The Ranleigh Question, page 6
part #2 of Lady Althea Mystery Series
“Yes, I suppose so. Then again, the baron’s death appears to have been an accidental drowning, so he couldn’t have been implicated anyway.”
“Is that what the apothecary determined?”
“I assume so. I was not present when he was called or when he examined the body.”
“No, of course not, a gentle lady such as yourself wouldn’t be. I am sorry, Lady Trent, for this line of most improper questions, but I had been told that you were of a scientific bent and so assumed you would not take my impertinence amiss. It is such a strange series of events, and coming so soon upon our arrival, I will admit to no little curiosity.”
“No need to apologize. I perfectly understand. I too have been muddling over the baron’s death. If someone had only been there at the time, it might have been prevented.”
Althea was then called away to join Jane at the whist table, and so she excused herself and left Batterslea to the questionable charms of his wife.
Norwich had kept his distance all evening. When Althea climbed the stairs to her chamber in Jane’s company, Jane said, “Have you and Norwich had a falling out over the handsome new baron?”
“No, of course not. The duke is merely respecting my wishes as to the privacy of our engagement. We can’t be seen to be too familiar.”
“Be careful you do not ask for too much distance or he may desire to end the engagement altogether.”
“As Sir Neville has ended his because you have kept him at arm’s length?”
Jane smiled. “Impudent child! I will leave you to your business, but mark my word, Norwich is not the kind of man to be trifled with.”
“I have only ever been honest with him, as well he knows.”
Miss Dorkins assisted Althea out of her dinner dress and into her nightdress and wrapper, and then Althea sent her away so that she might have a moment of quiet reflection with the latest Philosophical Transactions. There was a very fine article about the movement of the heavenly bodies that had caught her attention enough for a second, more detailed, reading.
She had not advanced very far when she heard a faint tapping at her door. She rose with a candle and then went quietly across the room. “Who is it?” she whispered through the keyhole.
But instead of a response the door opened quickly and Norwich stepped inside the room. He was still dressed for the evening in his breeches and coat. Althea stepped backward, clutching her wrapper across her chest with her other hand, feeling suddenly very exposed. “My lord, this is most irregular.”
He shut the door behind him. “We shall have to keep our voices down. Is your abigail with you?”
Althea indicated the door to the ante room. “I assume that she has now retired to bed. But what are you about coming to me at night like this?”
“Don’t tell me you are going to be missish. I cannot have private speech with you when you hold me off in public.”
“I am only trying to keep our engagement between us. I would not want it said that I was throwing myself at you.”
“No, merely making up to Cruikshank.”
“Just as you were making yourself agreeable to the ravishing Lady Batterslea?”
“It was polite conversation.”
“So was mine, except that I did try to get more information about the late baron out of him.”
“So your flirting had a purpose? How very noble.”
Althea gave him a look. “You wished to have private speech with me, Your Grace?”
He smiled, the tension easing from around his eyes. “Robert. You look beautiful with your hair down like that. I would have told you as much at the masquerade ball when you wore it that way with your beetle costume, except that I couldn’t be sure you wouldn’t have taken it amiss.”
“I’m not sure why a compliment to my hair would have been more objectionable than the very indecent proposition you actually did make.”
“And what proposal was that?”
“To be your mistress. Or have you regretted your words so completely that you have forgotten them?”
He chuckled. “No, but you know I want you for my wife. Unless you’d rather start with a discreet arrangement first? I will admit that seeing you here clothed only in a nightdress does make me imagine the possibilities.”
Althea’s face flushed. “What did you wish to speak to me about?”
“George arrives late tomorrow afternoon.”
“So soon?”
“Apparently, the death of the baron is of greater import to the government than I had thought. George did not give me the particulars, but he wants to speak with us when he arrives.”
“Do you think he will arrive before the new Lord Tunwell leaves?”
“Unlikely, unless Cruikshank delays his journey. Why do you ask?”
