The Ranleigh Question, page 4
part #2 of Lady Althea Mystery Series
“Sorry to disturb you, ma’am, but Sir Neville has ordered fresh flowers for the house.”
“Then I am the one disturbing you. Please pay me no mind. Sir Neville has such a lovely garden that I couldn’t help but come out here to enjoy the morning in it.”
“It is indeed mighty fine,” he replied.
“Have you been at Ranleigh a long time Mr. —”
“Ogden. They call me Ogden, ma’am.” He blushed furiously and looked down.
Althea smiled encouragingly. “A long time, Mr. Ogden?”
“All my life, ma’am. My family has always served the Tabards.”
“I see. Then you are the perfect person to tell me everything I want to know about the ornamental pond.”
“Yes ma’am, I helped dig it out.”
The next half hour passed very pleasantly as Althea received all sorts of interesting information about the construction of the pond, the planting of reeds and other aquatic specimens, and the stocking of it with fish in case some guest of the Tabard family was inclined to be an angler. In between this conversation, Althea and Ogden discussed which roses to cut and how to cut them so as not to damage the plant.
Finally, Althea felt that she had detained Ogden enough for one morning and returned back to the house and her breakfast. Jane had come down and was seated beside Lady Pickney, who was just tucking into a large steak.
“I had wondered where you got to,” Jane said. “Did you have a nice walk?”
Althea turned to Lady Pickney, “Miss Trent knows my habits well enough by now to know that I must have some activity as soon as I am up. Today, I had the pleasure of wandering through the rose garden. It is simply delightful.”
Lady Pickney nodded. “I have no doubt. I will have to get Lord Pickney to take me around the estate. Or perhaps we can convince our host to organize a tour in his curricle, as I am no great walker.”
Althea selected some eggs and a piece of toast from the sideboard and then sat down opposite Jane. “I’m sure such a scheme could be arranged, although perhaps it is too soon for merriment. When does Mr. Cruikshank arrive?”
“I am told he comes this afternoon. Lord and Lady Batterslea were also to arrive today, but heaven knows if they will come now. Miss Trent, do you know?”
Jane refused to be trapped. “I am not in Sir Neville’s confidence, and so I could not tell you.”
“Well, if they cry off because poor Lord Tunwell had an accident, it will be too bad. However, I do hope Mr. Cruikshank won’t be staying more than is necessary. His presence in this house cannot be considered a beneficial one,” Lady Pickney said.
Althea smiled. “But surely Miss Trent and I are above temptation of that sort, and clearly your ladyship cannot be in any danger of succumbing to the charms of a rake, however handsome.”
Lady Pickney returned the smile. “No indeed. It is merely I fear some unpleasant behavior on Mr. Cruikshank’s part, for who knows what tricks a man like that may get up to holed up in the country with a sedate group of visitors?”
“Indeed,” Althea replied, “who knows?” But she was more curious than ever to make Mr. Cruikshank’s acquaintance.
Later that afternoon, Althea’s curiosity was satisfied when a dashing phaeton rolled into the curling drive of Ranleigh, pulled by a pair of high-stepping gray horses. Mr. Cruikshank descended with a flourish, his many-caped greatcoat flying behind him. He doffed his high crowned beaver hat to the Dettamoor Park ladies, who stood in solidarity with Sir Neville in his time of trial in front of the house. Jane looked at Althea with raised eyebrows, but Althea made no answering remark. Her eyes could not be moved from the face of the most beautiful man she had ever beheld.
It was as if she were staring at the face of an angel painted on the ceiling of a church. His skin was porcelain fair and he had long golden curls, faintly tinged with red, that hung around his face. His eyes were a clear blue, Althea noticed, and his mouth was so well-formed that Althea had to force her eyes away from it. I can see now why Mr. Cruikshank is so dangerous, she thought. Too bad the face of an angel conceals the heart of a devil.
“So, I finally meet the famous Lady Trent,” Cruikshank said, with a saucy smile.
