Lord Deverill's Secret (19 page)

There was a rap at the door, and Cassandra jumped. Before she could stop him, John opened the door and Mr. Brown walked in.

“I hope I don’t intrude?” he said, smiling.

“No, come in,” said Cassandra with a flood of relief. She had never been so glad to see Mr. Brown in her life!

“You might as well. Everyone else does,” said John. “There’s been a burglary.”

“No?”

“Yes. Broken glass all over the carpet.”

“The same thing happened to me last week. Something ought to be done about it,” he said, tut tutting as he shook his head.

“You had a break in?” asked Cassandra.

“Yes. On Tuesday. The window in the pantry was broken. Mrs. Deeling was very upset.”

Cassandra felt hope stirring. It seemed as though the break in might have been nothing more than a common burglary after all—although nothing had been taken, she reminded herself. But perhaps the burglar had not expected to find her at home. Then, hearing her going upstairs, he had tried the bedroom door and, finding it locked, he decided the house was occupied and that he had better leave.

“I am going to alert Sir William,” she said.

“My dear Miss Paxton, you mustn’t trouble your head over such a matter. I will tell him myself. I am going to see him this morning to find out if he has made any progress on my affair.”

She was pleased to accept Mr. Brown’s offer. It would allow her to go back to Brighton all the sooner, for although the break in might have been nothing serious, she preferred to take no chances.

“Thank you, that’s very kind.”

“A gentleman is useful on these occasions,” said Mr. Brown significantly. “It is hard for a young lady to deal with these matters. But I will say no more at present. Perhaps next week…”

“I won’t be here next week,” said Cassandra. “I am returning to Brighton.”

“So soon?” he asked.

“Yes. I came home only to bring some furniture.”

“I had hoped you would stay longer, but I must not deprive you of your plea sure,” he said meticulously.

“If you will excuse me, I must get ready to leave,” she said.

Mr. Brown looked as though he would like to detain her and then changed his mind.

“Of course,” he said.

And bowing low over her hand he left.

“I want you to have the coach ready for this afternoon,” she said to John.

“Very good, miss”

Cassandra looked round. The house had seemed so peaceful when she had returned, a haven of safety and tranquillity. But now a cloud had been cast over it and she would be glad to be away.

John began to walk towards the door. Before he could go out, however, she stopped him.

“Do you remember last year,” she asked, “when Mr. Rupert brought a print home? It had a picture of France on it, and a picture of the English coast, too. There were balloons flying over it, and rowing boats going across it.”

“And a tunnel going under the sea,” said John with a rumble of laughter.

“Yes, that’s the one. Do you remember who gave it to Mr. Rupert?”

John thought. “Wait a minute. It’s on the tip of my tongue. It was like my father’s name. Edwin he was called, but it wasn’t Edwin. It was something like it, though….”

“Elwin,” said Cassandra, with a sinking feeling.

John gave a satisfied smile.

“That was it,” he said. “Mr. Elwin.”

CHAPTER TEN

It was early evening by the time the coach rolled into Brighton once more. Cassandra instructed John to stop at Justin’s house on the Steyne.

“You must come inside with me,” said Cassandra, as he opened the door and let down the step. “I can’t go in alone.”

“I should think not, Miss Cassie,” said John, horrified at the mere thought of it.

He closed the door behind her and the two of them approached Justin’s house.

Cassandra rapped on the door. A moment later Manby appeared, looking as haughty as ever. When he saw her, he relented slightly.

“Yes, miss?” he said.

“I am here to see Lord Deverill.”

“I’m sorry, miss, but Lord Deverill is not at home.”

“Not at home?”

This was a blow.

“No, miss He has gone out for the evening.”

“Do you know what time he will be back?” she asked.

“No, miss, I’m afraid I don’t.”

“In that case, would you give him a message for me?”

“Of course, miss”

“Would you ask him to call on me at his earliest convenience?”

“Yes, miss. I’ll give him the message as soon as he returns.”

Cassandra climbed into the coach and was once more on her way, traversing the streets until she reached her own front door. So much had happened since she had left it just under a week before that she felt she had been away for a month. She only wished her return could have been under happier circumstances, for she had not meant to come back until matters had been resolved. But it could not be helped. Events had forced her hand.

