected to the death of the previous Lord Tunwell?”
“How could she be connected?” Jane said.
“Perhaps this affair with the new lord is of long standing and she sought to promote her lover’s interests? If she were to leave Batterslea and run to Cruikshank, it would be better that he had a title and money to support her. Perhaps the murder was her way of proving her love to him.”
“But, assuming that the previous baron was murdered, which I still cannot believe, how could Lady Batterslea push him into the water to drown him? He was large enough to fend for himself.”
“What if he slipped and she took advantage of the situation in order to hold him under?” Althea said.
“But they arrived after the baron was found dead.”
“Yes, so we were told.”
“You know that a woman is circumscribed in her movements. She could hardly come ahead of her husband without his knowledge and commit murder. He would certainly know of it.”
Althea thought for a moment. “Then maybe Batterslea does know of it. What if she told him that she was coming to break off her relationship with Mr. Cruikshank?”
“But he was not invited to Ranleigh.”
“True, but perhaps she convinced him that he would be if his uncle was clearly invited.”
“An uncle he was not on speaking terms with?” Jane said.
Althea laughed. “Jane, you have no mercy, do you?”
“Not when you are spouting nonsensical ideas. Why does the baron’s death have to be connected to everything that has happened to you? In my mind, it is not. Lord Tunwell died as a result of an accident. We found the body in Torquay by chance. A servant misplaced her mistress’s boots and sought to get them back without anyone knowing of her carelessness. You leaned too far over the hill and fell. Lady Batterslea attacked you in a separate fit of jealousy. The only common thread is your penchant for trouble.”
“You make it seem so commonplace! And yet I am not convinced. Let me work it out on my own.”
Jane stood up. “As you wish. I hate to ask it, but do you think you could hold your tongue about Lady Batterslea until I have a moment to speak with Sir Neville? I wish to consult with him before we take any action against guests in his house.”
“I agree. Sir Neville must be consulted. In any case, I shall take care to be gone most of the day tomorrow so that I shall not tempt Lady Batterslea to make another attempt.”
“Where will you go?”
“I have some errands in the village.”
Jane sought for further information, but Althea preferred to keep her own counsel. The less Jane knew of Althea’s thoughts on the subject of threads, the better. It was time for investigation into at least one of her numerous theories.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The next morning, Althea rose early, breakfasted, and then called for her carriage. She was just about to enter the carriage when a footman handed her a missive folded in two and sealed with black wax. She broke the seal and read Lord George’s hurried scrawl.
“Is the messenger who brought this still around?” she asked the footman.
When the footman answered in the affirmative, she asked for the messenger to be brought to her. He turned out to be a young lad not more than twelve. “Milady has a message for the gentleman what sent me?”
“Yes. Tell him to meet me at the apothecary at midday. Thank you very much.” She removed a coin from her reticule and gave it to him.
He grinned at her. “Yes, milady. I’ll tell him straight away.”
Althea arrived at the village and set about her inquiries. She had no luck at the small lending library, but the young woman at the marzipan shop had some useful, although not precise, recollections. Althea then made several small purchases at the hat shop, but managed to avoid the ugly bonnet, in order so as not to appear conspicuous. At the appointed hour, she entered the apothecary shop. Inside the shop stood an elderly woman in a tense discussion with the apothecary about the best remedy for a persistent cough and Verlyn, pretending to examine a clear glass jar full of leeches.
Althea came over to him and said in a low voice. “I know Al Andalus is the code name of a spy and I know who he is. The question is, why did Lord Tunwell have his name on a piece of paper?”
“I think I may have the answer to that question,” he replied.
There was a sudden commotion at the door. Althea turned. “Why, Mr. Smithson, I had not expected to see you in the village. Did you come to do some shopping?”
Smithson smiled broadly and approached them. He had on a greatcoat with capes over his usual splendid attire, his right hand deep in the coat pocket. “Ah, Lord George Verlyn and dear Lady Trent, how delightful!”
As he came near, Althea could see that his coat pocket was pushed outward in a strange manner. Smithson saw the direction of her gaze and said in a low voice, barely audible above the sound of the elderly lady. “Yes, that is a pistol in my pocket. If you and Lord George would be so kind as to accompany me out the door, I would be much obliged. I do not wish to kill that poor unfortunate woman with her terrible cough, although perhaps I should, if only to put her out of her misery.”