Althea, who was no simpering miss, replied calmly, “Unfortunately, the circumstances are none too pleasant, sir. You have my deepest sympathies,” and then after a pause, “I trust your journey was not too difficult?”
“The fatigues of the journey are amply rewarded by the sight of your ladyship. You know, you are quite as pretty as they say, Lady Trent.”
Althea refused to be baited. “I am unaware of the rumors, so I don’t know how to give that a proper reply. I will, however, take that as a compliment, if it was meant as one.”
Cruikshank’s smile grew broader. “Oh it was, Lady Trent.”
“Then do please join us inside for some refreshment.”
“Yes, yes,” Sir Neville added. “You are very welcome at Ranleigh.”
Mr. Cruikshank’s reception by the other members of the party was quite chilly, however. He received the faintest of bows from the Gregsons and cold nods from Lord and Lady Pickney. Mr. Smithson merely extended him a bored greeting. Silence then reigned in the rose drawing room. Althea busied herself with pouring Mr. Cruikshank a cup of tea and handed it to him, saying, “Should you desire some cake, Lord Tunwell?”
“Why, yes.” Cruikshank surveyed the room with an air of benevolence. “I believe you are the first person to address me by my new title, Lady Trent. I must say it sounds very well, don’t you think?”
“I am sure you will grow accustomed to it,” she replied. “One slice of cake or two?”
“Certainly two. One cannot stop to eat when one is racing to retrieve one’s deceased uncle.”
Sir Neville, trying, for the sake of propriety, to say something before Cruikshank could continue this inappropriate line of conversation, made a remark on the weather. Jane joined in, and between the two of them, filled the room with bubbly chatter about the weather and the prospect of pulling together a riding party to Summit Hill, a local landmark. Althea encouraged them with bits of her own observations on the rose garden and other pleasures of Ranleigh. Slowly but surely, the others joined in, until Cruikshank seemed to be quite forgotten.
Mr. Cruikshank watched them all over the rim of his teacup with a faint curl of the lip and an expression of boredom for twenty minutes or so. Then, perhaps perceiving that there was no end to Sir Neville’s conversation, got up and said, “I suppose it can’t be helped. Take me to the body. If the present company will spare me, I must pay my respects to my dear uncle.”
There was a gasp from Mrs. Gregson and a suppressed giggle from Lady Pickney. Sir Neville bounded out of his chair, his corset creaking so loudly that Althea thought the whalebones would surely break, to politely hustle the unwanted visitor out of the room.
When the extraction of Mr. Cruikshank was complete, Mr. Gregson said, “What an impudent young puppy! I have no patience with the man.”
“Did you see the color of his waistcoat? I would never have dared to wear pink with a green coat. It is positively monstrous,” said Mr. Smithson, with a pained expression.
Lady Pickney’s giggle turned into a full throated laugh. “I will give him his due, he does know how to liven up this party.”
“Really, my dear,” said her husband, “I don’t know that the house party needed Mr. Cruikshank’s appearance for that.”
“Still, one must make allowances for Mr. Cruikshank. He has suffered the loss of his uncle,” said Althea.
“Best thing that could have happened to the man. Otherwise, he’d be clapped in irons in a debtor’s prison,” said Mr. Gregson.
“I’m sure it can’t be as bad as that,” said Jane.
“It very likely is,” Lady Pickney said. “The baron’s death is quite timely. Still, it will not be easy to get the body buried at Tunwell Court. It is practically in Scotland.”
Sometime later, Althea, who had taken the opportunity to explore the grounds of Ranleigh once again and was just coming back to the front of the house, saw several men hoisting an unwieldy coffin covered with black fabric into a large farm cart. They were supervised by Mr. Cruikshank and Sir Neville. Once that was accomplished, two of the men climbed up and took the reins. When the cart had lumbered up the drive, Althea approached Cruikshank and Sir Neville. She noticed that Mr. Cruikshank’s green coat was now adorned with a black armband.
