Deadly Engagement: A Georgian Historical Mystery (Alec Halsey Crimance) (18 page)

Alec took a moment to reply for he was regarding her with an expression Selina found hard to interpret. She was uncertain if what she had said had angered or confused him. He went to speak, changed his mind and with lips pressed firmly together took a quick turn along the rotted planks of the pier. When he came back he said in a level voice, “Were you able to speak with Emily about what happened to her last night?”

“Yes. We may all rest easy,” she said calmly. “From what she described, and indeed from what she did not say, she was not raped—”

“Thank God.”

“—but I am convinced that was the intent. She was extremely fortunate that someone or something disturbed her attacker, causing him to flee before he had a chance to truly hurt her.”

“My valet, perhaps, when he entered the bedchamber? Although, he says Emily was alone in the room, save poor Jenny dead at the foot of the bed.”

“From what I could glean from Emily’s halting confidences, when she retired for the evening she and Jenny sat for awhile in Jenny’s rooms. Emily complained of the headache and the last time she remembers speaking with Jenny was to ask for a headache powder before dozing on Jenny’s bed. When she woke she was alone. She has a vague recollection that she was woken by a loud thud. That’s when she went through to her bedchamber. The room was in darkness, an unusual circumstance, and she was grabbed and—You know the rest…”

“Did she mention the chambermaid?”

“No. Obviously the little wretch was playing truant.” Selina sighed. “Perhaps she saw something but is too frightened to speak for fear of losing her place, or worse, ending up like Jenny? Perhaps that’s why Jenny was attacked? She saw the intruder lurking about the servant stairs or in the bedchamber? Oh! Emily did confide one piece of information which should help you narrow the field.”

“Yes?” he asked expectantly.

“Her attacker wore a wig. In the struggle she dislodged it. He has a shaved head.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes. You don’t look particularly impressed. The poor girl is still in shock. And she doesn’t want to go over and over that night ever again. I don’t blame her. To glean that much information took all my persuasion.”

“I’m not ungrateful,” he apologized. “It’s just that the attacker’s preference for a wig is not much to go on. After all, every gentleman in London with pretensions to being a gentleman shaves his head and wears a wig.” He shrugged. “I suppose it means we can discount most of the servants. Oh, and you can let me off the hook.”

Selina flushed up angrily. “You?” she retorted. “How dare you think I’d ever suspect you! What a
detestable
thing to say!” She picked up her petticoats and stormed off up the pier toward the riverbank. “I thought you knew me better than that, but obviously you’ve made a point of forgetting! As for your outrageous suggestion that I encouraged such an odious toad as your brother—Oh, damn you!”

After a stunned moment he followed her. “Be careful! Watch your step! Selina! Wait! The boards… They’re unsafe! You’ll twist an ankle!”

“No, don’t touch me! I’ll make my own way!” She kept walking, barely able to see through tears fueled by an angry rage that was wholly unexpected but not inexplicable. “I’m not afraid of Thames water!” she grumbled and just as she had crossed the worst of the splintered and broken planks a protruding rusty nail snagged her under-petticoats and she tripped and lost her balance. She gasped, anticipating the rush of cold water, the reeds razor sharp against her skin, when suddenly she was caught about the waist and lifted up into the air before even a shoe had a chance to break the surface of the water.

Alec swung her up over his shoulder in a manner she found both undignified and exhilarating and continued along the pier, despite her protests that he put her down instantly, until they had reached the riverbank and he had both feet on firm land. He then swung her down off his shoulder but did not let her go.

She collapsed against his chest laughing. “Brute! Oh, my head. You’ve made me dizzy!”

“It’s your own fault,” he said loftily, trying not to laugh and holding her close. “Be still a moment,” he said softly, breathing in the lovely floral scent lingering in her disordered hair. “The sensation will soon pass.”

She closed her eyes and felt better for it, content to be still in his arms and listen to the thud of his strong heart through the linen shirt and embroidered silk waistcoat. They stood there for many minutes until Alec shifted slightly, the sun hot on the back of his navy-blue frockcoat.

