The Ranleigh Question, page 18
part #2 of Lady Althea Mystery Series
“All of this you do for your love of his mother and aunt?”
“No!” she cried out. “I did it because he is my son!”
“Your son? But how?”
“I was young, and very foolishly entered into a secret engagement. Suffice it to say that my betrothed left me with child. I confided my secret to Dorothea, who had yet to conceive a child of her own with Mr. Cruikshank. She was such a free spirit and so very kind. We contrived to travel to the continent under the pretext of visiting relatives in Burgundy. There I gave birth and she took the baby, raising him as hers. I thought that surely I would be able to have more children, but Mr. Gregson could not get me with child, the stupid ignorant man.”
Mrs. Gregson began to pace, lost in her own world. “Do you know what it is like to watch your only child, the pride and joy of your life, raised by others? And then to see how the baron treated him, threatening to cast him aside, all for a little folly. Time and time again I have had to coax and persuade the baron to change his mind. Finally, I knew I had to give my son what he rightfully deserved. I planned it all so very meticulously. The marzipan and the arsenic. It was too easy. Then to see the fruits of my labor so easily overthrown. To see you worm your way into his affections. It is all too much. I tell you, I won’t stand for it!”
Before Althea could leap out of the way, Mrs. Gregson took a running start and hurled herself upon her, knocking her back. She struggled to break free, but Mrs. Gregson was like a wild animal. They rolled backwards and then there was a large splash. Althea felt the cold water on her back. She struggled against her, but Mrs. Gregson was a strong woman, caught in the grip of mad rage. Althea wriggled this way and that, hopelessly tangled in the reeds. Mrs. Gregson pressed her full weight upon her and she struggled to breathe. She managed to free one arm and scratched frantically at Mrs. Gregson’s face. Mrs. Gregson’s startled reaction gave Althea the opportunity she needed to push off with her legs and break free of the plants encircling the pond.
Althea moved her arms and legs, happy to discover that no bones had been broken. She pushed off again, doing the movements her father had taught her long ago. Dr. Claire had attended several deaths by drowning and had not wanted any child of his to share that fate, even if swimming was not a fit thing for a girl to know. Althea silently blessed him as she moved farther out into the center of the pond, away from the clutches of Mrs. Gregson.
Mrs. Gregson lunged after her, but pulled up short, grabbing frantically at the reeds for balance. Could it be that she did not know how to swim? Althea watched her for a moment, treading water, waiting to see if she needed to swim farther out in order to escape, but no. Mrs. Gregson was not moving farther into the pond. She clung stubbornly to the reeds, emitting panicked little shrieks, like a forlorn child.
Althea closed her eyes and took a deep breath to steady her nerves. The water felt cold and delicious after the heat of the day.
“My God! Mrs. Gregson, Althea, what happened?”
Althea’s eyes snapped open. “My lord!” Her heart seemed to stop for a second and then started up again, pounding a staccato rhythm in her chest.
Norwich was on the bank, pulling at the frantic Mrs. Gregson. “Just hold on!” he yelled, as he hauled Mrs. Gregson onto the shore. Then he tore his jacket off, pulled off his boots, and jumped into the water.
Althea opened her mouth to reply but nothing came out. She watched as his powerful frame slid through the water. He was a strong fine swimmer and reached the center of the pond with ease.
“Do not be afraid, Althea, I have you!” Then he stopped, suddenly noticing that she was not in fact drowning, but treading water. “What?”
She recovered her voice. “I can swim, but thank you just the same.”
His eyes flashed in anger. “You!”
His indignation seemed somehow comical and so she let out a giggle and then, because she couldn’t help it, a full-throated laugh.
He eyed her suspiciously, and, when he seemed to conclude she was not mad, laughed a little himself. “Come, we must get back to shore, Althea.”
“Yes. I doubt Mrs. Gregson will have the power to kill me now.”
He looked grimly at the woman still lying on the bank. “Read told me you were in some trouble. I now see that he grossly underestimated the matter.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Later that evening, after the bedraggled threesome had been allowed to clean up, and the magistrate called in to take Mrs. Gregson’s confession, Althea received a note surreptitiously slipped into her reticule.
Meet me at midnight in the rose garden. I must speak with you.
N
Althea crumpled the note in her hand, a sudden fear stopping her breath. There would be no more delays. Norwich meant to end their relationship once and for all. The irony that he had now won her heart was too bitter to contemplate. Althea resolved to bury her emotions deep and carry on as if nothing had changed, as if the very sight of him sitting down to supper didn’t make her feel weak with desire and longing. After a painful meal, at which she declined to answer any number of questions with the instructions the magistrate had given her not to speak of the matter with anyone until his investigation was complete, she resolutely declined tea and went to her room for an hour or two of silent contemplation.
At half past eleven, she told Miss Dorkins that she wished to take the night air because she couldn’t sleep, changed into a muslin dress, and, firmly refusing Miss Dorkins’ offer of company, wrapped her shawl around her shoulders. She resolutely took her candle and pulled the door closed behind her.
