The Ranleigh Question, page 19
part #2 of Lady Althea Mystery Series
Althea gathered her papers and set her mind back to work. She had to finish these accounts for the estate and then make sure that her affairs were in order before she and Norwich married. There were the documents from the lawyer to review. It was amazing how many documents a simple marriage could generate when there were property and estates on both sides. Her marriage to Sir Arthur had not been about anything but his desire to share in their mutual love of science. It was only later, when illness showed Sir Arthur his mortality, that lawyers had been brought in to document the terms of wedded bliss.
There was a knock at the half open door, and she looked up to see Norwich standing on the threshold, holding some papers in one hand and a small box in the other. Her heart did a strange counter beat.
“Are you much occupied at the moment?” he said.
“Nothing that cannot be interrupted.” She held up some sheaves of paper. “Just my accounts.”
“Surely someone else can assist you with those.”
“As much as I love Jane, she has never had a head for figures, and someone must take the reins of the management until my son comes of age.”
“Then perhaps these will be of interest. I took the liberty of abstracting the letters from the footman in order to have an excuse to come and see you.” He closed the door behind him and held the letters out to her.
Althea stepped out from behind her desk and came towards him. “I hope that an excuse was not necessary.”
“As you have required my entire family to join us here as a measure against impropriety, I am reduced to the basest forms of subterfuge.” He handed her the letters, but, retaining her arm, leaned down to kiss her.
She kissed him back, and would have spent several more minutes thus pleasurably engaged had the clock not struck two and recalled her to her duty. She withdrew reluctantly. “I should review my correspondence.”
He let her go. “At least one of us has the willpower to resist temptation. I have never felt the time drag on as it does until our wedding.” His voice dipped lower, so as not to be heard beyond the door. “Or more correctly, our wedding night.”
Althea looked hurriedly down at her letters so as not to betray the tumult of her emotions. “Ah, here is one from Mr. Read.” She opened it and then quickly scanned his scratchy penmanship. She looked up suddenly and regarded Norwich. “She did not confess.”
“Who?”
“Mrs. Gregson. She refused to speak to the magistrate before she took her own life and so the only account of the case was what I relayed to him. And as she is no longer alive to confirm or deny it, they have closed the matter entirely. The new Lord Tunwell is not to know of his parentage or how he came into his inheritance.”
“I am sure that was her intent all along. It was her last selfless act on his behalf. I hope, for her sake, that he begins to live in a different style than he did before.”
“Do you think he would be more likely to change if he knew the whole?” she said.
“No, the less said to him, the better. He must never know that he is not the true Lord Tunwell.”
“And yet —”
“Althea, my love, if you fret over that man’s fate any longer, I shall begin to think you had rather marry him.”
“No, of course not, sorry.” She looked back at her letters.
“Besides, I have something I wish to give you. I know that I should have produced it long ago, but I didn’t think you would be willing to marry me before the lapse of six months and so —”
Althea cut him off. “Oh my lord, how delightful. They have accepted it!”
“What?”
“The monograph on the classification of the properties of soil to be used in the detection of criminal activity! You see, every soil is different and can be classified according to its appearance. Therefore, clothing or shoes will pick up soil, and then the scientist may determine where the person has been. The Royal Society! Only think. Here Lord Aldridge says that the work presents another novel approach!” She thrust the paper at him.
He took it and scanned it and then handed it back to her, his face suddenly hard. “When were you planning to tell me that you were publishing your own work under the name of your late husband?”
His question caught her up short. “How do you know that this is not Arthur’s work?” she said defiantly.
“Because you have now published two monographs on the subject of criminal detection, and I cannot find from any of the persons here that Sir Arthur was involved with criminal detection in any form or fashion other than to peruse the Hue and Cry at his leisure when it was delivered to the house. Was he involved in fighting crime?”
“No, not precisely.”
“Whereas you have done nothing but involve yourself in one crime after another the whole of our acquaintance.”
“Well, yes, but it was the only way I could get my work published. In case you didn’t know it, the Royal Society does not accept women, no matter what their merit!”
Norwich looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. “This can’t go on.”
Althea pulled herself up to her full height. “I will not give up my work. If you cannot stomach the idea of a lady scientist, then I do not see that we can ever marry.”
There was a pregnant pause, and Althea felt her heart skip a beat.
Norwich took a deep breath and replied. “No, you misunderstand me. This can’t go on because you cannot live in your deceased husband’s shadow. It is not right. And I don’t like secrets between us. After everything we have endured, you should have trusted me.”
Althea relaxed. “I am sorry. All my life, I have longed to achieve great things in the world of science, only to be trapped by my gender. I didn’t think you would comprehend my predicament.”
“I do.” He held out the box to her. “And I know that for you these will pale in comparison to Aldridge’s gift of a published monograph, but I thought you should have them just the same. They are my betrothal gift to you.”
Althea looked at him with wonder. Truth be told, she had not thought about betrothal gifts in the rush of planning and organizing required to host a double wedding.
She cautiously took the box and opened it. There, on the bed of velvet, lay a pair of emerald earrings and a matching bracelet. “Why, these are like the ones you gave me to catch the Richmond Thief!”
“They were my grandmother’s and her mother’s before her. I had them copied for you to catch a thief, but these are the real gems.”
“Oh my. I don’t know what to say. Are you sure your family would approve?”
He smiled. “What can they say? Besides,” he gently clasped the bracelet around her wrist. “after that first stolen kiss, I could never look upon them without thinking of you.”
Althea looked down at the bracelet on her wrist. She realized that she had given little thought to what her life would be like as a duchess, and not merely the widow of a country baronet. The weight of that uncertainty suddenly hit her hard. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves and looked up. Norwich’s eyes held such an expression of warmth and affection – it was more than she ever dreamed possible in her contemplation of the future. She would worry about her new life later. “I do love you,” she said.
“And I love you, my dearest, loveliest, most brilliant, Althea.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to thank my family, especially my mother, for support and guidance. Dara, Cindy and Kajal also deserve recognition for their editorial assistance. Thanks also to my book group, viewers of Marshfield TV, and the fans around the country who have made The Richmond Thief such a success. And finally, I want to thank my colleagues and friends at Security Health Plan for their continued support of my writing career.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lisa Boero is a lawyer and moonlighting novelist. She is the author of the Nerdy Girls series of mysteries, featuring face-blind detective Liz Howe. Boero’s third book, Hell Made Easy, is a dark comedy about lawyers in a battle of wits with the devil. The Richmond Thief and The Ranleigh Question, which follow the trials of the indomitable Lady Althea, are the product of the author’s infatuation with Jane Austen and the Forensic Files.
Boero lives in Marshfield, Wisconsin, along with her family, and can be contacted at www.lisaboero.com.
Lisa Boero, The Ranleigh Question