“We should return to the house before we’re missed,” he said quietly and picked up the gossamer fichu that had loosened from her shoulders and floated to his feet in the grass.

She put out a hand for it but he carefully folded the fabric and gently arranged it across her shoulders. She tilted her chin and kept her gaze on his strong handsome face with its aquiline nose, square chin, and blue eyes so deep that in daylight they looked as coal-black as his head of unruly curls. He was smiling down at her as he tied the fichu over her bosom but his smile suddenly dropped into a frown and he let go of the material as if it was poisonous to the touch and took a step backward. She wondered what had happened for so sudden a change to come over him and then she knew. Without the fichu the welts on her white translucent skin were starkly evident. Unthinking of her to forget to pin the gossamer fabric firmly back into place. She quickly covered her breasts and secured the brooch in place. When she looked up he was deathly pale and shaking.

“What is it?” she asked in alarm and touched his sleeve.

He hung his head, a curl falling across his forehead, and looked away, knuckles white in clenched fists. “God help me, Selina,” he murmured in a broken voice. “I didn’t know…
I didn’t know
…”

“Please. It’s over. That’s all that matters.”

“I’m—I’m sorry,” he whispered in a dry throat. “Dear God, I’m so sorry.”

She made him look at her and smiled reassuringly up into his damp blue eyes only to receive a severe shock. What she saw was so unexpected and so unwanted that she was instantly utterly miserable. “You pity me?” she said in a small voice filled with wonderment, a hand to her white throat. “You want to offer me sympathy? Damn you!
Damn you
. Ignore me, reject me, hate me; think of me what you will,” she lashed out angrily, “but don’t pity me!” and she ran off down the path towards the new pier, leaving him by the river, wanting to be as far away from him as possible.

He did not attempt to follow her. Instead he sank down into the long grass and lay there, staring up into a cloudless sky, marveling at the twists and turns one’s life took. He too had received a shock just now: the shock realization that what had started out as a small nagging doubt begun on the stairs of St. Neots House when he and Selina had collided, had, in the space of a few quiet moments with her in his arms, grown into a clear-sighted conviction that he had been on the verge of making the greatest mistake of his life. The consequences did not bear thinking about. Now he had to make amends, to Emily, to Selina, and ultimately to himself.

Sir Cosmo met Alec as he came wandering across the south lawn, frockcoat slung over one shoulder and his shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbows. Sir Cosmo carried a croquet mallet but he wasn’t part of the game taking place on the lawn below the terrace. He had excused himself the moment he saw Selina crossing the lawn from the direction of the river in a whirlwind of petticoats and determination, but she had fobbed him off with the lame excuse of having a headache and run into the house, causing the raising of several eyebrows which lounged on the terrace. Sir Cosmo knew Selina had never suffered a headache in her life so he wasn’t surprised when the headache had a name. Alec came across the lawn from precisely the same direction as Selina and only ten minutes behind her.

Sir Cosmo had spent the morning since the incident in the breakfast room trying to extract any gossip he could about the happenings of the previous evening. No one seemed to know anything except that Emily’s maid had broken her neck. As for Delvin’s heated accusations thrown at his brother’s head, Sir Cosmo’s brain was still reeling in shocked disbelief. His own heated outburst at Alec, out in the rain on the terrace, made him decidedly sheepish to be alone in his friend’s company and thus when he approached him he felt rather awkward and school-boyish.

“Can we talk?” he asked, tossing the croquet mallet aside and falling into step beside his friend.

“Come up to the house. I need a drink.”

“How—how are the punts coming along?”

“There’s a lot of sawing and hammering, if that means progress.”

“Aunt Olivia’s spent a sunken treasure on the fireworks alone. Bound to be a spectacle.”

Alec went up the terrace steps ahead of him and was met by Neave carrying a silver salver holding two glasses and a bottle of burgundy. The butler hovered, a significant glance at Sir Cosmo.

