A Fine Caprice - A Regency Romance (27 page)

‘I don’t know,’ Caprice admitted. ‘But I wouldn’t put anything past her.’

‘Hadley was so shaken he forgot his original purpose of coming down in the first place. They’d be desperate
to know what we were doing down here at this time of night.’

‘I’m sure her highness will
still
want to know
, body or not
.’

‘Yes, indeed.’

It took another thirty minutes f
or Lord Barrymore to arrive
. Caprice had returned to the kitchen in search of more tea for her and a glass of claret for his lordship when there came a considerable commotion from further in the house.

Mrs. Flannel paused in the act of placing sliced beef onto bread. ‘It seems our magistrate’s arrived.’

‘Do you know him, then?’

‘I’ve met him. Comes into my brother-in-laws place, regular as clockwork for a dram most nights.’

‘Is he… ah…’ Caprice paused, trying to work out how to ask if the ma
n
was any good at solving nefarious crimes
.

The housekeeper smiled sourly
, correctly divining what lay behind the question
. ‘He’s much what you’d expect, lad. Full of himself and too fond of his own voice.’ She paused, frowning. ‘I can’t say I like working in a household where the staff meet such an ungodly end.’

‘I’m sure it’s
a
… an
exception Mrs. Flannel,’ Caprice hurried to reassure her, anxious that she did not decided to leave Abbey Cross. If the housekeeper left the rest of their new staff might very well follow and they would be reduced to making their own
scrappy
meals, a circumstance she was anxious to avoid. Besides, it was comforting to have people around. It made the place feel far
friendlier
. ‘
Lord Merridew will sort it all out. Really, he is an excellent employer.’

She spoke with confidence, despite their brief acquaintance for she could not believe he was
not
an excellent employer. If she really was a stableboy then she would give up her position at Steadman Hall in a minute to work for him.
Although that, she reflected ruefully, might be
based more on her partiality for
him than anything else.

She remained hovering in the kitchen while one of the maids, who had been roused from her bed to help out, nervously showed several gentlemen into the room. One more or less ma
tched the booming voice that she had heard
bouncing off the walls. Lord Barrymore was portly, red-faced and wore a wig like many of the older set continued to do, a relic of an earlier era. He puffed a little but his small dark eyes were shrewd as he glanced around the kitchen. He was accompanied by another man, unmistakably a gentleman, considerably younger – and a great deal more prepossessing – than Lord Barrymore. Tall, with dark brown hair an
d equally shrewd brown eyes, he too took in his surroundings with considerably interest.

‘Well now,’ Lord Barrymore o
bserved. ‘It’s Mrs. Flannel,
isn’t it? Taken up a position as housekeeper here, have you?’

‘I have, my lord,’ the woman replied, dropping a curtsey. ‘Jem, go and fetch his lordship up.’

Caprice was more than happy too, hurrying into the scullery and back down to the cellar. ‘They’ve arrived.’

Lord Merridew, who had been obviously occupying himself with searching his surroundings, turned and nodded. ‘Is it just Barrymore?’

‘No. He has another gentleman with him.’

‘Another g
entleman?’ his lordship repeated, arching an eyebrow.

Caprice shrugged. ‘I’d say very much a gentleman.’

‘Excellent. I’d best go and greet them.’ He saw the stricken look on her
face and chuckled. ‘No,
Jem. You do not have to remain down here. I probably didn’t either, now that my dear cousin and his fiancée are back where they’re supposed to be but I thought it best to be safe.
I didn’t want our body to take itself off.
’

‘You thought whoever d
id this might come back and
… move him?’

‘I thought it a possibility.
Probably no more than a whim.
Let us go and make our guests welcome.’

Relieved
not to have to stay in the cellar alone
, Caprice lead the way back to the kitchen where Mrs. Flannel was offering sustenance in the shape of food and beverages, hot and cold.

‘Lord Merridew?’ the magistrate said, as they emerged.

‘Indeed,’ then. ‘Good God. Hughenden!’

The tone of his voice made Caprice look at Lord Merridew sharply. He was staring at the man who had accompanied Lord Barrymore. He appeared surprised but she caught a glimpse of something else as well, before an unaccustomed shutter came over his face.

‘Merridew,’ the man stepped forward with a grin, ‘it’s good to see you. I was actually planning on calling aroun
d today. A little later on, admittedly
.’

‘You’re staying in the area?’

‘With Lord Barrymore, yes.
I have friends in the neighbourhood
.’

‘Indeed? I had no idea. What a pleasant surprise.’

The words were everything that they should be but there was an undercurrent beneath Lord Merridew’s voice that made Caprice prick up her ears. He was clearly surprised to see this Hughenden fellow and, just as clearly, he was not at all happy about it.

Lord Barrymore
, a sandwich in one hand, a glass of claret in the other,
insisted on seeing the body
and
investigating the cellar
before returning to the kitchen and the food.
They then
repaired to the dining room where he sat
,
chair creaking a protest beneath his bulk.

‘Bad business this, even if it isn’t unexpected.’

‘You were expecting my uncle’s servant to be shot?’ Lord Merridew enquired politely.

‘He was involved in smuggling. Just like his maste
r. No offence, Merridew,
your uncle was a wrong ‘un.
All the
world knew that he was
up to his eyeballs with the freetraders
. We even had the excise men out here several times, trying to find his cache but we never could.’
Caprice perched
on a chair in the corner, heard the note of regret in the
man’s voice. He
’d
probably wanted to snaffle some of that brandy for himself.