She found a lantern hanging beside the door at the bottom of the back stairs and lit that, leaving her extinguished candle on a small table. With the lantern held high, she threaded her way through the out buildings into the garden and then down through the gravel walks that twisted and turned until they reached the heart of the rose garden.
The air was heavy and damp, amplifying the pungent fragrance of roses that had just passed their prime blooms and settled into sickly sweetness on the way to death. I think I shall remember this night for the rest of my life, she thought. The smell of the death of hope.
She saw another light at the far end of the garden and approached it resolutely. “I thank you once again, sir, for trying to rescue me. I am sorry to have spoilt your clothes to no good purpose.”
Norwich turned towards her. “It was nothing, I assure you. I wish that you would have had more care than to bait a murderess, but I suppose sensible behavior is beyond hope, at this point.”
Althea looked away, stung by his cold manner. That was not the speech of a man in love. Her heart in her throat, she began quietly, sure that if she did not speak her mind at the present moment, she never would. “I am not sure in what manner I have offended you, but whatever it may have been, I am heartily sorry. Please forgive me.”
“No indeed, you have done nothing to give offense.” He looked at her, but avoided meeting her gaze. “I wish you joy in your marriage. I certainly could do nothing less, under the circumstances.”
Her mind raced. Did he think she was in love with Cruikshank? “Wish me joy? But I fail to understand you. To whom am I betrothed, if not to you? Not that I will hold you to that promise, as it has been clear to me that you desire very much to be rid of me, but yet I do not understand.”
He registered surprise and then met her eyes. “Are you not engaged to my brother?”
“Your brother? No, of course not. I am engaged to you.”
“I know, but I release you.”
“Fine, but I do not want to be engaged to your brother. Moreover, I do not think he wants to be engaged to me.”
Norwich stared at her, his mouth open in surprise. “But you looked at him in such a way when we were in Torquay – and he kissed your hand. If that was not a sign of a betrothal, then what is?”
“I gave him a clue to the mystery of the Torquay spying ring and the body of the agent we found on the beach. He was momentarily overjoyed.” Althea took a deep breath. “I know that I have not always been sure of my heart, but trust me when I say that my conversations with your brother have done nothing but reinforce the fact that I have fallen deeply and irrevocably in love with you. However, I understand if my hesitation has caused your love to sour. Indeed, it would be a wonder if it had not —”
Althea didn’t finish the last word because she was seized in the grip of powerful arms. His lips found hers in an urgent plea. She responded in kind, melting into him, her desire fueled by overwhelming relief. He was as truly hers as he had ever been. She could have cried from happiness.
Sometime later, she disengaged from Norwich long enough to ask. “So you do still wish to marry me?”
“Of course I do. George is one of the few men to whom I would have relinquished the right.”
“We have done nothing but speak of you —”
“I wish I would have known that. I could not contemplate your happiness together one more day, and so fled like a coward.”
“You mother was not ill? When you left so suddenly, I was certain it must be because of an illness. It was only when you did not write that I began to doubt your regard for me.”
“My mother is as well as ever. I meant to write, but every time I tried to set pen to paper, the words failed me. I could not ask what I did not wish to know.”
“I would have corrected the mistake at once.”
“Stop. I have been a fool too long. Tell me honestly, what brought you to own your regard for me?”
“If you want the truth, I missed you quite dreadfully when I thought you had thrown me off.”
He smiled and kissed her gently, persuasively. “Then perhaps I should leave again.”
“Please don’t.”
“I find you necessary for my happiness. Come, we must find a bench to sit so you can tell me everything that has happened.”
“I don’t know how much longer I can stay out before my reputation is quite ruined. I told Miss Dorkins that I only needed to walk a short time in order to help me sleep.” She pulled her shawl close.
“Are you cold? Here, take my coat.”
“No, but surely you have noticed that we have been out for more than an hour. I cannot even pretend that ours was merely a chance meeting.”
He gazed at her lovingly. “I am afraid I have no notion of the hour. At first, I was too nervous to pay attention, and now a lifetime is too short for the pleasures of your company.”
Althea felt her cheeks flush. She said archly, “You meant to cast me off. That would give anyone nerves.”
He guided her to a bench and sat close beside her, tucking her neatly under his arm.
“I meant to release you. A very different thing. Now, before your ridiculous scruples force you to run off again, tell me again what it was that caused George to kiss your hand.”
Althea gave him the complete story, not omitting the prominent role played by Mr. Smithson.
“I wish Smithson had more sense than to leave you with a murderess.”
“He couldn’t know. And besides, I wished to have private speech with her in order to test my theories.”
“Now describe what happened with Mrs. Gregson – the complete story from start to finish. I could tell from what you had written to Magistrate Read that you left a good deal out.”
Althea explained how she had come to suspect Mrs. Gregson of Lord Tunwell’s death. “I originally thought that his death was connected with the spy ring, but arsenic is not the sort of poison one would use as a spy. It is too imprecise. Besides, whoever had poisoned him, knew about the arsenic he actually took, which gave it more of a domestic flavor, so to speak. Of course, I didn’t suspect Mrs. Gregson was Mr. Cruikshank’s mother, just her connection with his adoptive mother and aunt, for which information I am greatly indebted to Mr. Smithson. His knowledge of the northern families and their Scottish connections is incredibly detailed.”