“Lady Trent,” Sir Neville said, “we have now completed this sad business. I have begged Mr. Cruikshank to stay another evening before he makes his way to Tunwell Court for the funeral services. One cannot travel so much in one day. It is too fatiguing on the body.”
“Indeed, I think that is wise,” Althea said.
“Have you been walking the grounds?” Mr. Cruikshank asked.
Althea nodded. “I am accounted a great walker and cannot stand to be cooped up in a small room on such a fine day.”
“Then let me take a turn with you. Sir Neville was just telling me that there are some fine walks beyond the pond. But then, perhaps you do not wish to visit the pond. I have been told that you were the enterprising person who found my late uncle.”
“I am not injured by the experience, I assure you.”
When they were out of earshot of Sir Neville, Althea said, “Let me take this moment to express my condolences once again. The death of one’s uncle in such a fashion must be terribly distressing.”
“Inconvenient, certainly, but not distressing. I think I shall like being Lord Tunwell much better than I liked being Mr. Cruikshank. Besides, my uncle and I never got along. He was too stiff and I was too rebellious.”
“And do you feel that having the benefits of the title shall curb some of the rebellion?”
“Undoubtedly. I am feeling stiffer by the minute.”
Althea chuckled. “I would take care, Lord Tunwell, that you do not use your new position to simply augment your prior habits. Money may do a great deal of harm with the wrong object.”
“Duly noted, Lady Trent. But what do you know of poverty and want? Surely you have never been kept like a puppet on a string by a stingy skinflint of an uncle.”
“No, my husband was kind and generous with me. But I did not grow up as the wife of a baronet. My father was eminently respectable, but we never lived in the style most inhabitants of London would think indispensable for happiness.”
“You intrigue me greatly, Lady Trent. What sort of life was that?”
“My father was a noted physician, sir, and dedicated his too short life to the curing of the sick and the pursuit of knowledge. Given that you now have the means, I would urge you to dedicate your life to some useful purpose.”
Mr. Cruikshank threw back his head and laughed. “So you urge me to become an honest man, do you? Unfortunately, I do not think you can turn a sinner into a saint in the space of a day, even with such an eloquent reproof. I have always done just what I shouldn’t, and if I am to be honest, I don’t see that money or a title can make much of a difference.”
“That is, of course, up to your own conscience. I merely suggest that you consider carefully before you return to London and your prior life.”
“Well, that at least I can promise. The funeral shall require me to rusticate at Tunwell Court for at least a fortnight.”
“Perhaps the country life will suit you.”
“It hasn’t yet. Every visit to Tunwell Court was an exercise in excruciating boredom. Country hours, deplorable food, and inferior company do not suit me now, and I don’t think they ever will.”
“I find the country quite delightful. And although the company may be restricted, I think that the fresh air, beautiful scenery, and healthful exercise more than make up for any defects. Besides, you have only to take on your own chef to rectify the food, invite your particular friends for company, and set your hours as you please. As long as your income will allow for a sufficient candle budget, that is.”
“Eminently practical advice, Lady Trent. Perhaps I shall take it.” They were at the pond by this time and Mr. Cruikshank pointed to the bank. “So this is where the old fellow fell in, is it?”
Althea nodded. “Just there, beyond that bend, by the bulrushes. I am not sure what made him approach so close to the water, but the bank is very slippery just there. He apparently slid in and was unable to extricate himself from the rushes. I assume that he did not know how to swim.”
Mr. Cruikshank turned to her, a slight frown on his perfect brow. “That is a little strange, for he had spent some time in the East Indies in his youth, and I particularly remember him telling me once of swimming in a river full of silver fish. But that was many years ago, when he was still a young man. No doubt he had lost his skill with the passage of time.” Mr. Cruikshank suddenly smiled. “Or he actually had the apoplexy I had wished for all those years.” He looked at Althea, perhaps to see if his remark had shocked her, but he underestimated his audience.
“That would account for it, certainly. Did your uncle have a bad heart?”
“I think I’ve mentioned that he had no heart.”
“I take that answer to mean that you were not in his confidence with regard to his state of health?”