‘Yes, I
suspected as much.
Tragic, really but every family has an Uncle Abel.’

‘True enough,’ Lord Barrymore chuckled.
It seemed likely
his family had more than one.

Sir Darryl Hughenden, for that was Lord Barrymore’s companion, spoke up. ‘So we’re assuming that this Pris
s was killed by smugglers? I suppose it makes sense. He hasn’t been dead for long, less than a day.
’

Caprice wondered how th
e man knew that. He seemed to be familiar with bodies, which was a curious thing, surely. And then there was Lord Merridew’s attitude towards Sir Darryl. There was a caution, a wariness that made
her wonder about the two of them. It was extraordinary how a day spent in the man’s company could ma
ke her sensitive to his moods but s
he was certainly picking up on something odd now. It was frustrating, not being able to ask him
what was going on
.

The more time went by – and the longer the discussion continued – the
wearier
Caprice became. She sat in her chair in the corner while Lord Barrymore
pontificated and, despite the circumstances, felt her eyes growing increasingly heavy. She was so tired and it was so late.

‘Go to bed.’

Her eyes flew open. Caprice realiz
ed she must have dozed off
, her head coming to rest agains
t the wall. She looked up at Lord Merridew
. He was bending towards her, his expression kind.

‘I’m al
l
right! I was just…’

‘Falling asleep. Go to bed Jem. You’ll be needed in the morning and you can’t keep your eyes open.’

It was
true. She was exhausted. As if t
o emphasis his point, Lord Merridew took hold of her upper arm and pulled her effortlessly upwards.

‘Are you sure there isn’t anything more I can do for you?’ she protested, unable to stop the yawn that split her face.

‘Perfectly sure.
To bed, young Jem.
Does your door have a lock?’

This
woke her
up a little. ‘There is a chair. I will put it beneath the handle.’

‘Would you prefer to sleep in my room?’

Sleep in
his
room?
Now there was a thought!
The urge to say yes was really quite alarming for
she quickly decided
there was nothing she would like more. But it was sleep she needed and the chances of her falling asleep with this man in the same room seemed unlikely
. The very idea brought a flush to her cheeks and she
shook her head
, mumbling,
‘I shall be quite alright my lord.’

‘Then I shall
see you in the morning.’

Caprice left the kitchen, climbing the stairs
. But she wasn’t to be allowed to find her bed quite yet for on the landing above the main staircase she was waylaid.

‘
Ma petite
!’

The soft hiss brought her up short and she looked around, bewildered. A face, a very pretty face, framed by a weal
th of chestnut curls, was
looking around the corner. The Grand Duchess…

‘My lady,’ she said, rather warily.
She would now
be subjected to
an inquisition
for the woman had not come down as expected
and must be hungry for information
. It soon became obvious why, however.

‘Come her
e
. Quickly!’ An imperious white hand beckoned her over.

Caprice went slowly. She remembered her position and dropped a polite little bow.
The woman’s night attire was exquisitely feminine, a floating blue peignoir over a matching lacy nightdress. It seemed to Caprice to be a very
French
outfit.
‘Can I help?’

‘What is going on down there?’ The question came out in a little rush. The woman’s usual cool as
surance seemed to be missing. Could this woman – so cool and
confident
– be truly
ala
rmed by the discovery of a body?
‘The fuss! My… Mr. Ravener told me that somebody has been killed?’

He would have told her that an hour and a half ago, surely, when he had scurried from the cellar.
Caprice had wondered why the woman hadn’t put in an appearance downstairs.
‘The magistrate has arrived. To investigate.’ If that was what Lord Barrymore was about. He seemed to have
already
reached his conclusions; death by smuggler.

‘And… that is all? Did he come alone?’

A
strange
question.
Caprice looked at the woman curiously. ‘No. He came with another gentleman.’

The woman was silent for a moment. ‘This other man… what is his name?’ she looked at Caprice, her lovely blue eyes earnest. ‘I do not like to have strangers in the house, you see. It makes me feel very unsafe.’

It was the most ridiculous explanation Caprice had ever heard but she responded anyway, interested to see how the Grand Duchess would react. ‘Sir Darryl Hughenden.’

It seemed that Maria grew a little paler at this. She moistened her lips. ‘I thought I recognized his voice but
no,
I do not know this man. Your master… he is still downstairs?’

‘Indeed he is, my lady.’

‘Yes, well… I will retire to my room and lock my door.’ She looked at Caprice and made a slight moue. ‘You should do the same,
enfant
. It is late, yes?’

Caprice bowed again and watched the Grand D
uchess turn and vanish in a waft of silk and perfume. W
hat an odd conversation…

She carried on
to her own bedchamber. She had been moved from her previous quarters thanks to the arrival of the two maids, the cook and Mrs. Flannel and was now lodged in an attic room. It was perfectly comfortable and she had quickly decided she liked it more than her previous room for
it felt a
deal
more snug
. One of the maids had changed the bedding on the cot so that the sheets, while no more t
han rough spun twill, were delightfully
fresh and the blankets more than adequate. Once again, mindful of her own concerns and his lordship’s obvious ones, she wedged a chai
r beneath the handle
and stripped off, wincing at the stink of her.