“Lord Batterslea said several things to me this evening that made me wonder if Cruikshank might have had something to do with his uncle’s death.”
“But he was in London,” Norwich said.
“That is what I had understood, but what if he appeared to come from London, but instead came here ahead and murdered his poor uncle?”
“Glad to see you are finally coming to see the kind of man he is. But why should my brother want to see him?”
“I don’t know – Cruikshank might also be connected in some way with that piece of paper,” Althea said.
“If Cruikshank were a spy, he would not likely be facing a debtor’s prison.”
“True.”
“Come Althea, it may just as easily have been an accident as anything else. The paper we found may not be in any way connected. We would be wise to let George handle the matter.”
“Yes, I suppose you are correct.”
There was a long pause. Norwich looked at her and then, before she had time to react, leaned down and brushed his lips against hers, in the barest hint of a kiss. “Good night, my love.”
He straightened up and walked quickly to the door, closing it silently behind him.
CHAPTER TEN
Althea awoke early, as was her custom, and, after Miss Dorkins helped her to dress, she made her way down the stairs, determined to walk the grounds a little before breakfast and explore the scene of Lord Tunwell’s death in case any new theory might occur to her. At the entrance of the house, she encountered Cruikshank, preparing to get an early start on his journey.
“Good morning, Lady Trent. How lovely to have you as a farewell party. I fear the rest of the household has been desiring my absence ere long.”
“Well, to be perfectly frank, I had no notion you were to leave at this hour and merely meant to take a stroll before breakfast, as was my wont while at Dettamoor Park. My nature inclines me to mornings, you see.”
Cruikshank smiled. “Your honesty disarms my sarcasm. I hope that when I have settled this business of my uncle, I may return to Ranleigh to enjoy the delights of the estate.”
“Sir Neville has given the invitation. I wish you well on your journey, and hope that the somber nature of your errand causes you to engage in further sober reflection.” Althea extended her hand to him as a gesture that the conversation was at an end.
He took her hand and kissed it with more feeling than was seemly. “Oh, I’m sure it must, Lady Trent, I’m sure it must.”
He just means to tease me, Althea said to herself, as she left the close garden paths around the house and headed off towards the pond. And set Norwich’s back up.
In the light of the fine summer morning, she had trouble considering Cruikshank as anything more than a spoiled young man who enjoyed the shock his antics produced in the minds of the more upstanding members of society. He certainly didn’t seem the type to drown his uncle, a task that would have required cunning and tremendous strength. It was clear from the amount of plant matter attached to his clothes that the late baron had struggled once he was in the water – whether that was because he couldn’t swim or because of the active intervention of another person remained to be seen.
Once Althea reached the pond, she made her way to the location of the drowning. The rushes appeared broken and matted as before, but the watery mud of the marsh had filled in the spaces of the baron’s last footsteps. She noted with approval that the Ranleigh pond had a wide variety of vegetation encompassing multiple species of bull rushes, grasses and aquatic lily pads. There were even banded horsetail stalks with their pale rings, a perfect environment for all manner of insects and other pond wildlife.
A faint chirp caught her ear and she bent down to see a small speckled green frog, like those she had studied in the pond of Dettamoor Park, perched on a horsetail stem. She had meant to do further study on the life cycle of these frogs, but her sojourn to London had cut her study short. She bent over to examine the frog at closer range, hoping perhaps to catch sight of a glossy accumulation of eggs that would give her further information about its life cycle and mating habits. Perhaps she should have brought her notes from Dettamoor for a point of comparison, just as Jane had suggested. An examination of the frog’s life cycle would make an excellent, albeit dull, second manuscript for the Royal Society.