Norwich hugged her close. “Promise me you will not chase death in this fashion when we are married. I cannot contemplate the thought of losing you.”
She laid her head upon his chest, feeling the beat of his heart against her cheek. “I promise I will try not to.”
“In any case, I mean to marry you as soon as I have the special license, so I will keep a strict watch.”
Althea sat up. “The marriage. Do you think we could be married with Jane and Sir Neville? They are to be married from Dettamoor Park in a little over a month. But perhaps your family would not like to see you married in such a place and with such company. For we have invited all of our neighbors, and Squire Pettigrew is sure to be one of the party.”
He chuckled. “My family will be happy I have finally chosen a bride, and even if they are not, I shall marry when and where I choose. I would not wish Squire Pettigrew anywhere else. His pretensions to your hand must be put to rest, once and for all.”
“Then it is settled,” she replied. “I will write to my son and you may write to your mother, and we will be married before our six month engagement has ended. I must tell Jane.”
“Not entirely settled. One thing still puzzles me. Mr. Read told me that you had some theory regarding soil. I thought he must have confused the matter, for what could soil have to do with anything?”
“I will tell you when I have more time. Now, please let us return to the house. Miss Dorkins will be beside herself with worry.”
He stood up and held out his hand. “Heaven forbid we upset Miss Dorkins.”
They walked hand in hand towards the house and then, as if by tacit agreement, separated, Althea entering through the back door and Norwich through the front. When Althea reached the table where her abandoned candle sat, she heard strange sounds. It could have been voices raised in anger and a wail, like a wounded animal, but from some other part of the house. Althea followed the sounds, back through the main hall and into the old wing of the house. She entered the hallway to the bedrooms and her eyes met with a scene of pandemonium.
There were two maids huddled together, sobbing into their handkerchiefs. The door to one of the bedrooms was thrown open and Cruikshank was standing in his shirtsleeves, holding a large candelabra. Lord and Lady Pickney were beside him, dressed in night clothes, to all appearances as if they had just been awakened from slumber.
“What has happened?” Althea said.
“Is that you, Althea?” Norwich called from inside the room.
“Yes.” She pushed past the maids and Cruikshank through the door and found Norwich crouched down beside the lifeless form of Mrs. Gregson. Mr. Gregson was huddled on the floor, his knees tucked up to his chin like a small child, emitting a high wail of anguish.
“I heard Mr. Gregson and ran to investigate,” Norwich said.
She picked up Mrs. Gregson’s wrist for a pulse, but knew that there was nothing that could be done. Mrs. Gregson’s lifeless eyes stared at the ceiling, her face contorted and mouth open. The room smelt of garlic. Althea looked around and located what she had expected to find, the open tin of marzipan.
“She ate her own poisoned candy,” Althea said in a low voice. “I suppose there is some justice in that.” She stood and addressed the crowd in the hall. “Please send word to the apothecary. She appears to have had an apoplectic fit. There is nothing more that can be done here tonight.”
“My goodness!” said Lady Pickney. “And I thought nothing exciting ever happened in the country. What news shall I have to tell when word of tonight’s business gets out! Two dead in one summer!”
Althea looked back at Mr. Gregson curled up on the floor, and felt a rush of pity. “No, Lady Pickney, you will not spread this tidbit of gossip, if you please. I think that this matter would be best handled quietly for all of the parties concerned, including our wonderful host. Promise me your discretion, and I will give you an even better piece of news.”
Lady Pickney hesitated a moment, as if considering the matter, and then sighed. “Well, I suppose you are right. It is a bit sordid, after all. So what is this exciting news?”
Norwich stood and addressed the crowd, “Only that Lady Trent has consented to be my wife, and we shall be married as soon as may be arranged.”
Lady Pickney clapped her hands together. “Oh, I knew it! How exciting! And to think I was here to witness it! All the London biddies will be so jealous. You have no idea.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Althea sat at her desk in the library, looking out through the window to her right, over the lawn to the copse of trees. Her son Arthur was happily at play with several of the spaniel puppies recently delivered of Buttons, the dog that was a descendant of a spaniel originally given to her by her father. She should have been attending to her business – the most exclusive wedding the area had seen was only a week away – and there was much left to do.
At least, the initial meeting between Norwich and her son had been got through without incident. Norwich had made an effort to be agreeable. He had brought with him a gift of a new translation of the Odyssey, which was immediately accepted with pleasure. Althea, who knew her son better than anyone, had some hope that, after this initial promising meeting, Arthur would come to esteem and perhaps even love him.
Norwich’s mother had taken the news of the engagement with a wary amount of joy. It was clear, however, that the location of the ceremony left much to be desired. While she never went so far as to criticize Dettamoor Park in Althea’s hearing, her looks of disdain gave her away. This made Althea surmise that Norwich had not seen fit to explain to his mother the exact provenance of his new bride. If the wife of a baronet were not good enough for her son, then the daughter of a physician certainly would not meet with the duchess’ approbation. As Althea didn’t feel that the qualms of the mother were enough to dissuade her from marrying the son, she tried to put it out of her mind and hope for the best.