“No, I was not. I must say, Lady Trent, you have a very singular manner. I can see now what Norwich finds so alluring. Nothing I say perturbs you in the least.”
“I think we have strayed into the one topic that will. Shall we take a turn around the pond?”
“Ah, so the gossip is correct. I have twenty guineas riding on Norwich coming up to scratch at the moment, so any information you could give me on the subject would be much appreciated.”
Althea took a deep breath, controlling her features into the mask of civility she put on with people she found impertinent. “I would not hazard a guess, I am afraid. You perhaps should ask His Grace about his future plans.”
Cruikshank’s angel face broke out in devilish smile. He grabbed Althea’s hand before she could protest and brought it to his lips. “Perhaps I should cancel the bet and make a go of it myself. I could get used to a wife.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
And then, as if by magic, he was in the water with a giant splash and a great flapping of arms. Althea turned and saw the source of this magic, a very angry Duke of Norwich.
“My lord!” she gasped, but Norwich was still addressing the soggy Cruikshank.
“And if I ever catch you so much as looking the wrong way at Lady Trent, you shall have me to answer to!”
“My lord, I don’t know that he can swim. We must not let him drown like his uncle.”
“I don’t care.”
“Do be sensible.” She looked around for something to fish Cruikshank out, and seeing a large stick laying in the grass, retrieved it. “Lord Tunwell, just grab on to the end and we will pull you out.”
Norwich grimly took the stick from her and extended it out into the pond. Cruikshank got hold of it and emerged from the pond a muddy, sopping mess. He seemed in good humor, however, and winked at Althea when Norwich couldn’t see. “I believe I have won my bet, after all.”
When he was some distance away, walking leisurely and whistling a jaunty tune, Althea turned on Norwich, “Just what are you doing here?”
“Defending your honor against the likes of the new baron. Did you want that impudent rascal to paw you like the animal he is?”
“No, of course not, but I think you know me well enough to know that I can handle myself. Now you have given him the very information that I was seeking to hide.”
“I make no apologies. You should not have been out walking alone with the likes of that fellow. You can have no idea what a man like that is capable of.”
“As you well know, my dealings with my late cousin have given me ample experience with evil disguised as respectability. At least Lord Tunwell makes no secret of his conduct. Besides, I was attempting to get him to see the error of his ways.”
“The error of his ways? Only you would think to lecture a lecherous reprobate.” Then Norwich stopped and laughed. “Oh Althea, I have missed you.” He held out his hand. “Come, my love, and cry peace.”
Althea realized for the thousandth time why he had been the most sought-after bachelor in London. There was something in the charm of his manner and the sparkle in his eye that set her heart to flutter in a most undignified manner. She looked around and, seeing that Cruikshank was some distance, put her hand in his. “We must be careful of prying eyes, my lord. I was not expecting you.”
Norwich looked at Cruikshank’s retreating figure. “I can see not.”
“But how have you left your mother and your other engagements in Bath?”
“Hang Bath. My mother will survive without me. I came straight away once I got your letter. I think you are in some danger, and it would be best if you and Jane retired to Dettamoor Park as soon as possible.”
“No, Sir Neville would never forgive us. Besides, I don’t see that the demise of the baron portends ill for us.”
“I had a visit from my brother last week and, given our previous confidence, he saw fit to inform me, among other disclosures, that the deceased Lord Tunwell was under heightened suspicion by the government. He thought I might hear something of some use. Little did I think you would be involved!”
“You should thank God I was involved, for I have something I wish to show you. Let us walk back to the house.”
Norwich extended his arm and Althea took it, conscious of how near to her he was. She could smell the faint whiff of his usual cologne and the fragrance muddled her thoughts in a way she couldn’t quite explain.
“I was the one who found the body. Well, Mr. Smithson and I, but he was too frightened to enter the water and retrieve it,” Althea said, to bring her mind back into a better course.
Norwich turned to her. “Let me anticipate the next part of the story. You entered the water to pull the body out.”