She unlocked the door and went into the house, locking it again behind her. There were no candles lit in the hall and it was dark.

“Moll!” she called.

She heard the sound of Moll coming upstairs from the kitchen. The candle bobbed into view, with Moll’s surprised face behind it.

“Miss Cassie? Is that you? I wasn’t expecting you back today. ‘It’s too late,’ I told myself. ‘She won’t be home today.’”

“It isn’t so very late,” said Cassandra, removing her bonnet and putting it down on a console table.

“You look pinched,” said Moll. “Have you been sitting in a draught?”

“No,” said Cassandra.

“That coach needs its windows looking at,” fussed Moll. “I’ll light the fire. It’s come colder this evening.”

“No, there’s no need for a fire,” said Cassandra. “I’m not cold. I am just a little worried, that’s all.”

“Worried?”

Moll pulled a fierce face, as if to say that anyone who had worried her mistress had best look to their safety.

“We had a break in on the estate,” explained Cassandra. “It has made me anxious. Are all the doors locked here?”

“That they are. There’s some lawless bodies in Brighton,” said Moll, as though it was a renowned den of iniquity.

“And the windows?” asked Cassandra.

“They’re all closed, Miss Cassie, and if you’re worried, they’ll stay closed.”

The weather had become cooler, and there was no need for them to be open.

“Good,” said Cassandra. “I expect I am worrying unnecessarily, but for the next week, at least, I would like to be careful.”

“I’ve said so all along,” declared Moll darkly. “It’s a wonder we haven’t all been murdered in our beds long since.”

Cassandra was relieved that, without telling Moll the real cause of her concerns, she had been able to make sure the house was secure. With Justin away, and with her guards believing she was in the country, she would not be watched, so she must make sure she protected herself.

“I will just wash the grime of travelling away, and then I would like a cup of tea.”

Half an hour later Cassandra was sitting in the parlour, dressed in a fresh gown. Barely had she settled herself on the sofa when there came a rap at the door.

“That will be Lord Deverill,” said Cassandra. “John has taken the coach round to the coach house. I’ll answer the door.”

“You will not, Miss Cassie. If you’ve a mind to see him this time, I’ll let him in.”

Moll left the room, and a few moments later announced, “Lord Deverill.”

Justin strode into the room. His coat was creased and his breeches rumpled, whilst his boots were covered in mud. He looked as though he had been riding hard. His hair was unkempt, and fell in dishevelled locks around his face.

“The tea, please, Moll,” said Cassandra.

“Tea?” asked Moll suspiciously, as though scenting a ruse to remove her from the room.

“Yes, please,” said Cassandra firmly. “Bring two cups, and the tea.”

Grumbling under her breath, Moll left the room.

“I came as soon as I got your message,” said Justin, once Moll had closed the door. He strode over to Cassandra’s side.

“Won’t you sit down?” she said.

He sat on the sofa, and she sat down opposite him.

“My boots…” he said, belatedly realizing they were covered in mud.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Cassandra. “I need to speak to you.”

“You shouldn’t have come back to Brighton. We agreed that you would not return until I had captured the leader of the traitors. It isn’t safe for you to be here. You could be subjected to another so-called accident.”

“I had no choice. I had to come back,” she said, twisting her hands in her lap. “There was a break in….” she began.

She had his full attention as she told him exactly what had happened to her on her estate.

“This is bad,” he said, shaking his head. “This is very bad.” He frowned. “Someone must have known you were going home.”

“Unless the burglary was unrelated. My neighbour had a burglary only last week.”

He pursed his lips.

“It’s possible, but I think we must assume it was connected until we are sure. I will have someone watching over you night and day. But it will be safer if you stay indoors. I can provide you with some new servants, a butler and two footmen. They will be my own men, and they will know how to deal with any dangerous situations that might arise. I will have the house watched as well.”

“Thank you, but I cannot stay indoors for ever. I prefer to carry on with my life, though I have no objection to taking a footman with me when I go out. He can protect me should the need arise.”