“Excuse us a moment, Cosmo,” said Alec, stepping aside with the butler. “Was the chambermaid able to tell you anything?”

“I am sorry to say, sir, the girl remains stubbornly silent about her comings and goings last night. She says one thing but then if you press her she changes her story. If you ask me, sir, I’d say she was up to no good out in the shrubbery with one of the lads instead of being about her duties.”

“That explains her garbled explanations. Keep pressing her. See if you can find out who shared the shrubbery with her. And what of the footmen in that particular section of the house, what did they have to say?”

“There were only two at that hour, sir. They are adamant they saw no one out of the ordinary. That is, they saw only Miss Jenny come and go along the main passageway.”

“What about the servant stair? Where does it lead?”

“Up to Old Nurse’s room. It’s above Miss Emily’s apartments, sir. And down to the billiard room and a passageway that runs to the kitchen.”

“Billiard room? Rather odd, isn’t it, for the Billiard room to be below Miss Emily’s apartment?”

“That it is, sir. It’s on account of the fire that happened while you were abroad.”

“Fire? In what was the Billiard room before this one?”

“That’s right, sir. Burnt the room clear out. Nothing but a shell. So Her Grace had what was the old music room fixed up as the Billiard room for the gentlemen here for the weekend party.”

“How was the fire started?”

The butler coughed. “No one knows, sir. But Her Grace is of the opinion that perhaps one of Lord Andrew’s cheroots might’ve done the trick…”

Alec put up his brows but said nothing. He took the bottle and two glasses. “Did you ensure Miss Emily’s bedchamber remained untouched?”

“Yes, sir. I posted a footman at the passageway to Miss Emily’s rooms and had the servant door at the bottom of the stairs bolted and padlocked. No one’s been in there since Dr. Oakes, sir.”

“Good. Any news from other quarters?”

“Not as yet, sir. One’s own servants are much more… malleable.”

“I imagine they must be. Thank you, Neave. If I’m wanted I’ll be in the new Billiard room. Bring me the key to the padlock. I may take a look in on Miss Emily’s bedchamber, but that’s for your ears only, Neave.”

The butler bowed with satisfaction, gratified to be in Mr. Halsey’s confidence.

The Billiard room was deserted and in darkness, the heavy curtains drawn against the afternoon sun. Sir Cosmo flung open a window to remove the smell of stale wine and cheroots. Several cues were leaning carelessly against the table and on the window seat were two empty bottles of claret and three glasses holding varying amounts of unfinished wine; flung in a corner, a crumpled frockcoat, obviously forgotten in the heat of drunken competition. Sir Cosmo shrugged his shoulders at the laxness of the Duchess’s servants and positioned the three billiard balls on the green baize felt, eager to have a game.

Yet, when Alec immediately crossed to the servant door cut into the wallpapered paneling and disappeared Sir Cosmo should’ve guessed: a game of billiards was the last thing on his friend’s mind. But Alec returned moments later, satisfied that the door to the servant stair leading to Emily’s bedchamber had indeed been bolted and padlocked. He poured himself and Sir Cosmo a glass of burgundy from the bottle he’d taken from Neave and handed a wine glass to his friend.

“Thanks. Could do with a good drop,” said Sir Cosmo. “Not been feeling myself this morning. Can’t hold a decent conversation. Played a foul game of croquet. I’m all jumps and sweat. Selina ignored me just now. Aunt Olivia is in hiding with Emily, keeping their own counsel. Damned annoying for the rest of us…” He watched Alec set the bottle of burgundy on the window seat and said abruptly. “Damn it, Alec! I’m Emily’s closest cousin. I’ve a right to know what happened last night; if what Ned said in the breakfast room has a speck of truth to it!”

Briefly, Alec confided the events of the previous evening, adding, “I hope Neave can squeeze some information out of the servants, and my own efforts turn up something new or I may be forced to ask Emily to give an account of last night, and I am loath to do that, particularly after Selina’s talk with her didn’t reveal all that much.”