She moved the horsetail stems apart with her gloved hand. No eggs seemed present in the watery muck, but Althea did notice a small white object tangled in amongst the leaves. She removed her glove so as to avoid ruining yet more clothing with the pond mud and picked the object up. It appeared to be a comfit. Althea raised it to her nose. An almond-flavored comfit by the smell of it. Odd, but not determinative of anything in particular, except that some visitor to the pond was fond of almond comfits to cleanse the breath and clear the palate of distasteful favors. She was about to throw it back, but then thought better of it. It might prove to be a clue of some sort. She tucked it into her reticule, and then decided to continue her walk around the circumference of the pond.
When she returned to the house, the breakfast parlor was filled with animated chatter. Lady Pickney was holding forth with the latest town scandal. She had eager listeners in Mr. Smithson and Mrs. Gregson.
“And then Lady Plimpton was forced to acknowledge that she had been with Lord Haverford when she said she was on a trip to Scotland. It was most shocking, and poor Lord Plimpton is beside himself. It will end in divorce, but whether Haverford will marry her, one can only guess.”
“It is a disgraceful business,” Mrs. Gregson said. “Haverford is nothing but a wanton libertine, and Lady Plimpton is worse for falling into his clutches.”
“Yes, I suppose,” Lady Pickney said, “but so diverting. The only thing I regret about the summer is the sad lack of diverting stories. Barring the poor baron, nothing very exciting ever seems to happen in the summer. At least, nothing worth repeating when one returns to town.”
Jane gave Althea a sharp look of inquiry.
“I have been on a brisk walk,” Althea informed the group, breaking in upon Lady Pickney. “I find that it is very healthful for the digestion, and there are such lovely paths here at Ranleigh.”
“So true,” Mrs. Gregson replied, now seeming happy to change the subject. “I had not realized you were such a determined walker, Lady Trent. I too find walking to be delightful exercise. We must walk together some afternoon, if the sun is not too fierce.”
“I should like that very much,” Althea replied, serving herself some eggs from the chafing dish. “Of course, if anyone else desires to walk with us, we would be only too happy.”
“Oh no, I will leave you two to your promenades. I fear my slow pace would only hold you back,” Lady Pickney said.
“I find the summer sun exhausting,” added Mr. Smithson in a languid voice.
“I had thought that perhaps we could take a tour of Ranleigh on horseback. There are some delightful woods and streams beyond the south pasture. That is, if the ladies would not find an easy canter over the countryside too strenuous,” Sir Neville said.
There was general approval of the scheme, and after breakfast, Jane and Althea retired to their rooms to change into their riding habits. They met Miss Dorkins, who was full of energy at the prospect of assisting Jane and Althea into what she termed were the finest riding costumes she had ever laid eyes on.
“Sir Neville has assured me that he has just the horses for our tastes,” Jane said, as Miss Dorkins fastened a deep green spencer jacket over her rose habit. Jane’s spencer was trimmed with lace dyed to match the rose fabric of her habit, and the softness of the lace contrasted with Jane’s naturally severe aspect. It made her seem younger, more like the girl who had first come into society. She topped the outfit with a fetching bonnet that framed her face.
“Tame, in other words,” replied Althea. “I fear that my sad lack of horsemanship shall give a lie to my now elevated position. My, Jane, you are teasing poor Sir Neville with that outfit. He will fall more deeply in love than ever.”
“I could say the same to you.”
Althea’s dress took the opposite tack to Jane’s, emphasizing her fine features and small neat figure with a structured blue dress adorned with gold braiding, as if Althea were some Amazon commander queen. She topped it with a shako style bonnet that she rakishly wore at an angle.
The Dettamoor Park ladies descended the stairs to find that their party had been augmented by Mr. Gregson and Lord Pickney and the duke. There was an appreciative gleam in Norwich’s eyes as his gaze met Althea’s, but he did not attempt to engage her in conversation. Sir Neville beckoned the party outside, where grooms had brought the horses around. Althea and Jane, who had not brought any of their own horses other than the rather slow creatures that had pulled their carriage from Dettamoor Park, waited until the others had accommodated themselves and then allowed Sir Neville to lead them to the mounting block. A groom had reined in two horses, a black mare with white patches and a chestnut pony. Althea selected the pony, a pony being more appropriate for her stature.