Justin looked unhappy with the arrangement, but did not object.

“Very well,” he said. “Did anyone know?” he went on. “Did you tell anyone you were going away?” he asked.

“Only Maria,” she said.

He stood up.

“Which means that everyone else in Brighton would have known within a few hours.”

“No,” Cassandra said. “I know Maria likes to gossip but she didn’t tell anyone, I’m sure of it. She didn’t want to tell anyone, and she didn’t want me to tell anyone. She thought that if people knew I was moving furniture with a view to selling my town house, news of my poverty would spread, and she does not want people to know that I am in difficult circumstances. So you see, Maria would not have told anyone. Besides, there is something else.”

He looked at her enquiringly.

“It occurred to me that John might remember who had given Rupert the print. Rupert was very fond of him, and I thought they might have talked about it. So I asked John if Rupert had told him.”

“And?”

“It was Mr. Elwin.”

“Elwin.” Justin nodded, then sat down again, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Yes, that makes sense.”

“Is he the ringleader, do you think?” asked Cassandra.

“It’s possible. He has the brains for it, and also the ruthlessness. We’ve had our eye on him for some time, but we have no evidence against him.”

“Then I suggest we find some,” said Cassandra.

He looked at her enquiringly.

“I am tired to waiting for someone to attack me,” she said. “I can’t sit cowering in my house for ever. I want to tempt the would-be assassin to come into the open. I think we should encourage him to strike.”

He frowned.

“Do you mean you are offering yourself as bait?”

“Yes, I am.”

“No.” He shook his head. “It’s too dangerous.”

“I cannot live in fear for ever. I would rather try and trap the killer. And once we catch him, you will have some evidence against him. Not of treachery, it’s true, but of a crime. Then you can turn him over to the authorities.”

He gave a heavy sigh and sat down, then said reluctantly, “There’s something in what you say.”

“There is. Tempting him is no more dangerous than waiting for him to strike. Probably less so, as he will strike at a time and place of our choosing.”

He nodded. “Very well. I agree. It seems our man is Elwin. I will find out where he is going for the next week. If he is going to any public functions it will be possible for you to go there, too.”

“And if he has hired someone to kill me, instead of doing it himself?”

“Then we will catch them and make them talk,” he said. “We only need them to confirm that they are in Elwin’s pay, and we have him.”

The door opened and Moll entered the room, carrying a large tray.

“I’ve brung the tea,” she said, glowering first at Cassandra and then at Justin.

He sat back in his chair, creating a distance between himself and Cassandra.

“Thank you, Moll,” said Cassandra. “That will be all,” she said, as Moll placed the tray on a console table and then lingered.

“Good. Then I can get on with my mending,” said Moll, walking over to the side of the room where she had left a basket of mending. She sat down on a hard-backed chair and took a sheet out of the basket.

Cassandra glowered at her but she took no notice.

“My sister’s ball is in a few days’ time,” said Justin, glancing at Moll and then back at Cassandra. “I will let you know all the news when I see you there.”

Cassandra nodded. She poured the tea.

“In the meantime,” he said, taking the cup she handed to him and drinking the tea in one go, “it would be better if you stay indoors.”

He put his cup down.

“I agree,” said Cassandra. Glancing at Moll, who was looking at her curiously, she added, “The weather has been inclement, and I have plenty to do in the house.”

He stood up.

“Until the ball, then.”

“Until the ball.”

He looked as though he would like to say something further, but after hesitating for a moment he made her a bow. Moll laid aside her mending and showed him out.

“A fine gennulmen,” said Moll, when she returned to the room. She looked at Cassandra significantly. “A very fine gennulman. Too fine to be coming here at all hours for no reason.”

Cassandra did not want to answer the questions she saw hovering on Moll’s lips and turned away. Just when she thought she had resolved her feelings for Justin, they had become confused all over again. She had settled her feelings concerning her brother’s death, and although they still cast a shadow over her from time to time she had forgiven Justin his part in it. But she had never thought she would do more than that. Yet here she was, turning to him without hesitation when she found herself in danger, and putting her trust in him. Moreover, she had enjoyed seeing him again, and felt the loss of him now that he had gone.