Althea looked at Verlyn, who nodded and took her arm. “Come, Lady Trent, let us walk with Mr. Smithson for a little while,” he said loudly.
Smithson motioned them ahead of him and out the door. It clanged behind them. “Where to, Smithson?” asked Verlyn, without so much as a quiver in his voice. He squeezed Althea’s arm in reassurance and she began to wonder just how often Verlyn found himself is such situations.
“I think we should continue on away from Ranleigh. I will tell you when to stop,” Smithson said.
Verlyn started walking slowly and then he began to make commonplace conversation about the village and the shops and the fine weather. It was as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Althea marveled at his composure and sought to emulate his serene countenance. All the while, her brain ran feverishly from one possibility to the next. Smithson had to be the murderer, despite all of her conjecture to the contrary. How had she been so wrong? It was too fantastic, and yet, she had to admit it had a certain neatness of resolution. All of the possibilities tied together in one tidy package. Magistrate Read would be enthralled – if she lived long enough to tell him about it.
Finally, they reached the outskirts of the village, beyond the blacksmith’s shop and some isolated houses. They entered a lane that ran into a large copse of trees, and when they attained the end of it, Mr. Smithson said, “I think we may safely speak here. Turn around.”
He removed the gun from his pocket and pointed it at Lord George. It was a small pistol, but likely deadly at close range. Just the sort of pistol to have put a bullet in a man’s head and left him to the mercy of the waves.
“Now, Verlyn, why don’t you explain to me why you have been hiding out in Torquay and why you have taken such pains to investigate the death of that man on the beach? I have had such a time following you around. It is most disconcerting.”
“You are Al Andalus,” Althea interjected.
Mr. Smithson hesitated, seemingly uncertain as to how to respond. “Yes, Lady Trent, I am, but how or why you came to know this, I have yet to discover. Please enlighten me so that I will not make the same mistake again.”
“It was your waistcoat. The Pillars of Hercules represent Gibraltar and that is on the tip of Spain. And Spain is Al Andalus. I realized that it could be the name of a person when I found out my horse was named Andalusia. And then I heard that you were called L’Incroyable and the ideas fitted themselves together.”
“But how did you even know about Al Andalus?” Smithson said. “Really, your statement amazes me.”
“I believe I can enlighten you there, Smithson.” Verlyn reached up and pulled out a piece of paper from a pocket cleverly concealed inside his waistcoat. He handed it to Smithson, who took it with his other hand, all the while keeping the pistol pointing steadily in his direction.
Smithson looked at the paper and then looked back at Verlyn, surprise writ large across his face. “For the love of God, why didn’t you tell me?” He brought the pistol down and tucked it back into his pocket. “And I was prepared to shoot dear Lady Trent, too!”
“You didn’t give us much choice, did you?” Verlyn replied.
Smithson handed the paper back to him. “No, but you could have said something before now. And how is Lady Trent involved in all this, unless the government has now entrusted such work to females?”
“Lady Trent has been quite helpful to our government,” Verlyn replied gallantly. “You may speak freely in front of her. She found a note on the body of Lord Tunwell that led us to believe that he had an interest in Torquay and someone or something named Al Andalus.”
“Ah, so that was it! Forgive me, Lady Trent, for frightening you just now, but I have been at a loss to understand your movements as well. I suspected that you were hunting something, but what it was, I could not tell. And when I intercepted your notes and discovered you were meeting Verlyn here, I had to take you with me, so to speak.”
“My principal purpose was to determine who killed Lord Tunwell. I thought it perhaps had to do with the note I found, and then later, with the man on the beach. I see that I was correct in this. If I may ask, Mr. Smithson, just how did you manage to wrestle Lord Tunwell into the water? And once you had done so, were you intending that I should find the body? I seem to remember that you tried to dissuade me from going near the pond and investigating the odd shape in the reeds.” Althea said.
“No, I had no notion either way. You see, I had meant to kill Lord Tunwell myself, but someone or something got there ahead of me.”
“So, Lord Tunwell was leaking secrets to a French agent?” Verlyn said.