“And what is his name?” she said to the groom, after he helped her up and she had settled her skirts over her ankles.
“Andalusia, madam.”
“A very elegant name for a simple pony.”
“He came with that name. Was a Spanish gentleman what owned him before.”
“Oh, how very interesting. I shall have to ask Sir Neville about his history.”
The group set off at an easy canter. Althea noted with some surprise that Mr. Smithson had brought with him a coal black thoroughbred that could have easily thrown a much larger man. Smithson, however, seemed perfectly at home on the animal’s back and galloped ahead of the others, handling the high-strung animal with an ease that seemed alien to his normally timid demeanor.
Norwich managed to hold his large chestnut in check enough to fall in with Mrs. Gregson and Althea at the rear of the pack.
Mrs. Gregson’s red hair was set off admirably by a dark green riding habit with a trim cap adorned with egret feathers. She addressed Norwich. “ I wonder that Your Grace does not wish to gallop ahead with Mr. Gregson and Lord and Lady Pickney. Your horse was not made to plod along.”
“I sincerely hope that that is not a hint for me to leave your charming company. My horse will do as I tell him, and I find a gentle trot is all I desire this morning.”
“Of course we do not wish to chase you away. I have just been saying to Lady Trent that Ranleigh is rightly famous for its gardens and walks.”
“You have been to Ranleigh before?” Norwich said.
“Sir Neville has been kind enough to invite us for several summers. He always has such charming guests. I see that Lord and Lady Batterslea have declined to join us this morning. They joined us last summer, soon after their marriage.”
“I heard Batterslea say that his lady was indisposed with a headache, and he thought it better not to leave her in that state,” Norwich said.
“Ah, they are still young in their marriage and cannot bear to be apart, I’m sure. They will think differently when they have been married for several years, will they not, Lady Trent?” Mrs. Gregson replied.
“Perhaps. I nursed Lord Trent through several illnesses, and so I am not a fair judge.”
“Oh, illnesses yes, I understand. One does not desert a spouse in illness, but trifling headaches are not the same thing,” Mrs. Gregson said.
“For some persons headaches are the very definition of illness and they suffer dreadfully,” Althea replied, and then, to smooth over any awkwardness, “But I do agree that the longer one is married, the more one changes.”
“In what way did you change?” Norwich said.
Althea and Mrs. Gregson looked at him, but he seemed impervious to the suggestion that his question was impertinent. Althea thought it better to answer than to challenge him, so she said, “I was married very young, so I suppose you could say that I grew into womanhood. Fortunately, Sir Arthur was a very indulgent husband who managed my girlish whims with finesse.”
Mrs. Gregson smiled. “He sounds like the perfect husband! I have often observed that a kind, steady husband is worth ten handsome rakes. Young girls would do well to follow your example, Lady Trent. No end of trouble can occur when a girl marries late.”
“Our marriage was a happy one,” Althea agreed.
They cantered on some distance and met up with Lord and Lady Pickney. After some desultory conversation about the weather and the countryside, Norwich managed to separate Althea enough from the group for private conversation.
“I doubt very much that you had any girlish whims in need of management,” he said.
“I’m not sure that I should dignify that remark with a response, as the question that proceeded it was most improper.”
“I have a reputation for bluntness. Mrs. Gregson will not think the worse of me for it.”
“And what if I think the worse of you?”
“Then I will beg of your forgiveness rather than stifle my own curiosity. How is it that a man like Sir Arthur was able to prevail upon a clever girl of eighteen to marry him?”
Althea colored up at the compliment. “Sir Arthur was very persuasive, in his way.”
“Tell me how he went about it.”
“But, dear sir, I am not the same green girl I was then. The promise of a comfortable life as a gentlewoman and the lure of science are not what they were to me when I had no idea of my future.”
